It’s been a while, but I’m sitting in the library, tongue burnt from a Starbucks mocha, skipping class because I missed today’s assignment, and life is good.

I’m on the hunt for a job right now – almost any job will do, really – and it’s actually going surprisingly well. Apparently previous experience makes a difference, because I’ve only filled out about five applications and have gotten two interview calls already. Last year, before my stint at the bookstore, I must have turned in about thirty applications and only Nordstrom ever wanted an interview – and those bastards sure as hell didn’t hire me (although they were super nice about it, sent me a real, honest to god mailed paper letter to reject me by). But I have a good feeling this time – soon I will join the ranks of the partly employed!

In Bad Economy Stories I Can Relate To news, our house is being totally foreclosed on. Bummer! To add to the general dismalness of that situation, my dad finally left/got kicked out (??) of the house, so it’s just us womenfolk now. Hence the new-found need for another money source, since my father’s taken his (significantly larger than my mother’s) income and disappeared. Well, not exactly disappeared – he’s moved into, I assume, an apartment somewhere, won’t tell any of us where, and appears sporadically to help out around the house, “visit”, or give us fucking useless bits of money – fifteen dollars for me last time he was here, which I took even though it’s kind of insulting because I need it anyway. So it’s a weird situation.

But actually all of this might be a step in the right direction. My parent’s marriage had been dissolving for a while, and neither were willing to budge to fix it, so this has been coming for a long time. Sometimes separation is the best option – although I sort of wish, that if it had to happen anyway, it had happened a lot sooner – my dad will be alright, he had money, a mistress, plenty of friends from happy hour at the bars, so, whatevs.

My mother’s situation is much more troubling — she makes twenty-five thousand a year, had very few friends, is frankly not getting any younger, and now she has to navigate a new, single life. She doesn’t have as many friends – her work isn’t that conducive to close-friendship-making – and I seriously worry about her being alone for the rest of her life. She could eventually date again, I suppose, but it’s just complicated – where do you meet a good guy, over fifty, when you don’t go out much, are shy, and there’s somewhat of a language barrier (Spanish is her primary language)? Match.com? It’s depressing.

So all of that – worrying about what Mom’s going to be doing with her days now that she’s alone, worrying about her financial situation – is why I’m seriously feeling the pressure to never leave home, even though we don’t really get along and I am miserable here. I will, though, leave home, because at some point I have to start my own life, right? I mean, I’ve put that off already until I’m nearly twenty-two (next summer, when I graduate college) – my mom wants me to then get a full time job and we would live together in a nice place indefinitely. I want to leave. I want to go very far, far away, where I can relax and go out and drink and have sex and have fun without the stress that seems inherent to being here.

To add to the confusion, I’ve recently become very, very interested in Americorps – honestly it sounds like a program that was made for me (with a few tweaks here and there). I would love to go and commit for a year of service – the only problem is mom, again. We don’t get along but she’s my mother and alone now, so I feel a pretty strong sense of commitment and duty to her, too – which is why, although I had planned on leaving after graduating, I had also planned on continuing to pay my part of the rent after moving – Americorps does not pay enough for me to be able to send anything back regularly, though. Not even close. I’m keeping it as an option but I have to really think about how to work this financial problem.

This has been a very long update. Possibly I got a little nervous there as the coffee (a tall white chocolate mocha with whipped cream & chocolate syrup – order it, it’s delicious) began to kick in. So, until next time,

regards,

Tuesday

What a transparent and lazy effort to get ex-Clintonites and fundies. As a woman and an ex-Hill-supporter I have to wonder – just how stupid does McCain think I am? What an insult to our collective intelligence. Look! A vagina! Must vote! Fuck you, McCain, seriously.

On the other hand, you know, it’ll probably work. Sigh.

Ok, after the post on the short personality test, I had a looksee around the rest of the site. And I found this gem: Would You Have Been A Good Wife in the 30s? Gee, I dunno, would I??? Clearly, I had to find out.

http://www.blogthings.com/wouldyouhavebeenagoodwifeinthe1930squiz/

Now, I admit, when I was younger I often dreamed of living in a previous era. This was before I had to consider issues of race and class and human rights and blah blah blah progress. Dresses! yay! I wanted to write books and be a kept daughter then a housewife with ohthechildren. Which, you know, nothing wrong with that, except it turns out that’s not really me at all. I mean, I don’t know, maybe if my home situation were different I wouldn’t mind just hanging around till I was twenty-something, and if I didn’t have so many issues with the other sex (and with sex!) I’d be a little more interested in finding That Guy. But circumstances being and having been what they are, I want nothing more than to get out of this house and into a small apartment somewhere, sans parents, boyfriend, and anyone else to depend on except for a roommate.

So, would I have been a good 30s housewife? Let’s find out in the most unscientific way possible. Now, the quiz is actually a check-mark list. Let me comment on my reasoning here:

  • You would ask your husband’s opinion before making a big decision or purchase. That’s just good sense!
  • You tell risque or vulgar stories. Always. Or, occasionally. I know a couple.
  • You would often remark on your husband’s strength and masculinity. My husband would probably not be very strong or masculine, so I guess not.
  • You smoke, drink, gamble, or use drugs. No. I don’t.
  • You keep snacks in the refrigerator that a man would like for late night eating. I keep snacks in the fridge that I like. Do guys like pudding?
  • You walk around the house in your stocking feet. I had to stop here for several seconds and be uncertain about what “stocking feet” are.
  • You are not crabby first thing in the morning. You wake up with a pleasant disposition. Yes! I am a morning person, strangely enough.
  •  
  • You wear red nail polish. Never.
  • You keep yourself dainty, feminine, and smelling nice. Uh, sure.
  • You use slang or profanity. Yes.
  • You are a good seamstress. You can sew your own clothes and clothes for the children. Hahahahaha!
  • You wear your pajamas while cooking. I substituted “houseclothes” for “pajamas” and the answer was yes.
  • You Would Make an Okay 1930’s Wife
    You have some of the attributes of an ideal 1930’s wife… but you probably didn’t intend it to be that way.
    You don’t buy into retro gender roles, though you do embrace your femininity at times.
    A 1930’s man may find you passable, but you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

    Good to know.

    I’m one of those “no use crying over spilled milk” people that I so loved to mock. Who knew? At its core, it’s just a matter of self-preservation, though, and I’m all about that.

    I did one of those amazingly stupid things that I sometimes do, except this time it cost me four-hundred dollars worth of damage. Yes, I lost my ipod. It continues to utterly embarrass me to admit that.

    I’m usually anal about my possesions to the point of irritating the people around me with my constant checking and rechecking of their well-being. Yet I managed to leave the pod and headphones lying at the computer desk I was using when I went to class yesterday. The frustrating thing is, as I walked to class I actually did check to make sure they were in my bag, and was sure that I saw them. I hallucinated! My mind clearly saw that something was missing from the picture of my bag’s insides and filled in the hole. Christ.

    Well anyway, after realizing they were missing (when I tried to take them out for my bus-ride background music), I went back to the library. I wasn’t freaked at this point. I figured, seven out of ten people finding something of that sort in a library would take it to the front desk – wouldn’t they? I thought, there’s a good chance my ipod’s doing alright in a drawer somewhere. But when I got the computer desk I saw my headphones lying alone, ipod disconnected and whisked away (which, asshole thief? Those headphones are pretty expensive themselves). I did the rest – checking the desk, security, ect., but obviously it was just taken.

    But I surprised myself by not utterly freaking out. I mean, certainly I felt nauseous, and a little dizzy/giddy, but I did not fall into a deep pit of horrified dispair. I thought, “It’s definetly gone. I have no earthly way of getting it back. There goes four hundred dollars. It’s certainly going to suck dealing with this.”

    And it does, by the way, suck dealing with this. Parental fallout, mostly, because that was a Christmas present, and those long empty spaces where the music used to be. But this, too, shall pass. I guess. I think this is part of that whole “getting older” thing I’ve been doing the last few years.

    Ok, so I’ve been a terrible blogger lately. Even now, I can’t be bothered to give this post a proper name. I’d like to say it’s because I’ve been oh-so-busy lately that I don’t have ten minutes to spare, but life has just been more of the same — which is probably the problem. I feel utterly uninspired. I want to write about things, but I feel completely uninspired. I want to write about my Baltimore trip because hey, fun, but ‘m just being bleh about it. I think I really need the hundreds of pictures I took for fodder, and I’m still waiting for those to come in the mail.

    I could write about my on-going job hunt, but, God, that’s just depressing, innit? I mean, not quite in love with the idea of analyzing why I can’t get any work at all while the high school kids are getting picked up left and right (as my mother reminds me daily, as if this is supposed to inspire me to be brilliant at interviews or magically grant me previous experience). I should be bottled and sold in early morning paid programing – “Essence of Tuesday will repel employers for up to four months! No more worrying about excess money ever again!” and so on.

    So, yeh. I predict boring posts few and far between for the time being. In an attempt to cheer myself up a bit, here’s one of my favorite poems, by A.E. Houseman (yes, again! I don’t have the patience to be diverse right now, I’m afraid):

    Yonder see the morning blink:
    The sun is up, and up must I,
    To wash and dress and eat and drink
    And look at things and talk and think
    And work, and God knows why.

    Oh often have I washed and dressed
    And what’s to show for all my pain?
    Let me lie abed and rest:
    Ten thousand times I’ve done my best
    And all’s to do again.

    – A.E. Houseman

    I love that kid – he says it all and rhymes, too.

    Things about this election. It’s been disappointing to say the least – and of course, I’m saying that as a Clinton supporter, but not because she lost. It’s how the shit went down, I guess.

    Now, when we started down this weird road (oh, those innocent first few months!) I was pretty excited. I’ve heard people say they’re just now realizing the magnitude of the history that’s being made – I saw all that from the beginning. I mean, I’ve always been one to consider the history of things, and it isn’t long ago – at all – that women and blacks were in a pretty bad way. So yes, I was super excited to have a woman and lo, a black man running for president – nervous, but excited, and I took my pick of one and waited to see what would happen.

    Six months later, and I’m feeling less than enthusiastic about the whole thing. There’s still the intellectual part of me that can, thank God, appraise the situation and say: Obama’s charisma is undeniable. I don’t particularly feel it, but the numbers are there, and that sort of enthusiasm for politics, even only personality (especially if you can consider personality politics to be a gateway, at least for some people, to the actual issues), can only be good. I can see why Clinton lost; I can see why it’s good that she lost, considering what I really want is to get Dems in – into the white house, and that other house, and the Court and anywhere else you can stick them.

    Still, something went horribly wrong in this primary, and it wasn’t it’s length or the behavior of the candidates. It wasn’t even necessarily the media — though they were so cringe-worthy in their reports I admit I barely followed mainstream media at all. The trouble came in the form of the party’s reaction to itself. If we’re honest with each other, we can admit that the two candidates had nearly identical platforms, near identical (public) politics. Instead, people went insane. People who believe in a, b, and c viciously attacking people who believe in a, b, and c. The animosity was pathetic, and I found myself visiting my favorite liberal political websites less and less as time wore on, until it’s got to the point I haven’t checked any since March.

    It’s over now, thank God. I hope we can focus now on repairing some of this damage. We smashed each other up a bit. I know we did because I’m still afraid of checking the liberal blogosphere, in anticipation of all the hate and bitterness and contempt that I’m somehow sure is still floating around — and dammit, I shouldn’t be. I won’t beat around the bush now, and say that I do think – from my experience, and I did try to look at this evenly (though I was almost always a Clinton supporter, I was never particularly passionate about her because her and Obama’spolitics are so much alike, that I would have been happy with either), the majority of the vitriol didn’t come from the Clinton camp, but form Obama’s. Not Obama and his staff specifically — the candidate himself was always gracious and more or less likable, but his supporters, particularly online– boy, howdy. At first I was sad; I was looking forward to a campaign from a black man, the first real, seriously could-go-all-the-way-yay campaign from an African American for the US presidency, and I wanted it to be smooth and dignified and successful. And instead, there was hate. It drove me from the entire blogosphere for months; it felt irrational to me, bitter accusations when they were losing, bitter condescendencewhen they were winning, and always the contempt for anyone who was not entirely with them. This isn’t to speak for all of Obama’s supporters, or even most, but for a minority which was unfortunately as vocal as they were obnoxious.

    During Clinton’s speech after South Carolina, she spoke of her supporters, and how they need to be respected. That really summed up my problem with this whole past primary. There were a large number of people who felt it was a good idea to belittle nearly half of our party. That’s ridiculous.

    The contemptuous and condescending calls to drop out as early as February, growing louder and ever hateful as the months wore on? When the entire time the race was so close that a state here or there may have tipped the entire thing? Stop that. That’s annoying. You don’t look at someone who’s all of a few dozen delegates behind and say “Christ! Give it up, will you! This is pathetic, and you’re destroying the country!” Yes, Obama was ahead for a long time, and the support he drummed up was and is awe-inspiring. I always respected that all these people came out, taking time out to support him and vote for him and celebrate him. More than did for Clinton, admittedly – but not that much more, really. Not enough that you can dismiss the nearly-equal amount of supporters on the other side because you’re eager for you guy to win already.

    Looking back, I have to admit that I liked Obamagood deal better before coming into contact with many of his supporters. It almost felt like, as Obamaraced forward a bit in the polls and funds, they became drunk withthe power of it. They saw themselves as in the majority – no matter how slight of a majority it was – and felt free to insult Clinton and her supporters casually and often with a disturbing sort of hate I had only seen coming from the right up till then. Suddenly, inexplicably, Clinton was a rightwinger, her supporters stupid, conservative, racist or any combination thereof. This despite the fact that Obama has consistently gotten more independentand republican voters in open primaries than Clinton, despite his message of bringing both parties together (which I’m not criticising) against her long history of almost paranoid hatred of the right wing (which, though totally understandable on a personal level, I’m not saying is something I support in a president). I wasn’t exactly personally offended by these comments (which became inevitable in any political thread, and were repeated ad nauseum), because I know how much they don’t apply to me whatsoever too much to feel anything personal. But the irrationality of the arguments, the repeated inability to expand on them or offer anything except blind hatred for people who have the same values, essentially, as the commentersbut choose to support someone else – that’s what eventually got to me. For the first time I felt truly disgusted with my fellow liberals, and this upset me somewhat.

    I grew extremely tired, an exhaustion I can still feel now, months later, of this group of supporters’ persistent childishness. The vapid, automatic and often irrelevant insulting of Clinton herself which made my feminist hackles rise – the ones I had no idea I possessed, because I’d apparently never had cause to use them before. One tactic which first infuriated and then depressed me for its frequency was the assertion, in nearly every thread, that a person refused to vote for Clinton under any circumstance, even if the alternative is McCain. Clinton became not the other Democratic candidate, but the enemy. I’m not sure what the enemy of – not of democrats or liberals, even if you’re radical about it – not more so than McCain. I couldn’t understand where the hatred was coming from, could only guess it was a sort of rabid defense of Obama. And it was never a comment, but always a threat – if Clinton wins this primary, we won’t vote in November. Holding the general hostage, as it were.

    Looking back it’s not so surprising really – I was confused by it because I thought we were all here for the same reasons – to get someone who will act Democratically in office, who will veto and give speeches according to that party’s general platform. I was wrong. I was there for the issues, and was foolish enough to think everyone else was too. But there were (and I suppose, are) a large number of people who were only there for Obama. Obama, and nothing else, not stepping closer to socialized medicine, not slowing if not stopping our backwards slide in just about every current issue – only for Obama. It makes sense, of course, especially when you consider that a large number of his voters are people who don’t generally vote, people who are independent and people who are republican – it makes sense then, they aren’t so much passionate about the issues (although, interestingly enough I admit that he also attracts the more radical and passionate liberals as well). That’s in fact Obama’s greatest strength – that he can get these people to vote for him. That’s how you win presidencies, that’s why in the end he always had to win this primary, and was always going to.

    I don’t regret that. I only wish they had let us, the Clintonites, lose with a shrug and a “see you in November”, and not the repeated slaps in the face we actually got. The damage we have to repair now is the scores of people who have been left feeling insulted and condescended to. People like my mother; a virtual full stereotype of a Clinton supporters, she’s middle-aged, working class, Hispanic and has voted loyally and a little blindly for some twenty odd years down the line “D”. People who, like my mother, have been worn down by the bizarrely relentless attacks on her favorite to win for several months by her own party and allies. Some of Obama’s supporters may sneer at Clinton’s base, but we can’t forget that’s who the core of the Democratic party is – the working class, the Hispanics, the down-the-line-“D” voters. It’s nice that Obama won the primary; I’m happy for him, and his voters as well. But unless that’s where your goal ends (or, unless your goal was merely “beat Clinton, don’t let her win”), and other things like getting a democrat back into the white house, realistically speaking, don’t matter to you at all – then you need to acknowledge that those people, stupid racist rednecks or not, are necessary. They don’t need pandering – never have – but be wary of actively turning them off. Those are the wounds we need to heal before November. Obama’s speech after South Carolina was truly a step in the right direction, but, as I’ve thought often throughout this primary, I can only hope his supporters will follow his lead.

    I apologize for the messiness of the above. I’m no political science student, only a girl who’s interested in what happens next and needed to get a few things down before she can understand them and move on. In the interest of ending on a high note, I give you Song of the Mo’, “Baby, I’m an Anarchist” by Against Me!, from their Reinventing Axl Rose album. Um, the song ends at 2:41 and yet the video keeps rolling. I don’t know why.

    Lyrics:

    Through the best of times, through the worst of times.
    Through Nixon and through Bush.
    Do you remember ’36, we went our seperate ways,
    You fought for Stalin, I fought for freedom.
    You believe in authority,
    I believe in myself.
    I’m a molotov cocktail, you’re the dom perignon.
    Baby, what’s that
    confused look in your eye? what i’m trying to say is that
    I’ll burn down buildings
    while you sit on a shelf
    inside of them. You call the cops on the looters and pie-throwers.
    They call it class war,
    I call them co-conspirators.

    ‘Cuz baby, I’m an anarchist
    and you’re a spineless liberal.
    We marched together
    for the 8-hour day and held hands in the streets of Seattle.
    But when it came time to throw bricks through that Starbucks window you left me all alone.

    You watched in awe
    at the red, white and blue on the 4th of July.
    But while those fireworks
    were exploding
    I was burning that fucker and stringing my black flag high.
    Eating the peanuts
    that the parties have tossed you.
    In the back seat of your father’s new Ford
    you believe in the ballot,
    you believe in reform.
    You have faith in the elephant and jackass.
    And to you solidarity is a four-letter word.
    We’re all hypocrites, but you’re a patriot.
    You thought I was only joking
    When I was screaming, “kill whitey”
    at the top of my lungs
    at the cops in their cars and the men in their suits.
    No, I won’t take your hand
    and marry the State.

    [chorus]