Click here for more from that day by another photographer.
5.10.06
1.8.06
.. Fluid
atomsrearrange
shifting
auditioning novel configurations
entire regions infused with pain-memory
re fresh
re lease
re new
re form
so
i explore
the New World
inside my skin
24.4.06
Sex Reading
A few articles I've recently enjoyed & favorite quotes:
Asexuality
"This is where many folks out there in TV land might have trouble believing asexuality is not cover for something else. So you can masturbate and still call yourself asexual?"
G Spot
"A few doctors have argued this spot lacks any of the special mythological powers attributed to it - it's like the Bermuda Triangle of female anatomy."
Changing Castro
"A woman [was] upset about a Buddhist god with a very large penis."
Genderqueer
"Seahorses are bona fide genderfuckers."
Bisexuality on the Rise
"The more they like sex, the more women like women."
16.4.06
Buckled
Buckled. As in, buckle down. Just crawling in from my last big party night until finals are over. Two and a half more weeks until the end of my 2L year; a staggering amount of work to accomplish in a mere seventeen days.
And so, another quote from that eerie daily horoscope:
And so, another quote from that eerie daily horoscope:
The Sun and Pluto, holding hands, are chorusing: “You can’t keep a good Aries down.” Whether it’s (whatever “it” is) the call of the wild or a megamerger, chances are that it will be way too strong to resist or ignore.
13.4.06
Commitment
Anyone who thinks that polyamory is somehow divested of commitment should live inside my head for a day. An hour might even be sufficient. This wee-hours-post is me saying that my embodiment of polyamory takes commitment.
The commitment is philosophical. The commitment is emotional. The commitment is sometimes wrenching. And yet I persist. Am I just stubborn? Deluded? Too idealistic for my psychological and emotional well-being?
At the risk of sounding like an unrealistic hippie (perhaps an apt characterization in light of what follows), living my truth is the only way I can look myself in the eye through the mirror, and what makes gazing in others' eyes comfortable. My truth is fluid, evolving, and I wrestle every day with being honest with my views and their application to the minutiae of mundane choices that create my life.
And for a little more hippie-talk, I've come to realize, in lessons building to a crescendo over the past year, that my capacity for love is tremendous. Greater than I ever knew possible.
And yet, in this moment, I feel a profound sadness. There are two people for whom I care - someone I've loved for a long time and someone I've only very recently known with growing fondness - who feel unsure and doubtful polyamory is the right lovestyle for them. I would never want, nor presume, to change how anyone lives and loves. But vague uncertainty drains a bit, leaving me slightly worn and raw. Exposed.
These, for me, are the challenging moments of polyamory.
Franklin has a great website, so I looked there for guidance, understanding, comfort, something with which I could relate. "Poly relations for monogamous people" doesn't seem to quite catch the nuance of the various poly-resistant relations and interactions I'm currently experiencing, whether it's changing perceptions of a poly-self, or misgivings from the outset. "Things your partner wants you to know" has some good stuff that rang true, but not quite there either. "How to become a secure person" has something different to say to me, every time I read it. But ultimately, it was "Poly 101" that reminded me of what I needed to hear.
Writing this out has made me feel better. Mission accomplished.
Now I'm tired, on a bifurcated sleep cycle, and need to get a few hours of rest before getting up for another long day.
And an expectedly beautiful springtime day.
The commitment is philosophical. The commitment is emotional. The commitment is sometimes wrenching. And yet I persist. Am I just stubborn? Deluded? Too idealistic for my psychological and emotional well-being?
At the risk of sounding like an unrealistic hippie (perhaps an apt characterization in light of what follows), living my truth is the only way I can look myself in the eye through the mirror, and what makes gazing in others' eyes comfortable. My truth is fluid, evolving, and I wrestle every day with being honest with my views and their application to the minutiae of mundane choices that create my life.
And for a little more hippie-talk, I've come to realize, in lessons building to a crescendo over the past year, that my capacity for love is tremendous. Greater than I ever knew possible.
And yet, in this moment, I feel a profound sadness. There are two people for whom I care - someone I've loved for a long time and someone I've only very recently known with growing fondness - who feel unsure and doubtful polyamory is the right lovestyle for them. I would never want, nor presume, to change how anyone lives and loves. But vague uncertainty drains a bit, leaving me slightly worn and raw. Exposed.
These, for me, are the challenging moments of polyamory.
Franklin has a great website, so I looked there for guidance, understanding, comfort, something with which I could relate. "Poly relations for monogamous people" doesn't seem to quite catch the nuance of the various poly-resistant relations and interactions I'm currently experiencing, whether it's changing perceptions of a poly-self, or misgivings from the outset. "Things your partner wants you to know" has some good stuff that rang true, but not quite there either. "How to become a secure person" has something different to say to me, every time I read it. But ultimately, it was "Poly 101" that reminded me of what I needed to hear.
Writing this out has made me feel better. Mission accomplished.
Now I'm tired, on a bifurcated sleep cycle, and need to get a few hours of rest before getting up for another long day.
And an expectedly beautiful springtime day.
9.4.06
Catching Up
The new decade is already moving too quickly. These last weeks have included a string of very good academic and professional news, an excess of partying in celebration of that good news and my birthday, moving out of my house, thinking about trying to pull my nose above the quickly rising tide of schoolwork and work-work (and not quite doing it yet), negotiating how to restructure an evolving seven-year poly relationship, telling my parents I'm amicably divorcing that same partner this summer, and thoroughly enjoying a new interaction with someone I've had my eye on for awhile.
My festival week was fabulous, culminating in a celebration with about twenty friends at Ouida Lounge. One of my favorite things about Ouida's - besides the blue sky and clouds painting on the ceiling - is the hookah rentals. Oh yeah. Nothin' keeps me from smoking cigarettes like puffing on some apple-flavored tobacco.
And of course, here's the requisite daffodil, my birthday flower. Something about daffodils makes me glad to be alive. And something about snow on daffodils (which we got a few days later), tells me I'm home. Springtime in the Wasatch.
It's good to have left my twenties behind. I'm so over them.
25.3.06
Festival 30 Kick-Off
Although initially fraught with frustration and delays, the trip to Mystic Hot Springs ended up being a wonderful adventure. Soaking in warm water, celebrating Vernal Equinox, and seeing Kan'Nal in an intimate venue with eighty people was the perfect way to start the celebration week for my 30th and K's 27th birthdays.
J, O, and B drove down and soaked with us Sunday, Equinox-eve.
The Mysterious B ("When I was in Colorado I was George") is taking this photo.
Vernal Equinox Morn.
Aries grrl before the show, age 29.99178 .
The next morning, age 29.99452.
Rub dub dub.
J, O, and B drove down and soaked with us Sunday, Equinox-eve.
The Mysterious B ("When I was in Colorado I was George") is taking this photo.
Vernal Equinox Morn.
Aries grrl before the show, age 29.99178 .
The next morning, age 29.99452.
Rub dub dub.18.3.06
Pre-Equinox Nostalgia
The planned travel to Mystic for our 4th annual Aries celebration has been delayed. Now we can't leave until tomorrow morning. Illness, old and new injuries, exhaustion, major vehicle frustration. This has been a weird trip from the beginning. We bumped it up a week to coincide with Kan'Nal's show Monday night. Usually we go after the 23rd and 24th, after K and I get to celebrate our actual birthdays. Lots of the regulars at these Aries gathering won't be there this year. Cycles. Inevitable change.
The goats played a big role that first year, in 2003. B and R, getting rather facial with the cloven footed creatures, S playing her guitar and singing to them. The goats have been relocated to another part of the property. And S is in Belize for spring break.
And I'm leaving for the odd beginning of my birthday-week-festival tomorrow morning. Instead of hours ago, as planned.
Thirty is visible. Less than a week away.
The goats played a big role that first year, in 2003. B and R, getting rather facial with the cloven footed creatures, S playing her guitar and singing to them. The goats have been relocated to another part of the property. And S is in Belize for spring break.
And I'm leaving for the odd beginning of my birthday-week-festival tomorrow morning. Instead of hours ago, as planned.
Thirty is visible. Less than a week away.
16.3.06
Tectonics & A Papier Mâché Piñata
Earthquakes. Tsunamis. Volcanoes. The tectonic plates of my world are shifting and groaning. The ground is shaking. I am readjusting, releasing old, slowly accumulated pressures.
That's one way to see it.
It's also like a big easter egg, a piñata, a papier mâché prison I've built around myself in patterns repeated for at a dozen years. Ultimately my prettily and painstakingly constructed egg became too oppressive and I'm bursting through, busting the chicken wire and the glue and the hardened paper. Breathing new air. Crawling out of the small space to stretch my legs and arms and back, and start moving. Growing. Expanding.
What's prompting such descriptions of Moss's inner realm? That strangely prophetically applicable sun sign horoscope I get in my email applies. I accept its implicit challenge.
That's one way to see it.
It's also like a big easter egg, a piñata, a papier mâché prison I've built around myself in patterns repeated for at a dozen years. Ultimately my prettily and painstakingly constructed egg became too oppressive and I'm bursting through, busting the chicken wire and the glue and the hardened paper. Breathing new air. Crawling out of the small space to stretch my legs and arms and back, and start moving. Growing. Expanding.
Whether it's tectonic shifts or the lovely thought of me being the prize in the piñata, change is afoot.
What's prompting such descriptions of Moss's inner realm? That strangely prophetically applicable sun sign horoscope I get in my email applies. I accept its implicit challenge.
Are you really prepared to travel further afield to ensure your expansion and growth? Or, on the grounds of familiarity, are you going to stick with the same-old, same-old, despite what you said about sticking with that choice?
12.3.06
P & P
Two P words that describe me (listed alphabetically since neither is more applicable than the other):
These two traits are terrifically unfortunate when they exert such an influence over my behavior simultaneously. (Which is why I find myself facing an all-nighter to meet a 9:00 am deadline.)
Oh, and just because the most recent sun-sign-general-good-advice made me smile, here's today's horoscope:
Perfectionist
Procrastinator
Procrastinator
These two traits are terrifically unfortunate when they exert such an influence over my behavior simultaneously. (Which is why I find myself facing an all-nighter to meet a 9:00 am deadline.)
Oh, and just because the most recent sun-sign-general-good-advice made me smile, here's today's horoscope:
Don’t exit the stage quite yet. If you can just keep your options open until the Sun moves into your sign on the 20th, you stand an excellent chance of conjuring a delightful rabbit out of your hat.We'll see about that whole rabbit business. And now I'm ruminating on what options I should keep open.
10.3.06
41
At first the rumormill said it was a massive heart attack. But that was an exaggeration. He was awake when they gave him the local anisthetic in his groin, cut him open, and snaked a shunt to his heart to open the blockage. Now he owes $20k. I told him his life is worth it. He is 41.
9.3.06
Who's Been Peeping In My Headspace?
Usually I just find sun-sign horoscopes funny. They are so generic they can apply to anyone. Basically just good advice, right? Right.
And I still think that.
And this new horoscope I've been getting is hitting the nail on the head lately. Hitting it pretty damn square. Pretty damn hard.
And I still think that.
And this new horoscope I've been getting is hitting the nail on the head lately. Hitting it pretty damn square. Pretty damn hard.
Should you be involved in arrangements that limit your self-expression, you probably have excellent, defensible reasons for hanging in there. However, your chafe marks are becoming increasingly obvious and pretty soon they’ll probably need some salve.
Now the concept of salve will be ever-present on my mind.
Note to Mister Shower: Don't worry. It won't be the greasy lavender body butter kind of salve.Am I delirious?
7.3.06
Pesky Wisdom
Somehow these things are related.
My horoscope for today:
Whether you’ve been attempting to declare your position or playing your cards close to your vest, this is your moment. Make a case for your future plans, including the list of who is (and isn’t) welcome to accompany you.
and
“Expectation is the root of all heartache.” – William Shakespeare
6.3.06
Evolve
Beauties of being a pedestrian & user of public transport:
1. I have no idea how much gas costs.
2. I watch the weather.
Going to Term(ination)
Okay, I admit it. I've become complacent in recent years about my pro-choice activism. But South Dakota's attack on the constitutionally-protected right to choose has the tiniest of tiny silver linings. NARAL: Pro-Choice America and Planned Parenthood are each getting a ridiculous pittance from my dwindling-too-soon-in-the-semester checking account. I'm clinging to the adage that every dollar helps.
This Denver Post article describing the extreme difficulty women already faced in South Dakota prior to the new sweeping criminal ban reminded me of my own state. According to the oh-so-pleasant American Death Camps website, Utah has three abortion clinics. (I had only been aware of two. Thanks for the good news, abortion foes!) All three clinics are within Salt Lake County. Meaning 96% of the counties in this state do not have an abortion clinic. [According to the site, there are five states with only one abortion provider: Arkansas, Mississippi, North Dakota, South Dakota, and Wyoming.]
Terminating a pregnancy in Utah is tough. Five years ago, a woman I know better than anyone else (yet somehow never well enough) went through the challenging and frustrating process of getting an abortion here. Although I can't find statutory explanation for this circumstance (and perhaps I'm forgetting the explanatory facts), she had to wait for several weeks after learning she was pregnant and had a very brief window of time during which she could submit to the procedure. The hassle was tremendous, but would have been much worse had she lived in any one of the 28 less fortunate Utah counties.
After getting an appointment, she had to take another day off work to go to the clinic two days before the planned abortion to receive the mandated "informed consent" (aka state-articulated you-are-killing-a-baby) lecture from an underenthused women's health worker complying with a law she despised, pick up the manipulative and expensive color glossy thirty-page printout with details of fetal development, and be given the state-produced try-to-convince-you-adoption-is-the-answer video. On the day of her termination, she thanked the doctor and nurses profusely for being willing to stand up for the rights of women. Given the difficulty she had in scraping together money to pay for the termination, she couldn't have afforded to go to a friendlier state as an alternative.
FOR ANYONE READING THIS WHO IS ANTI-CHOICE (a longshot, given the scant and known readership of this waste of my homework and sleeping time), would you be less upset about this abortion if you knew she was addicted to methamphetamine at the time?
This decision was wrenching for her. She had previously described herself as pro-choice. Yet she found the biological drive and the intensely positive feelings the pregnancy hormones induced may have clouded her judgment and affected her decision had she not been addicted to speed. She has often said that it was a blessing that her Unintended Pregnancy Lesson and her Drug Addiction Lesson coincided. Otherwise, she may have given birth and not experienced the Getting an Abortion in Utah Lesson. [Another day maybe I'll post the story of a close friend whose Drug Addiction, Abortion Attempt, and Unsuccessful Open Adoption Lessons converged.]
The irony? At the time of these intersecting lessons, her state-employee health insurance wouldn't pay for oral contraceptives. But two weeks after the bleeding stopped and her reproductive system started to re-boot, she received a check from her insurance companying covering 80% of her $380 abortion.
. . .
Is it just coincidence that those who criminalize abortion are overwhelming fat white men?
This Denver Post article describing the extreme difficulty women already faced in South Dakota prior to the new sweeping criminal ban reminded me of my own state. According to the oh-so-pleasant American Death Camps website, Utah has three abortion clinics. (I had only been aware of two. Thanks for the good news, abortion foes!) All three clinics are within Salt Lake County. Meaning 96% of the counties in this state do not have an abortion clinic. [According to the site, there are five states with only one abortion provider: Arkansas, Mississippi, North Dakota, South Dakota, and Wyoming.]
Terminating a pregnancy in Utah is tough. Five years ago, a woman I know better than anyone else (yet somehow never well enough) went through the challenging and frustrating process of getting an abortion here. Although I can't find statutory explanation for this circumstance (and perhaps I'm forgetting the explanatory facts), she had to wait for several weeks after learning she was pregnant and had a very brief window of time during which she could submit to the procedure. The hassle was tremendous, but would have been much worse had she lived in any one of the 28 less fortunate Utah counties.
After getting an appointment, she had to take another day off work to go to the clinic two days before the planned abortion to receive the mandated "informed consent" (aka state-articulated you-are-killing-a-baby) lecture from an underenthused women's health worker complying with a law she despised, pick up the manipulative and expensive color glossy thirty-page printout with details of fetal development, and be given the state-produced try-to-convince-you-adoption-is-the-answer video. On the day of her termination, she thanked the doctor and nurses profusely for being willing to stand up for the rights of women. Given the difficulty she had in scraping together money to pay for the termination, she couldn't have afforded to go to a friendlier state as an alternative.
FOR ANYONE READING THIS WHO IS ANTI-CHOICE (a longshot, given the scant and known readership of this waste of my homework and sleeping time), would you be less upset about this abortion if you knew she was addicted to methamphetamine at the time?
This decision was wrenching for her. She had previously described herself as pro-choice. Yet she found the biological drive and the intensely positive feelings the pregnancy hormones induced may have clouded her judgment and affected her decision had she not been addicted to speed. She has often said that it was a blessing that her Unintended Pregnancy Lesson and her Drug Addiction Lesson coincided. Otherwise, she may have given birth and not experienced the Getting an Abortion in Utah Lesson. [Another day maybe I'll post the story of a close friend whose Drug Addiction, Abortion Attempt, and Unsuccessful Open Adoption Lessons converged.]
The irony? At the time of these intersecting lessons, her state-employee health insurance wouldn't pay for oral contraceptives. But two weeks after the bleeding stopped and her reproductive system started to re-boot, she received a check from her insurance companying covering 80% of her $380 abortion.
. . .
Is it just coincidence that those who criminalize abortion are overwhelming fat white men?
Rep. Roger Hunt, a sponsor of the [South Dakota]
bill, said momentum is building for a change in national policy on abortion.
(By Doug Dreyer -- Associated Press)
bill, said momentum is building for a change in national policy on abortion.
(By Doug Dreyer -- Associated Press)
28.2.06
Email from my School Account
Missing
“The Swingline Long Reach Stapler”
Has been removed from the Copy Center
If you have any information regarding the location of the Stapler
Please contact the Copy Center.
Or if you have the Stapler please return it.
Thank you for your Assistance.
21.2.06
Execution & Exoneration
Medical ethics prevailed (at least momentarily) when two anesthesiologists refused to participate in Michael Angelo Morales' execution planned for 12:01 am this morning. Last week a judge ordered an anesthesiologist be on hand to intervene in the event Morales woke up or appeared to be in pain. The death warrant runs out at 11:59 pm tonight, so unless California manages to execute him by sedation before then, it is unlikely Morales will be put to death. The trial judge would have to re-issue the death warrant, a highly unlikely probability given that he supported Morales' plea for clemency to Governor Arnold earlier this month.
The family of Terri Winchell, who was 17 years old at the time she was raped and murdered twenty-five years ago, were clearly upset that the pain Morales may potentially experience would be a concern.
But the 8th Amendment applies to what actions the state may take. I realize that capital punishment is a difficult topic and there are highly divergent views. Do I condone the rape and murder of a 17-year-old? Of course not. But I absolutely do not condone the state taking calculated action in the name of justice to "right" the wrong.
Although his wasn't a capital case, Alan Crotzer was exonerated last month after DNA evidence proved his innocence. While Michael Morales admitted to his crimes, I remain resolved that executing him retains the status of murder. And murdering the murderer is neither satisfying nor just nor humane. Violence begets violence.
The family of Terri Winchell, who was 17 years old at the time she was raped and murdered twenty-five years ago, were clearly upset that the pain Morales may potentially experience would be a concern.
But the 8th Amendment applies to what actions the state may take. I realize that capital punishment is a difficult topic and there are highly divergent views. Do I condone the rape and murder of a 17-year-old? Of course not. But I absolutely do not condone the state taking calculated action in the name of justice to "right" the wrong.
Although his wasn't a capital case, Alan Crotzer was exonerated last month after DNA evidence proved his innocence. While Michael Morales admitted to his crimes, I remain resolved that executing him retains the status of murder. And murdering the murderer is neither satisfying nor just nor humane. Violence begets violence.
20.2.06
Maybe You Thought I'd Resist . . .
but no. My uncle sent me this cartoon, a friendly jab at my law student status, and it really made me smile. I promise I won't talk about he-who-must-not-be-named any more.
Idiot
Last week I posted about the various ways to interpret and apply The Document That Is The Constitution. Justice Antonin Scalia provided a wonderful follow-up with this story. Apparently anyone who thinks that the interpretation and application of the Constitution must adjust to social changes is an "idiot." In case you were wondering. Or worried. Or curious.
For the record, Scalia bills himself as an originalist (although he may be more accurately described as a Practice of the Time-ist). Meaning we apply the Constitution as it was originally written and intended. Fantastic. Only white, male, landowners (about 10% of the population at the time The Document was drafted) should be permitted to vote. Slavery runs throughout The Document, so maybe those sweatshops and sex slavery rings are just dandy. Women would certainly not be included in basic citizenship rights and obligations, let alone positions of power, so out goes the titillating Hillary-Condie Prez matchup.
Originalism, my ass. Talk about maintaining an outmoded status quo. Just remember - if you don't think like Scalia, you're an idiot.
For the record, Scalia bills himself as an originalist (although he may be more accurately described as a Practice of the Time-ist). Meaning we apply the Constitution as it was originally written and intended. Fantastic. Only white, male, landowners (about 10% of the population at the time The Document was drafted) should be permitted to vote. Slavery runs throughout The Document, so maybe those sweatshops and sex slavery rings are just dandy. Women would certainly not be included in basic citizenship rights and obligations, let alone positions of power, so out goes the titillating Hillary-Condie Prez matchup.
Originalism, my ass. Talk about maintaining an outmoded status quo. Just remember - if you don't think like Scalia, you're an idiot.
17.2.06
Student Sex
To be honest, this link made me laugh at first. Especially the title, "Fairy Tales Don't Come True." The whole thing was so fraught with fear-based rhetoric, I just had to chuckle. But I quickly sobered up and realized there are thousands people who really do believe that shit. They really think the Nasty Queers are actively recruiting their awkward, shy teenage children. How do we address such a worldview in a way that is productive and not antagonistic? How on earth can we show that the reality of our lives - both inner and outer - do not comport with their perception of our reality? Yes, I was an awkward teenager. And I'm queer. But the fact that I got hot for girls since my early early childhood seems completely immaterial to those who so fervently believe that heteronormativity rules the day.
This one is just sickening. "Personally offensive" is so broad. I'm personally offended by uptight, puritanical prisses who insist on dumbing down education to the most whitewashed common denominator. Besides, professors don't get paid enough as it is. To insist that they create alternative class content for those who can't handle higher education is similarly offensive. Who's going to accommodate the offense that I'm taking?
On a slightly happier note, something called Sex Week at Yale is happening. Not promoting sex, just sexual awareness. My favorite part was this: "for all their good grades, ... Yale students seemed less clued in about sex than students elsewhere" and "the dating scene is notoriously complicated at Yale, where every grade matters, every extracurricular is essential and everyone is in competition." I guess that makes sense. Perhaps I'm jaded, but it seems as if those in the Ivy League are so conditioned to compete that it would naturally spill over to the animalistic mating game. And create a vacuum of experience and practice with non-Ivy Leaguers. I'm glad I don't attend Yale. And I'm sure Yale is glad I don't either.
This one is just sickening. "Personally offensive" is so broad. I'm personally offended by uptight, puritanical prisses who insist on dumbing down education to the most whitewashed common denominator. Besides, professors don't get paid enough as it is. To insist that they create alternative class content for those who can't handle higher education is similarly offensive. Who's going to accommodate the offense that I'm taking?
On a slightly happier note, something called Sex Week at Yale is happening. Not promoting sex, just sexual awareness. My favorite part was this: "for all their good grades, ... Yale students seemed less clued in about sex than students elsewhere" and "the dating scene is notoriously complicated at Yale, where every grade matters, every extracurricular is essential and everyone is in competition." I guess that makes sense. Perhaps I'm jaded, but it seems as if those in the Ivy League are so conditioned to compete that it would naturally spill over to the animalistic mating game. And create a vacuum of experience and practice with non-Ivy Leaguers. I'm glad I don't attend Yale. And I'm sure Yale is glad I don't either.
14.2.06
addiction? codependence?
“Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.” – Robert Frost
I'm not quite sure what I think about this quote. But it doesn't sit comfortably with me. At least not right now.
...
11.2.06
Kinkeeee
Some recent kink in the news:
- Attempts to start a student BDSM education and "safe bondage" group at the University of Toledo have raised concerns by the administration (i.e. "whether this [group] meets the values that are expressed in the university mission statement in terms of respecting human dignity"). This is a direct link. This link requires a free sign-in. This is a link to the club proponent's blog. Human dignity a concern, huh? I can think of a lot of general practices in higher ed that are far more degrading than kinky play. I'm only slightly kidding.
- Good things cannot come from a BDSM contract being made public. Especially when it results in the denial of a protective order. In my view, a protective order should never be denied on the basis of a BDSM lifestyle or contract. This looks like a clear case of domestic violence. If someone is seeking an order, there is likely a problem in the relationship. Kinky or not. To get a great Jerry Springer freak-show, read the comments posted by readers after the article. They make me feel downright normal. Amazing. I haven't felt that way for a long, long time.
10.2.06
Overdue Revolution
Be forewarned: This post isn't that meaty. It's just my sleep-deprived rantings on yet another day of introspection bordering on despair.
Next to free speech and the pornography/obscenity question, my other favorite parts of Con Law included learning about the various interpretive methods for applying disparate understandings of what The Document actually meant, and what the various Founders thought about The Document. Thomas Jefferson's view most sang to my anarchist soul. He believed that every generation should throw out the Constitution lock, stock, and barrel, and start over. Talk about a living document. Nothing says you're alive like dying and being reborn. The Phoenix Constitution.
"This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the existing government, they can exercise their constitutional right of amending it, or their revolutionary right to dismember and overthrow it." -Thomas Jefferson
Aren't we rather overdue for some revolution? I am increasingly skeptical that the McDonald's-eating, Wal-Mart-shopping, FoxNews-watching masses will rise out of their apathetic stupor to question, let alone challenge, the policies which are eroding the civil rights and liberties for which our veterans, our dissidents, and our radical activists have contributed blood, sweat, tears, and lives to ensure and protect. And I am decreasingly confident that those of us who do question and challenge have the energy, will, or resources to continue fighting the good fight. Maybe I'll feel differently after attending the Rebellious Lawyering Conference in a few weeks. I need some inspiration.
. . .
I loved studying Constitutional Law. (Especially the obscenity stuff, but that's mostly because I'm intrigued/obsessed with the depoliticization of sexual expression as speech ... and because I like things pornographic and obscene. Previous obscenity posts here, here, and here.)Next to free speech and the pornography/obscenity question, my other favorite parts of Con Law included learning about the various interpretive methods for applying disparate understandings of what The Document actually meant, and what the various Founders thought about The Document. Thomas Jefferson's view most sang to my anarchist soul. He believed that every generation should throw out the Constitution lock, stock, and barrel, and start over. Talk about a living document. Nothing says you're alive like dying and being reborn. The Phoenix Constitution.
"This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people who inhabit it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the existing government, they can exercise their constitutional right of amending it, or their revolutionary right to dismember and overthrow it." -Thomas Jefferson
Aren't we rather overdue for some revolution? I am increasingly skeptical that the McDonald's-eating, Wal-Mart-shopping, FoxNews-watching masses will rise out of their apathetic stupor to question, let alone challenge, the policies which are eroding the civil rights and liberties for which our veterans, our dissidents, and our radical activists have contributed blood, sweat, tears, and lives to ensure and protect. And I am decreasingly confident that those of us who do question and challenge have the energy, will, or resources to continue fighting the good fight. Maybe I'll feel differently after attending the Rebellious Lawyering Conference in a few weeks. I need some inspiration.
7.2.06
Girls Girls Girls ... And A Bitch
I'm such a hypocrite.
I'm a feminist. Sometimes I call myself and other females "girls." When I'm writing it, I'll often use "grrls," mostly for the nostalgia of the early 90's. But that's not why I'm a hypocrite.
I'm a hypocrite because two different men in my Feminist Legal Theory class used the term "girl" today towards me, and my internal reactions were worlds apart. I tried to make my outer reaction more comparable, but that was purely for show. And to assuage the immediate guilty recognition that I'm a hypocrite.
When the first one said, "Oh, good, a girl is here today," I responded by saying, "A girl? Do you mean me? I don't think I've been a girl since I was about twelve." (This is my standard prickly response since I started bleeding in the sixth grade.)
When the second one said, "There were no girls here during the last class," I responded by saying, "Man, what's with all this 'girl' talk? You guys aren't boys!" Then they both said, "Yes we are! We are boys!"
(You know, men always respond that way, but truly, it's only the most ga-ay of the gay men I know who refer to themselves or other men as boys. I welcome hearing others' experiences which contradict my observation.)
To be perfectly honest, if the first girl-referencer hadn't been sitting right there, I probably would have let the second girl comment slide. But because they were both listening, I felt like I had to say something to girl-referencer-number-two.
That's why I'm a hypocrite. I only take girl-talk from certain people. Same with the word bitch. Some people --especially one particular person lately-- get(s) away with calling me a bitch. Sometimes I even like it. A lot. Go figure.
I guess I'm a complicated kind of feminist. Or maybe I'm just a bitch.
I'm a feminist. Sometimes I call myself and other females "girls." When I'm writing it, I'll often use "grrls," mostly for the nostalgia of the early 90's. But that's not why I'm a hypocrite.
I'm a hypocrite because two different men in my Feminist Legal Theory class used the term "girl" today towards me, and my internal reactions were worlds apart. I tried to make my outer reaction more comparable, but that was purely for show. And to assuage the immediate guilty recognition that I'm a hypocrite.
- For background, this class has twelve students. Ten men. Two women. A bizarre gender mix considering the course content, even given the embarrassing gender imbalance at my school. Transfer students are required to take a theory class, and there aren't many options. On the first day at least six of the ten men in the class said, "I'm taking this because it sounded better than Medieval Law." Yeah. Way to win points with the prof is all I can say. I was sick last week and I heard that M, the other female, missed class on Wednesday. The stage has now been set.
When the first one said, "Oh, good, a girl is here today," I responded by saying, "A girl? Do you mean me? I don't think I've been a girl since I was about twelve." (This is my standard prickly response since I started bleeding in the sixth grade.)
When the second one said, "There were no girls here during the last class," I responded by saying, "Man, what's with all this 'girl' talk? You guys aren't boys!" Then they both said, "Yes we are! We are boys!"
(You know, men always respond that way, but truly, it's only the most ga-ay of the gay men I know who refer to themselves or other men as boys. I welcome hearing others' experiences which contradict my observation.)
To be perfectly honest, if the first girl-referencer hadn't been sitting right there, I probably would have let the second girl comment slide. But because they were both listening, I felt like I had to say something to girl-referencer-number-two.
That's why I'm a hypocrite. I only take girl-talk from certain people. Same with the word bitch. Some people --especially one particular person lately-- get(s) away with calling me a bitch. Sometimes I even like it. A lot. Go figure.
I guess I'm a complicated kind of feminist. Or maybe I'm just a bitch.
6.2.06
Puritanical Policing on Public Transport
These signs don't appear on all the buses I ride, but in certain neighborhoods they seem to appear more than others. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or maybe it's the bus drivers who determine whether their vehicle is a zone of language cleanliness. In any case, it sure makes me laugh. And I always feel compelled to use the word "fuck" and "goddammit" and "shithead" and "asswipe" and "piss monger" whenever I'm talking on my phone while riding a bus with this sticker. Or even when not on my phone. Just saying those words randomly, to see who notices and who turns up the volume on their iPods.
I say it serves the bastards right, hearing my nasty-ass mouth spewing vile utterances, as I am reminded that swearing is socially unacceptable. Who the hell wants to be socially acceptable? Sure as fuck not me.
2.2.06
Law School = Pay-Per-Masochistic-Act
Tuition at my law school ends up being about $100 for every hour of class. So when I was home sick Tuesday and Wednesday, it was really really tough not to focus on the fact that I was losing about $600 in class time.
Being sick sucks. But not nearly as bad as wasting $600.
Being sick sucks. But not nearly as bad as wasting $600.
25.1.06
Terms of Art
Loosey goosey
Screw them over
Mumbo jumbo
Equal bargaining power
Billable hours
Fiduciary duty
Avoid future conflicts
Projection bias
Client paradox
Piercing the corporate veil
"No one predicts the Spanish Inquisition"
Screw them over
Mumbo jumbo
Equal bargaining power
Billable hours
Fiduciary duty
Avoid future conflicts
Projection bias
Client paradox
Piercing the corporate veil
"No one predicts the Spanish Inquisition"
24.1.06
Privacy
I just haven't had it in me to weigh in on the whole Google-porn issue. Maybe later? Time will tell.
In the interim . . .
In the interim . . .
18.1.06
Sucking Weiners
I've always wanted a chiseled-featured guy to feed me his fat sausage in the woods. If that is your dream too, or even if you have some other dream, Panexa may be the answer.
. . .
. . .
12.1.06
Dazed by Transience
Last night the beautiful Missy B was killed in a car accident. Two days ago Missy contacted me via Myspace. I hadn't spoken to her in over a year, and I was thrilled to be back in touch. She had been living in California and said she was going to Georgia to care for her godsons, who had lost their mother to cancer in November. We had arranged to see each other as she traveled across the country.
After receiving the news, I immediately called my family. Everyone who ever met Missy and were graced with her smile couldn't help but love her, and I wanted to let B and K know what had happened.
But I also wanted to be sure my family knew I loved them. Priorities shift immediately in the face of death. Especially when the life of a beautiful, open-hearted, conscious sister is snuffed so unexpectedly.
After receiving the news, I immediately called my family. Everyone who ever met Missy and were graced with her smile couldn't help but love her, and I wanted to let B and K know what had happened.
But I also wanted to be sure my family knew I loved them. Priorities shift immediately in the face of death. Especially when the life of a beautiful, open-hearted, conscious sister is snuffed so unexpectedly.
May the kindness and gentleness and integrity that Missy embodied continue to grow as her spirit expands beyond the confines of her flesh.
. . .
. . .
11.1.06
Skool06 Pt 1
I will not comment on Alito. At least not right now. I spend my days in an environment where politics and SCOTUS are the sexiest things people talk about. I refuse to submit to such drudgery! You won't even get any links out of me!
Two days of classes and my head is already swimming. Business Organizations is blowing my mind. Even though I am taking it from a professor who says he expects that we don't know anything about business, it's still challenging me. A lot. At least the prof is amusing. He's very strange with a bizarre voice that reminds me of the smoker voicebox guy on South Park. He uses terms like "negative externalities" to describe stepping on a piece of chewing gum.
I'm feeling energized about the law journal article I'm writing on polyamory, my Trusts & Estates professor kicks ass, and Feminist Legal Theory is keeping me sane. My fourth class - Ethics, aka "Legal Profession" - meets for the first time today, and I know the professor is a riot. Coupled with the subject matter and dearth of ethical lawyer jokes, it should be fun.
So yeah. I'm not hating law school as much as I was a week ago. This is progress.
I tried to upload a picture of my study carrel, where I spend my waking hours, but it didn't work. I'll try later when I just can't handle reading about intestacy anymore.
Two days of classes and my head is already swimming. Business Organizations is blowing my mind. Even though I am taking it from a professor who says he expects that we don't know anything about business, it's still challenging me. A lot. At least the prof is amusing. He's very strange with a bizarre voice that reminds me of the smoker voicebox guy on South Park. He uses terms like "negative externalities" to describe stepping on a piece of chewing gum.
I'm feeling energized about the law journal article I'm writing on polyamory, my Trusts & Estates professor kicks ass, and Feminist Legal Theory is keeping me sane. My fourth class - Ethics, aka "Legal Profession" - meets for the first time today, and I know the professor is a riot. Coupled with the subject matter and dearth of ethical lawyer jokes, it should be fun.
So yeah. I'm not hating law school as much as I was a week ago. This is progress.
I tried to upload a picture of my study carrel, where I spend my waking hours, but it didn't work. I'll try later when I just can't handle reading about intestacy anymore.
6.1.06
Camaraderie
It's comforting to sit outside with one of my too-few conscious classmates, enjoying the global warming, wondering aloud to each other if going to law school was a huge mistake. It beats wondering about it alone, anyway.
2.1.06
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