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Showing posts from May, 2007

Human rights? Are they humans? With rights? Or just ex-cons?

Tyranny, like Hell, is not easily conquered. Yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. --- Thomas Paine, December 1776 I've made very plain my feelings about the injustice inherent in a punitively-oriented society. By merely focusing on the negative and punishing rule/law breakers, we do not offer enough deterrents or incentive for many people to operate within the system. A successful society is a two-party contract that requires total buy-in. Society leaders (by which I mean government) not only must offer a legal means that is reasonable, but also must provide guidance and direction to how to legally work towards the desired end. This requires two key things: trust and fulfillment of guaranteed rights. If this sounds vague and confusing it is because I'm trying to apply a general moral/ethical principle to the rule of law. Bring it down to a specific case: the right to vote. This right is an evolving one. Here's a

Don't worry, be happy: It's blog on blog action, with no whining

"Hey! Hey you? Wanna see the wares?" The first image I hawked on the blog. Joy tagged me with the BlogRhet meme . I will answer these in the interest of academic advancement. But. With a condition: someone must explain the genesis of the name "BlogRhet." Okay, per the site, here are the rules for the BlogRhet meme post : Your mission: Give one or more these questions a stab in a post (or series of posts), and then tag three more writers. If you don't mind, please link back to this original entry—we'd LOVE to track the progress of this meme with trackbacks. I selected all of the questions because I like a challenge. Also, I believe that quantity equals quality. Part A---Answers for: 1. Go back to first or early post. How would you describe your voice back in those early days? Who were you writing to? What was your sense of audience (if any) back then? and 2. Do you remember when you received your first comment? What was it like? This is good timing. My blo

Mid-life crisis tears local blogging mom asunder

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. --- e.e. cummings, 1955 As with any navel gazing, I re-read this about a 1000 times to make sure it wasn't self-pitying, overly negative or presenting a false impression of what is merely one facet of myself, and most of all didn't ring out like some sort of, "Don't hate me because I'm so can be hard, really!" I hope I have presented the following self-indulgence as the productive journey it really has been. If not, please, feel free to edit and correct for me in your mind. :) Hi. Don't mind me. I'm just having a developmental spurt aka identity crisis. It makes me a little cranky, and a lot self-involved. Believe it or not, this isn't a mommy identity crisis. This is a personal identity crisis. It might even be a mid-life crisis, which make

Cindy Sheehan says goodbye; Republicans, Democrats and more say good riddance

From what I read in a variety of places that support a plethora of different points of view, Cindy Sheehan's 1200-word letter, "Good Riddance Attention Whore," brought a general reaction of, "And don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out." When Sheehan first caught my---and everyone else's---attention by camping outside Bush's Crawford, Texas ranch, I believe a lot of us didn't know what to think. I did think Bush looked churlish by not agreeing to meet with her. Five minutes. Why was that too much to ask? Five minutes for the grieving mother whose son died for this country. I realize that approximately 3500 families are grieving for the same reason. (If you want to see numbers, go here .) I realize that if Bush gave five minutes to every grieving family that would mean he'd spend 17,500 minutes (almost 300 hours, probably about 8 straight weeks) offering his condolences and appreciation. (Assuming there were no additional casualt

Unfortunately, Moms, your worst fears are true: they really are thinking judgmental things about you

Yesterday I was perusing my friend OmegaMom's blog. In her post " The divine destructive force " she had what appeared to be a funny link to a kid pulling one of those "OMG my kid did NOT just do THAT!" stunts. You know what I mean. We've all had those moments. Mine was on Monday. Now that the kids are out of school, we get to make grocery shopping a Fun Family Outing. <--- Now I am being facetious, ironic, and sarcastic. My crime: refused to allow Persistence to eat a yogurt with her fingers in the store while shopping My punishment: Persistence reached back, grabbed the package of yogurt and hurled it mightily to the floor, where it exploded, coating the floor, the basket, my feet, and the bottom shelf and all the products on it My husband's was on Tuesday. Remember the Adventures in Dadhood story? Did you catch that my husband sneaked in late and added his comment, as I had hoped? It was pretty funny. If you missed it: Honestly, the expulsion...o

Mary, has Sex improved for you this year?

Last night was the launch of this season's So You Think You Can Dance . I'm so thrilled. <--- Not being ironic, facetious, or sarcastic; I'm completely sincere. However, I'm not a big fan of the auditions because---although not to the same degree as American Idol which capitalizes on it disgustingly---it's really a time of humiliation for quite a few people. It would be one thing if the people were simply not good enough, but then we have people like "Sex" seriously thinking his dancing is professional level. For the second time. And that's when you get Nigel Lythgoe turning to Mary Murphy and asking, "So Mary---and I can't believe I'm asking you this---but has Sex improved for you this year?" And poor Mary had to say she was afraid not. Generally, there are plenty of tremendous dancers. I love watching dance. So I eagerly await the season: the dancers and the choreography. Maybe we will get more moments like these: One of my favo

Hump Day Hmmm: Accepting Forgiveness---The Incredible Participants

Updated, Thursday at noon: Check out the comments. There is some good discussion going! Feel free to use this space, really, truly, to think out loud if you want. :) You know I like that. Do it all the time. Sometimes even in public. ;) Without any big fanfare---because the awesome posts stand on their own---these are the Hump Day Hmm particiants who answered this question: What has the experience of being forgiven been like for you? Take some time and go read every one of these responses. It will be worth every second; trust me. Kaliroz at Fortune and Glory wrote "Please forgive me, I know not what I do ..." Gwen at Woman on the Verge wrote To Forgive Divine Lawyer Mama wrote Those Three Little Words Are Hard to Say Chani at Thailand Gal (newly remodeled and GORGEOUS!) wrote The Tree of Forgiveness.... I wrote Shove me in the shallow water Bub and Pie wrote A Few Things I Have to Say Mary-LUE of Life, the Universe and Everything wrote A Gift Too Lightly Received And Mary-LUE

A Dear Charles letter, Living on in Infamy, and Adventures in Dadhood (with Hump Day Hmm call)

This post serves a variety of functions, as you might guess from the title. I have been rather prolific this week (which either means I am Virginia Woolf level angsty or Janet Evanovich level chipper) so if you haven't been here at my blog at least twice every day this week, you better scroll down. I'd hate for you to miss what could be from your POV the Best Post Julie Ever Wrote. A Dear Charles Letter Dear Charles Barkley, I think I love you. Who doesn't love a nice looking man with a big bank account and a hilarious sense of humor? My husband and I would like to know if you are interested in marrying us (he's also a fan of big bank accounts and humor, and he love love loves sports). Of all the sports out there, I like basketball best (after hockey, that is). And you, of course, were one of the best. I lost track of you because, well, to be honest, I leave the sports station viewing up to my husband, who takes his responsibility there very seriously. He watches your s

Myths to live by...or maybe not

"Read myths. They teach you that you can turn inward, and you begin to get the message of the symbols. Read other people's myths, not those of your own religion, because you tend to interpret your own religion in terms of facts - but if you read the other ones, you begin to get the message. Myth helps you to put your mind in touch with this experience of being alive. Myth tells you what the experience is." (from The Power of Myth ) When Bill Moyers released his mind-blowing television series, The Power of Myth , I discovered Joseph Campbell and his amazing theories about myth. Rites, symbols, rituals and myths are essential tools of mankind to explain life and its events, but more so, to cope with life and its events. As a child, I had always been fascinated by mythology and fairy tales---the real ones, in hardbound, antique books with beautifully scary illustrations. The concise and consistent structure of each tale was reassuring and enlightening. The rules of both the

Shove me in the shallow water

Mary-Lue serves many, many purposes, great and small, on this earth. Right now, for me, I think she serves the purpose of asking the right questions. (Is this blog post number 4 or 5 courtesy of her? LOL) During the Hump Day Hmm roundtable, she asked me how I felt about receiving forgiveness, and when I wasn't sure how she meant her question entirely, she explained she was curious about how I allowed myself to receive forgiveness, from others and from myself. (On a side note, I am sure we all noticed that I skipped the Hump Day Hmm last week. It's not gone. Just on a hiatus to give us a chance to breathe. It's back this week! The question is at the end of this post.) Before I can tell you why I do not know how to be forgiven, by others or myself, I have to explain where it all began. Where I am in my life is in exile. My extended family---mother's and father's alike---is disassociated from me. I suppose you could call me disowned. Or maybe it is that they are disow

Just shooting the blog...telling you about linky love and communities

Welcome to the meeting. Feel free to get coffee and bagel from the coffee bar over there. The fresh fruit...well, I trashed it. Didn't look too fresh. My assistant, Patience, is handing out agendas. Excuse the crumpling and chewed corners, some might still be damp. Sorry, Persistence wanted to help. Agenda: * Would you like to join my Good Blogs Book, Music, and Art review community? * Are you in my favorites? * Bloggy identity crisis I got an email the other day from The GoodBlogs. "Hi, it said, uhhh, are you okay? Your inbox is stacking up with messages. Why don't you go read your mail and save our server some space, eh?" What? People sent me messages at The Good Blogs??? I quickly clicked over to check. Holy mercy: messages! One from the famous The Lovely Mrs. Davis herself. "Hi," all the messages said, "You have a community...about reviewing books, music and art? We'd like to join." Great scott. So I do. It sort of fell off my radar along

The Joy of Cats...a long post about pets, so read if you love animal love stories...take a hike if you don't

I'm in UR dining room shittin' on UR rug. When my husband and I began dating in 1991---versus when we met (1988), the time apart (1989-1990), the time of "friendship" (1990), the time of "confusion" (late 1990-early 1991), Mardi Gras (1991), and actual "Love it or leave it dude," (1991)---we were single adults with our own apartments, very independent. I had acquired two cats. Cat 1, CiCi, adopted me by "Get the eff away from me crazy lady, no seriously do not touch me bitch!" default. She was a scrawny half-dead slightly past kittenhood cat that the vet encouraged me to Do the Humane Thing for. But I believed in fate. I got off the bus that day at that stop at that time, and looked to the right, instead of to the usual left. I saw her chasing a butterfly and something spoke to my soul. I walked over, looked her in the eye, said, "Do you want the Sweet Life? If yes, let me me pick you up." And she did. But not too easily. She h