Election Night 2008 was one of the happiest days of my life. In the Seattle Westin's Ballroom, people were jammed wall to wall, crying and laughing together. I heard a gay man on his cellphone telling someone "This is it. This is the beginning. Everything is going to change. I know it!"

No more of this bullshit about throwing out our civil rights in the name of homeland security. No more tortues at Gitmo. No more worries about Roe v. Wade being overturned. Equal rights for GLBT - the right to marry, the right to serve, the right to inherit, the right to attend a dying spouse in the hospital.

I was so elated, I didn't really bother to check the news for months - everything was awesome, what could go wrong?

I finally started taking notice when the waffling about closing Gitmo started. Keeping our troops in Iraq instead of getting them home right away wasn't enough? How much of Bush's old policies were going to be kept going by the new administration?

No repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell". Backtracking even. WTF? Bringing in Sotomayer without nailing down in public her stance on Roe v. Wade.

Earlier this week I posted about my frustration with Obama, including a quote from CNN (William Jelani Cobb):

(CNN) -- Last week Gov. John Lynch signed a bill making New Hampshire the sixth state to legalize same-sex marriage.

It was a paradoxical moment. The new law is a reminder that same-sex marriage is the civil rights issue of our era and just how far the movement for marriage equality has come. It also highlighted the unexpected and remarkable silence from the White House on this issue.

That last sentence should have been a warning. The White House broke it's silence Thursday night:

Obama defends DOMA in federal court. Says banning gay marriage is good for the federal budget. Invokes incest and marrying children.

I suddenly have no words. I cried. I screamed. I swore I would never vote again. I did not think it was possible for a politician to whip us up into such a hopeful frenzy, only to take it all back with one letter to the Supreme Court.

Somewhere, a positive spin theory was posited by a commentor on a blog that I can't remember now - I was desperately looking for any news anywhere that Obama had released a retraction, apology, anything - I just looked at too many different sites to find it again. I gave it 6 hours for Obama to realize all the hell he had just raised, and let us in on his sneaky plan that was really to our benefit afterall.

Instead, I found this:

Obama DOJ lies to Politico in defending hate brief against gays

This about sums it up:

"You see, this is the problem with what Obama did to our community last night. He can talk all he wants about helping us get our civil rights (well, in fact, notice the Justice spokesman said nothing about Obama actually helping us get DOMA repealed), but the Obama administration's own word will now be used against us, and against him, if he ever deigns to actually fulfill even one promise to our community."

Obama, your halo finally hit the ground. Do whatever you want with it, I just can't allow myself to care anymore.

For those of you who do still care, here is the actual text of the brief.

Cross-Post with The Gay Atheist

Watch the Trailer

About two weeks ago I attended the SIFF screening of a documentary called "The Cove". When I walked into the theater, all I could remember about why it had made my list of SIFF movies to watch was the fact that it was about dolphins, and the picture representing the movie in the guide was very pretty. FYI, don't bring your kids to this movie - it's decidedly not pretty. I've spent the last two weeks digesting the information and wondering what to do with it. The least I can do is write about it, be one small voice to reach out to the general population tha thas no idea what's going on in Taiji, Japan.

The movie isn't pretty, but it is filmed beautifully by world-renowned photographer Louie Psihoyos. For a first time moviemaker, he had a lot to work with, a daunting task to narrow the footage down into a cohesive story that could be made into a film.

That story begins in Japan with the meeting of Louie Psihoyos and Richard O'Barry, former dolphin trainer on the set of the TV show "Flipper". O'Barry immediately whisks Psyhoyos to Taiji, all the while relaying information about the local conspiracy to keep him from his observations in order to keep their town's dolphin trade a secret. He comes of as a bit of a looney, but we see that O'Barry has not been exagerating. They are followed by multiple police cars, accosted by fisherman who scream and block their camera view, and met with officials demanding to know their intentions and insisting they stay out of the national park where "The Cove" is located on public land. That's all on their first day. Later, they visit the Cove when the public is allowed to watch the auctioning off of dolphins to trainers at aquariums and dolphinariums around the world. No one there seems to question what will happen to the dolphins that are not selected for sale.

The movie goes on from here to tell you quite a bit about Richard O'Barry and his history with dolphins. Mainly his remorse for helping put them in the spotlight for entertainment, as well as his efforts to save dolphins and whales kept in confinement - through legal and illegal measures. New team members are then introduced, as a team is assembled of various professionals who can help them get dolphin footage clandestinely.

Cameras disguised as rocks, camouflaged behind foliage, and hidden in the cove are set-up at night, the action filmed on with heat-sensing video equipment. We've gone from looney conspiracy theory, to collecting skilled professionals, to the thrilling night escapades of dedicated documentarians. Everything is so exciting, and kind of fun, you've kind of forgotten why all of this cloak and dagger stuff is going on.

The tone changes immediately when the audience is shown two minutes of unimaginably cruel dolphin slaughter. Over 80 hours of footage, collected over the course of year, sneaking equipment in and out every night to avoid notice. All edited down to what was the worst two minutes of my life. I will spare you the most horrific details that haunt me still. I will say that the dolphins are terrified, even jumping out of the water onto the rocks to escape the violence. They are killed with no real efficiency or thought to alleviate their suffering - the dolphins die slowly by bleeding to death from multiple wounds. The fisherman laugh, sparing not even the babies or pregnant dolphins, with divers going underwater with knives to make sure no dolphin has been missed. Out of the 23,000 dolphins and whales killed annually by Japanese whalers and fishermen, 2500 dolphins are killed this way annually, over the course of six months.

After that horrible scene, the movie is no longer funny or entertaining at all. They keep adding on horrors for you to digest. The dolphin meat is loaded with extremely high levels of mercury and sold to consumers without warning. The dolphin meat is often mislabeled as other whale meat or seafood. Street interviews with the citizens of Tokyo reveal the general public does not support eating or killing dolphins, and they have no idea this is going on in Taiji. Japanese officials swear that the dolphins are killed humanely, dispute the levels of toxic lead in the meat, and consider serving that meat to school children - the Japanese school lunch program is mandatory, the children are not allowed not to eat it. The Japanese government has told these fisherman that dolphins are pests needing to be culled, because they are responsible for the depletion of fishstock. The International Whaling Commission has banned O'Barry for life for trying to talk about the slaughter in Taiji. When O'Barry walks in on an IWC meeting with a video screen strapped to his chest showing the slaughter footage for all to see instead of trying to talk to them, he is thrown out - to the amusement of the IWC's Vice President, a Japanese delegate accused of vote-buying to have the whaling moratorium lifted.

I have never been so horrified in all my life, except maybe when learning about the Holocaust. Shouldn't something be done? Why isn't anyone else talking about this? How can the Japanese government hide these facts from their citizens?

As an American, I'm not really sure what to do. Change can only come within Japan to stop this hunt. So the least I can do is talk about it so that others hear my voice. And I will never, ever again visit Sea World or any other aquarium that keeps captive dolphins - the industry keeps the Taiji fisherman in the dolphin business.

If you are inspired to action, you can visit these websites for more information:

Official The Cove movie site
TakePart.com
Save Japan's Dolphins
The Oceanic Preservation Society
Earth Island

Everybody go check out my very first Treasury at Etsy! Show me some lovin' so I get some free advertising - the more you click on the items I've selected, the more popular I become! And YOU get to see the awesomeness that is Etsy, and become tempted to buy!

So elsewhere, on the mysie's soapbox front...

I'm looking into becoming a blogging contributor at The Gay Atheist website.

OMG, why didn't anyone think of this sooner? I'm not bisexual, I'm biromantic! Awesome!! :)

Here's a great pic about Vermont getting ready to make same-sex marriage legal.

This is an awesome little video (3 minutes) giving advice on how to tell someone they've said something racist (or sexist, homophobic, etc)

That blog post had a comment about this article.A political cartoon is stirring controversy as being racist and insensitive. It "depicts Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayor as a strung-up pinata that President Obama is inviting Republicans to whack."

While I see what the Latinas quoted in the story are talking about, I'm going to have to side with the artist and the publishing newspaper on this one. Because it's satire. Spot-on satire at that.

Racism would be Sotomayer as a pinata with sombrero while quoting her or saying something about her. But this cartoon isn't about her - it's about people's reaction to her.

Specifically, it's pointing out that while President Obama may not have chosen her because of her heritage, it was definitely an important factor in at least the consideration stage. So Obama himself is partly responsible for race being such a large issue during her nomination process. The Republicans are there as Elephants because they cry foul at Obama allowing affirmative-action on a national level. Personally, I'm surprised that the elephants aren't a little angry or blood-thirsty looking. I guess they look a bit confused because although the party is opposed to her nomination, they don't know how to voice that without seeming racist. Then there is the media represented by all the cameras and microphones. That represents how hungry they are to report such a spectacle. And so finally, Sotomayor is dressed as a pinata because everyone around her has reduced her to nothing more than her race.

I believe that the artist, Chip Bok, has made a very eloquent statement about the idiocy of this whole subject by pointing out how ridiculously one-dimensional everyone involved has become.

And FUCK I can't believe that I've painted The Republicans as fair and Obama as a dick. Worse, I can't believe I believe it's true. Saint Obama, what's up with you?!

Someone Twittered about this post at the atheistnetwork.com Forums, and rather than join just to respond, I thought I'd write something here.

Do you feel socially acceptable? Do you like or do anything that is not the norm where you live? How important is it to you to feel accepted by those around you?

I currently live with a very special set of circumstances that allow me to "pass" for normal in many ways that I feel I'm truly not. I'm an atheist, bisexual, identify as a mixed-race Hawaiian/Caucasion American, have communist and socialist leanings, support legalizing drugs, and I'm clinically depressed with various other un-fabulous ailments. Thing is, I look "normal", boring, "mousey", and caucasian. When was the last time you were in line at the market behind a white 30-something clad all in Old Navy and you had the burning suspicion she was an atheist? Questioned her sexuality? Wondered about her drug use or mental health? Did I mention that I live just outside of Seattle? And now that Prop 8 passed in California and our Right-to-Die law is in place, we're the crazy-liberal state. So people here are less inclined to wonder if you're "different", or care if they find out that you are.

This all makes me feel a little guilty, especially since all of these "differences" are very important to me. And I do crave social acceptance more than I wish I did. Take all of this together, and I've developed very definite opinions about almost everything and I'll talk to anyone who asks about it. But I don't usually go out of my way to shout it from the roof tops. Usually.

Do you ever take the road less traveled just because you are anti-social? For example, if everyone likes a certain movie and it gets great reviews, does this automatically make you look for reasons to not like the movie?

Is that really the meaning of anti-social? I must admit that I tend to question anything that is too popular. But that's because I don't want to be a lemming and go with the flow. Investigating on my own to come up with my own conclusions is important to me. So I don't necessarily look for reasons not to like something. If anything, I prefer to look for the reasons that others like something and then decide if they may be right, or full of shit, or just lemmings themselves.

I feel like sometimes I place too much emphasis on what other people think about me instead of doing what makes me happy. Other times I think I rebel against the norm just to take a stance contrary to everyone else.

I'm pretty sure this is a common feeling for just about anyone. I also think that once you realize you're somehow "different" than the norm, usually between the ages of 5-10, you start to have these feelings a little more often than "normal" people. I think it's linked to self-esteem. As a child when I was ostracized for being "fat", I told myself that I didn't need anyone. Sometimes this worked, sometimes it didn't. Sometimes I revelled in my differences, sometimes I hated them. As a pre-teen, I was a Duranie - I worshipped Duran Duran. But after moving to a new state and starting high school where no one else seemed to share this fascination, I lied. I had a project to visualize my personal history on posterboard, and Duran Duran was right in the middle. But when it came time to present my project, I saw the dull-eyed reaction to my admittance of adoration, and immediately followed it with the words, "I don't know why. It's kind of silly."

I like older women with gray hair and crows feet around their eyes and some sag to their breasts and ass. I like scooters and Madonna and emo's. None of those are usually popular choices in my community yet they make me happy. At least when I don't feel judged as being abnormal by people for liking them. Or not macho or manly. Or sick or disgusting.

I like Big Beautiful Women, androgynous men, man on man action, and thin women creep me out. Again, not popular choices, but they're small vices compared to the taboos of atheism and homosexuality, so it's much easier to enjoy them and roll my eyes at people who may judge me for them.

I like thin 16 or 17 year old girls too. I think a lot of guys do. Why are there all those porn sites that say barely 18 if they didn't? The reason they say barely 18 must be because they like young teenage girls but don't want to go to jail for fucking or looking at a 16 year old but since 18 year olds look young and are legal, then it is OK. I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with a 16 year old girl but admire their beauty. Is that perverted or normal?

I'm pretty sure this is just our genetic conditioning. Girls just past puberty are fertile and at their peak of health, so they can produce more offspring. And if you've taken any classes about animal behavior, you should be familiar with science's idea that attraction at its core is based on finding the healthiest, most fertile sexual partner to produce the most healthy offspring. That said, I've noticed that the older I get, the younger teenagers look to me, which usually saps out any sexual attraction for me. Maybe that's the true reason why Hollywood likes to cast 20 somethings as teenagers - because they stil look young enough to appeal to teenage audiences, and yet old enough to be attractive with us middle-agers. On the other end of the spectrum, I've also noticed that I'm attracted to older guys that I never would have found appealing when I was a teen. I guess your sexuality really can grow with you. Mostly.

I just sent this email to my boss at SIFF, in response to her asking if all us volunteers would be at the Centerpiece Gala tomorrow night:

Can you believe I gave myself a horrible sunburn yesterday and am, once again, housebound?!?!

My husband and I have narrowed it down to: full body armor, a foam rubber suit, or bubble wrap. Along with a tether that keeps me from venturing any farther from bed than our upstairs bathroom. We are still determining if I will have access to electricity and hot water...

yours in ineptitude,
mysie

So here's my big WTF moment of the week: a youth pastor from The Church at Chapel Hill just followed me at Twitter. I think maybe because I've posted a bunch of tweets about my failure to learn how to properly use my camera, since he lists photography in his bio. OK, fine, but... shouldn't he have looked at a few of my tweets before following me? Doesn't he realize that anyone listing a church's website as their personal website link should not want to have anything to do with my tweets? How did he miss the godless pinko liberalism (GPL) that is Mysie?

Before letting my shock get away with me, I did some research. Y'know, maybe this guy attends one of the "progressive" churches with gay pastors? It could happen! But um... no. If you follow the website link and click around to learn about their beliefs, you are eventually prompted to learn more by going to the Assemblies of God website and clicking on beliefs. I chose to check out their Position Papers to get the lowdown on the good stuff. And boy, what a treasure trove that is:

Abortion and Euthanasia are bad
Astrology, Psychics, Transcendental Mediation are all bad, while martial arts and yoga instructors are suspect
Capital Punishment... wishy-washy
Civil Disobediance is only tolerated when the law opposes God's will, so Abortion protestors are good (so... Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr were bad?)
Psychological Counseling is only acceptable when provided by Christians
Creationism good, Evolution very scary
"Social" dancing is bad (it's the gateway drug to sex!)
"God has clearly communicated that neither gender is spiritually or socially superior", but feminists are deceptive, warped, twisted, and hate men
Homosexuality is bad, mm-kay?

OK, ok... maybe I have some responsibility in this misunderstanding. Maybe I've been lax in expressing my GPL on Twitter, probably because I am trying to use that account to balance my personal interests with my business venture at Etsy. For this grievous error, I do publicly apologize to DMosley. So now to keep this tragedy from befalling another hapless conservative Christian, let's get some things cleared up, ok?

I am an atheist. I am bisexual. I am pro-choice, support assisted suicide, and can still say with a straight face that I believe life is sacred and so I am vehemently opposed to the death penalty. I believe in the scientific method and evolution. I am extremely liberal, with socialist and marxist leanings. I believe in animal rights, protecting the environment, and feminism.

I firmly believe that the word "liberal" still means "open-minded or tolerant", and "feminism" still means simply "advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men". I am very angry that these words have been demonized to the point that they are disparaging words said with venom by the likes of Rush Limbaugh. I am even angrier that so many moderate and even liberal women are quick to say that they are not feminists.

I like sex, and I think that everyone else should too. I think it's ridiculous that such a natural, beautiful thing could ever be taboo. By keeping sex and sexuality so secretive, our society has fostered an environment where children grow up not knowing what healthy sexual relationships are.

And I think dancing is awesome.

Having a bit of a pity party today. Tried to go to a SIFF screening this morning, and spent a half hour in the bathroom puking my guts up. Came home, slept half the day, didn't eat anything until a few minutes ago. But first I had to do some dishes, which instantaneously fucked my back. No, I didn't spend the last 1/2 hour crying. Nope.

I started making my own jewelry a few years ago when I became disgusted at the mark-up on even the simplest jewelry pieces. I bought a few magazines, visited a few bead shops, and tooled around the net. It was unbelievably easy to learn how to make jewelry for myself, my family, and my friends. It took a bit longer than that to elevate my skills enough to feel comfortable selling my items, but that's another story.

I wanted to pass on some tips on one of the basics of making beaded jewelry: wire-wrapped loops. First, you need a good visual guide. I spent countless hours and dollars pouring over magazine and website guides before finally finding an illustration that "clicked". In that moment, I realized the mistakes I had been making and knew right away how to correct them.

I'm not an artist, so I'm going to refer you to two of my favorite guides online:

From Fusion Beads, Techniques: Wire Wrapping

BeadStyle Magazine, Basics: Wrapped loop (scroll down below the "Plain loop" instructions)

So on to some tips that may help you from making some of the rookie mistakes I did!

1. Practice on base-metal wire first. It will take a few (or a lot!) of tries before you perfect the technique, so save your expensive wire by practicing on the cheap stuff first.

2. Yes, you DO want to use chainnose/flat pliers when the instructions tell you to. Jumping from tool to tool may seem tiresome, but in the end it is worth it.

3. Make sure your tools are in good shape: you want sharp wire cutters, non-ridged flat/chainnose pliers, and round nose pliers that align properly. My biggest pet peeve: all my round nose pliers eventually become misaligned to the point that they can't hold wire between their jaws properly.

4. Your hands, especially your fingers, are very valuable, yet delicate tools. Make sure your hands are clean when you start work, and check that they stay that way during your project. Also, be nice to your hands! If they start to cramp, take a 15 minute break.

5. Your eyes get fatigued as well! Use good lighting, and allow your eyes to relax every few minutes - all that concentration on tiny stuff right in front of your face can eventually lead to a headache.

6. Always use Sterling Silver if you intend to sell the item you're making. A majority of customers will specifically look for this, and the others will be impressed that you used such quality materials.

7. Use soft, narrow gauge wire. Sterling silver is a perfect medium because it is so easily maleable. The narrower the gauge and the softer the silver, the easier it is to manipulate the wire with your fingers. Be careful not to use anything too fine if you're working on a heavy piece!

8. Count your wraps. Most projects using wire-wrapped loops will involve more than just one loop, so do your best to make all your loops in the piece look consistent. So if you make one earring with 3 wraps under the loop, make sure to make the other earring have 3 wraps around as well.

9. This may only appeal to fellow beaders with OCD, but here it is: when attaching wrap-looped items to the main piece (necklace, earring back, etc), make sure they all face in the same direction. Confused? I've got visuals!

Front of Loop


vs.

Back of Loop


If you don't see the difference, congratulations, you don't have OCD - continue on to Tip #10. If you do see a difference, then I'll tell you that a long time ago I decided I preferred the side shown in the first picture best - so I called it the "front" of the loop. Hence, when hanging the dangle from an earring back, I always make sure that the dangle's loop faces "front".

10. Relax! The longer you sit and fret at perfecting one thing, the more frustrated you become, and the more mistakes you make. So take breaks to walk around, flex your fingers, correct your back, grab a snack, or just go to the potty. Also, music can be very relaxing, but NEVER watch television when beading - it is so distracting, I eventually look down at my project and realize I've been trying to complete the same wrap for the past two commercial breaks!

Can you hear my satisfied sigh from here? What an amazing day! We ferried out to San Juan Island last night, where we are staying at this charming B&B called States Inn & Ranch. It's a working ranch, but I haven't been out to commune with the sheepies & alpacas yet - probably going to do that tomorrow morning.

Today we went out to South Beach at American Camp, and wondered what happened to all the rabbits. Not a single one in sight. :( The foxes made their appearances, getting astonishingly close - one came within about 2 feet of me when I was standing outside of the car to take pictures. The friendliness of the foxes, as compared to their indifference last time we were here, confirms my suspicions that the rabbit population has been severely cut. I queried a park ranger who said they were still there, and maybe they were just hiding in the long grass. Well, last time we were here there was NO grass because the rabbits had eaten it all - there was just a barren field with almost as many rabbit holes as there were rabbits. Small estimate would be there were 200+ rabbits at the time. Maybe that was the problem - too many rabbits, they ate all the food and starved too death. Helped along by feasting foxes, eagles, & hawks, and ta-da! Rabbit no-man's land. :(

So then we actually went down to the beach. We trekked out to the rock out cropping we'd gone to last time, in my mind hoping we'd glimpse the same giant river otter float by and then come on land nearby. No river otter, but there were constantly seals. I told Eric that I couldn't figure out if it was the same group of seals hanging around, or if we were witnessing the great seal highway were they all traffic from South to North. No Orcas today, no good eagle sightings. :(

We spent 2 hours at the beach, with our fold-out chairs on the rock outcrop. It was perfect. Exactly what I had been hoping for.

Last time we came here, I kept hoping as we went from quiet nook to solitary beach that I would find some comfort, some happiness, some inspiration. I was in this depressive state where nothing was really bad, but nothing was happy no matter what I did. I left the islands with lots of images in my head, but no happiness in my heart. Well, the past few years, it is always those quiet moments from that trip that I think on wistfully when thinking of the islands. There is this wonderful calm & contented feeling in my heart when I think of those times.

I think there is something different in me now. I think it's the part of me that has decided to put down the camera, and enjoy the scenery for awhile. If what you're watching sticks around long enough, take a few shots after you've enjoyed it for a bit, instead of living the moment through your camera lens trying to get the perfect shot. I just sat and watched the ocean, taking note of the occasional seal head bobbing by, and listening to the waves. I closed my eyes and tried my best to clear my mind and just experience the sensations. It was perfect. The peace and tranquility and comfort that I had been seeking all those years ago seeped into me as easily as the sun roasted my face. It was bliss. Definitely.

After almost 2 hours, I finally got up and started examining tide pools and taking pictures. I took out the earrings I had made the other day to do a mini photoshoot. There was lots of sun by that point, and lots of interesting places to get photos. I hope they turned out well. Unfortunately I've discovered that although my pictures can look awesome in my new large-screen camera, that is no way to judge if they are blurry or not. Here's to hoping I've finally figured out how to use the Macro setting properly!!! I only wish I'd brought more jewelry to photograph.

We had a wonderful lunch and then later at great dinner at this little Italian restaurant called Pazzo Vivo. At least I think that's what the name was. I bought a needle felting kit from the wool & yarn shop. We checked out the awesome local-artist gallery where we bought some awesome pieces last time, and although the same artists had their stuff there, nothing new by them jumped out at us, so it was kind of disappointing. I asked about having my jewelry there, but that store specializes in art that's only made in the islands. Oh well. The woman behind the counter recommended this other shop that I had just been browsing. Unfortunately, I was browsing to check out their prices - they're the shop that I found last time that was charging about 5 times as much for what I would sell the same pieces for. Pieces that I could make easily or better. And that was still their trend, although there were more reasonably priced items there this time. Still, I remain disgruntled and offended by their damn boutique prices.

OK, time for bed. TTFN!

My earlier blog post jogged my memory of another article with fact citation problems. But this time around, it was about over-citation.

U.S. professor disappears during Japan volcano hike updated 10:02 p.m. EDT, Thu April 30, 2009 By Jason Hanna

(CNN) -- Teams in southern Japan are searching for an award-winning U.S. poet and college professor who failed to return from a hike to a volcano, his university said Thursday.

Craig Arnold was doing research for a poetry and essay book on volcanoes, a colleague said.

Craig Arnold was doing research for a poetry and essay book on volcanoes, a colleague said.

Craig Arnold, a 41-year-old assistant professor at the University of Wyoming, did not return from his Monday hike to a volcano on Kuchinoerabujima, a small island just west of Yakushima, the school said.

"The only clues that [searchers] have found were indications that he had begun the ascent -- footprints on the trail," said Peter Parolin, head of the university's English department, citing Arnold's family.

Arnold, a creative writing professor, was doing research for a poetry and essay book he is writing about volcanoes, Parolin said. See where island is located »

A team of 60 people, with helicopters and search dogs, is looking for Arnold, according to the school. Japanese authorities have agreed to continue the search through Sunday, the university said.

Arnold, according to the school, wrote two award-winning volumes of poetry: "Shells," chosen for the Yale Series of Younger Poets in 1999; and 2008's "Made Flesh."

His work has been anthologized in several volumes of the Best American Poetry Series, and his awards and honors include a Fulbright Fellowship and the Joseph Brodsky Rome Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, according to the university.

Arnold took the semester off from teaching and traveled to Japan alone through a U.S.-Japan creative artists' fellowship, Parolin said.

He had planned to spend a day alone at the volcano, and an innkeeper contacted authorities when he didn't return that evening, according to Parolin.

Arnold has scaled many volcanoes, Parolin said.

"If it's technical or dangerous, he does it with a guide. But from all reports, on this trip he went by himself," Parolin said.

Arnold "is the kind of person and poet who is attracted to extreme places and extreme geographies -- places that not all of us visit," the University of Wyoming English department head said.

"He feels the need to go to places that people don't go and come back and tell us about them," Parolin said.

A press officer at the U.S. Embassy in Japan said he couldn't confirm whether Arnold was missing, citing privacy law. However, he said the U.S. Air Force sent four Okinawa-based helicopters to the area Thursday at the embassy's request to assist with what he believed was a search operation on Kuchinoerabujima.

The Air Force helicopters, from Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, were on an unrelated mission in the area when they were diverted, he said.

Holy crap! Now there is citing your sources, and then there is listing a bunch of quotes together and calling it an article! Every paragraph, yes every paragraph, includes some kind of citation, mostly "he said." I can't stop saying Holy Crap! Did Jason Hanna not take any English classes at university. Oh, wait - all the things wrong here I learned in jr. high and high school!

1. One sentence does not a paragraph make (I give you a pass on this one Jason, since every print and online news source organizes their articles this way)

2. Don't repeat yourself over, and over, and over, and over!

3. When writing a research report, include quotes and their citations (usually in footnotes). But don't over-do it! Too much quoting is basically plagarizing. Yep, you listed your sources, used quotes, and gave citations next to those quotes. Now how about finding an original sentence and actually writing something yourself!

Maybe it was a cut-and-paste, last-minute piece. Maybe Jason's 12 year old intern really wrote the article. Maybe Jason's editors were asleep upon submittal, or worse, have it in for him and giggled gleefully at being handed fodder for his downfall. Who knows?

For me, the worst part of this article is the tone that's created. A man is missing, probably dead. As you describe him, you should be respectful. But say a few of these sentences out loud to yourself, like the one that had me begin re-reading the article just to be sure it was as weird as I thought.

His work has been anthologized in several volumes of the Best American Poetry Series, and his awards and honors include a Fulbright Fellowship and the Joseph Brodsky Rome Prize from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, according to the university.

If my use of bold type doesn't do it for you, try reading the sentence parts in reverse order:

"According to the university, his work has been anthologized..."

or this one

"He said the Air Force helicopters... were on an unrelated mission..."

Excellent job Jason, you've just written an article that presents every word as fact, and then questions everything you've said. All because of phrasing. Here's a cookie.

*cough* Confidential to Jason Hanna: I am so sorry (she said) for being such a cold bitch, but there was just so much to work with, I couldn't help myself.

Honestly, its bizarre how many English grammar and writing rules have stuck with me, as opposed to the ones I've long since forgotten. Anyone else heard the one that goes "never end a sentence in a preposition"? Ask me if I remember what a preposition is. I never understood this one, as I seem to remember it makes you talk like Yoda.

Or hey, did you see that misplacement of my question mark? I know quite well that, according to the textbooks, when you have a quote at the end of your sentence, the punctuation is placed before the closing quotation mark. But you know what, that makes my quote look like it is a question, and it's not. So I purposely misplace question marks in those situations, even though my memory flashes big red flags in my head every time I do it.

And I love to start sentences (gasp!) with the word "but." Or "and." Or "or." Or "because." (Hey, those aren't prepositions, are they? Crap. Time to consult dictionary.com.) Why? Why do I do this? Why am I so reckless? Because my 7th Grade English teacher told me that the phrase "But that's not to say" was not proper English. Do you have any idea how much time I labored over finding a new transition was? You make yourself 11 again and try to reword it: "Therefore, Duran Duran is an awesome, very talented, and sexy group of guys. (New paragraph) But that's not to say that Wham! isn't awesome in their own right."

Apparently, "but" is NEVER, ever, ever used to start a sentence. So tell me this, oh wise woman, how did I pick up that particular phrase? On a stick of bubble gum? In a conversation with my Barbies? Nope. I picked it up from books. Did you know that Anne Rice, among others, has no qualms about beginning a sentence (even at the beginning of a paragraph, or to start a new chapter!) with "and", as well as "because"?

If Anne Rice can do it, so can I. So nya-nya-nya.

OK, so my assignment on compare and contrast almost tanked because of this stupid woman. How about the one where we were supposed to rewrite a film clip in the first person? Now imagine a young man trying to cross a snowy, icy crevasse on his hands and knees via a rickety old ladder. What would be going through your mind? I thought it went something like this:

"Oh god, oh god, oh god. Please don't let me fall. Oh god! That was a close one! Oh god, oh god, oh god!"

According to my teacher, there was way too much repetition in this paragraph. Apparently, when people are terrified and certain death is up ahead, they are supposed to think like this:

"Oh god, oh god, oh - Uh oh! I can't be repetitive! Um... Oh Buddha! Or Mohammed! Oh Flying Spaghetti Monster! Please don't let me fall! Oh... Holy Monkey-headed dude! Man, I really hate my 7th grade English teacher right now. Aaaaaiiiiiiieeeee!" *splat*

But annoying grammar rules just kept on coming! In the 10th grade, I wrote a one-page paper summarizing a book on the life of Mozart. Here was my glaring mistake (erm, rephrased...)

"Mozart was an awesome musician. But he also had amazing fashion sense."

Apparently, there are grammar rules that can cross sentences! I was informed that I can only use the phrase "but also" if the phrase "not only" was in the previous sentence!

"Not only was Mozart an awesome musician, but he also had amazing fashion sense."

*sigh* What if I wanted two sentences instead of one, huh? Still, this is one I actually took to heart. Probably because the teacher stood up for me when the department head told him she thought I was cheating. Apparently no one in his class could possible be smart enough to know how to quote foreign languages within English sentences"

"Mozart was widely believed to be a wünderkind, having written his first opera at age four."

Really, is it any wonder that I have English-nazi issues?

I am a germaphobe - just ask my husband! The media's over-attentiveness to disease and virus outbreaks has just made it worse (ie: swine flu, avian flu, MRSA, ebola, the Hanta virus, flesh-eating bacteria). So have signs in the bathrooms of restaurants and medical buildings - you've noticed that places like this have signs telling you how to wash your hands, yes?

I really started paying attention to those signs when I was working in a daycare and there was a sign right at eye level over the sink showing the correct way to wash your hands, provided by the county health department. It includes using a paper towel to turn off the tap, something I now do religiously. In fact, my need to be sanitary and my urge to conserve frequently have a battle in my head when I'm washing up: is cleanliness worth wasting water and paper towels? I say yes. But... do I leave the tap running in order to grab a paper towel and dry my hands before turning off the water? Or do I grab a paper towel to turn off the tap right away, throw away the towel, and then grab another one to actually dry my hands? Which resource is more precious, water or trees? What's more expensive, an extra 30 seconds of water usage or 1 paper towel? Welcome to the wacky world of mysie's brain everybody!!!

So now I've pointed out that I'm a germaphobe and I hate to be wasteful, let's throw in the fact that I want to have a baby. A healthy baby. A baby without disease, autism, or my knocked knees. Have you heard that there is mercury in childhood vaccinations, and there is a very vocal group convinced this is the main cause of autism? Merde.

March 2008: Federal Officials Say Vaccines Worsened Condition That Led to Autism Spectrum Disorder in Georgia Girl

February 2009: Vaccine Court: No Merit to Claims That Thimerosal in Vaccines Contributed to Autism

Today the Seattle PI.com ran an article about environmental factors in autism: Autism: It's the environment, not just doctors diagnosing more disease

Looking for more information, I found an article about autism rates now that mercury has been removed from (most) vaccines: Autism Cases Still Going Up As Vaccine Mercury Removed

This statement in the PI had me particularly worried: "Household products such as antibacterial soaps also could have ingredients that harm the brain by changing immune systems..." So I tried to do a search on that, and didn't come up with much. However, when you type in "antibacterial soap" into Google, before you can type "change immune system", you are presented with Google's favorite searches for that first phrase. A scary-sounding option comes up: "antibacterial soaps unnecessary risks no benefits".

Apparently, there are a growing number of people that believe that not only are antibacterial soaps no more effective than regular soaps, but that they are also harmful. Including the Centers For Disease Control (CDC): Antibacterial Household Products: Cause for Concern.

So what now?! How on earth is a die-hard germaphobe and baby mama wannabe supposed to live without antibacterial soap??? Somewhere (sorry, lost the link) I read that alcohol-based antibacterial formulas are not a problem, but whether or not that's true seems to be swept under the rug by the public's growing concern over the entire antibacterial products market. Then there is the sinister plan of Tuft University researcher Stuart Levy, as posited by foxnews.com's Junk Science columnist Steven Milloy:

"no mention was made of Levy’s affiliation (vice-chairman, chief scientific officer and co-founder) with Paratek Pharmaceuticals.... Paratek is well positioned to develop [antibacterial] products to serve this non-hospital consumer product market."

Can you hear me rolling my eyes? I am no fan of media sensationalization every time a new health study is published. Nor do I think it's particularly helpful to get all of your health news information from green/organic/eco-friendly groups - they are awesome at pointing out things that you should further study on your own, but too often come up with their own conclusions without any scientific process or study. But calling Stuart Levy's research (backed by the CDC) junk science is just crossing the line. I disagree with his assessment that the new study lets antibacterials off the hook, but I understand how easy it is to interpret the study to mean that.

It happens all the time - media tries to come up with interesting headlines and soundbites, which require summarizing massive amounts of data into a short, easy-to-understand format for their audience. This is how you get competing headlines when it comes to studies: "Alcohol is bad!" vs. "Red wine is good for your heart" vs. "Wine makes no difference to your health".

Then there is the tendency to translate statistics to support your own conclusion. If a study reveals a statistic... oh, let's say "40% of autistic kids have higher-than-average mercury levels in their blood", then it is correct to say "The majority of children with autism do not have high levels of mercury in their blood. But is that a responsible thing to say when you're a public figure with a large audience? What about the results that showed "75% of non-autistic children have less than 2% of the mercury content found in autistic children." Put those facts together, and you've got this: Mercury doesn't necessarily cause autism, but there is evidence that it plays some role."

Yes, I made up all the statements in that last paragraph, but misinterpretations of statistics happen all the time! The media and the average lay-person have such small attention spans that they demand an obvious statement to sum up research, rather than digging for the complexities of the truth to be found in most studies.

And speaking of irresponsible, here's a great (re: terrible) example: "Antibacterial Soaps: Unnecessary Risks, No Benefits" posted at divinecaroline.com. Remember that google search I mentioned? Well, this article is the #1 item returned by google in that search. On the surface, this is a very eye-opening, well-written, and easy-to-read article. But did you actually read what she was not saying?

"Many experts believe that," "shown resistance to S. aureous", "nearly 80 percent of all liquid soaps", "antibacterial agents promote strains of bacteria", and "If that’s not enough, the bacteria-killing chemicals go down the drain and into our waterways, harming wildlife and potentially ending up back in our bodies where they can present health risks."

Can you guess what she's leaving out? Hint: Check out the statements on page 2 that are much better.

"According to the Food and Drug Administration and the American Medical Association", "In one study", and "A 2007 study detected".

Congratulations Sarah Krupp, you've just discovered the concept of citing your sources! What would be even better would be actual links to or publication information for her source materials. Still, she got better. I'll try to keep in mind that she wrote this piece for a non-scientific website where anyone can say anything.

But: her article is the #1 source on the internet when looking for the risks of antibacterial soaps. I have no idea how many searches a day google handles, or how many searches of that particular phrase, but there it is at the top - proving its popularity with readers (Google's search results are ranked by how often each link from a search is chosen by the searcher - ha, there's my Quasi-Citation!) But my point is, when your audience is this large, it's time that responsibility and journalistic integrity play an important role in the wording of your article. The average reader is just too eager to read a group of claims in one article and decide that the entire article is fact.

So, in my OPINION:

1. statistics rarely show definite conclusions
2. statistics are very easy to interpret incorrrectly
3. purposely interpreting statistics incorrectly to disseminate to an audience is morally reprehensible
4. it is morally imperative that a journalist, even a web journalist, only state facts that can be cited
5. when most people read something well-written with a lot of reasonably stated ideas presented as facts, they too easily trust that these facts are mounting evidence, and thus everything stated must be correct
6. it's YOUR responsibility to research claims that affect your life
7. I have to start eliminating anti-bacterials from my life - and the germaphobe inside of me is terrified. I'm totally screwed.

Isn't science fun?!

Seriously, how did this become a post about moments in my car???

Yesterday as I was heading out for errands, I found 3 kids running a baked-goods stand in front of their house. I pulled over to see what they had and how much, and told them I'd try to find some cash while I was out. Traffic was horrible on the way home - I-5 was messed up, so everyone was using the backstreets around our neighborhood. Needless to say, by the time I reached my street, I didn't really want to deal with the kids, their wares, or finding the money to buy anything. But I stopped anyway to make sure they still had some left. Then I went home, dropped off dinner with Eric, grabbed 2 dollars from our change jar, and drove back for some sugar cookies. (Yes, I felt guilty driving, but I was *hungry* and I'm a slow walker - and I didn't want my dinner to be cold when I came back!).

Their mom had shown up since I first saw them, helping them count money - they were almost sold out! Their dad was messing around with his truck and he came over to wave at me with this goofy grin on his face. When my cookies were delivered to my car door window, I admonished her for not asking me if I wanted fries with that. She actually giggled.

On the way home I couldn't wipe the smile off of my face. I've never really cared for sugar cookies, but these were delicious - Eric let me have both of them for myself.

*

At some point when I was out this weekend (lots of errands!), I think it was the Lowe's parking lot, I hopped in my car, started up my iPod, and U2's "All I Want Is You" started to play. I sat there, remembering my wedding day. Someone once told me it was the most choreographed wedding they'd ever seen. I honestly only spent 10 minutes a few days before the wedding deciding how I was going to walk. It starts very softly with just Bono's voice and a quiet guitar. I stood around a corner where no one could see me but one co-worker. He grinned and made "come on out" motions with his hands. I just smiled and shook my head, closed my eyes:

You say
you want
diamonds on a ring of gold,
your story to remain untold,
But all the promises we make,
from the cradle to the grave,
When all I want is you

Cue some louder guitar, all alone without a voice now, and I step up to the threshold to look out at everyone and they can see me. I start walking forward when Bono starts to sing again, louder this time:

You say
you'll give me
a highway with no one on it,
a treasure just to look upon it.
All the riches in the land.

You say
you'll give me
eyes in a moon of blindness,
a river in a time of dryness,
a harbor in the tempest.
but all the promises we make
from the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you.

I meet Eric just as the lyrics end and the guitar swells. It's not an entirely sweet song, but mostly it is. And I cry every time I hear it. Because everything that song means to me, the way it describes my feelings for my husband, has become a million times more strong, more resonant, more true.

I cried in my car. Put my head on my steering wheel and wept. With a smile on my face.

*

My iPod is psychic. Kind of. It's more like the great DJ in the sky shows himself at odd moments:

I looked everywhere for my Portishead CD to listen to Roads while I drove in the rain. No luck, but when I plugged in my iPod and his play, Roads started to play.

I'm addicted to Muse. Especially their song Time is Running Out. I got into my car intending to find that song on my iPod, but when I turned it on, it automatically went to my shuffle-all playlist before I could do anything - and that was the first song there.

About 36 hours recovered from depression, I hopped into my car and the song that I walked down the aisle at my wedding to began to play.

On the day of our most serious relationship crisis, we hopped into the car to go on a road trip alone for some healing. A few minutes later - we hadn't even gone a mile - the song that was the first dance at our wedding began to play. I can count the number of times I've heard Depeche Mode's Somebody playing on a radio with two fingers.

*

I decided last summer that yes, the most important thing in the world to me right now is Eric and starting a family with him and making sure we are both happy. The most important way to do this is also the easiest: stop moping around, and take responsibility for the house like I promised so many years before. Make sure Eric doesn't have more to stress out about than work, because work stress has become almost impossible for him to bare anymore.

Heather also reminded me to do nice things for him. Somewhere in my head I knew that was part of it, but it didn't really click until she said it. So I wake up in the morning happy, do the dishes, then have some breakfast. If I watch TV, I finish before 2pm because that's when he takes his lunch break and watches ESPN. I clean up after myself, and when he's forgetful, I tidy up after his lunch. When he says or does something small and annoying, or something that makes me a little angry, I pause and take a deep breath. I try to remember that it's not important to point out that he's left the lights and TV on again. When my brain auto-translates his man-speak into something mean and/or selfish, I try to remember how to re-translate back into its original language so I can more accurately gauge what he's really saying.

I also have tried to take over driving duties when we go out together. Sometime in the 90s I got fed up with being so stressed when I drive. I was screaming all the time, arriving at my destination furious and tense. I started only listening to classical music in the car, making an effort not to take everything personally, remember that just because 10 people cut you off on your way to work it was not one person jeopardizing your safety over and over - it was 10 different people in 10 different moments of not quite paying enough attention. I thought of the silly mistakes I make when I drive - I do something dumb, I feel bad for a moment, but then I forget it because I need to focus on driving. I tried to imagine all those mistakes happening with the same person following in the car behind me. He would be really ticked off, but they're still 10 different incidents with no correlation to each other.

I took to heart a quote I found from Oscar Wilde (that turns out to really be from someone called M.L. Plano - weird): "Never attribute to malice what can be explained by stupidity. Don't assign to stupidity what might be due to ignorance." I taped it to my monitor at work and everything. I just discovered there is a 3rd line to that quote, which is quite snarky and thus hard for me to imagine it was not written by Wilde: And try not to assume your opponent is the ignorant one -- until you can show it isn't you.

To make a long story longer (!), it did change my attitude about driving. I still have my moments when I talk to myself about stupid drivers, give people dirty looks, and/or yell at people that can't hear me. But they don't happen every time I'm in the car, let alone multiple times per trip (unless there are lots of really, really stupid people out there at one time...!).

As Eric's stress level has increased, his yelling in the car has grown as well. For a few years I let it bother me, complaining internally. Then one day I realized that instead of telling him for the 20th time how easy it is to remain calm while driving if you don't take everything personally, I could just remove the stress itself. That's when I started driving for us. Sometime I relapse and get lazy, letting (read: insist on) him do the driving. And every time I do, I am rewarded with lots of reminders of why that's such a bad idea... For once something that's self-reinforcing is helpful!

*

Today as I was out on another errand, I was looking to see if those kids were selling cookies again. They weren't. Instead I saw a family walking towards me on the grass that should have a sidewalk paved on it but doesn't. They were really walking to a girl of about 10 years old who had gone ahead. She was standing under my favorite cherry blossom tree in the neighborhood - I've decided it's the perfect shade of light pink for my yard ambitions. And exactly as I was parallel to her, at the last moment before I had to look ahead at the road again, she reached up on her tippy toes, looking up into the branches, and trying to catch a few flowers.

It was one of those perfect moments that you wish you had a camera on you. But you don't, so you just have to savor it in your mind. Sometimes I'm guilty of the reverse - having a camera and spending too much time snapping photos and not enough time enjoying what's in front of me. Today, after that moment of original chagrin, I'm very happy that I didn't have my camera with me.

*

How can it be possible for one person to so quickly change from moping listlessness to someone so happy and open to the small joys in life? There are many moments in my life, small moments, that have brought me happiness in the midst of depression. Sometimes they are even enough to kick me out of it. Usually not. These moments are so much more powerful when you're on an even keel yet still so sensitive to recent depression. The depression leaves behind a kind of psychic bruise, making you flinch when something doesn't go your way, and then you're surprised that it didn't hurt or mess you up the way it would have just days before. Then there are the moments of happiness, that to most people are just happy moments, that become treasures because they are so acutely opposite what was so recently killing you inside.

Happy tears can be embarrassing, but you never, ever forget how you felt in that moment.

In gratitude: the downtown Seattle tree-lighting ceremony, that tiki restaurant in Wallingford, a squirrel on the UW campus, Collective Soul, a lazy river, sugar cookies, U2, Depeche Mode, little girls and cherry blossoms.

OK, I did it. I put myself out there - let's see if I manage to see it through. I've emailed my Aunt to help me determine if/when I can interview my grandmother.

So let me back up. My father's mother died the summer after I graduated from high school - I was 18. There was no money to send all of us to the funeral, so only my father went. At some point in the past, my mother had "smuggled" some stuff out for us kids as momentos since everything was picked over by family in Hawaii. Not one item came from them directly. And apparently we weren't mentioned in the will either. This just highlights some of the lighter offenses of my Dad's family against us, and they wonder why I don't keep in touch them?

Knowing what I know now about my step-pig-fucker-"grandfather", I'm more neutral about not getting to know my paternal grandmother. What kind of person was she to allow so much abuse in her own home? Still, since the moment she died, it has been a serious regret of mine that I didn't get to know anything about her. When she died, I was just coming into adulthood, so it was her death that made me realize how much I was going to miss by cutting them out of my life.

And now that I've cut my immediate family almost completely out of my life, I see my mother's family once every year or two. When I do see them, I've recently been struck by the fact that they all seem to be involved or at least informed of each other's lives. My cousins chat with my grandmother like they're long-time buddies who last saw her a few days ago. Probably because that's exactly what their relationship is like.

For this, there is regret. Deep regret. But as my mental health has made it more difficult for me to face my family rather than easier, I just haven't known how else to proceed. And until recently, my mind hadn't really thought of her as a person, but as an icon. It wasn't until my little sister was in her 20s that I realized she was a person with a history, a story, emotions, hang-ups, interests, and an ability to communicate in ways other than mimicing me and driving me insane. I think that even losing my maternal grandfather didn't really wake me up to this idea that my family members are individual people.

Last fall I came up with this idea. Well, 2 ideas really. It started when I found some old letters from my mother to me. Re-reading them I could remember what strong reactions I had to each one, and how they could still invoke the same intense emotions. I thought that I should collect them all and transcribe them and then write about my reactions/responses for each letter. Kind of a limited-aspect auto-biography.

Then I got to thinking about my grandmother, and I started thinking about ways to include her. And include my mother in a way other than passively - actually talking to her instead of just transcribing the things she's written in the past. I decided I was going to interview them.

My freshman year at The Evergreen State College, we all had a project to collect an "Oral History" from someone. I chose a favorite teacher, and had one or two "interviews" with her that were really just long conversations, that were taped, transcribed, and then used in a paper to summarize everything and include my thoughts on what I'd learned.

I realized it would be an amazing experience to do this with my mother and grandmother. It would be for me, and for them. We could talk about everything and/or anything that they wanted to talk about, and they could ask me about myself as well. I planned on "interviewing" them both separately, and then once together.

Worst-case scenario: I have a personal learning experience, as do they. Hopeful scenario: I transcribe everything to share with the rest of the family. Best-case scenario: I eventually write a memoir that has more to it than just my side of things.

I chickened out last year. I had problems figuring out how I was going to record everything. I had problems determining a format for just how much Q&A there would be. I searched my house high-and-low for a little auto-biographical booklet my grandmother gave me as a girl. I had intended to read the questions and her earlier answers to her, and then see what she thought and if she had different answers now. Then I finally found the booklet and realized it would take hours and hours, if not days, just to get through the booklet - it was much longer than I thought. I contemplated grabbing a few key pieces, and also asking her about the blank spots she'd left, and to fill-in her family tree a little better.

But in the end I lost my momentum, and then I lost my nerve. And now my grandmother is leaving us. If I had done this last year, maybe I could have had an actual relationship with my grandmother over the last few months. Now it all just seems morbid. And even if I can convince people I have higher-intentions than morbidity, there is her failing health to consider. She has cancer, she's dying soon - I imagine she is on a lot of drugs that make her sleepy and week. I just don't know how much she would be up for this, since I haven't talked to anyone who has actually seen her recently.

I made a decision this morning to stop being a chicken-shit idiot and just TRY. Just try, and see how it goes. I feel that it is too little too late, and that the rest of the family will think so as well. But part of me is certain that she will enjoy having an actual conversation with me. As the years have gone by, I've become more and more aware of how much I'm hurting my family by staying away. I'm not sure how to deal with that. I have not thought of how I can remedy the situation and still keep my sanity. And not hurt them more. Because part of the distance is also to keep my negative emotions away from them until I've learned to process them better and they are willing and able to talk about more than the weather and their health with me.

There is a confronation that I have to have with each of them, or at least a serious discussion. My sister and I have had many discussions since that cup of coffee at FPH about a decade ago, and we actually have a good (but flimsy) relationship. But there are some serious conversations that need to happen with my mother, my father, and my brothers. Most will be bitter and angry and scary, except for my baby brother, which will be mostly apologetic for not being in his life since I moved out at 18.

I just don't know if or when they or I will be up to it.

There is guilt about my lack-of-relationship with my grandmother, but no negative feelings at all. So while it may be sad, I think the conversation will be easier and happier. We can talk about whatever she feels up to talking about.

So I emailed my aunt to start the process. No backing out now.

From an email that should have been a blog post:

You know what? Life sucks. I'm so tired of getting my footing back and then life throwing a curveball and I land in the gutter. Last weekend I had a wonderful time spending it at a Scrapbooking retreat with Eric's mom. I decided to see my mom on my way out of town, since I don't see her often and she's in a recovery center for a broken foot. And I wanted to show her all the pages I had just scrapped of her wedding. Do you have any idea how hard it is to scrap a wedding for a couple that is divorced and completely wrong for each other?

So I show up as they are changing out my mom's IV stuff. I might have been fine if that was all it was. But because of an infection, they have her hooked up to multiple lines on one row of her arm. I instantly felt queasy. I had to sit down on the opposite side of the bed and look away from her because every time I looked at her I could see her other arm and the nurse STILL messing with it. It seems that because of my surgeries last year, I've become worse around needles and blood and IV's, rather than better.

OK, so imagine me sitting there, holding my mom's hand, and I'm all clammy and sweaty and trying not to bolt from the room like an idiot. And then my brother walks in with my Father in tow. Have I told you that he now invokes panic attacks when I see him?

After 5 minutes of me not making eye contact or talking to anyone, I mumble that I need to leave. Mike took pity on me and suggested that he and Dad give us some time alone and they'll come back later. Dad called out that he loved me, but at least he didn't try and touch me this time - that's what started the panic attacks about 3 years ago, when he hugged me against my will at Christmas.

The nurse FINALLY left about a minute after the guys did, so I could finally make eye contact again. We talked briefly, but I wasn't going to be able to pull myself together until I got out of there. I tried to race to the ferry so I could cry during the ride - I kept repeating myself that I'll be ok, I just have to reach the ferry on time. The ferry had not yet left, but it was full so I had to drive around. But not before pulling over at this little store a block away and balling my eyes out for 15 minutes. Then I went inside and bought 4 candy bars and a mini pecan pie, gorged myself, dried my eyes AGAIN, and then I finally left for home.

No more crying since then, but I just haven't felt myself since. Sunday night and Monday I just felt totally defeated. Yesterday I forced myself to take a shower and put on make up, play with my hair (I have lost the knack on how to straighten it when it's this long), and go out to run some errands/do some shopping.

I returned a cryptic message from my sister when I got home. That's when she told me that our Grandmother has cancer (apparently it's a recurrence), it is resisting all chemo and meds and radiation, and she has between 2 weeks and 2 months to live.

Now I have to figure out what I want to do about that. I feel so guilty about never learning more about my Dad's mom before she died, but that is all on my Dad and his family for treating us so bad that we had to remove ourselves from all of their influence. And now because my family refuses to kick him out of their lives, I am forced to distance myself from my own immediate family. Which means I never see my Mom's family. Thanks again Dad.

We're all getting together to see her next Saturday, but I feel I should do more than that. I'm just not sure I have the balls to do it.

So I got an amazing camera for Christmas! It has a million settings, and I can zoom in to read the house number of the neighbors half-way down the block. But apparently it doesn't want to focus on something small that's in front of it - like the pendant on a necklace. Working in the right lighting, it takes very crisp, clear pictures of my jewelry. However, if I want to zoom in to show the detail or pendant of a piece, the auto-zoom has an epileptic fit trying to figure out what to focus on, gets close to focusing, and then gives up in the end at the most blurry point of the focusing process. With my manual camera, I can focus until it's at least visible, and then manually focus the rest of the way in by twisting the lens. HA! Good luck with that on a digital camera!!

And I'm having problems with it taking good pictures in less-than-optimum lighting. That was a specific feature I looked for, so I'm really extra pissed about that.

However. I refuse to believe that this expensive camera is as crappy (or crappier) than my old camera. So I am withholding my final opinion until I can find the manual (I found the Spanish version yesterday! *sigh*) and read up on how to use it without the auto-focus. I would love to spend an hour with someone who knows cameras to talk to me about speed settings for different lighting. I think that's called ISO? For $65 I can take a 2-hour seminar at NSCC to learn the basics - the description focused on "getting to know" a digital camera, how to hook it up to a computer to upload files, and how to print pictures. Somehow I don't think this is the class I'm looking for.

Oh yes! Uploading files! *insert ironic belly laugh here*

I took a bunch of jewelry pictures last week, which I needed to upload to the computer and modify with GIMP to create new listings in my etsy shop. Guess what happens when you hook up the camera to the computer? NOTHING! After a number of adjustments to the camera, turning the computer on and off, I resorted to the Software Installation guide - the main camera guide being missing. Guess what - downloading pictures straight from the camera to computer without the software is possible, but you will experience problems such as it taking many minutes to access the camera. WTF? So I had to install their software just to grab my pictures! And then I had to figure out how to get the camera "ready" for the process - the software guide was very helpful when it told me that my camera needed to be put in the correct setting, and such setting would be explained to me in the main camera guide. So more fussing. Finally, everything worked, and I got my pictures. But then when you're finished, it quits the photo transfer program and automatically loads a 2nd program to view the pictures. WTF? I didn't ask it to do that!!!

This whole process took about a half hour. Half-way through I decided to give up, put the memory card in the old camera, and take the 45 seconds required to transfer files from it to my computer. There were no batteries in the camera. Not that I could find the USB cable for it, or that the new camera's USB wouldn't work on it.

And after that, GIMP died. It refuses to start up. Have I ever mentioned how many hours it took to figure out how to install GIMP in the first place??? So now I am back to ZERO photo-manipulation software programs. The camera's suite of software doesn't have one. And I have railed against iPhoto for years. I finally broke down and used iPhoto. 15 minutes to figure out how to tell iPhoto I wanted to look at pictures in a different folder than it had auto-selected. Resized my photos via cropping and scaling - holy shit, last time I tried, it didn't allow scaling!!! But guess what? When you alter a photo, it saves it as the same document. So your original photo is forever LOST. There is no Save-As feature. WTFWTFWTF??????

And then... Oh yes, and then. I went downstairs to make etsy listings on my laptop and spend time with Eric watching our nightly shows so I could calm down and stop being pissed off. This required me putting those iPhoto-manipulated files into our network to grab with the other computer.

The other computer being a PC that was so confused by the iPhoto files that it refused to even copy them over. Back upstairs, grab the old camera and the new memory card, find batteries and USB cable. Hook up old camera to move images to laptop. Use laptop to manipulate images AGAIN, this time with Photoshop.

There is no Photoshop on my machine.

I was about ready to throw every piece of technology in our house out a window.

Eric got me his laptop which allegedly had Photoshop on it. I couldn't find it anywhere. Because the only way I know how to start programs on a PC is to either click the shortcut on the desktop, or go to the Applications folder and find the program there. Want to ask Eric why Photoshop was not in the Applications folder? Neither did I. I was going to throw his laptop into the TV if I did not just give up right then and there.

He found photoshop. Launched it for me. Discovered there was almost no battery life left and he'd left his AC charger at the office. Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? He saw the manic disbelief turning my face into the freaking Joker, took both laptops in the other room, and when he came back my laptop had photoshop on it.

So something that should have taken me 15 minutes tops took about 1.5 hours. And then I still had to alter the images and create the listing. HA! Oh, and Eric couldn't keep from telling me that the new camera hooked up to his PC just fine without the software to do the file transfer.

Eric has a very similar story to tell about how his Mustang didn't work after we got back from Italy. I say point for me because I didn't throw anything in the end. It was a close thing though. Very, very close.

Being a homeowner sucks ass. Being the owner of an older home sucks... donkey ass. When we were looking to buy a house, other than a good price and enough room for us to grow, the main thing I wanted was to NOT get a fixer-upper. I wanted a NEW(ish) home that wouldn't need repairs anytime soon. And then we go and buy this freaking old creaky not-to-code when last renovated house.

The previous homeowners hid damage (that our inspector failed to see behind a sofa) that required us to remove and replace an entire exterior wall of our house. We knew about the mold in the master bedroom, so the house price was adjusted to give us the money to fix that problem. And we did. But our heating, plumbing, and electricity is all crap. The electricity to my office area (and Eric's, despite it being in a completely different area of the house) is on a flakey circuit. Right now we've got it so Eric has power and I don't - I use an extension chord to the bedroom to plug in my computer. The Christmas before last we had to replace the furnace because it is under the house in a crawl space that easily floods. Our carport is rotting away. We can't use the downstairs shower because the lever won't stay down. The upstairs is not connected to the furnace, so it's always either cold or hot up here depending on if you turn on the wall heaters. The upstairs bathroom sink is rusting underneath. The floorboards near the downstairs tub are rotten. There is no way to currently block access to the under-house crawlspace from critters - cats go down there to DIE. Critters are somehow getting into our attic - sometimes LARGE critters, but they never leave any evidence behind - we just hear them walking, running, scratching at the floor, etc. Half the burners on the stove don't work. The refridgerator, dryer, and dishwasher are all ancient.

My current headache is with said dishwasher. Water is not fully draining out of it, which sounds very unsanitary to me. So is it the dishwasher or the pipes? I got a plumber out here last night and we confirmed that the dishwasher needs to be replaced - it's old, falling apart, missing the trap, and now makes an interesting burning smell. However, he showed me how the pipes are configured in such a way that water cannot fully exit the system, so there's always standing water in them, making it easier for drains to clog and the dishwasher to back up. Buying a new dishwasher will be useless until the pipes have been reconfigured. We need something called an air-gap to help lower the water pressure as it exits the dishwasher. The pipes coming right down from the sink drains are very short, making clogging easy. Part of one sink is rusting, and a pipe is being abused by the high water pressure from the dishwasher. And to top it all off, the main pipe that the system dumps into to leave the kitchen and then the house, that pipe is higher than all the other pipes under the sink. It should be lower, so gravity helps force the water out. Right now, the water needs to go uphill to exit - so if there is no pressure behind it to flush it out, it just hangs out in the pipes just waiting to cause headaches.

New pipe configuration: $750
Parts for new configuration: $50
New dishwasher: $300
New faucet to make room for the air gap: $62

Total repair = $1162

We had budgeted $400 for either a dishwasher repair or replacement. Ye-fucking-haw!

There have been things that I've wanted to write about over the past few months, but I've been questioning how to record it. For many years, I loved the idea of putting my emotions out there for the world to see. But lately, I don't really feel a "need" to do that anymore. I do still want to record it though. Sometime last year I bought some notebooks to start journaling. I discovered that despite spending my formative years writing long-hand in notebooks with every spare moment, my hands can no longer take that punishment anymore. I'm pretty sure I'm developing arthritis. So typing seems much easier. And, it's quicker to get the words out. And as long as I'm typing this up, I might as well put it where all my other words are recorded, to stay organized. So, for now, I'm going to continue to blog online. For myself. We'll see just how often I accomplish that though!

First, I want to say that I had a wonderful birthday weekend! Eric took me to the Can Can for The Castaways performance of Aerobotron. Wow! Sexy and fun. With really great food! We had breakfast with Eric's family on Sunday, and then had dinner with my family that night. My sister & Tiffany hosted - Tiff made probably the best chicken friend steak I've ever had in my life! Best of all, I could relax with my family and enjoy our time together in a way that I haven't done in years. It was such a blessing that I am so thankful to Tiff & Chris for.

Also, I've reconnected with an old friend, Krista. It's been nice chatting with her. Heather and I are trying to plan a visit for the end of this month.

All of that aside, it has not been a good couple of months. All of the excited happiness I had late last year evaporated some time in December. For Christmas I was fine, just not "happy". For me anyway, my moods range from depressed to down to middle ground to happy to bliss/contentment. December was middle ground, and so was the beginning of January.

But once again something came up that had me re-analyzing myself and the way I think and the things I want in my life.

It was sparked by that stupid movie, Bride Wars. OK, the movie wasn't bad, but by the end of the film when the 2 best friends are making up, I was in tears because I miss having someone in my life so badly. This was the night of my birthday, mind you, and I was inconsolable for about an hour.

I have been feeling lonely for much of my adult life, and I was dealing with it OK until I ruined my friendship with Rowan. Another major loss in my life that I wasn't prepared for, and it didn't help that I was responsible for it.

Eric and this house and our cats are my life. I don't mind this - especially when Eric and I spend time together. What I wouldn't give for him to retire and us to spend the rest of our lives traveling the world together! But that's not gonna happen anytime soon. So Eric works. A lot. Leaving me with just the cats and the house. And that's just not enough. So I'm lonely. A lot. I am painfully shy and introverted and sickly and have such low energy, that it's pretty much impossible for me to meet new people right now.

Then there's that other problem. My ability to just shut everything out, the entire world, unless it's standing up and waving its arms, shouting right in my face. I am so used to this solitary existence that every morning I wake up and it never occurs to me to spend time with anyone, try to talk to anyone, try to reach a friend even just for a minute. Unless it's prearranged. And good luck to anybody who tries to contact me! My sister is frustrated with me, and I'm sure Rob is just sick of constantly having to be the one to get in touch with me and not hearing back from me for weeks at a time.

Somewhere along the lines, I forgot how to be a good friend. The things that I find important in a friendship, I think those are still there: honesty, faithfulness, commitment, and the concept of sticking up for someone - always having their back. Those, I think I'm capable of still. But taking the time to keep that person in your daily life? That's kind of gone out the window. How did I do that? How did I let it happen?

I desperately want a friendship again that is part of my daily life. Someone I can share anything and everything with, call at 2 am when life throws you a grenade, someone to just sit around and be bored with. And here I am, sabotaging it???

The key to any sort of problem-solving is to know you have a problem. So now that I'm aware of it, I'm working on it. But I don't have a lot of opportunity to do that, because there's no-one in my life that I'm that close to. Everyone seems so settled in their lives, no one has the time, energy, or inclination to let a new person into their life in an intimate way.

In the last year, I've had 2 people tell me almost the exact same thing: they are not the kind of friend that I am, they can't be the kind of friend I'm looking for, and they don't want to anyway. They want friendship, but they don't want... intimacy. They are self-described loners. They enjoy my company, but don't want to spend a lot of time hearing about my problems or sharing their own.

Both times, it has been extremely painful to me. I want so desperately to have that 2am BFF in my life again. I am willing to jump through hoops, put myself on the line, give my everything and then some to prove how awesome a friend I am. How reliable. How necessary. And the response is BACK THE HELL UP. These are not people that I just met and then started stalking them. These are people that I have a history with, an established (or rekindled) relationship with, that I would like to be closer to. I would be willing to overlook any problems or flaws, if I could just get that intimacy from them.

It's not anything I can blame on them. They are how they are. I can't change that. And if they don't want devotion, I don't want to give it to them. And I'm the way I am. Heart on my sleeve.

I told myself I was done with putting myself out there for people to hurt after Rowan. But I had this other person in my life already, and they stuck by me, and we spent a lot of time together. So it was a real blow to learn that they didn't share my need to be BFF. And the other person, we have this established history of being very close, then we weren't, then we started trying to forge a friendship again. I didn't realize it was from scratch, and that intimacy was not part of the deal, until a few days ago. I certainly didn't start the friendship up again expecting intimacy myself, but I was certainly open to it if that was the way things developed. I was basically told that it would not develop that way because the other person didn't want that. Didn't need it.

I think part of my problem, the reason why I need intimacy so badly, is because I feel like I spend most of my life not being myself. I want someone to know who I am, who I really am. And still like me for that. It's hard not to take it personally when you are turned away.

When I was in high school and became a Natural Helper, there was a lot of feel-good stuff thrown at us in training. There was a poem called "Masks" about how everyone hides the real them from outsiders, and we should put our masks down and be ourselves. Nobody seems to want that to happen in real life though.

How would people react if while I'm in the checkout line I tell the checker to stop talking about the weather because in my head I'm having a flashback of my father abusing us? When I'm grabbing lunch to go and they're making small talk while preparing the food in front of me, I tell them to stop trying to engage me because all I can think about is running out the door, driving home as fast as possible, and crouching into a ball in the corner? Does your dry cleaner want to know if you're unfaithful to your partner? Do the people in the gym want to know that you're waiting for test results on whether you have cancer or not?

Nope, no one wants to hear any of that stuff from a stranger. But I want to talk about it. I want support, encouragement, camaraderie. Having someone to go shopping or go to the movies with would be great, but I am looking for someone I can talk to. Someone I can have honest conversations with, whenever, wherever. Someone to be myself with, behind the mask, all bullshit dropped.

Yesterday I picked myself off the ground by telling myself that once again I've found something in life that I want that I will never get. First, I fell harder - I mourned the fantasy that I had to let go of. But then I was able to stand up. I was able to find purpose in the house. Because since this house and my cats and my husband are the only things in my life, I need to stop obsessing on the things I can't have and start investing more time in the the things I already have.

I was in the 4th grade when I realized I was never going to be popular or have a lot of friends, and I began to accept that I was going to be a loner. I can still remember the day that I was walking home from the playground and I said to myself that "I don't need anybody." There is no specific time when I realized that I was not going to marry Simon le Bon when I grew up. I gave up my dream of becoming a dancer when I saw my best friend show me some of her rudimentary ballet skills. I gave up wanting to be a singer when my cousin and I taped ourselves singing Christmas carols and then listened to the play back with horror. I gave up wanting to marry a poet who would read poetry to me while we cuddled under a tree near a stream, or a musician who would sing songs written about me, when I met and fell in love with Eric. FYI, Eric is awesome, and he has written a poem or two, and even sings on occasion (privately).

So now it's 4th grade again. I am a loner. I will always be a loner. I will never have anyone to call at 2am to cry with. I have to not need anybody.

Good luck to you, I.

In August I set up a shop at Etsy - mysie.etsy.com - a website for crafters and artists to sell their handmade wares. I finally got my first sale last week! Woo-hoo!! Thanks Pixie! :)

When I first started making jewelry, it was mostly for myself - I liked simple, small pieces that I could wear with just about anything. But as I got more and more involved with beading and addicted to gemstones, my jewelry got bigger and bigger - the best beads are much larger than anything I would usually wear for myself. Then a few weeks ago I was in an artsy jewelry shop downtown, and about 90% of their jewelry was very small scale. Lots of small chain chokers with tiny faceted gemstones. I fell in love!

So I broke out my sterling silver wire and some small freshwater pearls and went to town. I have only made one hand-made chain necklace in the past and it took so much time and energy that I gave up ever trying it again. This new necklace took just as much time and energy, but this time I maintained my patience to be careful and make less mistakes to start with. The result was well worth it, so I started another one with Ametheyst, and that turned out really well too. I'm going to start working on another color tonight.

I really want to take some pictures and put it into the shop, but there hasn't been any sunlight to speak of this weekend. My camera sucks so much ass, the only way I can get good pictures of my jewelry is with bright - yet indirect - sunlight. I realized that the brightest, most well-light room in the house is our bathroom, which has about 20 lights in it. Inspired by Etsy.com's advice, I picked up some vibrantly colored felt for backgrounds. Then I went into my bathroom, turned on all the lights and added some extra, then set to work.

With that stupid crap camera. All the pictures were crap. I'm REALLY hoping that when I get my new camera for Christmas it takes better pictures of my jewelry. *sigh*

Now to wait for that elusive sunny December day when I can take pictures of my new jewelry. Grr.

The storm has been moving slowly today, causing me to look up every few minutes to make sure the rain had not started without me. Then, with impeccable timing, a downpour - just enough to to run up the stairs and grab a perch to watch the rain and wind for a few scant moments before it became too dark to watch. It's times like this that I wonder how, after so many bad experiences as a child, the little things can still bring me so much joy. As a girl in Hawaii, I relished the afternoon rains by sitting on the back steps - as close to the bottom I could get without being drenched - with a cat in my arms. Nikka did follow me up here for company, but only tolerated being held for about 45 seconds before it was time for her to go off on her own.

I always open the windows to try and listen as I watch, but up here on the second story all I can hear is the wind when it rains. I miss our tin roof in Hawaii. Here, the only room in the house that allows you to hear the rain is the living room with its skylights. The skylights don't provide the right view to watch the rain, so I am always torn between staying down there to listen, or coming up here to watch. Maybe later I'll go back downstairs and lay under the skylights with my eyes closed and just listen.

Eric and I have decided to make a baby. We are waiting until January to start trying, for various reasons I'll probably talk about later.

Right now I want to talk about why we made the decision. Well, really, the timing was up to me really because of my endomitriosis. So after years of wavering, back and forth and back and forth, I made the decision. There have been so many pros and cons weighing on me, and all of them are still there - guilty hopes and terrible warnings.

But in the end, I found 2 positives that together weighed over everything else.

First, there is this desire to have another person to love in my life. Someone to give all my love to, and know that it will be returned for at least a little while. Then there is the teaching, the imparting of wisdom, instilling values, seeing proof that I have changed the world in some small way by creating another person who shares some part of who I am and what I have been and what I stand for. But always this connection, no matter how strained the parent/child relationship. I'm very, very aware that parenthood is not all happiness and rainbows - terrible warnings, remember? But even if things go wrong, I will always have my memories and the knowledge that I have created something amazing to add to the world.

Secondly, I've spent all my life feeling like I'm meant to do something - everyone feels this, yes? Apparently its typical for adolescents to have a bit of a god-complex, a sense of invulnerability, all tangled into this feeling of purpose. This could so easily devolve into a dissection of the place of religion in society, but that's just not my point. My point is that I've been searching forever to do something that matters. As the years have gone by and I've floundered around, I have built up this nest of things to please me - love, marriage, pets, home, possessions. But there has always been this feeling of emptiness, of something not fulfilled, some promise not yet kept. It has always revolved around children - wanting to protect them, to educate them. But my attempts have failed. So many treasures have been laid at my feet, and I have not been happy enough with them, it drives my depression, I'm sure of it. So I have over the past two years come to this belief that having a child will matter. And then everything will change. Everything. Again, I'm very aware that although babies are miracles, life-changers, it is not all for the best. My history has proven that I'm not good with change. But I need it, I really do.

No matter how I say it (or write it), it comes out sounding selfish, doesn't it? But in my head and in my heart, there is a sense of right-ness to it. A moment of the universe revealing some tiny secret to you. Not the enormous "this is what it's all about", but some hint that you might be getting closer to seeing some universal truth and understanding it.

I'm currently reading a book, The City at the End of Time by Greg Bear, and it's all very high and mighty. End of the world physics and metaphysics and final revelations, but all very vaguely discussed (more like hinted at) with big words to entangle the mind deciphering the code rather than understanding what was said. Anyway, it's rubbing off on my writing style right now, so I really, truly apologize. I feel like I'm being just as vague. Bah!