tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74879461105284428542024-03-21T18:39:20.808-05:00COVERING THE GLOBEMusings from a Wandering SoulCoverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.comBlogger112125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-46370714662088619342012-04-05T12:48:00.000-05:002012-04-05T12:48:50.451-05:00Animal Genocide? How about "No".<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><a href="http://www.prisonplanet.com/michigan-engaging-in-true-animal-genocide.html">This</a> headline appeared on my Google Reader update: "Michigan Engaging in True 'Animal Genocide'." The byline reads, "The state of Michigan is only days away from engaging in what can only be called true “animal genocide” — the mass murder of ranch animals based on the color of their hair."<br />
<br />
1) This act can not "only be called true 'animal genocide'" because 'animal genocide' does not exist. With the 18th anniversary of the (start of) Rwandan Genocide happening tomorrow, I feel it necessary to point out that genocide is an act committed by humans against humans. I also feel it is ridiculous that such a distinction needs to be made but the term "genocide" has been so conflated by media and pop culture that any instance of mass destruction can be labeled as genocide. This is not so.<br />
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2) "Mass murder of ranch animals based on the color of their hair." Way to evoke eugenics. I am sure victims of genocide and their families appreciate knowing their plight is/was comparable to that of pigs.<br />
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3) The story is actually about the plight of local/ small farmers who raise heritage-breed pigs and the possibility that these small farmers (ranchers) are being targeted because they are in competition with large-scale farms/ranches. That is a serious scenario and while the state of Michigan may claim otherwise, I am sure the livestock industry has a hand in this. But is it necessary to the inflame passions by glibly throwing "genocide" around? Because then the whole point of the story and the issue at hand is lost with notions of, "The state of Michigan is committing genocide? What the fuck!" rather than, "The state of Michigan is targeting small farmers? Those fuckers!"<br />
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4) Finally, let me say I do not agree with widespread slaughter of animals. It's horrible and, at times, possibly even tragic. But it is not genocide.<br />
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Still in shock that such a distinction needs to be made.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-19162611847590731132011-10-17T11:59:00.000-05:002011-10-17T11:59:33.228-05:00So, Rush Limbaugh Supports the Lord's Resistance Army<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">In a spectacular example of supreme dicketry, Rush Limbaugh <a href="http://www.rushlimbaugh.com/daily/2011/10/14/obama_invades_uganda_targets_christians">openly criticized</a> Obama's decision to send 100 troops to Uganda as support for the continued hunt for Joseph Kony, leader of the Lord's Resistance Army. Rush believes that the LRA are Christians fighting Muslims in Sudan, fighting to end the oppression of Ugandans and of gross violations of human rights - the LRA's "objectives", which naturally should be taken at face value. At the end of the transcript someone apparently informed Rush that the LRA is accused of "really bad stuff", such as child kidnapping, torture and murder, but all Rush knows is that "we got a hundred troops being sent over there to fight these guys -- and they claim to be Christians."<br />
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FYI, the official name of North Korea is the Democratic People's Republic of North Korea, but that doesn't mean the country is democratic. Same goes for the Lord's Resistance Army, which has terrorized northern Uganda for over 20 years. Attacks there have diminished, but only because the LRA has moved to the CAR and eastern DRC, with massacres happening there despite the presence of the largest humanitarian force on the world (MONUC). I don't know yet how to feel about 100 US troops in Uganda to help the search for Kony - it hasn't worked before and is likely that Kony isn't in Uganda, where the majority view is he should be granted amnesty so the whole ordeal can be dealt with locally, without the ICC - but I do know how I feel about hateful ignorance.<br />
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Maybe try Google next time, Rush, before you shit out of your mouth again.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-1029561777393740102011-10-14T13:11:00.000-05:002011-10-14T13:11:13.159-05:00The Ides of March - another Hollywood Masturbation Opus<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><!--[if !mso]> <style>
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though I had seen no previews or read anything about the film, last night I watched <i>The Ides of March</i> based on the suggestion of a friend. I was told it was somehow about presidential elections or something and, after seeing it, the "or something" is the description which best fits. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Time: Democratic Primaries in March (the ides of March, get it?) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Place: Ohio. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Characters: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">George Clooney</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> as Gov. Morris, the top contender for the ticket, a man with a vision he actually believes in and refuses to compromise on. "I said I wouldn't make compromises like that and I mean it!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> <b>Ryan Gosling</b> as Stephen Meyers, Morris' press secretary, who despite being experienced with the campaign world ("I've been involved with more campaigns than people who are 40!") has swallowed Morris' Kool-Aid and isn't sure if Morris will win, but knows he <i>has</i> <i>to</i> win.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Philip Seymour Hoffman</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> as Paul Zara, campaign manager, a man who smokes a lot and makes seemingly deep proclamation about life and politics.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Paul Giamatti</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> as the campaign manager for "the other guy", who also makes deep proclamations - must be part of the job.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Marisa Tomei</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> as Ida Horowitz, a sassy, cynical reporter for the <i>Times</i> (I assume New York?) who will do anything in order to get the big scoop. You know she is a seasoned reporter because of her large, dark-framed glasses and messy hair. Not a clichéd character at all!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oops! Almost forgot <b>Evan Rachel Wood</b>, who plays Molly, an intern working Morris' campaign, who, much like her <i>Showgirls</i> namesake, gets fucked, literally and figuratively.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Let us begin at the beginning, where thirty minutes into the movie I had to ask myself, "What is the plot of this damn thing?" Up to that point the movie revolved around snappy "in-the-know" one-liners about Washington politics (I was almost convinced that K Street is the only street in DC) and a campaign wish-list spouted by Clooney, um, Gov. Morris: abolish the death penalty; mandatory youth service, which then pays for college; pro-choice; elimination of the internal combustion engine in ten years (yes, this was actually said!); no reliance on foreign oil; and pulling ours heads out the (Saudi Arabian) sand. What reality does this movie exist in? I have no idea, but it is not K Street. Nevertheless, I felt the movie was going the of that other Hollywood masturbation great, <i>Lions for Lambs</i>, which was, of course, a lecture by Robert Redford. A thin plot eventually unfolds: Meyers sleeps with Molly, finds out she is pregnant from a one-night stand with the illustrious governor; she gets an abortion; she kills herself. In the meantime, Meyers meets with the enemy (Giamatti) and is subsequently fired by Zara for this betrayal. Meyers then has to maneuver himself back into the campaign. </span></div><a name='more'></a> <br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">However, it is not the tissue-paper plot that bothers me; I love <i>Showgirls</i>. I can also handle underdeveloped characters and poorly written dialogue, but when these three elements are combined in a movie that wants - demands - to be taken seriously, than I am lost. Molly is introduced as a strong, determined young woman, but quickly becomes a victim, a pawn, who commits suicide rather than even the possibility of a scandal; where did that come from? What about her character would the audience believe such a jump? How can Meyers be so experienced yet so naive? Gosling's character is cold, lifeless, alien, which works in the slightly fantastical world of <i>Drive</i>, but here encourages no empathy. Why, then, should we care whether or not he is fired from the campaign? He does not try to do right by Molly, to honor her memory or her life in any way, but rather uses her pregnancy and subsequent suicide as a tool to get his job back. Gov. Morris is just another politician, tanned, smiling and lying through his teeth. Why is he even there? The characters and their stories are such that they can only exist in that small world of the movie - there or nowhere - and no one can come in. The audience is held at arm's length and we do not care about these people.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the end, Meyers becomes campaign manager and sees Morris win the Democratic ticket (presumably he also wins the presidential election in the off-camera future), but at what cost? Meyers began the film as both an idealist (he originally refuses to play dirty) and a believer in the idealism of Morris, a man who sticks to his word and refuses to bow to pressure. By the end, Morris has betrayed himself by sleeping with and impregnating an intern and making compromises with a xenophobic senator just so he can win. Meyers, in turn, disillusioned and newly hardened to the reality of politics, encourages Morris to forgo those idealistic pursuits Meyers once loved and focus on winning, at any cost. The message I take away is that power corrupts, but politics will kill you if you try to change the game. Is that supposed to encourage me to get out and vote?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Anthony Lane's review in <i>The New Yorker</i> pins Morris as the Caesar figure (The ides of March, get it? Get it?), but I think he is best cast as Brutus, offering the most painful blow to Meyers in the form of personal weakness and cynical maneuvering - though I hesitate to read too much into the film. In truth, though, everyone has their Caesar moment: Zara, Molly, Morris, even dear Ida expresses a feeling of betrayal. If there is one thing this movie does well, it is shoving symbolic messages down your throat. At the end of the camera focuses on the director's chair - excuse, <i>campaign manager's</i> chair, because, you know, he controls the whole show. Meyers is Caesar. Hail Caesar! (The ides Mar . . . oh, forget it.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Screw the ten dollars for a movie ticket. Want to see politics in action? Turn on CNN.</span></div></div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-72094689311202143502011-10-03T11:31:00.000-05:002011-10-03T11:31:44.151-05:00From Which the Slumbering Beast Awakens<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Hi there. I know it's been a while since I've posted and even longer since I've posted anything substantial, but it has been a weird time for me, not to mention the 2-month nap I took to escape the summer heat. It is still a weird time - the past five years have been a weird time - but with the cooler weather that has rolled in with October, at least my nap is over. What does that mean for you?<br />
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Remember those <a href="http://coveringtheglobe.blogspot.com/search/label/genocide">genocide posts</a> I wrote a year ago or so? More of those are coming. Unfortunately, there is a ever-growing supply of examples from which to choose. <br />
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Have you ever thought about the phrase "30 is the new 20"? I have been dwelling on it for the past several months and the more I think about it, the more I hate it. The topic might extend to several posts - exciting!<br />
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And the regular banalities of my life, because what is the point of writing a blog if one the topics can't be you?<br />
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For now, here are some bits from the news:<br />
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*France <a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/news/africa/2011/09/201192819489341439.html">refuses to extradite</a> Agathe Habyrarimana to Rwanda. Rwandan authorities seem unsurprised, as am I: Habyarimana's regime had close ties with France.<br />
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*However, the ICTR continues to churn out convictions, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-15125145">this time</a> to two former civil service ministers.<br />
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*China is duplicitous when it comes to Africa; <a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/indepth/opinion/2011/10/201110192445805195.html">here</a> are some details.<br />
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*The ICC has given prosecutors the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-15148801">go-ahead</a> to investigate post-election violence in Cote D'Ivoire.<br />
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</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-43131920728541002362011-08-29T13:17:00.002-05:002011-08-29T13:19:49.631-05:00Summer Hibernation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Okay, so I know just a few weeks ago I <a href="http://coveringtheglobe.blogspot.com/2011/08/to-austinites-re-weather.html">posted in anger</a> about Austinites challenging me over the weather (however, I continue to stand behind what I wrote) but I must take a few moments of your time to write about the current heat wave here in Austin.<br />
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Not that it sucks, because this is a given, but because it has turned on my hibernation mode that once only peeked out during the coldest month of winter. Currently I only go outside to get to my car or to another air-conditioned building, much like my summer life in Kuwait. When I am not at work I am at home, where recently all I want to do is sleep. Right after I publish this post I am going to have a little lie-down despite the fact I left bed only three hours ago. I want to be productive, perhaps even active, but more than anything I want a damn nap. I think the temperature is supposed to dip down into the 90s later this week. Maybe then I'll wake up from my long summer's nap and brave the 100-meter walk to the mailbox. Until then, I will pull my covers over my eyes and pretend it's 30F outside - though, at this point, I'd accept 80.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-75066161517106877702011-08-16T16:52:00.002-05:002011-09-21T20:39:07.445-05:00That's So Racist! Isn't It?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">David Sedaris has a new <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2011/jul/15/david-sedaris-chinese-food-chicken-toenails">article</a> out in the Guardian; naturally, someone is <a href="http://originalspin.posterous.com/david-sedaris-thinks-chinese-people-and-food">offended</a>.<br />
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In his article, Sedaris recounts a recent trip to China, a trip he admits he did not look forward to as China, and all its wonders, never held much appeal for him. This applies especially to the food, which even Americanized Chinese restaurants barely managed to raise above the level of disgust. Fair enough - it is only necessary to love, or love experimenting with, a cuisine if you are a chef and/or food writer. David Sedaris is neither, yet Jeff Yang over at <a href="http://originalspin.posterous.com/">originalspin</a> takes particular offense at the article's criticisms. How dare Sedaris criticize authentic Chinese cuisine when American Southerners (Sedaris is from North Carolina) eat things like <i>muskrat</i> and <i>chitlins</i> (emphasis from original)? And sure, there may be a saying that "Chinese will eat anything with its back to the sky", but these are <i>Chinese</i> sayings. It is unnecessary and <i>venomous</i> for a Westerner to come over and point out the obvious.<br />
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Which makes me wonder if Jeff actually read Sedaris' article. Yes, he was grossed out by much of the food merely because it was different, but at the same time questioned why he reacted the way he did. For instance, when offered a soup made of rooster intestines it was not the intestines that put him off but rather the addition of the cock's comb. Why, he asked himself, am I comfortable eating "the thing that filters out toxins but not the thing that sits on top of the head, doing nothing?" Sedaris also notes his boyfriend, Hugh, and his visceral objection to eating seahorses in China because "they are friendly and never did anyone any harm," as opposed to the vicious and ornery lamb they regularly eat back home. From here Sedaris also delves lightly in to the meat choices of Americans (and the English, I suppose), noting the preference for grazing herbivores such as cattle and sheep, yet drawing the line at horse which is eaten in some parts of Europe and, apparently, is delicious. I admit there is little depth given to these musings on the arbitrary nature of cuisine. However, I also recognize that I am reading an article for a paper and not an essay in a book.<br />
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The food is not what really puts Sedaris off about China: it is the lack of hygiene that pushes him over the edge and these descriptions are what particularly offend Jeff Yang. As soon as he arrives in China Sedaris is overwhelmed by the number of people hawking loogies and soon notices that these glistening globs of human phlegm are everywhere in China. At one dinner he loses his appetite not because of the course of duck's tongues but because a gentleman at a nearby table coughs up and a spits a loogie onto the restaurant floor. And then there's the shit, which is everywhere, be it babies shitting on the curbs outside or ignored, unclean bathrooms. The ubiquitous nature of poop made Sedaris question the cleanliness of everything, including restaurants, though he does admit the connection came unbidden. Nevertheless, it is this connection that caused Jeff Yang to write that Sedaris thinks Chinese people are filthy and repulsive.<br />
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Ultimately, however, all this talk of food and poop overshadows the real meat of the matter: Jeff Yang is offended by David Sedaris' article because he is of Chinese decent and takes Sedaris' criticisms personally. Sedaris went to China, did not like it and then wrote about it - that dirty underhanded motherfucker. Yang is upset that Sedaris would criticize people who are only beginning to lift themselves out of poverty, who have not yet had the time to focus on perfecting social moors - such as not shitting in public - because the country is experiencing such social and economic growth that heads are spinning, and who, by the way, Mr. Sedaris, are learning English and traveling more and more, so you better watch out next time you eat in one of those fancy New York restaurants because someone from Shanghai might be sitting at the table next to you and decide to slip something into your Coke as revenge for your hateful words in the Guardian!<br />
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No - stop taking an opinion personally. Oh, and one more thing: there people who do not like France. There are others who do not like Mexico. I am sure there are many who, like Sedaris, do not like China for any number of reasons, but this does not make them racist. The national tourist bureau of any country would prefer each visitor to leave with a newfound respect and admiration for the host country. This does not always happen and you know what? That is okay and it does not make you racist. If you visit another country and are critical of certain aspects of life there, be it cleanliness or the way animals are butchered, that is also okay and does not make you racist. The beauty of freedom is that you are free to choose what you like. So if you enjoyed reading David Sedaris when he made fun of American Southerners and the French and the Japanese but have become offended now that his attention has focused on you and yours, you are free to stop reading him, Mr. Yang, and that would not make you racist. It might, however, make you guilty of the same close-minded hypocrisy you leveled at Sedaris.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-67082559125950911962011-08-12T21:15:00.001-05:002011-08-12T21:26:23.768-05:00To Austinites re: the weather<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Shut the fuck up.<br />
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No, really: I am tired of you trying to one-up me on the badassness of the heat. If you ask me how I'm handling the heat and I respond, Well, it's hot, but I lived in Kuwait and LA before this so, you know, I'm used to it, I am not trying to undersell the reality that yes, it is hot here. I am merely letting you know that Austin, and Texas, has not defeated me with the summer heat - the job market has been much more successful in murdering my hopes and dreams.<br />
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You, dear Austinite, do not have to give me reasons why <i>here</i> is so much worse than <i>there</i>. For example, me: "I lived in Kuwait before Austin, so I got used to the heat." You: "Oh . . . yeah, well, there you don't have the humidity."<br />
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Ah, how little you know, because I have swum through the air in Kuwait and Dubai and, in order to be completely honest, have experienced humidity in Maryland that far exceeds anything Austin has thrown my way. One summer, years ago, my sister and I were at a minor league baseball game and, being it was baseball, we bought cotton candy - which then proceeded to melt merely because of contact with the air. The butter-thick, humid-ass air. A few years a college friend of mine bemoaned the loss of the tomatoes in her garden: they had rotted, you see, on the vine because the humidity was so thick. That's what I consider uncomfortably humid, but I don't bother to mention this to anyone here because, again just being honest, I don't care.<br />
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I don't care that it's hot or that it's humid or that life sucks so badly for five months out of the year, because I didn't pick Austin for the weather. Hell, I don't even know what I am doing here but it is certainly not because I was faced with the reality of leaving Kuwait and thought, I just can't get enough of this desert-y feeling! I <a href="http://coveringtheglobe.blogspot.com/2009/08/whether-weather.html">don't like it</a>, but I don't believe you particularly enjoy it, either, considering we deal with the heat exactly the same: stay indoors with the A/C running and do not venture outside until well-past dusk.<br />
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So unless baiting me with talk about the weather will miraculously make rain fall or a cold front move in, shut the fuck up. Or I will slap you in the face with a breakfast burrito. A delicious breakfast burrito, locally made and as hot as the Texas sun: lukewarm.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-43267724378287222212011-08-07T09:36:00.002-05:002011-08-07T09:36:09.411-05:00Are You Planning on Being Direct Today?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">There is a problem running rampant at my job: half the employees are passive-aggressive. I don't know why, but I think that the store somehow attracts people who do not know how to effectively interact with others and, as such, do not know how to disagree or even manage others without sounding "bossy" or "demanding" - even if that is what they should be. So they try to be non-confrontational, which unfortunately results in them being douchebags. For example:<br />
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I have a to wear a green vest at work. Everyone has to wear a green vest at work (except stockers or managers/supervisors.) These vests, aside from being visually hideous and poor quality, are oppressively hot. I often work customer service and for the past week have not worn my vest (gasp!) I have it with me, just not on because I feel it's pretty obvious I am an employee since I am the one behind the counter. Regardless, I know not wearing the stupid vest is against the rules or dress code or what-the-fuck-ever and as soon as someone would say, "Wear your vest," I'd put it back on. This happened yesterday, but being as I work in the passive-aggressive zone, what my supervisor actually said was, "Are you planning on wearing your vest today?"<br />
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I had to pause and laugh because I never realized I had an option, which, of course, I don't. Why suggest one, then? What if I had said, "No" or, "Are you planning on speaking to me like an adult?" Really, though, the most important question I asked myself as I shrugged into my green shame was, "Why haven't I left this job yet?"</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-74164948719815797362011-07-29T11:58:00.000-05:002011-07-29T11:58:28.466-05:00To Commenter HelloKitty<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I hate reading the comment sections of blog posts, but sometimes you just get sucked in: you read one acerbic comment, then the response, then the response to the response, oftentimes including comments on grammar and how this reflects the poster's (lack of) education, until you are scrolling through five pages of comments trying to find where the argument began - and breathe as you realize the activity is stupid and not providing further enlightenment to the original post or your day.<br />
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When those sometimes occur, damn it, you almost feel like posting a comment yourself. STOP! Never join the comment threads! Rather, post your thoughts on your own blog, the appropriate place for personal rants. Here's mine:<br />
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To HelloKitty, a commenter on the <a href="http://www.happyplace.com/8958/the-most-hilariously-convincing-gay-marriage-signs?ref=nf">The 14 most hilariously effective signs supporting gay marriage</a> post over at <a href="http://www.happyplace.com/">HappyPlace</a>:<br />
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Please stop complaining that gay men are mean and make rude and bitter jokes about women. You claim you don't why they behave this way, as you are a kind and sensitive person, but maybe it's the fact that you defend yourself by writing "It's hard because straight women love the male body, but gay men seem to almost abhor the female body." Perhaps these gay men don't want you fawning over them because they are not attracted to you. Because they are gay. If they found the female body attractive they would not be gay. But they are, so they don't. If you stop telling them they are hot, they may stop telling you vaginas stink. Just a suggestion.<br />
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If the rude/bitter jokes and comments continue, I understand you may feel uncomfortable so I have another suggestion: stop hanging out with those people. If you know the one gay man who does not make rude comments about women, because he slept with one once, then by all means make him your go-to gay. Otherwise, stop hanging out at gay bars in the hopes that a man will turn for you. They won't (see above.)<br />
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HelloKitty, please stop claiming you speak for the silent majority of women. The majority of women have enough sense not to ask gay men to respect and love the female body because they know gay men are gay. If you are confused by this, please refer to my first suggestion.<br />
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Finally, if gay men make snide comments that seem "bitter" please remember the content of the original blog post: gay marriage, or the fact that gays (and lesbians, but you don't seem to know any of them) cannot legally marry. That is a right not afforded them, thus making them lesser citizens in the eyes of the law. That might engender some bitterness. If gay men (all of them, apparently) flaunt their sexuality, it is likely a show of pride in who they are despite the fact that they are persecuted incessantly by so many people - and in the case of marriage, the government. Those who are homophobic or protest gay marriage for whatever reason want homosexuality to simply go away; flaunting your homosexuality is shouting, "No, it won't!"<br />
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PS - Just to be clear, if a gay man says women are gross it's probably because he thinks they are gross. Describing the beauty of a vagina will only confirm his belief.<br />
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Kthx!</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-18321201324318641232011-07-22T15:39:00.000-05:002011-07-22T15:39:33.390-05:00Bombing in Norway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Earlier today (Friday, July 22) a bomb went off in a government building in Oslo and two hours later, shooting at an annual youth event. So far, 17 people have died. I am not the one to give in-depth analysis, but Al Jazeera is regularly updating their <a href="http://blogs.aljazeera.net/liveblog/Norway">Oslo blog</a>. Check it out for new information.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-18720526457168255572011-07-20T20:12:00.000-05:002011-07-20T20:12:38.942-05:00We're Done Already?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I have recently begun volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, specifically the family selection aspect of the organization. Tonight I went to a meeting of the Family Selection Committee, my first, and was prepared to stay until 10pm if need be (the meeting started at 6), but really wanted to be out by 8. I was listening, absorbing, doing my best to understand how the committee works, when at 6:42pm one of the committee members announced the meeting was finished. What the f*ck?, I thought. Who the hell ends a meeting within the hour? Then I remembered the last meeting I was in was for Edirisa Smiles, where four hours was a short meeting. The point being that I love Austin Habitat for Humanity already.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-70387708344148621512011-07-18T20:52:00.000-05:002011-07-18T20:52:31.503-05:00The Right Questions for Gov. PerryI read this article in the <a href="http://www.statesman.com/">Austin American Statesman </a>today: <a href="http://www.statesman.com/opinion/questions-need-answering-before-perry-runs-for-real-1615735.html">"Questions need answering before Perry runs for real"</a>. How true, I thought to myself. Potential supporters need to ask how Perry will manage the Federal budget when he is unable to properly manage Texas. Or how can he claim to support better education efforts while firing hundreds of teachers and spending public funds on a Formula One track?<br />
<br />
That is where my mind went, before reading the article: pertinent questions concerning policy. However, the point Mr. Ken Herman, the author, is making is this: is Perry ready to have his personal life come under complete public scrutiny? Almost immediately after George W. was inaugurated the papers became running articles on Laura Bush's choice of shoes and reported that peanut butter sandwiches were being served in the White House. Gasp! Governor Perry, this (apparently) is the only question you need to ask yourself: "Do you ever want to be able to fish alone again?"<br />
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Aren't these questions better discussed between Perry and his family, rather than the subject of a newspaper article? Mr. Herman, do you ever want to do any political reporting? Seems to me your answer is simple: No.Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-14462944291629401712011-07-15T11:44:00.005-05:002011-07-20T20:06:43.278-05:00A Historian's Dilemma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">In my apartment I have a small cabinet filled with china dinner service for eight, including two serving platters, tea cups and saucers, and random little crescent-shaped bread plates, not to mention the standard plates, bowls and what-have-you. The china is safely packed away in zipper cloth containers, each piece of china separated by a thin strip of foam and, in the case of the bowls and plates, a small piece of cardboard, as well. Sitting on the floor next to the cabinet are two boxes which contain crystal glasses, also for eight, including large wine goblets, smaller goblets and dainty sherry glasses. As with the china, each glass is carefully packed away, wrapped in foam covers and separated from one another by cardboard partitions. They would also be in a cabinet but I do not have a piece of furniture that can safely hide the china and the crystal, so the crystal remains in boxes on the floor. Next to the crystal boxes, going in a line along the wall, is a hutch which, in addition to my cookbooks, mixing bowls and Dutch ovens, displays a large, somewhat tarnished silver tea service: tall tea pot, sugar bowl with lid and milk pitcher, all perfectly positioned on a silver tray. On top of the hutch is a silver cake stand, also slightly tarnished but, perhaps due to less filigree in the pattern, shining more brightly than the tea service below. If you open the hutch doors you will find a large, heavy, crystal punch bowl with eight glasses and a ladle, casually sitting next to some muffin tins.<br />
<br />
These are all items that once belonged to my parents, items specifically given to me for various reasons including simple circumstance (both my sisters already had china and crystal, with no need for second sets), physical association (I would polish the tea set and cake stand for my mother, so out of three children I was the only one with known attachment to the pieces), and personal claim (I wanted the punch bowl because I was determined to use it, rather than leave it stored in a box as it had existed for the past thirty years.) There are other items in my apartment, as well, odds and ends that my sisters could not stand to give away when they packed up the house. In the same cabinet which houses the china I also have two decorative plates commemorating Western Maryland College, where my (our) great-grandmother attended (and graduated.) Did I attend Western Maryland? No. But because I graduated from college, unlike my sisters, and the great-grandmother in question is my namesake, it was determined that the plates would be best served in my hands. I think it was staring at those plates, trying to decide what to do with them, that started my dilemma.<br />
<br />
I was not around when my sisters packed up the house. When my (our) parents died I ran away, first all over the country, then overseas where I stayed for almost two years. I was grateful for the work my sisters did and gladly accepted the choices they made. In truth, I wanted the china and the crystal and the tea set - I wanted any and every physical connection to my parents that I could have, things I could touch and smell and hold in my hands while remembering holidays spent 'round the dining room table, crystal glasses in use only because my sisters and I begged our mom to use them, or a quiet, sunny Sunday afternoon, talking to my mom and dad as I polished the silver for them. Simple memories that do not require aides, yet at the time I needed those physical objects to stand as a shrine to my parents. That was then. Now, I am not so sure I want my dining room to be a memorial and my inheritance seems more of a hindrance. After all, when I become nostalgic about Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners it is not the plates I am remembering; in my memory, and in reality, the tea set was (is) just a useless dust-collector; despite an initial determination to put the punch bowl to good use, it still sits in the dark, untouched and unused. Sometimes I take one of the crystal glasses from its respective box and hold it, imagining how it would feel to fling it at the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. It is only a glass; my parents died years ago.<br />
<br />
Preservation. Remembrance. I feel the weight of these words, of the historian's duty to maintain memory, each time I walk past my relics. How long must I carry these objects with me? Until I have a house of my own and will use the china and crystal at holidays dinners I host, serving coffee and cake form the silver sets? I am no longer sure that it the lot I want in life or that I care about serving Thanksgiving dinner on matching china - or on china, at all. It is a tradition that now means nothing to me, yet just the thought of allowing a tradition die fills me with more guilt than abandoning these <i>things</i> my sisters entrusted me with. Nevertheless, I must admit to myself that I am not a museum, I have no duty to be a museum, and holding on to their plates will not bring my parents back. Yet how can I claim to be a historian when I do not want to hold on to the past? And really, how would I explain myself to my sisters? Regret and guilt versus preservation and memory. I do not know which, in the end, will win out.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-60733958454575529412011-07-14T18:13:00.000-05:002011-07-14T18:13:26.966-05:00A Few Shots of SummerOf what we do in Austin, such as paddleboarding on Lake Austin - albeit with no actual paddleboarding shots. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIRdF3WBaYmqmZKHXX_g_XoPR-euVW_F2ZcWE2XMakiYrktpS0A7hCb4gFjjsj00Q1_XT0VaMxzO5CyOe7cMWNk6PnQ1K3j6ZuSGjibWXvgntxLJCBdB5YDsY36aZLkdajLDjMCFJVEps/s1600/IMG_0420.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqIRdF3WBaYmqmZKHXX_g_XoPR-euVW_F2ZcWE2XMakiYrktpS0A7hCb4gFjjsj00Q1_XT0VaMxzO5CyOe7cMWNk6PnQ1K3j6ZuSGjibWXvgntxLJCBdB5YDsY36aZLkdajLDjMCFJVEps/s320/IMG_0420.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDyx3CzO311JpcwquzrkbxcQKymosR2e9WqCfVKm1XHSd8cRKEwR5Xp5uVxge4V2brB0k5QxnwEQL9WD7UkDvf2QfUUCrwIfLs9FhTO4nKmFbF4QJcGy8lX0nJ3-029_hdzU0b3z4sR-a/s1600/IMG_0422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDyx3CzO311JpcwquzrkbxcQKymosR2e9WqCfVKm1XHSd8cRKEwR5Xp5uVxge4V2brB0k5QxnwEQL9WD7UkDvf2QfUUCrwIfLs9FhTO4nKmFbF4QJcGy8lX0nJ3-029_hdzU0b3z4sR-a/s320/IMG_0422.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHeW39p_GOmYO7ONCn5QTSmTJI2vN6-360DvLXi9d-XnOvac5_iKcaF7fPelgiq9BA-BZAYhELwIGX2TrNRBdTDrnpnop74wFGzchPeVO5y_6NafWfw_BMCw_AT-4jYR_Odo4926WeWC_5/s1600/IMG_0426.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHeW39p_GOmYO7ONCn5QTSmTJI2vN6-360DvLXi9d-XnOvac5_iKcaF7fPelgiq9BA-BZAYhELwIGX2TrNRBdTDrnpnop74wFGzchPeVO5y_6NafWfw_BMCw_AT-4jYR_Odo4926WeWC_5/s320/IMG_0426.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIOtAboFxiZCENIDmHmBpPT8A0IgHJ0EtsxTUcAk5Vusqap0T5tKGtZc0SrFEBB8jYbAGYxSsd5337wiJ4PPdTy5WegjuR-qQQuhWYuw6Nn_PN0TfHu1fkFpM93pzWsulRjvdfhqMr1e3g/s1600/IMG_0428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIOtAboFxiZCENIDmHmBpPT8A0IgHJ0EtsxTUcAk5Vusqap0T5tKGtZc0SrFEBB8jYbAGYxSsd5337wiJ4PPdTy5WegjuR-qQQuhWYuw6Nn_PN0TfHu1fkFpM93pzWsulRjvdfhqMr1e3g/s320/IMG_0428.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</a></div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-89505910349358744562011-07-11T20:33:00.001-05:002011-07-15T22:46:15.266-05:00And This Is How I Spoil My Cat, Part IIAn ever-full water cup on my nightstand is not enough for Umberto Garcia Juanita Lupita Gonzalez III, perhaps because the cup I have given him is small - a child's cup, really. The spoiled bastard prefers the large tumblers I use and so stares at me as I drink from mine, whether I am standing in the kitchen, sitting at the table or resting in bed (especially when I am resting in bed.) I feel his covetous stare as I lift my plastic tumbler to my lips, his pitiful cup disdainfully ignored. I try to temper his spoiled behavior: I tap on his cup, forcing his attention to the fresh water brimming at the rim; I pour a little of my water into his cup, to remind him we are drinking the exact same thing; I drain my tumbler so he will not be able to knock it over when he pushes his head in, looking for a drink. Unfortunately, only the latter tactic works, because inevitably Umberto sticks his head into my (now empty) cup desperately trying to lap up even one drop of water, knocking the the cup on it's side when he removes his head in vain. Only then will he turn to his own cup and drink his fill.<br />
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I have ruined my cat. True, I may not help matters much when he goes to get a drink from my water bottle and I pour some water into the cap for him to have a sip. Or when Umberto jumps up to the sink (kitchen or bathroom, makes no difference) either Seth or I will turn on the water for him to drink. Or giving him a damn water cup in the first place. At least he only eats cat food, otherwise he would probably demand roast lamb every day. And I am the idiot who would make it for him.Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-9219872001085108822011-07-10T23:03:00.001-05:002011-07-15T20:33:23.777-05:00And This Is How I Spoil My Cat, Part IUmberto was once a typical cat who drank from a water bowl/dish like other four-legged animals kept as pets. He never turned his nose up at a plastic dish, even if some food had dropped in or some other foreign object was floating along the surface; he drank his water and went on his way. When Umberto and I first arrived in the States in February, however, I didn't have a regular, plastic water dish for him so I used a small ceramic bowl form my sister's kitchen (we were in her house). This was the beginning: I (by this I mean, my sister) bought him a food dish which was actually a food/water dish combo, but Umberto refused to drink water from the "water side" of the dish; he preferred the ceramic bowl. Whatever makes him happy, I thought.<br />
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Then, after moving to Austin and moving in my sisters-in-law, Umberto did something I found irresistibly cute: he drank water from a cup. How could I not encourage it? All right, I did not <i>quite</i> encourage him but rather found him constantly sticking his head into a cup so I would just fill up a glass and give it to him. It followed that he completely gave up on the plastic water dish next to his food. Instead, he had a tumbler which I kept full of water right there on floor, next to his food. I tried to correct my mistake and, in our new apartment, only provided him water in his water dish. He drank from the dish for a day, until he discovered how easy it was to jump onto the kitchen counter or table or anywhere and stick his head in my or Seth's water glass. The damage was done and his water cup returned, only this time placed on my nightstand, free from having any stray bits of food unexpectedly dropping in. It seemed to make Umberto happy enough.Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-16580666530085505142011-07-09T14:29:00.000-05:002011-07-09T14:29:55.940-05:00Welcome to the World, South Sudan!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://flagspot.net/images/s/sd%7Dsplm.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="http://flagspot.net/images/s/sd%7Dsplm.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
There is a new nation today: South Sudan, whose inhabitants voted in January to secede and become a separate nation, is officially independent today, June 9 2011. The flag has five colors: black representing the people and oil; red for the bloody cost of independence; green for the fertile land; blue for the Nile; and a golden star, symbolizing the (possible) wealth of the new nation. I met a Sudanese - South Sudanese - man today and he, understandably, is massively excited. Of course there are mountains of problems already facing the new government and the people of South Sudan, but we can turn to that tomorrow. For now, join with in celebrating the birth of a new nation.Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-86300753015566936082011-07-08T21:50:00.001-05:002011-07-08T21:50:40.907-05:00The Action Pack's Justin Timberlake Sing-Along<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/WHrSMD9_AsA?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
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I am a superstar! Last 15 seconds or so!Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-71073130030777593172011-07-06T23:37:00.000-05:002011-07-07T00:56:04.516-05:00How About . . .Today's writing prompt is, "What type of fish are you?" or something to that effect.<br />
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Really.<br />
<br />
How the hell do you answer that? Maybe was poetic about my similarities to a majestic whale, king or queen of the oceans, slowly moving through my realm confident of my place in it? Or perhaps a playful dolphin - or do these count as fish? Many of us - maybe even me - are just one of countless little fishes following the leader in our homogeneous little school?<br />
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Poo, I say. Poo! I don't know enough about fish to compare myself to one, so how about a fish out of water? I often find myself floundering about, gasping for air, trying to figure what went wrong or simply <i>what happened</i> to put in whatever situation I find myself? How did I end up in this hallway? Why am I in boxer shorts? Why are they wet? Oh my god, I'm married?!<br />
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I consistently find that I've thrown myself into a situation where, just perhaps, I don't quite belong. Or I don't know how to belong. Or maybe should have read up on the whole thing first (Hi, grad school!) I am still working towards the day when I can stop holding my breath. Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-12461295649056730382011-07-05T10:29:00.000-05:002011-07-05T10:29:08.411-05:00Dutch State Blamed for Deaths of Three Men at Srebenica<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Reading through the headlines on Al Jazeera and noticed this: "<a href="http://english.aljazeera.net/news/europe/2011/07/20117585931325737.html">Dutch Blamed for Srebenica Deaths</a>." The Hague found the Dutch state guilty in the murders of, not the 8,000 Muslim men and boys who were murdered there in 1995, but three men whom Dutch peacekeepers "handed over" to Bosnian Serb forces. The report does not include why the men were handed over, but because the Dutch peacekeepers (Dutchbat) had witnessed "multiple incidents in which Bosnian Serbes mistreated or killed male refugees outside the [Srebenica] compound" prior to allowing the three men to leave the safe are, the Dutchbat is now held liable for their deaths.<br />
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This ruling fascinates me for reasons beyond Dutch responsibility and the Bosnian war: I wonder if this will open claims from families in Rwanda to make claims against France, Belgium or the United States? Or rather, make claims that now have legal precedence. After all, the original finding of the Hague court was that "the UN was responsible for the [Srebenica safe area] mandate, and therefore the state was not responsible." Now that the Dutch state can be held accountable for the deaths of three, who be next in line to be tried for their failure to protect?</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-65980744123507631812011-07-04T11:12:00.000-05:002011-07-07T11:12:49.093-05:00Happy 4th of July!Though my last post was on willful ignorance, specifically of international and national news, I simply have too much American spirit - in the form of patriotic Crown Royal and tequila, just as the Founding Fathers intended - to write about anything other than: Happy Fourth of July! Go watch <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068156/"><i>1776</i> </a>and be merry!Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-8123384672376623402011-07-03T21:44:00.000-05:002011-07-03T21:44:24.178-05:00On Willful Ignorance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For the past few months, as I have been preoccupied with (ongoing) job searches; housing searches; discovering Texas; learning how to be a married couple living alone, with no roommates! on the same continent! seeing each other for more than 3 hours a day!; my news intact has dropped, greatly. Not enough that I did not know about the protests and crackdowns in Uganda or the DSK case, but to the point where I knew no details and couldn't be bothered to look up any articles to educate myself. The local tv news was not mentioning anything of not, either, though is only to be expected. My own apathy caused me to realize how easily it is to be willfully, even unwittingly, ignorant of the world, the country or the other side of town. No wonder many Americans know nothing of the world around them - it is only too easy to avoid, to not even know about, international or national news. This is only my personal assumption, but I do not think Americans - those not in college - are encouraged to read a variety of news sources. To read the news, at all. Is this how it seems to you? </div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-60701830563430286822011-07-01T11:46:00.001-05:002011-07-01T11:49:23.381-05:00Where Would You Love to Go Swimming?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">It's that time again - <a href="http://nablopomo.blogher.com/">NaBloPoMo</a> time! Though to be honest, every day of every month is NaBloPoMo time, but I am accepting the challenge once more with this blog - cooking and posting a new recipe every day for a month sent me into overload last November. No way am I doing that again. This month's prize is particularly appealing: one post, from one blog, will be chosen to be published on <a href="http://www.blogher.com/">Blogher</a>, thus available to that new audience base, and the lucky blogger will be paid for the submission. ($50, which is pretty good for the blogging world.) The theme for the month is "swim", so let's get to it.<br />
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I love swimming - pools, rivers, oceans, a large bathtub: I love the feel of being in the water. As I age my comfort level around the muck and mildew - the general "alive" state of natural waters - in a lake or pond edges toward disgust, but so far I have been able to overcome the gross-factor of it all by deep-breathing and helpfully closing my eyes before jumping in. Who knew I was such a priss? Seriously, though, fish have sex in that.<br />
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Life has been fortunate enough to offer me a variety of waters in which to swim, float and relax , including Lakes Bunyonyi and Kivu (in Uganda and Rwanda); the Nile River and Mediterranean Sea; the Pacific Ocean as it laps against the shores of Hawaii's Big Island; as well as waters which I have stepped into but would not submerge any part of my body above the knee because those waters were truly, chemically, dirty: Lake Victoria and the Persian Gulf automatically come to mind. But where would I love to go swimming? It may seem quaint, but I want to swim in the Patuxent River, outside of Upper Marlboro, Maryland - my hometown. When I was a freshman in high school and still a member of the environmental club, the Patuxent was where we would go to learn how to test the health of a waterway (levels of dissolved oxygen and nitrogen, turbidity and so on.) I loved the visit that river - I continued to after leaving the club and even after leaving high school - and watch it slowly make its way north, away from the Chesapeake. Though small, the Patuxent boasts a large wildlife presence, especially of birds, including osprey, Great Blue Heron, and a family of bald eagles.<br />
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I never went swimming in it. Sure, I stepped in up to my calves when canoeing, but that water is dirty, muddy-dirty, and I could never imagine submersing myself into that murk. During one club trip, a two-day excursion for some special occasion that I no longer remember, one girl jumped in the river and swam around for a bit. Upon seeing my shocked and disgusted face when she emerged she laughed and said, "Now I'm cleaner than everyone!" Seeing as how water clarity was about six inches or so (meaning that if you dropped a white plunger into the water, after six inches of depth you couldn't see it anymore), I just shook my head and thought, "You are so nasty right now."<br />
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Which means I have always been a priss; damn, I swear I used to be tougher. I would still love to go for a swim in the Patuxent - or at least let some water go above my knee. Standing mid-thigh is the same as swimming, right?<br />
<br />
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</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-17722423278113227872011-03-30T10:42:00.000-05:002011-03-30T10:42:59.876-05:00On Libya, Rwanda and Intervention<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>The joint forces intervention in Libya, and the subsequent comparisons to Rwanda, seem a good subject with which to reintroduce my international commentary. What follows is my opinion, with whatever weight that may hold.</i><br />
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And so NATO has intervened in Libya under the guise of R2P, which means the military force currently being used is to (nominally) protect civilians from violence, though it is difficult to separate intervention meant to assist civilians from intervention that inevitably assists the rebels. Military intervention based upon moral convictions strives to be impartial but it is (almost) impossible to be so; more on that later.<br />
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With the intervention comes comparisons to past atrocities that either benefited from military force (Bosnia) or suffered from the lack of foreign concern (Rwanda). While I do not agree with comparisons in general - as each situation is unique and comparisons always gloss over, or ignore, certain truths - I understand why they are made: to justify foreign military intervention through examples of success and failure. Concerning Bosnia, NATO acted independently of the UN and the military strikes which ensued quickly brought an end to the civil war and genocide against Bosnian Muslims. Concerning Rwanda, the world failed to take action and over 800,000 Rwandans (mainly Tutsis) were slaughtered; genocide could have been averted but was not. Therefore, we (the US, Britain, France, so on) must act to stop similar atrocities from occurring in Libya.<br />
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While I understand the reasons for comparisons, I do not agree with them, specifically comparisons to Rwanda, because Libya today is not Rwanda circa 1994. As I wrote above, each situation is unique. In 1994 Rwanda the UN was already in the country and had been for months, attempting to broker a peace agreement between the RPF and current Rwandan government, thus ending the civil war that had been going on since October 1990. No intervention occurred because the intervention force was already there - UN forces only needed to authority to use force (in case you are not familiar with the history, they never got it). Furthermore, the time when military force would have been most effective in Rwanda - the first week following the death of president Habyarimana - was the time when the situation was most confusing, with the RPF and Rwandan forces battling each other in the streets of Kigali and mass murders of civilians only beginning to spread in the countryside. After that week 100,000 were already dead and the UN forces on the ground only beginning to comprehend what was happening. Gaddafi has openly called for attacks on civilians - there is nothing confusing about it. By ordering attacks on his own people Gaddafi has defied UN statutes of the protection of civilians during war and, with his own words, justified foreign intervention.<br />
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Despite what seems as obvious justification, I can also understand the hesitancy over Libya: how much force is enough? How long will an intervention force stay in the country? Until Gaddafi is ousted? How can the intervention remain impartial to the civil war while protecting civilians, as rebels happen to be where civilians are? Will that make the force "pro-rebel", whether intentionally or not? And when does this military intervention stop being a force to protect civilians and becomes a foreign military action for regime change? These are valid questions that become increasingly pertinent with each passing day as Libyan rebels lose ground to Gaddafi's forces. If the rebels continue to falter will the joint forces simply leave the country to its fate? Will those forces remain the ensure the safety of civilians from the potential aftermath of Gaddafi's rage? Or will the joint forces fully step in to militarily assist the rebels win the war? (Unfortunately, it seems the last question is what is more likely to occur.) What are the limits to humanitarian intervention and what happens when they are reached?<br />
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Rather than making unnecessary and incorrect comparisons to the past our leaders - Obama, Cameron, Sarkozy - need to decide just what it is we are doing in Libya. Otherwise you do not need to look in the past to know what happens when intervention, liberation and war become one and the same, but rather slightly to the east.<br />
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And for the record: what is happening in Libya <i>is not</i> genocide. Crimes against humanity, yes, but civilian deaths as a casualty of civil war <i>is not</i> genocide. Gaddafi targeting civilians <i>is not</i> genocide. Unless we are saying that civil wars are genocidal in nature . . . but that is another post.</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7487946110528442854.post-57501521568097469972011-03-19T20:58:00.000-05:002011-03-19T20:58:00.278-05:00Catching Up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The close-call heart attack I had this morning was quickly remedied: Blogger kindly restored my cooking blog after I wrote to them that I had no idea why it would have been removed (because I didn't, though I suspected it was somehow related to the hacking of my gmail account) and shortly thereafter <a href="http://cookingtheglobe.blogspot.com/">Cooking The Globe</a> was back online with additional site moderation. Yay!<br />
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In other news, I have been unfortunately slack in keeping up-to-date with the news, be it international, local or personal. I blame it on the stresses of moving and relocating (which is legitimate enough: last weekend was the first time in two months Seth and I didn't have to go anywhere. I felt guilty not doing anything.) I also have no idea how to comment on the plethora of shit going on in the world currently so I will do what so many Americans do and simply ignore it. Weee, now life is simple!<br />
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Oh, except I am still writhing in pity and self-doubt as I attempt to write cover letters for potential jobs. I have finally written two sentences describing that I am, indeed, awesome; now I just two paragraphs detailing that assertion (nay: fact.) My lack of faith in my abilities amazes not only me, but my husband as well. Woe is me, I know.<br />
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On a positive note I have been learning Austin streets through the age-old tactic of driving around and getting lost; my kitty is adorable and will stick his face in mine in the morning, meowing, until I pet him - yes, that is adorable rather than annoying; and my friend Kerry and I solidified our undying devotion to the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114436/"><i>Showgirls</i></a> with tattoos. Our love is eternal.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9pkvU60zUBMGjFenkbpPBWUrRocBzguYF4wnF3KbvBabFDDP_AB2Tb6V5K7_BdJzsjBXGgzkHffYkr_Ng-mbAhOJvx-ncwOkyGBr3Gt_3IPJcb3N9FmYWT6mWUx5akzolUiS7glT6jR2/s1600/showgirls%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9pkvU60zUBMGjFenkbpPBWUrRocBzguYF4wnF3KbvBabFDDP_AB2Tb6V5K7_BdJzsjBXGgzkHffYkr_Ng-mbAhOJvx-ncwOkyGBr3Gt_3IPJcb3N9FmYWT6mWUx5akzolUiS7glT6jR2/s400/showgirls%2521.jpg" width="400" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blogs.orlandosentinel.com/entertainment_movies_blog/files/2011/01/showgirls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://blogs.orlandosentinel.com/entertainment_movies_blog/files/2011/01/showgirls.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pretty good silhouette on our legs, eh?</td></tr>
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</div>And there it is. Damn, I currently miss Uganda (and Africa in general) something fierce right now, though unsurprisingly, not Kuwait. Hopefully Seth and I will be able to make enough money to be able to travel a bit (albeit not at frequently as before.) Of course, I also hope I will get a job in the (near) future that will pay me to travel around the globe. How can I cover it without visiting it? There, I just gave myself a third excuse. I should add that talent to my list of awesomeness in those cover letters.<br />
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HIRE ME!</div>Coverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09725376063921600951noreply@blogger.com0