Friday, December 29, 2006

IT'S MY 30th BIRTHDAY!!!!!

I usually don't celebrate my birthday and instead I do something to commemorate The Massacre at Wounded Knee because it's a very significant but overlooked incident in American history. However, I've decided to let "the cause" wait for a few days and enjoy today and tomorrow myself.

I am officially THIRTY YEARS OLD. Today is my birthday and tomorrow marks FOUR YEARS since I was diagnosed with chondrosarcoma.

But today cancer can kiss my pretty caramel-colored ass because I am ALIVE. Nobody thought I'd live this long, especially not me. Though I still have cancer and remission isn't really a possibility, I have made it this far and I plan on making it a hell of a lot further. So today I'd like to say FUCK YOU CANCER because

TODAY I'M ALIVE AND I'M THIRTY YEARS OLD!!!!!!!

A birthday kiss for all my folks.

Champagne for my real friends! Real pain for my sham friends!!

Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Santa, You're Not Welcome In Hazelton, PA!!


Okay, the second I saw this I knew it had to go up on my blog. I know this is an unusual way of approaching this issue but, at this point, I think it's definitely apropos. Anti-immigration bigotry is just taking over the media and I'm tired of watching it go unaddressed.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Merry Christmas

This is what I spent my time creating last night since I couldn't sleep.



Friday, December 22, 2006

Meet The Stalkers

I just wanted to welcome two new readers: Dian and bluebear. They became interested in me after reading some of my posts on an social forum that I recently joined. They happen to be a real-life couple and even I've heard that they've made three little bears cubs together. The really weird--okay, it's actually pretty creepy--thing about them is that they are especially interested turned on by topics involving pedophilia, rape, and other forms of sexual assault.

Despite being parents themselves, it seems they find pedophilia and rape to be rather amusing subjects. In fact, they are so interested in this topic that they came to My Private Casbah looking for more information on these topics and then proceeded to go back to the forum where we post and show the full extent of their creepiness by proving that I am now the object of their obsession. So folks, it seems that I've acquired a new set of internet stalkers.

The sad thing about this is the fact that people like them actually have children in their care. I'm actually hoping that they'll stop just lurking around here and not saying anything. I figure that if they're going to come here regularly, they might as well comment too. Who knows, maybe they'll actually stop being such repulsive wastes of protein while they are at it.

Well, regardless of how that goes, I plan on getting back to posting after all this Christmas stuff is over. It's just been totally crazy around here lately.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Rheumie Visit Today

I'm going to see my rheumatologist today. I hope this visit goes well. I have a few things that I want to talk to her about regarding some of the things that I've been thinking about doing lately. I wonder what she'll think about me getting a tattoo. Anyway, I guess I should get up and take my shower now because my appointment is in about forty minutes and I can't drag my feet any longer. Hopefully, I won't forget about DeviousDiva's chat session today. I've missed it the past two weeks because I overslept. I'm determined to stay up today. I miss talking to everyone.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

These Friends Are, New Friends Are Golden

Landing on a runway in Chicago
and I'm grounding all my dreams of ever really seeing California,
because I know what's in between
is something sensual in such non-conventional ways.

Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say.
Tonight I'm writing you a million miles away.
Tonight is all about "We miss you."

And I can't forget your style or your cynicism,
somehow it was like you were the first to listen to everything we said.
My smile's an open wound without you...
and my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back.

These friends are, new friends are golden.
-Homesick At Space Camp by Fallout Boy

I went to see my psychiatrist today. I was really nervous about it because I knew he would ask me if I'd gone to see a sex abuse therapist yet. I explained to him that I hadn't actually made it to the appointment that I'd scheduled because when that date came, I just couldn't bring myself to go and talk to a complete stranger about this subject. His immediate question was "Well when are you going to be ready?" I understood the point that he was making. He went on to tell me that I don't have to sit there and tell the therapist about everything in the first session. He said that I could take my time and develop some trust in the person first. That really eased a lot of my anxiety.

We also talked a whole lot about The German and the CanadianBoy. He questioned why I had contacted the latter and I'm beginning to wonder if my current difficulties dealing with being a sexual abuse survivor had subconsciously contributed to me making the decision to contact him after all these years. The doctor definitely thinks that may be the case. I also told him about how The German is worried that associating with the CanadianBoy may cause me to slip back into a less acceptable lifestyle. However, my doctor doesn't think that will necessarily be the case.

Our discussion actually made me feel a lot more confident about this because talking to The German had led me to feel like maybe I'm not as strong-willed as I'd like to hope that I am. A couple of nights ago the CanadianBoy and I were having a heart-to-heart talk and he asked me whatever happened to the adventurous girl that I used to be. I didn't really have an answer for that question at the time but I think that living with The German all these years may have a lot to do with it. He lives a very "safe" and quiet lifestyle and being basically homebound for so long has meant that I haven't had anyone around to stimulate the other side of my personality that used to really enjoy getting out and being a little bit wild from time to time.

I really want to do something about that. I've been thinking about going out of town during the Christmas holidays to see some friends. A few of my friends have invited me to come and celebrate my birthday with them. It might be fun to visit someplace new or to go shopping in some places that I've been meaning to revisit eventually. I told The German that I was considering taking a bit of a holiday by myself but he was mostly unresponsive. I know that I can count on him to take care of VanGoghGirl while I'm gone and it wouldn't be for more than a week or so anyway.

From the times when I've mentioned it, I can tell that he's not exactly crazy about the idea but he wouldn't try to stop me if that's what I want to do. I care about what he thinks but I don't want to completely merge my soul with his. We have different personalities (He's very reserved and I'm extremely outspoken), different tastes (He likes hip hop and I prefer Jazz or Punk), and different belief systems (He's a lot more conservative than I am even though he won't admit it). I don't want to get to the point where I'm sacrificing my own happiness just to keep him from having to deal with our differences. Besides, we might get along a lot better if we weren't spending every waking moment of every single day together in this flat.

With my psychiatrists vote of confidence, I think that maybe I should just put more trust in my ability to take care of myself and act responsibly no matter what or who is around me. I think tomorrow I'm going to put some feelers out there and see if a couple of those invitations still stand.

Reincarnations

The German thinks that I'm screwing up my life right now. He'd never say it like that but because I've known him so long, I can tell what he thinks from what he does say even though he's almost unfailingly polite.

About a month ago, my psychiatrist gave me the phone numbers for three therapists that might be able to help me with my sexual abuse issues. I did call one of them and set up an appointment but, when the day came, I skipped it because I just couldn't bring myself to go and speak about this stuff with a complete stranger. I mean, I'm sure the therapist has probably had worse cases come before him and wouldn't be shocked by anything I said but I'm not sure that I could deal with hearing myself talk about what I've been through. The German has been gently suggesting that I call and make another appointment but I haven't done it yet. A couple of days ago, in a completely unrelated conversation, someone that I care about told me that I was being stubborn and hard-headed. His statement made me really mad because it hit too close to home. I was pissed off to hear that he thinks the same thing that I know The German thinks too.

I often feel like people don't understand why I am the way I am. It's not completely their fault most of the time. When it comes to voicing my views about politics or racism or feminism, I am never at a loss for words. However, it can be very difficult for me to talk about what I think of myself. I recognize that I have absorbed a lot of the negative labels that I've been given over the years, so I usually don't talk about what I think of myself even to those who are close to me because the most they can usually say is that I shouldn't feel that way or that I should just let it all go. I know that they mean well but I just really get the urge to say something like, "Wow! What a genius you are! It's just that easy? Thanks! Why didn't anyone ever tell me this before? I can't believe that I spent all of these years in therapy just to keep from trying to commit suicide again and the solution was as simple as just letting it all go." Of course, that would only leave me with even fewer people to talk to when I do feel like I can't hold in my feelings any longer--and that really is the only time when I talk about myself; Whenever I can, I do my best to keep it all under wraps.

Last week I wrote about how I'd gotten back in touch with an old boyfriend of mine. I've been really stressed since then because he's a person who knows about a lot of the details about my past that I'd simply prefer for people not to know. The German doesn't understand why reconnecting with the CanadianBoy has jolted me so much. I tried to explain to him that when you are in group therapy, the relationships that form between members can be extremely powerful. I mean, you sit there and you tell the truth, the nasty, dirty truth about all of the worst aspects of your background and the personality you developed during that time. Ideally, everyone goes back to their own separate lives after this and simply use all of the insight they've gained from hearing about other people's experiences and where it all got them.

It's really dangerous to hook up romantically with other group members because your progress can become entangled with their progress or lack thereof. However, it's extremely easy to get involved with other group members because most of the soul-baring that people have to engage in before they can fall in love has already occurred before you even start to date.

After I left the psychiatric hospital for the first time, I did attempt to pick up the pieces and get my act together. It didn't last long. Before much time had passed, I was back to being a substance abuser. I spent a few years like this before I eventually kicked all of my drug habits. I happen to be one of the extremely lucky people who has never felt the sort of physical symptoms that scares a lot of addicts into continuing to using simply because they are afraid of what full-fledged withdrawal would be like. I'm sure that I probably did experience some withdrawal symptoms but they were never to the point that I believed they were too much for me to manage them.

Nevertheless, this was not just some harmless phase in my life. It pretty much defined my entire life, from how I spent my day to what I dreamed of doing in the future. Anyway, the point is that my life was not a pretty picture. There are things that happened that I deeply regret and wish could be undone. That's the sort of stuff that the CanadianBoy knows.

Because of what I know about him, I am absolutely confident that he wouldn't tell anyone anything about the things he knows about me. However, that doesn't stop me from worrying that somehow, now that he's in my life again, it will all come out anyway and the house of cards that I've built over the years will come crashing down. Even The German does not know some of the things that the CanadianBoy knows. I'm sure he'd be disappointed to know that fact but I hope that he'd understand why.

I have told The German a good bit about my activities prior to us getting together. That's why he doesn't think that reconnecting with the CanadianBoy is a good idea. He says that he thinks it will drag me down and undo the progress that I've made over the years but to be honest, I just don't see that happening. There's one thing that I know and that's if I was to go down the path that I used to be on, the CanadianBoy would be one of the first to try to help me get back clean. There's nothing like going through the horrors of addiction to make a person sympathetic and eager to try and help someone else make the same mistakes.

The German doesn't understand that. He's never tried anything. He's never even smoked a cigarette. I think that his straight-edge personality is one of the things that attracted me to him. He has no tattoos, no piercings, no dreadlocks, no out of wedlock kids and he's one hundred percent conservative. In other words, he was the kind of person that could always be counted on to do things the right way. He was an anchor for me to latch onto when temptations and opportunities to regress came along over the years. The nice, safe life he offered simple didn't produce many situations where I could be exposed to anything that might tempt me. Even though our life together was a bit ho-hum, I felt like security made it worth it to try and work through that.

My friendship with the CanadianBoy is much different. Talking to him is like going to confessional. I can air out all of the wicked little thoughts that would appall the ears of someone like The German. I can talk about the relapses and the actual experiences with someone who understands the full meaning behind what I say. If I said that a particular drug made me throw up a lot, The German would probably just ask me "then why did you keep taking it?" whereas the CanadianBoy would already understand that after a while the throwing up quickly becomes to seem like a minor inconvenience in comparison to what you got in exchange--the temporary release from all the pressures of the world, the feeling of being comfortable with who you are that you just don't otherwise feel when you're clean and sober. Talking to the CanadianBoy is cathartic (no pun intended). It serves a purpose that can't be met except by interacting with others who have been there.

However, that doesn't mean that it's necessarily the only sort of communication that's important to me. When I want someone to model my behavior after, there's no one better to look to than The German. If I had been more like him when I was a kid, then I would never have even had the psychiatric hospital stints or many of the other traumatic experiences that landed my arse there in the first place. I don't want to disappoint him by allowing him to see me cause my own downfall. It would also kill my family if I did anything that might be construed as jeopardizing The German's feelings for me. No matter what he does, most of the people around me will make it quite clear to me that they think that I'd do well to just deal with whatever "minor flaws" The German has and do my best to make him happy with me.

I'm going to see my psychiatrist this morning and I'm going to have to tell him that I never did see a sex abuse therapist and admit that the problems in my sleep are spilling over into my relationships with others. I'm not sure what he's going to say but I'm sure he will be at least a little pissed off. I'm going to nap now and try to clear my head before I go and speak about all of this stuff to him. I think this session is going to be a doozie.

Friday, December 01, 2006

The Very Late Thursday Thirteen Edition # 4


Thirteen Songs To Sing At My Un-Funeral Party


Most of my friends already know this but I do NOT want a funeral. I think that the whole idea of putting my corpse on display wearing screwed up make-up and a dowdy dress just a wee bit more humiliating than I'd like to envision. Instead, I'd prefer for my friends and fam to have me cremated and throw a send-off party for me instead. Heck, if I could, I'd have the party before I die but my mother has already forbid me from carrying out my bright idea about having a pre-death send-off party for myself. What a killjoy that woman is sometimes! Anyway, The German has promised that he'll honor my wishes, so I've basically planned out the whole thing. If people can pre-plan their own funeral, I see no reason why I can't pre-plan my after-death party.

Anyway, there are a few songs that I think best describe my life and a few other ones that different people in my life have said made them think about me when they heard it. This Thursday Thirteen is the list of songs that I want The German to be sure to have on the playlist at my un-funeral party. If anyone who reads this blog has any other songs that reminds them of me in some way, please suggest it. I'm actually VERY interested in hearing which songs other people would like to have played if they had their own un-funeral party.

1. "Time of Your Life" by Green Day
2. "She Talks To Angels" by Black Crows
3. "Amy's Song" by Switchfoot
4. "Last Rites of Rock 'n' Roll" by Josh Redman
5. "Speed of Sound" by Coldplay
6. "White Flag" by Dido
7. "99 Luftballoons" by Nena (the German version)
8. "Sea Lion Woman" aka "See Lyin' Woman" by Nina Simone
9. "I'll Fly Away" by Jars of Clay
10. "November Rain" by Guns N' Roses
11. "In This World" by Moby
12. "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" by R.E.M.
13. "You Got Me" by The Roots ft. Erykah Badu


Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)



Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!



Thursday, November 30, 2006

MySpace Connections: My First Love

I know I've railed on in the past about how I despise MySpace. I dunno, I think it's just too popular. I have this aversion to change and I think that I make all sorts of lame excuses in order to avoid having to explore anything new. However, I buckled down and created a barebones page Monday. I didn't plan on developing it that much because the format seems really unwieldy. The only thing I wanted to do to it immediately was create a link to this blog.

My cousin's wife was the one who suggested to me that I create a MySpace page and she told me about how several of her high school friends had gotten back in touch with her through it. After I registered with the site and created my page, I decided to start looking up the names of some of my old friends. To get straight to the point, the first name I searched for was that of an old boyfriend.

There were a few people with his name that had MySpace profiles but after I'd checked out the first four or five guys with that name, I found his page. I just felt numb looking at his picture. He looked just the same even though it's been years since I last saw him. VanGoghGirl was a toddler then. I don't think I could put that day in the proper context without first explaining our history. In keeping with my usual policy about real names, I guess I'll just call him The CanadianBoy.

Well, first of all he isn't just an old boyfriend; He was the first boy I ever loved. Before I knew The German, CaliGuy, VanGoghGirl's bio-dad and even Spoogie, I had known and loved this guy. In fact, I'd only had two boyfriends before him. My first boyfriend was the cousin of my best friend and, since I was only about twelve years old at the time, we only spoke on the phone two times before we lost interest in each other and went back to being little kids. My second boyfriend was this really sweet Hapa boy that was in the Gifted program with me during middle school. We both liked cyberpunk novels and Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy series. I was the first girl he ever kissed. Those first two boyfriends were really initial experiences where I was basically just trying out the whole transition from thinking boys all had cooties to trying to understand what that little flutter was that I felt when I talked to some of them. But things were different between me and The CanadianBoy.

I tried my first cigarette in the summer between eighth and ninth grade. I never really liked the way it made me feel but it did help me to fit in with the stoner crowd that I hung out with. I was already a drinker at that age, thanks to my paternal family. It's sort of a family tradition to teach the kids to be able to handle their liquor from a young age. Eh, maybe it's unfair of me to say that my family's philosophy is the reason why I began abusing alcohol. I can't really group everyone in my dad's family together.

My grandmother always kept a well-stocked liquor cabinet and she let us try any kind of alcohol that we asked for. She'd sit us down at the table and pour us a drink and let us see how it tasted. I have never seen her abuse alcohol or encourage others to abuse it. She didn't allow us to get tipsy at her house until we were teenagers. We never even considered asking for enough alcohol to get us totally drunk as kids. We knew better than to believe she'd allow that. On the other hand, we had other family members that were more than happy to help us get drunk. The first time I ever got totally pissy-drunk was at my dad's cousin's house when I was around 12 years old. We (my brothers, my cousins and I) asked one of my great uncles for some alcohol and he went and got us a big cooler full of beer and told us to enjoy ourselves. If my mother had been there, that never would have happened but my parents were divorced and we were with our dad that weekend. Anyway, that was just the first of many, many times I had too much to drink before I was legally old enough to be drinking at all.

By the time I was solidly in my teens, I could drink like a fish and I often did. I'm Irish and my best friend was Italian and we used every occasion that came along as an opportunity to try and test out our theories about which ethnic group can drink the most alcohol and still function well enough for it not to be detected by our parents or teachers. Yeah, that's right. I can't even count how many times we got drunk while at school.

During that first year of high school, I also started smoking marijuana. After marijuana became boring to me, I worked my way up to a few other drugs. I don't want to skim over that as if it's not a big deal but it's just a part of the bigger overall picture. I think that a lot of my experimentation with drugs was an attempt to self-medicate. My parent's divorce when I was ten marked the end of the only period of happiness I experienced as a child. I was my father's favorite child and when he left, I was devastated and that's when the depression started. I've also discussed a little bit about what I went through during those long years of my life before I was diagnosed with Systemic Lupus. Clinical depression is one symptom of the disease and, if that weren't enough, I was also depressed because I knew that something was wrong with me even though no one else believed it back then. I had also been sexually abused by several different people before I even entered my teen years and felt very little self-worth as a result. I took the drugs hoping they'd make me feel better but they never did. That still didn't make me stop; I simply added even more self-destructive behaviors on top of it all. I really was hoping to die because I didn't see any reason to believe that my life would ever get any better. I felt like it was inevitable that I was going to crash and burn one way or another and I didn't much care if that time came very soon.

My poor mother can't be blamed for not being aware of every single thing I was going through and doing to myself back then. She was a single parent of four kids and worked like slave just to provide for us without anyone else's help. She wasn't on public assistance and she only received child support sporadically. She really deserved to have a better daughter than I was to her. When she got a call from the local mall to come and pick me up because I'd been caught shoplifting, she was really shocked. It was suddenly apparent to her that she'd been underestimating the extent of my problems. A few days after that, she had me put into a psychiatric hospital.

That's where I met The CanadianBoy. He was two years older than me and absolutely gorgeous. We were assigned to different units (floors) but there were some interactions between the two groups. I first mentioned my crush to one of the other residents and it turned out that she knew him so I made her tell me all about him. Like the rest of us kids in that hospital, his life had been hell too, but nothing about him made me like him any less. Getting closer to him was actually easier than making friends in the outside world because I didn't have to pretend as if my life was just picture perfect. He didn't mind that I was so flawed; We were both really damaged people.

According to the hospital rules, residents weren't supposed to get involved with each other but that didn't stop us. We were only allowed to make and receive calls during certain hours of the day. When it was phone time I used to sneak and call him when the staff wasn't nearby because we weren't supposed to call the other floors.

I was madly in love with him. I used to spend half the time anticipating our weekly Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous sessions because they were on his floor and I'd get to see him. I was really shy then and it was hard for me to believe that he liked me. Hell, even I didn't like me. One night when I was in the hospital, I took a plastic knife from the dinner utensils and I carved the word "HATE" in large letters on my left thigh. That got me locked in the solitary confinement room that they used to keep an eye on suicidal patients.

I used to feel so self-conscious anytime he was around. It was almost summer time and the hospital had a big pool out back that we were allowed to use every once in awhile. He would look out the window on his floor and watch me swimming with the other kids in my unit. I used to wish that I wasn't so skinny so that I could look as pretty and curvy in my bikini as the other girls did in theirs but he never seemed to care about that.

It was a really nice psychiatric hospital--trust me, I've been to several and this place was like being in the Ritz-Carleton compared to a few of them. The doctors and therapists were really kind and did their best to help the residents deal with their issues. However, I think that having someone in my life, someone who wanted me and accepted me just as I was, helped me more than anything else.

I got out of the hospital before he did. My mother pulled me from the hospital after one of my doctors suggested to her that I be put on anti-depressants. She was more than willing to believe that I was absolutely nuts but the idea that I might be given medication to help me seemed like coddling, in her eyes. I was really upset about her taking me out of the hospital because I knew that I still had a lot of progress that I needed to make. We hadn't even dealt with my sexual abuse issues yet.

Leaving the hospital also meant that I wasn't able to see the CanadianBoy anymore. My mother had this view that crazy people shouldn't be allowed to spend too much time around other crazy people, so she was totally against the idea of me keeping in touch with him. That didn't stop me from calling him though. She sent me to go and stay with a friend of our family who she thought would be able to keep a closer eye on me until she was able to deal with having me around the house again. Fortunately, the person she sent me to stay with wasn't nearly as perceptive as she wanted to believe she was. She had a daughter my age who was actually even wilder than I was. The girl also had a knack for making her mother believe that she was more innocent than the virgin Mary which made it a lot easier for us to sneak around and do whatever we wanted to do without getting caught. That included me calling the CanadianBoy every chance I got.

I was very worried that since I was no longer there, he'd fall for some other girl at the hospital. I really wanted to keep him as mine forever. So many people that I'd loved in the past had left me in one way or another. My grandmother had died. My father had skipped out. Lots of people that I should have been able to trust had violated me and abused me. I felt like if he dumped me, then I'd completely lose it for real, just slide back into all of the self-destructive behavior that I was trying so hard to keep away from. I don't know if words can really describe how I felt about him. It was the sort of love that can truly drive a person mad. I was really afraid of him finding out how much I was in love with him because I was sure that it would be the straw that broke the camel's back and scare him off altogether.

After awhile we found out that he was being released from the hospital and would be returning home to Canada. Before he left, he gave me one of his favorite shirts so that I could put it on and wear to bed whenever I was missing him. Since his favorite color was blue, I gave him one of my earrings that contained my birthstone which is also blue. I cried and cried when he left New Orleans because I was sure he'd forget about me but he didn't.

Not long after he got back to Canada, he sent me a letter. We wrote each other every week and made phone calls whenever we could. My mother wasn't thrilled about the idea of me writing to him but she never tried to stop me. It's a good thing she didn't because I'd have done it anyway. To tell the truth, I'd have done anything he'd asked me to do just to be with him. I wanted so badly to leave all of my life in New Orleans behind and be with him but we were just too young to really be able to take care of ourselves yet.

Our relationship lasted for almost a year and then he stopped writing to me. I'd get occasional phone calls and I'd want so badly to ask him why he'd lost interest in me. One of the final times we talked I could hear the voices of other kids in the background and they were all laughing and having a good time. Some of the voices were female. I was devastated. At that point, I knew we were through even though he never did formally break it off with me.

I spent the next few years drinking my life away off and on but still managing to coast through school with good grades. I tried to commit suicide a few times, went through a few bad relationships with guys and even managed to get pregnant and have VanGoghGirl. Then one day The CanadianBoy showed up at my parent's house while I was away from home.

He was working as a truckdriver and one of his trips had brought him near New Orleans. We went and had lunch together and talked a little bit. I wanted to ask him why things had gone the way they did but, as usual, I didn't dare do it. It's not that he was hard to talk to. I just always felt like he didn't take me seriously, like I was really just a big joke in his eyes.

I was so happy to see him again and be near him again. He's always had this very infectious sort of passion encompassing everything about him. I began to remember all of the reasons why I loved him. Kissing him made me want to believe it when he said he'd keep in touch this time. I'm glad that it didn't go any further than just that though because, just like before, he disappeared from life again after that. That was the last time I saw or heard anything about him until this past Monday.

I sent him a short message via MySpace and it just so happened that he was online at the time and wrote back to me in a matter of minutes. That shocked me because I honestly didn't think that he'd remember me or even care enough to respond if he did know who I was. In his response he seemed really happy to hear from me. Since then we've been talking a little bit and sending each other messages. He filled me in on what happened to some of the kids who were in the hospital with us. A few are doing okay. One guy committed suicide not long after the last time The CanadianBoy saw him.

It seems that the CanadianBoy's life has improved a whole lot. He's married now and has three kids--two with one of his ex's and one with his current wife. We've been catching up on what directions our lives took us after we last saw each other. I still haven't really processed it all in my head yet. I think that may take some time. Meanwhile, I have to admit that it feels good in so many ways just to be able to talk to him and laugh with him again.

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

It Happened Again Last Night

I had another rape dream. This time, in the dream, I was on a date with a guy (who used to be one of my high school classmates) and he hit me in the back of my head with something. Immediately after that, I was in some place I'd never been before lying in front of a school leaning up against a tree. Children were looking at me from inside of the school building. I stood up and I realized I was only wearing a shirt; The rest of my clothes had been pulled off of me before the guy dumped me out of the car. I was about to start walking to look for someone to help me when I saw this dandelion. It wasn't a normal-sized plant though. It was almost the size of a bush. I stopped and blew on the dandelion and watched the seeds fly off into the wind and then I began walking again.

I was proceeding down the street when I saw a police officer riding past me in a squad car. I yelled to get her attention and she stopped and picked me up. Instead of taking me to the police station, she brought me to her house. When we got there, I ran inside and huddled down into the corner of the room. The officer gave me clothes to put on and then we got in her car again and she drove me down the street. At that point she put me out of her car and drove off.

I started walking again and I eventually came to a fast food restaurant and I went in to try and get some help except for some reason, I was naked again--completely naked this time. It was really crowded and I was waiting for the line to clear so that I could ask the employees if I could use the phone to try and call home. While I was waiting, people from my old congregation started coming into the restaurant. They were in this strange city for the weekend because it was apparently the place where they were holding one of their annual regional conventions. Eventually, even my mother and my brothers came in too. My bio-dad showed up as well after a while.

In the dream, my mother starts telling me that I deserve what happened to me and laughing about it with the other people she knew who were also there to get lunch. I got into this big confrontation with her and with the other people she'd talked to because they kept coming over and looking at me and pointing and whispering to each other. Even my bio-dad was making jokes about me. I tried to shut them all up but it really didn't work.

Eventually, I just left the restaurant and went on to look for help somewhere else. As I was walking, it got dark outside so I had to start looking for somewhere I could sleep outside until morning came again. At that point, I woke up from my dream.

I wish I knew what it all meant. Why have I started having these dreams? Why won't they stop? I believe that sometimes dreams have meanings but I can't really understand what to make of this one any more than the others like it. I just don't know what to make of all this.

Friday, November 24, 2006

For Those With Warm and Fuzzy Feelings About Thanksgiving

With your turkey leftovers safely tucked away in the refrigerator and the alcohol almost gone from your system, perhaps you may have some interest in those people that Americans love to caricature this time of year. Here's some light reading you might enjoy. Feel free to comment if you actually take the time to read any of these webpages.

Redskin: A Hate Word Defined
If you are a Native American or if you have the blood of Native people within you, understand you are the survivor of a holocaust.
YOUR PEOPLE HAVE BEEN HUNTED AS ANIMALS. YOUR ANCESTORS WERE STALKED BY A PERVERSE ENEMY WHO LAY IN WAIT EVERYWHERE YOUR FAMILY WALKED.
You have had your family and your dignity stolen from you and in its place is a deeply perverse set of hate messages swim before your eyes. If you can shut out the hate and the lies, you will find a profound emptiness. You family tried to protect you. That is why you know so little of your heritage, so little of the ways of living which are not approved by the self proclaimed "master of the beasts". That is why so much of the religions, histories, and stories of the RED HOLOCAUST remain a secret today.
SURVIVAL HAS FORCED SILENCE ONTO THE HEART OF THE NATIVE AMERICAN PEOPLE AND YOU ARE TOLD TO BE COMPLIMENTED BY THE NAME OF HATE:
REDSKIN

Decal It! Direct Action, Label Racism in Your Community
While November has been recognized as Native American Heritage Month, true honor and recognition can not be fulfilled until ALL forms of public and government endorsed bigotry and racism against Native people cease.
In the pathological dynamic of genocidal histories, the perpetrator culture invariably turns its gaze to the horrors registered in the archives and accounts of the "other guys." This is why Holocaust studies in the United States focus almost exclusively on the atrocity of Auschwitz, not of Wounded Knee or Sand Creek. Norman Finkelstein, in his discussion of the way images of the Holocaust have been manufactured to reap moral and economic benefits for members of the Jewish elite, states that the presence of the Holocaust Museum in Washington is "particularly incongruous in the absence of a museum commemorating crimes in the course of American history" and makes specific reference to the slave trade and genocide against the American Indians. Peter Novik suggests that the Holocaust has become a sort of "civil religion" for American Jews who have lost touch with their own ethnic and religious identity, and asserts that "in the United States the Holocaust is explicitly used for the purpose of national self-congratulation: the Americanization of the Holocaust has involved using it to demonstrate the difference between the Old World and the New, and to celebrate, by showing its negation, the American way of life."

Spiritual and Cultural Genocide
It is not surprising, then, how few really know about how Custer treated, resolved the "Indian problem"...
How few people of the world really know that he and his troops mercilessly massacred entire villages, raping and killing the women, brutally executing every one without exception; the grandmothers and grandfathers, the men and women, the teenagers - and the children and babies?



Views and voices of non-Natives:

Teaching Thanksgiving from a different perspective
Teacher Bill Morgan walks into his third-grade class wearing a black Pilgrim hat made of construction paper and begins snatching up pencils, backpacks and glue sticks from his pupils. He tells them the items now belong to him because he "discovered" them.
The reaction is exactly what Morgan expects: The kids get angry and want their things back.

American Indian Stereotypes: 500 Years of Hate Crimes
A population decrease of ninety-five percent over four hundred years does not just happen. Do genocide and holocaust suddenly sound apropos?

Teaching About Thanksgiving
This rigid fundamentalism was transmitted to America by the Plymouth colonists, and it sheds a very different light on the "Pilgrim" image we have of them. This is best illustrated in the written text of the Thanksgiving sermon delivered at Plymouth in 1623 by "Mather the Elder." In it, Mather the Elder gave special thanks to God for the devastating plague of smallpox which wiped out the majority of the Wampanoag Indians who had been their benefactors. He praised God for destroying "chiefly young men and children, the very seeds of increase, thus clearing the forests to make way for a better growth", i.e., the Pilgrims.

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Thursday Thirteen: In Support Of The National Day of Mourning Today


Thirteen Reasons Why I will NOT Celebrate Thanksgiving


1. Because the Pilgrims, those idealized representatives of America's past, were actually MURDERERS who turned around and slaughtered the Wampanoag Native Americans who fed them and taught them how to survive in the "New World".

2. Because the Pilgrims never had any intention of making this "New World" a place of religious freedom. They simply wanted to be the shotcallers of their own area, where they could be the ones dictating what beliefs were acceptable. They even referred to themselves as the "Chosen Elect".

3. Because the bastards brought smallpox to this country and purposely infected the Native Americans with it by giving them "gifts" of blankets that had been rubbed against the skin of those with the disease--the first use of biological weapons in this "New World".

4. Because Thanksgiving is a perversion of a Native American religious ceremony in which this was simply one of several days that they observed throughout the year giving thanks to the Creator.

5. Because Columbus was a racist killer who literally used Native Americans as food for his dogs and captured Native American women and turned them over to his men to have sex with rape.

6. Because Adolph Hitler was inspired to create concentration camps after reading about how effective these were in bringing about the American genocide of Native Americans.

7. Because the American government has broken over 350 treaties signed with the Native Americans.

8. Because that racist bastard "Teddy" Roosevelt's face is still carved on the side of a mountain that is sacred to the people that he advocated killing.

9. Because the pseudo-religious propaganda of Manifest Destiny was a bastardization of the true message preached by the Christian messiah Jesus of Nazareth.

10. Because the invasion and theft of Native American land emboldened Europeans to go on to invade and steal innumerable citizens of African nations resulting in the deaths of over THIRTY MILLION deaths during the Maafa.

11. Because, under the laughable guise of showing respect, Wasi'chu make millions of dollars every year from openly selling merchandise featuring racial slurs like "Redskins" and using racist stereotypical depictions of Native Americans.

12. Because the only time Native Americans get mentioned in most schools is when it's in the context of them playing some subservient or inferior role in comparison to European explorers exploiters.

13. Because on December 29th 1976 I was born into this world as a Native American woman and on that same date in 1890, less than a hundred years before, 350 unarmed Native American men, women and children were ruthlessly slaughtered by drunken United States soldiers who were later issued medals of honor for their deed.


Links to other Thursday Thirteens!
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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!



Saturday, November 18, 2006

You Gotta Start Early With The Kids, I Guess

I was on EBay today and I came across a listing for this Barbie and Ken doll set:


The description for the item read:

**Barbie and Ken ARMY Desert Storm (Camouflage) GIFTSET! **
WONDERFUL !! From the Barbie Collectibles site: "This deluxe giftset features Barbie® and Ken® dolls in authentic desert battle uniforms of camouflage material. Both dolls wear matching camouflage jackets, pants, and vest, green over-the-shoulder bags, and maroon berets. 1993.

I don't even know what to say about this. Why in the world would you give your child something like this? What effect must it have on people if they learn to associate war with beauty and happiness instead of violence and death?

Friday, November 17, 2006

PlayStation 3 Heaven

I was so excited about today that I could hardly sleep last night. Most of the time, I'm so stiff and sore in the mornings that it's hard to get going but not today! We dropped VanGoghGirl off at school and then went to Wal-Mart to buy some video games because it's cheaper to get them from Wal-Mart than from other places. After that, we headed over to EBGames. The people that we met when we camped out in front of the store the morning that they were going to start taking pre-orders were already there waiting for them to open up. I swear, I felt as happy as a kid in the candy factory.

When the employee came to the let us in, he locked the door behind us. Everything was quiet out here but there have been some really nasty incidents in other parts of the country, so they weren't taking any chances. Some of the stores, like Best Buy and Target, were going to have units for sale today so people have been camping out for days (weeks in some places) in order to be close enough in the line to be able to definitely get a unit on the launch date.

The game store where we got ours from only got enough units shipped to them to cover the pre-ordered ones. Really, we just lucked out because about four days ago Sony announced that it wasn't going to be able to fill all of the orders. That meant that some stores that were expecting to get 16 might only get five and some stores wouldn't get any at all. There's really nothing you can do in that case because, when you pre-order, they don't guarantee that they'll have a unit in by launch day; They do guarantee that you will have your unit by Christmas, though. We were very worried that the location where we'd ordered ours might not get as many as expected and since they were only slated to get seven units max, that might mean we'd only get one unit. We were pretty sure that if they got any in, we'd probably make the cut because we were number 3 and 4 in line.

In one city, some people who were camped out in front of a store on one of the nights before they went on sale a guy came up, pulled a gun on them, and robbed them. You know, I think it was pretty poor thinking to be carrying that much cash on you at one time. If I were them, I'd have brought a debit card or check and if I didn't have either of those, I'd have gotten a friend to come and bring me my money on the morning when the store was going to open. In some places there were small riots when the stores didn't plan well ahead of time and people tried to rush the store in order to skip in front of those who were already lined up outside. If you really want to see something crazy, check out the line at one store in Osaka, Japan:



This is the line at one of the stores in Tokyo:



That's pretty crazy, isn't it? My sister is in Japan right now and we were telling her that we each want a PS3 for Christmas and we asked her if she'd mind standing in line to get them for us. Of course, she refused. I can't say I blame her.

I guess I should get back to talking about our own morning.

The German and I had separate reserve receipts because they didn't allow people to pre-order more than one. I paid for mine and then he bought his and we got into our car as quickly as possible. Man, those PlayStation boxes turned out to be a lot heavier than I thought they'd be when I first tried to lift it. They are much heavier than the PlayStation 2 units. The German told me that each one weighs 12 pounds. With my arthritis and back pain it felt more like 20 pounds to me. Anyway, we went straight home and brought them inside. Here's one of the pictures he took of me sitting with our two lovely units, still in the box:


I know what you're probably thinking when you see this: Only a real geek would be smiling that hard while taking a picture of herself sitting with a couple of video game units. Well, you're right! I am an absolutely devoted PlayStation fangirl. In fact, I was pretty upset this morning because I wanted to wear my PlayStation "Live in your world, Play in ours" t-shirt today. Wouldn't you know it? The one day when I really want to wear it, I couldn't figure out where in the world it could have gone to. I bet that as soon as I wake up tomorrow, I'm going to find it stuffed under some place where I thought I looked. Oh well, at least I have my PlayStation 3 to console me. Get it? "Console" me. Okay, you probably won't get it unless you're as nerdy as me. If you are, and you don't already have one of these, let me tell you that it is well worth every buck.

Alas! This will probably be one of my last opportunities to take a picture with both of the units. We've already posted one on E-Bay to sell in order to take advantage of the extreme shortage and high demand for them. They cost a bit over $650 if you were lucky enough to buy one at a store. The average going rate is a little over $2,000 right now. All we care about is making enough from the one we're selling to pay for the one we're keeping. I may be a fangirl but there was no way we were going to buy a game system for close to $700. However, not everyone feels like I do.

We were watching on the news and out in Baton Rouge, a guy sold his place in line for $400. That's just crazy!! That means, basically, the person who bought his spot is going to be spending over a thousand dollars just to get a unit. There are enough hard-core PlayStation fiends that a few people have even managed to sell their unit for over $3,000. You know, I think that some folks just have too much money on their hands. I don't care if I was a millionaire. It's just obscene to pay that much for a game system.

UPDATE: The unit we put for sale was only up for four hours before someone bought it. Yeah!!!

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Borat Can Go To Hell With Gasoline Drawers On

Do you want to know why I say that? Well check this out on my friend MrSauerkraut's Sour Blog:

Come on Borat, you can do better than this!!

I'm not too keen on ethnic stereotyping but I'm not totally without a sense of humor. I have enjoyed seeing Sacha Cohen interview public figures on the Ali G show several times. The time when he was asking questions to this homophobic preacher was just hilarious. However, after reading about this, I'm just really glad that I didn't go and see this movie. You know, if you're going to do this sort of thing, I just can't laugh about it.

Some People Will Eat ANYTHING!

The German just showed me an article he found on The Advocate (an online newspaper out of Baton Rouge). You seriously HAVE to read this for yourself.


There were more than a few cries of amazement Tuesday evening as the servers and chef at Sullivan’s Steakhouse wheeled a 22-pound lobster — a soon-to-be $500 entrée — to the table in the center of the room.
Chelsea, as the estimated 110-year-old lobster had lovingly become known in its last few hours of life, got a star’s treatment at the restaurant, complete with an entry behind servers waving flashing sparklers while it sat atop a rolling cart decorated with a black tablecloth, cilantro, lemons and peppers.
Here's a picture of "Chelsea":

Okay, first let's get some self-disclosure out of the way. I am a practicing omnivore. There are many good arguments for vegetarianism and veganism. I totally respect those who choose their diet based on what they believe is good for the Earth or simply based on their religious tenents. Several years ago, I tried to go vegetarian with the intentions of eventually going vegan. I ended up very, very sick. It turns out that because of my myriad health problems, there really isn't a vegetarian diet that can work for me. The fact that soy has been shown to be really bad for people with my kind of cancer worked against my vegetarian endeavor big time.

Because of my own situation, I am well aware of the fact that there are some very good reasons for eating meat. There are certain kinds of nutrients that you're only going to get from animal-based foods. In terms of physiology, our bodies are quite capable of digesting many kinds of meat. As a matter of practicality, there are plenty of places on this small planet where people really can't afford to stop eating meat; When you're living in a place where any food is hard to come by and/or the plant-based foods are too expensive for you to try and sustain yourself without what you can catch, hunt, or fish, I don't think there are any moral arguments to be made against eating meat.

That said, there are some things that I just don't think should be eaten unless you are actually without any other options. This was a lobster that had managed to survive the entire 20th century. The majority of humans don't even live to see 100 years old. But some idiot gets a notion that they want to eat a 20 pound lobster at a second-rate chain restaurant and so this animal's life has to come to an end. I don't understand it. It just looks like conspicuous consumption to me.

At best, the lobster tastes just like any other lobster you can normally find in a restaurant. At worst, you're eating a creature that has been sucking up and ingesting all of the crap that people have been putting into the water supply for the past hundred years. If you think that the environment has suffered in the years that George Bush's appointees have been allowing industrial corporations to get away with practically anything they want to do, just imagine what sort of sludge people were dumping into the harbors, lakes, and streams back in 1896. For that reason alone you couldn't pay me to eat that lobster.

Besides that, I mean, I'm not exactly a sentimental kind of girl but even I would feel really bad about eating anything that was born before even my grandmother was alive. Good grief!!

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Johns Hopkins University Still Needs To Learn A Lot

Nubian is always on top of things before I even know what's going on. Her "It Happened Again" post is about the latest campus-related incident where somebody thought that parties make for excellent excuses when you want to show how much of a bigot you are but you're such a coward that you need to be able to present it as a joke in order to dare do it. A bunch of fraternity members decided to host a "hood"-themed party a with racist, ablist, and sexist invitation to go along with it.

After reading about it on Blackademic (I never pass up an opportunity to provide a link to her site), I skipped around the net to see what other sources had to say about it. Alas, A Blog mentions it in "Step Away From The Damned Blackface, Already" and you can take a look at the actual message from the invitation to the party here. I also found an editorial on Johns Hopkins University's student-run newspaper's website entitled "Sigma Chi's Long Night". I don't think that it will be a big surprise for anyone to hear that their editorial downplayed the significance of this incident and attempted to blame the Black Student Union for getting folks all stirred up about it. Goodness graciousness, why can't people ever stop resuscitating the tired old "You guys aren't being good Negroes" routine. I wrote a comment on the editorial and I hope others will too. Here's what I have to say about the newspaper's assessment:

Racism: hatred or intolerance of another race or other races.

Contrary to what this editorial suggests, racism is not in the eyes of the beholder. If making light of a disease that is responsible for the deaths of millions of Black people every year can be considered hateful or intolerant, then how can there be any doubt about whether this was racism? If calling the the (predominantly-black) city of Baltimore an "HIV-pit" is a hateful and intolerant act, then what word is there in English language that better describes what occurred?

If this editorial board thinks that these references were probably meant as a joke, then I'd certainly be interested in knowing what they think the "probable" punchline was for it. I'm sure that, whatever it is, the rest of the world would die laughing upon hearing it, at least those who aren't too busying just dying.

Let's think this through, shall we? Turning demanded that they cancel the offensive party. However, the members of Sigma Chi chose to ignore the faculty advisor and proceed with it anyway. Given the fact that they knew it was offensive before the party even began, how is it probable that anything about this incident is just a joke gone awry? Those who claim to want to find a resolution to this incident need to know that this can not take place unless people are willing to at least be clear about what actually occurred.

As is too often the case, those who are not members of the group that was being caricatured can afford to focus on "intentions". However, those of us who do know what it's like to be on the receiving end of racism (both personal and institutionalized forms of it) are not any less harmed because someone may not have acted with bigotry as their explicit goal. In fact, institutionalized racism is what makes incidents like the Sigma Chi party possible because it means that when certain classes of people engage in racist behavior, they can usually do so with relative impunity.
To ask whether or not this was "Racism or Stupidity" is to create a false dichotomy. Is there some reason why it could only be one or the other? I'm going to go out on a limb here and introduce what might seem like a really far-fetched notion to some. Could it be that it was racist stupidity? I know it's anecdotal but, in my experience, racism and stupidity are not exactly strange bedfellows. That is why I am a bit disappointed to see their actions described as "taking stabs at the sensibilities of students". Is that what engaging in racist behavior is now? Is that what sexism is now? We shouldn't forget that Blacks and people living with HIV weren't the only ones mentioned in this minor faux pas. In the spirit of true equal-opportunity bigotry, they also managed to give everyone else a pretty good idea of where they stand when it comes to women too.

The editorial board seems to think that the apology given by some Sigma Chi members merits applause. I disagree. Every year members of the Johns Hopkins University's famed research programs engage in applause-worthy behavior. Given the current long line of truly amazing researchers at JHU who have yet to receive the accolades they deserve, I don't think anyone needs to resort to praising someone just because they might not be quite as odious as the others they surround themselves with.

I am also a bit puzzled by the editorial board's mention that an "evenhanded approach" is what's needed to heal the rifts in the student community. In order for this to be a situation worthy of evenhandedness, there must be at least two sets of actions of equal weight. Have the people who are offended by Sigma Chi's actions engaged in any reaction that equaled the sort of detestable behavior involved in that party?

I certainly hope that the editorial board did not mean to be as condescending as they were when they came to the conclusion that the resolution that some seek would not do them any good. How is it that, despite being very clear about what it would take in order for them to consider this matter to be justly resolved, the editorial board came to believe that it could know what these individuals want better than they can?

This editorial explained that the board has some misgivings but are those the result of the fact that more than a formal apology from Sigma Chi might be needed in order to resolve this? No. Instead it chose to focus on the fact that the Black Student Union(BSU) decided to bring this matter to the attention of those outside of the Johns Hopkins community. Perhaps if the board members were familiar the history of racism in this country they would be aware of why the BSU was inclined to present this to the media. The very fact that this board believes that they can decide what must be done in order for the BSU's actions to be justified makes it even more understandable for the BSU to have determined that more voices should be factored in to the discussion on race that needs to go on right now.

If the editorial board had taken the time to study the historic role of racism in this country, perhaps it would have been less likely to have formed the impression that the BSU's role should be to educate and foster dialogue. Instead, those who don't want the city of Baltimore and the rest of the country to believe that Sigma Chi's actions are merely a reflection of the overall attitude at JHU need to be the ones who seek to foster dialogue with the BSU.

If anyone on the board is principled or truly concerned enough to do that, they should know that getting started doesn't require a lot of work. Just go meet with some BSU members and ask how you too can be an ally to Black anti-racists on campus. It's that easy.

Instead of waiting for the BSU (which has more than enough to deal with now, thanks to the brothers of Sigma Chi) to address the wall hangings at Nolan's, why not do it yourself? Imagine how far it would go towards healing the community if those outside of the BSU took a stand against racism when they saw it. Can Mahatma Gandhi's words ever be repeated enough? To the editorial board I say: Be the change that you want to see in the world!

The Sigma Chi party was more than "an unfortunate occasion" and we should not mistakenly believe that racism can ever be a "force for good". If you're looking for such a force, why not start engaging in a little introspection to examine whether there may be something more that you can do to make sure that the rest of the world sees JHU will not excuse, will not minimize and certainly will not tolerate this sort of bigotry ever again.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Depression Poetry or What Happens When Things Go Wrong In Wonderland

To Answer Your Question

This is my heart
spilling into the cracks in the floorboard.
These are my thoughts
evaporating into the clouds.
This is my love
blowing away on the winds.
This is every remembrance of me
washing away with the tide.


The Pain of Chance

Never smart enough for him
Never holy enough for her
Never compliant enough for them
But perhaps you'd have been different

Maybe you'd have been pretty
Maybe you would have smiled more
Maybe you'd have been happy
But I'll never be any of those things

Now I am barren
Now I am broken
Now I am without options
But I wish the choice had really been mine to make

Sunday, November 12, 2006

We Turned Out Better Than Fine

Okay, this is a comment that I left on someone else's blog dealing with homeschooling and the supposedly-flakey reasons why some don't choose it. The other commenters had some pretty "interesting" responses, so I addressed them too. If anyone else has any views on this, feel free to leave a comment here. I'd love to hear what others have gone through or think about homeschooling and/or public schooling. Frankly, I'm pretty fed up with the elitist attitude that some home-school advocates hold. I tend to suspect that if your argument has to rely on straw-man arguments and scare tactics, then it must not have much real merit.

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Hmmm. Many of the reasons you came up with seem to be straw-man arguments and not representative of why the parents I associate with choose to send their children to public school. To the argument that some give where they say that they went to public schools but turned out fine, Kim C said "define fine". Well, here's my very own example of what "fine" can be:

My oldest brother was in the Gifted program while in public school and then went on to become a teacher in a school for underprivileged children because he recognized how many of them have to grow up with no father figure in their lives. Because of the wonderfully capable wife he has, they do just fine on one income so that she can stay home with their two young kids. They are in the process of buying their first home right now.

I was also in the Gifted program and I had my first research paper published in a peer-reviewed Science journal while I was still an undergraduate (a rarity in any field and almost unheard of in biochemistry) and received invitations for PhD programs from five top-tier research universities.

My younger brother who suffered from a severe brain injury as a child has gone on to become a wonderful husband with a stay at home wife and two gorgeous baby girls.

My youngest brother first started playing the saxophone in (public) elementary and middle school. From the music education he received there, he was accepted into a very prestigious high school for the arts. His music has taken him all across the globe and allowed him to play with musicians like Wynton Marsalis, Donald Harrison, and Nicholas Payton and singers like Les Nubiennes and Nina Simone. He was a member of a grammy-nominated Jazz band but now has a band of his own with a CD due out next year.

My own daughter (who went to a university-based pre-school) is both Gifted and Talented and has had her art displayed at the Louisiana State Archives three years in a row. She now attends a school exclusively for middle school-aged Gifted and Talented children. I suppose I should also mention that this is a public school which shows that the range of what public schools can offer is not confined to mediocre academics and crowded classrooms. Contrary to what silvermine stated, the schools here are rated on how much they teach the gifted students. The gifted student's standardized test scores are determined and issued so that parents here can examine how well (or how poorly) a particular school is performing for children in several different categories (e.g. economically under-privileged, gifted and talented, disabled).

By the way, my daughter is also classified as having "Attention Deficit Disorder" which is considered a plus by her teachers because it is a sign that a child can think in non-conventional ways and has been shown to be positively-correlated with increased creativity. When my daughter was diagnosed with ADD in elementary school, it was her teacher who was the first person (even before our family pediatrician) to give us information about the side effects of the commonly-prescribed medications. She sent us a wonderful letter telling us how much she hoped we understood that she didn't feel my daughter needed any chemical alterations in order for her to learn anything.

If home-school works well for some families, then I am happy for them but the blanket assumption (made by some) that public schools can't provide excellent education is just ridiculous. The fact that some parents do abdicate their responsibilities (and their children's academic success reflects that) does not mean that public schools are bad. It simply means that those parents aren't addressing their children's needs. Other parents are perfectly capable of instilling values and remaining their children's primary teachers even while sending their children to public school. If some parents don't know how to do that, then they can be taught.

My awesome Christian mother did it with the four of us despite being a single parent for the majority of our childhood. When she remarried and it became a family of twelve kids total, she continued to do it even then. I manage to do it while living with more "chronic illnesses" than almost any mother I know.

Being in public school isn't why some children don't reach their full academic potential. It is, however, often an excuse that some people use to explain why their children are doing poorly. If you are able to figure out how to be your child's primary teacher when you're homeschooling, then you could use those same skills to do it with your child in public school. Over and over again, I see these pro-homeschooling arguments that are meant to show that a parent doesn't need to have an entire day's worth of hours available in order to homeschool and how their lessons only take a few hours each day to complete. I don't think they realize it but that fact eliminates the idea that homeschooling was a necessity in order for these students to obtain high academic achievement. If these same parents took a couple of hours out of their day after school, then the child receives the academic benefits of both public and home schooling.

It was a bit surprising to read the question that Dana says she'd like to ask some people: "So why did you have kids, then?" I had to chuckle when I read that because the same question could be asked to those who say they homeschool because they are afraid of all the (supposedly) thuggish or ill-mannered children they'd have to be around in public school. If you really don't want your child to have to deal with the world we live in, then why did you have kids then? If you weren't willing to show your children how to deal with the issues they'll face in school, then what will you do when it comes to those issues that are much more difficult to deal with than simply what to do when your clothes don't align with the latest fad or when some kid keeps poking you in the lunch line?

I know that not everyone believes in the Bible but since so many homeschooling parents say they are motivated by religious reasons, I can't help but think about what the Bible says at 2 Timothy 3:15-17. This was one of the first verses my mother taught us as children.

The principles we were taught enabled my siblings and I to deal with every single issue we faced in school. If a religious person is considering homeschooling because they are worried about the pressures their child would face in public school, perhaps it is a sign that deep in their heart they know that they haven't been giving the child the sort of education (i.e. values) that would enable their child to do what millions of other children have done in the past and continue doing today--living a principled life regardless of what those around them do.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Thursday Thirteen Edition Two


My Thirteen Favorite New Orleans Restaurants
by bint alshamsa



1. Pampy's Creole Kitchen
I have visited some of the swankiest spots in the city but this place is still my absolute favorite restaurant. Fortunately for us locals, it's located outside of the tourist trap that the Vieux Carre is turning into. If you go there, you'll still see plenty of out-of-towners but I think that most of them are folks who are in-the-know instead of random half-drunken folks wandering in from the French Quarter ready to eat at the first place they saw. Their Raspberry-Walnut Vinaigrette is so wonderful that I wish I could just get a permanent IV flow of the stuff directly into my veins. Unfortunately, poor Austin Leslie died a month after the hurricane. It's hard to imagine the restaurant ever re-opening without him as the head chef. The last time I visited Pampy's he sat down at the table with us and told us stories about life in New Orleans when he was a young man. I keep wondering if all of those old stories went with him when he died. Unfortunately, Pampy's got over three feet of water during the hurricane and will have to be rebuilt completely. Still, I can't help but talk about the restaurant as if it is still there. I just can't imagine going down North Broad and not seeing that restaurant still sitting on the corner.

2. Mulate's
We went here for my dad and his twin's last birthday. My uncle and I both ordered the stuffed crab and my dad and The German each had steaks. What can I say? The stuffed crab was crisp on the outside, moist on the inside and perfectly seasoned all throughout.

3. Dicky Brennan's Steak House
The first time I visited, the occasion was my ex-boyfriend's graduation from Xavier University. I fell in love with their Tuna Steak. I don't normally try Shrimp Remoulade when I see it on a menu because I've had some bad experiences with it but I'm glad that I took a chance and ordered it because it was excellent, not too vinegary as a lot of places mistakenly make it.

4. Deanie's Seafood
The only reason I ever make it out to Bucktown is to visit this restaurant. Well, I should take that back now because one of my pregnant cousins and her husband moved from a nice apartment right next to the governor's mansion out in Baton Rouge into a tiny flat in a beat down complex that's right down the street from Deanie's. None of us can understand why the heck they moved out to a fishing community and away from the city near several really good hospitals where she could have her baby but maybe she just wanted to be closer to the source of all the local seafood. And believe me, you will get the authentic Bucktown experience (all-pervasive seafood smell included free of charge) if you visit the neighborhood surrounding Deanie's. It's not a bad place but it just lacks all of the fancy-schmancy architecture and je ne sais quoi of New Orleans. The shrimpers are really proud folks, though, and they have good reason to be because without them there would be no New Orleans since they are the ones that harvest the catfish, shrimp, crawfish, and crabs that make up practically every signature Creole dish we eat. If there is a community hub in that area (outside of the much-loved churches), I'd say that it's Deanie's. You can't go wrong with anything on their menu. If I had to choose a favorite, it would be their Barbeque Shrimp. They serve it with french bread to sop up all of that heavenly seasoned melted butter. I should warn you though, if you are squeamish about seeing your food in it's natural form, you might want to get the Barbeque Shrimp pasta because if you just order the Barbeque Shrimp, you'll see that it comes with the head and tail still attached to them ready for you to peel off. I can't eat them, but my brother is crazy about their raw oysters. I don't think that people in other parts of the country eat that but it's pretty dern popular here. They scoop out the insides of the oyster and clean it up really good and then put them back on the half shell. You put a dash of Tabasco sauce on it and swallow it down whole.

5. Cafe Maspero
When I'm in the French Quarter and I just have to have a good sandwich, this is where I go. Evidently, I'm not the only one who feels like this because if you come during the day, be ready to stand in line. And by line, I'm not just talking about a cute little one inside of the restaurant. You will have to stand there with everyone else in a line that goes outside and in front of the building. You might think that's crazy but I've stood in that line plenty of times and I'll do it again if the Lord says the same and the tide don't rise. My personal favorite is the Hot Roast Beef sandwich with gravy. This is wonderful "poor man's food". I'll be a monkey's uncle if I haven't gone in there with just ten dollars in my pocket and come out with a full belly and leftovers for the next day.

6. Bennachin Restaurant
After the first big break-up that CaliGuy and I had, I started spending a lot of time with one of my childhood friends and her male roommate, Diallo. He was a sensitive guy with shoulder-length dreadlocks who was pursuing his master's degree as a graduate student over at Xavier University. We used have these little love-in sleepovers where Diallo and I would read our poetry and my childhood friend would perform bits and pieces from the operas she starred in. It was an extremely eclectic mix of rationalists and existentialists, an atheist sculptor who paid his bills working as an auto mechanic, a couple of poets like me and Diallo (he was really liberal and I was conservative), two opera singers (one was a very religious Catholic girl who only dated married men and the other was a former Jehovah's Witness), a couple of toddlers (VanGoghGirl included) and occasional curious interlopers. The great thing was that the entire group of us were people of color which made it a wonderful safe space to discuss what it was like being privileged, artistic and brown in a city like New Orleans. After the sleepovers we'd go out as a group to have lunch the next day at this wonderful African restaurant over on Royal Street. It's really tiny and if you're looking for a posh setting you won't find it here but they have the best West African cuisine you can get in this city. Their Red Beans with Garlic Sauce over Coconut Rice is magnificent. The sticky-sweet Fried Plantains make for a great dessert that's worth making room for even after lunch. They also offer a lot of vegetarian dishes which is very rare down here in the south where almost every dish comes with a slab of flesh in it somewhere. It's a great place to go if you don't want your vegetarian friends to have to settle for a salad while everyone else has lots of dishes to choose from.

7. Juan's Flying Burrito
They do have two locations but I've only been to the one on Magazine Street. I think it's the only one open post-Katrina but I'm not sure. When I want a real burrito and not the Tex-Mex garbage that's supposed to be "authentic", then this is where I go. As a freshman, me and my friends would make a quick lunch run to Juan's between classes. Back then, the Chicken Burritos full of steaming hot rice and wrapped in a Spinach Tortilla was my favorite because I could take it to-go and eat it in the car so we'd make it back in time for class but now I think the Quesadillas are my first choice. The nice thing is that they are made with Creole-seasoned chicken which makes for an interesting twist.

8. We Never Close Seafood
Look, I'm not going to lie to you, this place can be rather dirty. Sometimes we jokingly refer to the place as "We Never Clean". They really don't seem to care just how dusty and strewn with straw wrappers the floor gets. If you are the kind of person who needs to believe that your food has never been in a less-than-sterile environment before touching your lips, then you might want to go somewhere else. However, if you want the most to-die-for Shrimp Po-Boys, then you have to go here. For those who don't know what a "po-boy" is, it's a sandwich piled high (no skimping allowed) with fried catfish, shrimp, oysters, or hot roast beef topped with shredded lettuce, and tomato slices and served between two halves of crusty french bread that has been slathered with a thin layer of butter (or mayonnaise). You can sit there and eat but most folks take their food to go. That might be because it is in a pretty bad spot. I've known two different people who've been shot within a block of that restaurant. If you go through the drive-in, on the side of the building you'll see some pock marks in the brick. You guessed it. Those are bullet holes. The German was at work when one of his co-workers had to leave because his brother was the guy who happened to be in the car that those bullets were aiming for in an attempted robbery. If you don't mind playing Russian Roulette with our life, then you can go and have one hell of a meal. My daughter is crazy about their hamburgers but that's only because her crazy bio-dad lives down the street from the restaurant and when she was a little kid and he had her over for the weekends, he'd bring her down there to get lunch for the both of them instead of just taking the time to cook the girl something himself, so she was practically raised on the stuff. Anyway, the good thing is that it's sort of a market too and you can also buy some Hubig's pies while you're there. If you've never had a Hubig's pie, then you might as well curl up and die right now because your life isn't worth continuing.

9. Trolley Stop Cafe
This is the definitive place to go to when I'm craving breakfast for dinner. Because it's open twenty-four hours a day, it's one of my favorite after-party haunts. I'm telling you, there are few things I enjoy more than coming from a late-night Jazz shindig at the Spotted Cat or the Funky Butt and then heading out to the Trolley Stop to get a giant omelet full of ham and cheese and green onions at two o'clock in the morning. You can scarf down half of it there and then take the rest with you to eat at noon the next day when you wake up.

10. Chinese Kitchen
This is another one of those hole in the wall joints where you won't find any tourists. The food isn't exactly Chinese. In fact, it's like the Asian equivalent of Tex-Mex food but as far as such meals go it's the best of what I like to call "Asian-Cajun cuisine". The Sweet and Sour Chicken is worth the lunch-time wait which really isn't all that bad if you have fifteen to twenty minutes to spare.

11. Mona's Cafe
I remember when Mona's opened up a new location on the edge of the French Quarter. I was pleased as punch and tried to convince everyone I know to go there with me. I also remember when, post September 11th, some hateful bastard(s) burned their Banks Street location down to the ground. This restaurant epitomized the sort of success that a lot of other Palestinians who come here hope to obtain. I felt this burning anger inside of me when we woke up that morning and heard about what happened. We got in the car and drove past the restaurant hoping that the damage wasn't as bad as some were saying. For all of the problems we have here--and there are quite a few--it's still the most tolerant and accepting place I've ever lived. The folks who own and work at Mona's are New Orleanians; They aren't just people who moved here and set up shop. They became a part of the city. That's why we weren't the only ones who took it really personal when Mona's suffered that setback. Lots of people don't know it but we have a thriving Lebanese and Palestinian community in this city. They don't all tend to live in a particular area like the Vietnamese do (Incidentally, I've spent most of my life living in or next to the two main ones in the city which also feature their own cafes and restaurants), so you might not notice it. When I first started learning Arabic, I got so much encouragement from the folks over at Mona's every time I stopped by. They were unfailingly patient with me as I attempted to speak and order my food in Arabic. Their Hummus is great; It's not too lemony or dry but it isn't runny either. The Chicken Shish Kebobs are tender and spicy and the feta cheese in the Greek salads is top-notch. The fact that I can eat all of that while listening to Amr Diab CDs playing in the background makes for a very enjoyable experience.

12. Port Of Call
They have what has got to be the best hamburgers on the planet. Okay, so I haven't eaten at every restaurant on the planet but I've eaten at quite a few and this is still my favorite local hamburger source. I'm not referring to that semi-edible plasticine-looking stuff you get from the chain stores. I mean this is a REAL hamburger. Do you want to know what their burgers are like? Hey, if I could grab an angel out of the sky, grind him up and cook him on a grill, I imagine that this is what he'd taste like. ;o) Oh yeah, I can't fail to mention the Hurricanes. No, I'm not talking about that so-and-so Katrina that came through and destroyed most of my city. These Hurricanes are the famed daiquiris that have sparked many a sin-laden night in this city. The one time in my entire life that I have ever seen my good Christian mother tipsy was the time when she drank one of these.

13. Ralph & Kacoo's
I've eaten here more times than I can name. Their French Quarter location was the preferred spot for celebrating minor special events in my family. My favorite combo from there is the Popcorn Shrimp for starters followed by the Stuffed Shrimp as my main entree. One of the things that I like about their Stuffed Shrimp is that it's wrapped in some sort of bacon or panchetta before it's cooked and that gives it a different twist from the versions that I've tasted at other restaurants.

Well folks, that's my list. It took me all day to finally decide which restaurants I wanted to include. For every one that I named, there are literally dozens of others where I'd gladly gorge my gullet on any day of the week. The wonderful thing about New Orleans is that you can eat here your entire life and never feel like you have to resort to engaging in culinary-sacrilege (i.e. eating at some national chain or--Heaven Forbid--a fast food joint).

A few years ago, The German and I had this little project where we planned to visit as many restaurants as possible in the span of one summer. The problem is, you can never win a game like that living in New Orleans because there are just too many places that you want to go back to after visiting once. The politicians may all be crooked and the whole place smells like mold but, it's like I still enjoy telling people:

I'm American by birth and Southern by the grace of God.


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Embryos, the Death Penalty, Religion, Science & the Pursuit of Truth

Today I was clicking around the internet reading some of the post-election articles about the South Dakota abortion ban referendum and I stumbled upon a web post by anti-reproductive justice activist Jill Stanek entitled "Embryonic stem cells = hair follicles". The title refers to an e-mail exchange between Stanek and one very astute thinker by the name of Megan Papesh. The exchange began when Papesh commented on an earlier post by Stanek which was titled--I kid you not--"Michael J. Fox is a Cannibal". If this were just a tongue-in-cheek statement meant to draw readers in to read what is essentially the same arguments made by many of the other anti-choice people on the web, then I'd say Stanek deserves a thumbs-up for creativity. Unfortunately, Stanek is dead serious.

Papesh took issue with many of Stanek's claims and eventually pointed out that if all one needs to do in order to establish the personhood of a zygote is to prove is that the clump of cells were produced by the human body, then those cells that constitute a human hair follicle are also people. In other words, if abortions are murder because zygotes are living human cells, then pulling out a strand of hair is also murder because that hair follicle is also living human cells. I don't think that Stanek was able to grasp this because when she attempted to re-state this assertion, she claimed that Papesh was saying that embryos are hair follicles. I was able understand what Papesh was saying but I suspect that Papesh may have assumed that, since Stanek is a former nurse, she'd be educated on these issues to the extent that it wasn't necessary to write out her argument in "long-hand". If so, I can see why it didn't work. Unfortunately, in this country you can become a nurse without ever receiving as much biology education as a person with an undergraduate degree in the biological sciences from any half-way decent university.

However, even if Papesh had fleshed out her argument (which was perfectly logical, by the way) a bit more, I doubt that it would have made much of a difference with Stanek. From looking at her writings, Stanek mentions science when she thinks it can bolster what are essentially religious views. In one of her comments under the stem cell post, she states that her goal is to follow God's agenda "as much as possible". That means even if every single science text on the planet disagreed with her, she'd still be against the idea of allowing other women to choose what to do with their bodes. And make no mistake, her argument really is about whether other women should have this sort of choice because she certainly doesn't seem to think that the world should be able to dictate what she must do with her body. In her case, it seems that she believes that God should be the one who decides; I guess the rest of us are meant to ignore God and make her the arbiter of right and wrong.

In my comment, I decided to address Stanek's religious arguments since this is what is at the heart of her claims. I think that the science aspects should probably be discussed separately because it only confuses some people when they try to talk about both of these topics simultaneously.

I wish we lived in a world where people like Stanek could be ignored but as the British logician Bertrand Russell once stated, "The biggest cause of trouble in the world today is that the stupid people are so sure about things and the intelligent folks are so full of doubts." As a result, when people like Stanek present their arguments to policy makers and voters, some who don't do their own research can take it for granted that science and religion actually support these assertions. Those who are distrustful of science already seem to be even more prone to take it for granted when religious authority figures make claims. This is especially sad because almost all of the major religions--including and especially the Abrahamic Trio--have well-established principles commanding adherents to personally engage in the pursuit of knowledge and Truth. But having a religious affiliation does not mean that one is any less likely to be lazy and inclined to skip the part about ascertaining the facts before believing what others say.

My favorite admonition for Christians comes in the book of Acts chapter 17: 11. It is written that the Muslim prophet Muhammad said that "seeking knowledge is an obligation on every Muslim man and woman" and that God "cannot be worshipped except with knowledge" and that we are to "seek knowledge from the cradle to the grave" and "Allah makes the way to Paradise easy for him who treads the path in search of knowledge". I am quite sure that Judaism has just as many if not more references to the importance of education as well (Steven, if you happen to read this, if you don't mind, please point me to any particular ones you can think of off hand). At certain points in the past, much of the world's scientific research took place in religious institutes and/or were carried out by those who had followed devout callings. I wish that more people (those who buy into the politically expedient distrust for science that some wish to foster) would keep this in mind before they follow others blindly.

Well, I've gotten completely off-topic but I've just been thinking about this a lot as a result of all the election-time political bickering. Below you can read my comment to Stanek. Even if you're not especially religious, I think this is an important subject because, like it or not, if you're living in this world, then you will have to deal with the repercussions that come with being surrounded by people who do base their decisions around their religious views.

Hello Jill,

I just stumbled onto this site from another one on a related topic. Having read this thread, it seems that your arguments are still problematic at best. For instance, you discussed how the passage in the Bible that is commonly translated as "thou shalt not kill" should (disputedly) be rendered "you shall not murder". Well, let's say that's correct--which I believe it to be, by the way. That still wouldn't show that abortion is wrong in the eyes of God. The definition of the word "murder" is illegal killing. Therefore, unless abortion is illegal, it is not murder. "Murder" is a judicial term.

We could also look to the past when these commandments were given. Did the people (that these commandments were issued to) have any laws prohibiting abortion? This is a rather complicated issue but, in short, the answer is no. There are some restrictions on it but none of them applied to non-Jews even under the law code.

Then there's the subject of capital punishment you mentioned. Notice the quote you provided reads, "Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed". It does not say that God approved of this further act of bloodshed. To get an idea of how God feels about it, we can simply look at what proceeds it: "And for your lifeblood I will surely demand an accounting. I will demand an accounting from every animal. And from each man, too, I will demand an accounting for the life of his fellow man." Notice it does not mention any exemption or condonation for those who kill for some particular reason that they believe to be justified. In other words, the those who kill in the name of the law will face the same judgment as those who perpetrate illegal killings. The Bible clearly states that GOD is the one who will do the accounting for the lives of man. It does not say that man is authorized to play God by deciding what punishment they think the person deserves. Doing this is playing God and does not reflect an understanding of our proper role in relation to our Creator. God is perfectly capable of giving people there just deserts. Unless one believes that God is unjust or that God really didn't mean it when He had those folks write these passages we read in our Bibles. This also spills over into the topic of wars.

Even if you believe that God condones humans killing those who have killed others, then you still have no scriptural grounds for supporting this war. In fact, if one believes that the killing of those who are not murderers is wrong in the eyes of God, then you can not support any war where it has not been established that every single person that will be killed is a murderer.

Now, let's look at what goes on in modern wars. The majority of weapons used do not and could not distinguish between murderers and those who have never killed a single person. I'm sure you are smart enough to see that this makes it nearly impossible for one to support any modern-day war. Well, you can support war but doing so put you in direct conflict with what you say God dictates.

I went back and took a look at Colossians 1:16 and this is what the NIV said:

For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him.

It doesn't say what you claimed. Were you referring to some other verse?

Romans 13: 1-7 is a very relevant passage for one who wants to understand what position those who follow God should take in regards to government. Verse one is especially important. Notice it says that we should submit ourselves to the governing authorities. However, it does not say that we should support these governing authorities. If we had some obligation to support whatever government we live under, then this would mean that those who believe in the Bible would be obligated to fight and kill other Bible-believers whenever their governments decided they wanted to go to war with each other even if we didn't agree with the reasons for it. Can anyone truly believe that God would want that?

The last thing I want to address is your second to last sentence. The truth is it is always possible to follow God's agenda. If someone thinks that it's a-okay to support some kinds of killing, it's just hypocritical if you claim to be any different from all the other people who find killing people justifiable. Of course, God gives us free will and that means that people are free to be hypocritical if they just want to make themselves feel better about themselves while ignoring the "plank in their own eye" (Matt 7:3-5).

I forgot to ask one other question.

If you think that Michael J. Fox is a cannibal, then do you also see all those who have organ transplants as cannibals? After all, those organs are human too.