Faunalogues

McDonalds

2006-01-11T09:32:00.000-08:00

While there are perhaps many better things to comment upon regarding my traveling in Bosnia, I will start with McDonalds.

McDonalds is a place I usually check out in a new country. It is like checking on the price of a coke or cigarettes. I think it is interesting to see what McDonalds in other countries offer at what price. Is it more or less expensive the other restaurant food? Who goes there? Young people, old people, well dressed, sloppy?

I am not an American that chooses to eat at McDonalds at home, however sometimes I sample what foreign McDonalds have to offer. For instance, this trip I discovered that Serbia's french fries are very salty and they offer curry sauce.

I have traveled to many countries and I have never been to one that does not have a McDonalds. Until now... maybe.

I had pointed out to R(g) and R(b) that I had not seen any in Mostar and wondered about why, but they assured me that there would be a McDonalds in Sarajevo, but there wasn't. I did some internet research and according to Wikipedia Bosnia does not have a McDonalds.

R(b) is irritated with me because I keep harping on this but I just am fascinated by it. How could it be that in all my traveling I have never been to a country without a McDonalds? Why is it that McDonalds isn't in Bosnia?

So strange.

Almost, but not quite

2005-12-26T01:41:00.000-08:00

I have been in Belgrade for two weeks now (minus the jaunt to Romania) and I've come to the conclusion that boys here are almost cute. They are the kind of guys where you look at them and think that they might be cute so you look again and realize they're not. Sometimes it takes three or four glances to affirm, but in the end none of them are hot. On the plus side many of them are almost hot, so it makes for some interesting looking.

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah

2005-12-26T01:36:00.000-08:00

R(g) and I spent a lovely Christmas Eve and Christmas here in Belgrade. Highlights include listening to This American Life Christmas Special, eating lots of christmas cookies, and french toast breakfast at R(g)'s american friends' house. Tonight we will celebrate the second day of Chanukah with them. We have New Years, which is a bigger day here than Christmas and Orthodox Christmas still left to celebrate!

Something Positive about Romania

2005-12-24T03:59:00.000-08:00

I feel after the negativity of the posts regarding Bucharest, I should say something positive about Romania. When I was there five years ago I had a great time. The people are warm and welcoming, the monestaries are beautiful and there are a lot of fun things to do. A short list: going swimming in the black sea and climbing over greek and roman ruins; hiking in the stunning Carpathian mountains; visitng castles and touring palaces; exploring the danube delta; drinking tsuica. While Bucharest is ugly and bizzare,, there were places that I loved to go. The theatre in Bucharest is amazing, the orchestra is very good, and there are many fun bars and dance clubs. In fact, in the past five years I have recommended to anyone who has told me that they are going to eastern or even central europe to go to Romania. I just wanted to put that out there.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 1: in which our heroines learn that between the two of them they speak .33 Balkan languages

2005-12-21T08:28:00.000-08:00

I decided to post about my Romanian adventure with R. Please click on the following link to begin reading about it by clicking the following link to episode 1.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 2: in which RM’s request that R find a sauna in this part of the world is satisfied.

2005-12-21T08:22:00.001-08:00

When we cross into Romania, the heat comes on in our train car. And it doesn’t stop coming. It is sooooooooooooooooooo hot. We lie there sweating. We wish we could be naked, but keep our clothes on – not wanting to attract scary train riders. We thought we had packed enough clothes for the trip, but we did not anticipate that only a few hours into the journey, we would already have shirts smelly beyond wearability.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 3:in which R discovers that Ceaucescu was crazy

2005-12-21T08:22:00.000-08:00

Please click on this link to read about our heroines' adventures in episode 3.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 4: in which a bunch of odd Romanian villager houses are viewed by our protaganists

2005-12-21T07:53:00.000-08:00

There is a village museum in Bucharest that includes replicas of houses supposed to be representative of the various regions of the country. In the typical Bucharest desire for grandness, there are over 40 houses, some of which are indistinguishable from each other. Romania is a small country. R refuses to believe that there are actually that many types of houses. Ceaucescu probably made some up to make himself feel more important.

Here is a photo of R outside a made up house.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 5: which our heroines stumble upon the perfect metaphor for Bucharest

2005-12-21T07:51:00.000-08:00

Please click on this link to read about our heroines' adventures in episode 6.

Interlude: in which it is observed that if there were a building-leaving Olympics, Romanians would be the perennial favorites.

2005-12-21T07:29:00.000-08:00

R and F are not unusually slow people, but twice we are the last ones out of a building. People leave ‘King Kong’ before the monkey’s final breath. It is as though we blink at the ending of our play/movie and open our eyes to find ourselves in a completely abandoned place. The movie theater does even bother to roll the credits.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 6: in which R realizes the truism “Romanians are a mediocre people.”

2005-12-21T07:23:00.000-08:00

Please click on this link to read about our heroines' adventures in episode 6.

Romania Chronicles--Episode 7: in which the scene changes, but the bizarreness continues

2005-12-21T07:13:00.000-08:00

F, being certain that R has come to understand the extreme sport that is Bucharest, leads the retreat to Timisoara. The guidebook recommends a restaurant with spinach crepes. We arrive at the address only to discover that the raved-about restaurant has been replaced by a Godfather-themed restaurant. Stepping down the stairs into the cave-like establishment, we notice framed copies of the sheet music to the movie’s love theme on the wall. There are framed stills from the movie on the wall beside every table. After assuring ourselves that there is no horse on the menu, we enjoy Ursus, the King of Romanian Beers (according to the label) and gross pizza.

Incongruously, the lovely sounds of Boyz II Men, Mariah Carey, and Michael Bolton carry through the dining room.

Halfway through our meal, Mariah is rudely interrupted by four men wearing white sacks with washed out ribbons dangling from their arms and legs. They too bang drums and sing ‘in unison’ while thrusting out cardboard boxes in hopes of a donation. F asks our server why they do this. Her reply: ‘tradition.’

The Chronicles of Romania--Episode 8: in which our fearless heroines brave Romanian musical theater

2005-12-21T06:51:00.000-08:00

Please click on this link to read about our heroines' adventures in episode 8.

This time no incompletes

2005-12-21T06:36:00.000-08:00

Last Friday I officially completed all of my courses for fall semester. This was the first semester since I started Grad school that I haven't had to drop a course or take an incomplete. I feel relieved and happy. Before my back problems started I would not have considered this an accomplishment. However, given that the week before my finals I was in more pain than at any other time this semester, I feel proud of myself.

From Beograd to Bucuresti

2005-12-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

I will be in Bucuresti in less than two days!

Let me back-up. I have been in Belgrade since Monday and I am having an excellent time. It is great to see R (girl) and Belgrade is nicer than I thought it would be. I am sitting at her office now watching the snow fall lightly and feeling glad that it is not sticking. I have yet to see much of Belgrade so my impressions are somewhat limited. Her apartment is cozy in a kitchy post-communist way. She says American's think the decorations are kind of cute while Serbians think they are awful. Novi Beograd, which I took a bus through on my first day here, is your standard communist block housing apartments, grey and dingy. But the center is nice. There a some neo-baroque buildings which are fun to look at and lots of movie posters for King Kong. A lot of upscale bakeries, bars and coffee-shops. Also some nice book stores and places that sell expensive and hideous boots. I look forward to more exploring next week. But this weekend R(g) and I are going to Buchuresti.

I feel as if I am going to visit an ex-boyfriend that I haven't seen in five years. I am excited. I am nervous. Have I changed? Has Bucharest changed? Will R(g) like it? Are the bad parts, the homeless children, the packs of dogs, the dirtiness as bad as I remember? Are the good parts, the bakeries, the...strange museums, as good? (Here is part of the trouble, I had a great time while I was there because of the people I was with, what if I am dragging R(g) to this filthy, ugly, bizzare city and she hates it?) Will I be able to communicate in Romanian? Will I be able to find my favorite fill- in-the-blank spot? A professor of mine once said that Bucharest is an extreme sport. It is an adventure to say the very least. So here's to Adventure!

da Vinci

2005-12-15T08:01:00.000-08:00

When I got to London on Saturday afternoon I wanted to force myself to stay awake until 9 or 10 pm so that I wouldn't be jet-lagged when I got to Belgrade. Getting off the plane and through customs was soprisingly quick and so instead of going straight to the hotel I decided to go to downtown London. I arrived at the Picadilly Circus tube stop around 3:00pm and preceded to walk to some of the major tourist sites. I wandered around with a steady stream of tourists first around the theatre district, then to Trafalgar Square, St. James's park, Big Ben, and finally Westminster Abby. On the way I popped into the National Gallery to warm up and happened to run into the best thing I saw in London. I had never seen a real da Vinci before and I was amazed at how beautiful and masterful it was. I don't have a vocabulary to talk about art. I know you are supposed to say something about the lines, the perspective, the sense of proportions. But all I can say is it was gorgeous. I stood and gazed at it for some time. Even the grace and majesty of Westminster Abby couldn't compare.

10 hours to London

2005-12-15T07:50:00.000-08:00

I flew from San Francisco to London last Saturday. The plane was huge, a boeing 747, which R (boy) says his grandpa worked on.

The nice things about the flight were the free booze, my own tiny tv with 18 channels to choose from and a little gift bag that included a toothbrush and clean socks. The food was pretty good for plane food, they even had McTavish shortbread, Yum! I also got to watch the northern lights dance to and fro outside my window for over an hour. It was amazing.

The bad things were that the flight attendents in my section were facists. They tried to lure us all asleep by waiting a long time before turning the movies back on after the first round was done. (Every movie was followed by a short television show and then was supposed to restart.) They didn't come by to offer drinks after they served dinner. They told me twice to close my window.

I was glad to get off the plane by the time the flight was done.

A rant on failing.

2005-10-24T14:58:00.000-07:00

I never used to fail exams, now I seem to regularly. Today was no exception. I could blame the exam--50 minutes for 12 pages worth of questions. I could blame myself--I didn't attend class often enough, study hard enough. I hate failing but I don't know if I would do anything differently now. My brain should not have to waste precious resources on memorizing which type of study with which kind of control selection is right for a particular population and time and income. I just don't care enough I guess. I will be so glad when this class is over.

What One Woman Wants

2005-10-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

I find myself struggling with the work vs family vs work/family dilemma. I feel like third wave feminism means that I can just choose which one I want. I am not supposed to feel bad about wanting one over the other or for wanting them both. And yet, I can't imagine that I would be as good a mom if I worked at a job that I loved. Not that it isn't possible for other women, I just mean that I don't think that I am someone who likes to do things half way or maybe, more honestly, I am not very good at balancing my life. If I have a family I want to be a good mom, and if I have a job I want to be someone that is dedicated and can be relied upon and I worry that I might not be able to do both well. What is hard about that is that I want both. I, God help me, want a family. I want a house and a garden and a husband. I can't figure out why yet, I certainly can't think of a good reason. In fact it may just be biological imperative (horomones) and 25 years of being socialized to believe in marriage. But there its is.Last night I listened to a woman speak about the importance of "working in the trenches, and the incredible humilty that you learn working with the people you are attempting to help. I used to be a chica with lots of ambition for recognition, for power to make large changes, for being someone important. I wanted to change a big corner of the world. But I don't think I am that chica anymore. I want a job that doesn't consume me 24-7. I don't want a job making policy for millions of people. I want a job on the local level. I want to know the people that I am helping. I want to advise people on policies that will improve the direct service that they provide.I came to GSPP thinking that I wanted to become head of HHS someday. Now, I know that they are good people who have stronger skills in that area going that way and I would rather make big change in small places. And I want to do that very very well. Is that possible with a family?I guess the solution might be to have a man that wants to be a stay at home dad...

Cobbs-Douglas and Sex

2005-10-19T17:30:00.000-07:00

I sat in a room from 1:00-2:30 and listened to a lecture on what effect immigrants have on the wage rate of non-immigrants (meaning 2nd generation Americans and on) both at the regional level and national level. The professor argued that immigration has almost no effect on the wage rate of "native" americans. As I watched complicated economic equations flicker through power point slides I remembered today why I felt high at the begining of graduate school. This place is amazing. My brain is constantly being challenged, there is always more to learn, and it is fun and fascinating. Men say that women go for "bad boys" and the lookers every time. But let me say, it is the smart ones that really turn me on. I dated a boy for a short time who was very cute and drove a sexy car and had a sexy australian accent, but he was dumb, and that was a deal breaker for me. Unless you are Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp you gotta be smart to be sexy. And not just street smart, but intellectual. There is something about having a discussion in which my brain is challenged to evaluate tough arguments and incorporate difficult concepts into new ways of analyzing a situation, I just get turned on. So as the professor (who admitedly does not look great in that picture) spoke about Cobb-Douglas equations and calculating the elasticity of substitution of male immigrant labor for incarcarated high school drop outs, I started to get excited. And more importantly I remembered why I came here and what I like about school, which is good because I have another year and 1/2 to go.

"Once More with Feeling"

2005-10-18T19:10:00.000-07:00

OMG--San Francisco has a stage version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer "Once More with Feeling" Episode. Since I am a big fan of theatre and of Buffy, I am very excited! I hope that M and maybe even A will go to with me sometimes next week. "Once More with Feeling" is my favorite episode and I have tortured many roomates and R by insisting on watching it and or playing the sound track just when they have finally suceeded in getting the music lyrics out of their heads. Which reminds me, I haven't done that in a while, maybe I should start again...

Making Lemons out of Lemonade

2005-09-20T11:19:00.000-07:00

I learned yesterday that Planned Parenthood has come up with an interesting way to combat protestors.

"Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania is taking pledges for donations based on the number of protestors outside their clinic in Philadelphia between October 1 and November 30. They're going to put up a sign explaining the deal to the protestors, too, so they know that more protestors = more money for Planned Parenthood"

I wonder what the protestors will do?

Two Parties

2005-09-18T14:08:00.000-07:00

Last night I attended two parties. The women who hosted the parties were the same age (33). Both parties were primarily populated by gssp folk. Since my closest friends from that crowd were invited to both parties I pretty much hung out with the same people the whole night.

At M's party sausages were grilled and we drank rum, wine and beer from plastic cups. There was a keg and people did keg stands. (This was the first time I had ever witnessed a keg stand. While an impressive feat, I didn't want to participate as beer going up my nose would probably be an unpleasant experience). Sos, Sh, their attached ignificant others and I stood around talking about sex. We concluded that 30 year old women should be allowed to have sex with 17 year old boys because their sex drives actually match. But then those of us women approaching age 30 remembered our various sexual experiences in high school and decided that perhaps it wouldn't be worth it. The sound track to The Breakfast Club played in the background.

At B's party we drank expensive wines from nice wine glasses (they all matched). We ate foriegn cheeses with fancy crackers. There were two different selections of port to go with the three different selections of chocolate cake. So, Sh, their attached significant others and I stood around and discussed the various political leanings of our institutions of higher learning and why Judge Roberts seems to be an appropriate choice for the Supreme Court.

M's party is the kind of party I attended a lot as an undergraduate. Loud drunk people, loud 80's music, lots of talking about sex. B's party was what I imagined grown up parties were like. Sofisticated conversations to go with sofisticated wine. Everyone leaving by midnight, nobody throwing up. I can't honestly say which I prefered. Sofisticated isn't very fun for very long but neither is trying to avoid someone puking in the backyard.

Living and Working on the Res

2005-06-13T14:30:00.000-07:00

I find it much easier to post less important/trying to be funny things, than important/serious things. I don't think I am a very good writer and I hate the idea of boring the few people who actually read this, but I want to express a few of my thoughts about working with Indian people and living on the Reservation. These thoughts aren't very ordered, and I am afraid this will be pretty stream of consciousness kind of writing which I know some of you aren't very fond of. Please feel free to skip it.

I like waking up every morning and being able to smell the ocean. I like all of the wildlife, last week I watched crows chase a hawk for 15 minutes before it finally gave up. I like living 5 minutes from where my grandmother grew up and where most of my father's and his siblings' happiest memories take place. I like watching the sun set over the bay. I like getting to know tribal members and learning more about the politics and history of this place. I like being a member of a small community in which everyone knows my grandmother and my aunts. I like learning the pow-wow songs and dances. I like learning traditional Coquille Culture through hands-on experiences. I like the contrast of yellow-brown sand dunes, green trees, a blue ocean, and a gray sky. I like being able to watch jeopardy with my grandparents and shaking my head with my grandfather over this season's Mariners games. I like learning more of my family history from my Tia and laughing until my sides hurt while my dad and his brother and sisters tell outrageous stories. I like experiencing about small town life where I might good people who support George W. and the only five radio stations that come in well, besides Jefferson public radio are Christian, Oldies or Country. I like talking to people who tell me that this county's dire economic conditions are due to environmentalists who don't understand that protecting the seals has resulted in the death of the Salmon industry because to seals eat Salmon eggs and too many seals means that too many salmon get eaten before they can make it upriver to spawn. I like talking to people who tell me that this county's dire economic conditions are due to environmentalists who don't understand old growth forests are dead forests because the old trees keep saplings from being able to grow and old trees are rotting from the inside out. I like talking to cabbies who think that I am a local and so bitch compionably about the Californian retirees who are building McMansions and driving up property values so that the few people who do have work still can't afford to live here. I like working someplace where I my projects have the potential to directly benefit people. I like being down where the effects of policy decisions are manifested and felt, for better or worse. I am getting quite an education here.

Being here I learn all over again how lucky and blessed I am to have been born into the middle-class and into my family. Being here my heart is tugged everyday as I watch children struggle to cope with poverty, abuse, neglect. Sometimes after work I go home and cry because I don't know how else to let go of the anger and sadness, the frustration over how little I can do for these kids. It is hard not to feel overwhelmed, hard not to let my heartbreak over and over again as I confront the reality of the lives of the people here. How do I walk the balance between immobility due to empathy and callous action due to hard-heartedness? Here, on the reservation, my commitment to help those less fortunate than myself is strengthened. I am forgetting the excitement I felt this spring working on Homeland Security issues. Homeland Security is sexy and so has the benefit of some of the best minds in the country and lots of money. Indian health services and policy is not sexy, does not receive money and does not call to the best and the brightest of my generation. But increasingly it calls to me. I don't see myself as someone very good at direct service, but it is my interaction with individuals that makes me want to work on making better policies.

Into the mix of happiness, sadness, frustration and inspiration comes shallowness and triteness. My cheesy idealism is stymied by a nasty snobbery. There is no place around here where I can get a good cup of coffee. Everyone drives, even if they are only going somewhere two blocks away. Most people seem to prefer to shop at Walmart above any other store with Safeway coming in a distant second. All of my would be peers and friends are married/divorced/pregnant/already have children. I am the only person living on the reservation to have gone to graduate school and I can count on one hand the number of people living here who have earned a BA. I don't have anyone to talk with who is interested in intellectual discussions. I miss my friends and my boyfriend who graciously talk with me about the why of things. I miss having DSL at home.

For those of you who took the time to read all the way through, thank you. It is good for me to try and express some of my conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Cult Inductions Update

2005-06-13T14:16:00.000-07:00

This weekend I met up with an old friend, S, from L&C. He was one of the people I went to Ecuador with and since I dated (sort of) his host brother and he had a big crush on my host sister, we spent quite a bit of time together. After we graduated from college we only kept in loose contact and I hadn't spoken to him for a couple of years when he contacted me a week ago. He contacted me because, yes you guessed it, he is joining the Cult. In a queer coincidence his fiance is a student in the same City and Regional Planning program that Robert got into. In fact he moved to Berkeley around the same time that I did last summer. Anyways, he contacted me because he wanted me to go to his cult induction in Seattle on Fourth of July weekend. His Ecuadorian host family will be there as well as a few mutual friends from college. So, I will be attending yet another one of these functions this summer.

The cult induction I attended this weekend was very strange. First, it was in Reno. Second, the next day the inductees chose to hang out with family and friends rather than seclude themselves in their bedroom at the hotel. Third, they got a room that shared a wall with their friends who had come down to witness the induction. Fourth, did I mention it was in Reno?

The worst part is all of these cult inductions have me thinking about my own. A pastime that I am embarrassed about. There are so many better things to spend my time on, and yet, while I am at these inductions my thoughts inevitably stray to how I would do something the same way or, in the case of the last event, completely differently. I even caught myself looking at the Bride magazines at Barnes & Noble the other day. I didn't actually open one, but I read the front covers. That is at least 7 minutes of my life that I will never get back. I am worried that this is how members snag recruits.

On Posting

2005-06-13T14:08:00.000-07:00

I have a hard time keeping in touch with people. This blog was one of my numerous attempts at being better at it. I used to spend a lot of time composing letters and emails in my head to various friends, but I just never got around to doing it. I find myself confronting the same problem regarding blog posts. I have even written down some of my blog ideas and then just never gotten around to writing out the whole thing and posting it. Hence, more than a week has gone by without a single post, and today I've already posted three. What is wrong with me? Why is something fun and not really time consuming so hard for me to actually follow through with? I don't know, but for the few of you that read this blog and are frustrated please bare with me. I am trying.

To Drink Beer or Not to Drink Beer (before 11am)

2005-06-13T13:46:00.000-07:00

I almost always fly Southwest. It is cheap and easy and pretty much flies wherever I want to go. The exception, North Bend, OR. The only way to get out of this town by air is to fly Alaska. Now, I have always boycotted Alaska as it has a monopoly on flights to the Juneau airport, making visiting relatives there an expensive prospect. However, recently I have decided that while too expensive Alaska does have something going for it, free microbrews. I am a big fan of good beer especially when it is free, hence my dilemma this morning at 10:30 am. I didn't want to squander a good-free-beer opportunity. On the other hand, I was going to work in the afternoon and thought that I probably shouldn't show up smelling like alcohol, especially not at a health center where many of the clients are struggling with substance abuse. So I decided, not without some regret, to forgo the beer. It made flying Alaska considerably less appealing.

Brad Pitt and the Evil Empire

2005-06-13T13:38:00.000-07:00

This morning I was informed by a cab driver that Brad Pitt is from Bandon, OR, a tiny town that my parents live in and only 30 minutes from where I am living. Apparently, Brad owns a house near the Bandon Dunes, a world class golf resort at which both he and Michael Jordan like to play, which is even closer to where I am residing this summer. Not only that, but Brad likes to get his boat fixed up by people he knows in Coos Bay and so everyonce and awhile he shows up at a local cafe that he likes. I wish I knew which one it was because like R, my quest for a place with internet and good coffee is not going well. Frankly, I would settle for a place that had one of those things, especially if I thought I might have a chance of running into Brad Pitt. On a tangent, locals are usually quite excited about an excuse to drive to Eugene as it is the only place within a 3 hour radius that has a Starbucks. While I do wish that someplace around here sold good coffee, I am sort of proud to be living that far away from the Evil Empire.

Embarrassed

2005-05-26T09:02:00.000-07:00

G, S and I got an A-/B+ on our final paper. Our professor basically ripped it apart. He said that he was giving us the A-/B+ more for our effort than the result. I feel shitty. I am embarrassed that we turned in such a piece of crap. I am embarrassed that our client saw it. I am embarrassed that our professor's and our client think this is the kind of work that I typically turn in. It isn't all my fault but the thing has my name on it and some of it is my fault. You know, I am used to getting papers back from professors that say "excellent" or "good work." Not that I have ever turned in anything close to perfect, but I am an ok writer and I work hard to make sure that my papers make sense. This paper didn't. Our professors thought the whole format was bad. I let G handle it. What else could I do? He cared so much about it that he was only going to do it his way. I was so tired of fighting with him. I don't know if I should bother telling our professor that. I would feel dirty like I was cheating or whining or something. It is not that I care about the grade. A-/B+ is just fine. In the grand scheme of things it matters so little that I shouldn't even waste a post on it. But I feel shitty about it. It is that the paper sucked and I wish I could tell our professors and client that I tried. That I knew it sucked but there was nothing I could do about it. That the reason it didn't suck even worse is because I stayed up all night trying to clean up a little of the damage. Except maybe that isn't true. There were a couple things that I liked that I thought worked ok that our professors hated. And I gave up on the group. Maybe if I had argued with G he would have changed his mind. Even if I was sure that he wouldn't shouldn't I have told him what I thought so that at least I could know that I had done my best? Oh well. Blah...

On Trying not to HATE slow computers

2005-05-25T11:44:00.000-07:00

Being the intern in my office, I expect to be the low woman on the totem pole. It doesn't bother me that I am at a crappy desk in the storage room. Or that there is a lot of traffic in and out of my "office" because it is also where the nice color printer is located. However, my computer is so so so slow and it is starting to really bother me. After I log in, it takes literally five minutes for the computer to be ready for use. Opening applications takes a full minute from the time I double click to the time I can type in the application. When I am doing none work things, like writing in my blog for instance, and I want to quickly switch screens because someone has walked in to use the color printer it takes 30 seconds to go from whatever I am working on to what I want it to appear that I am working on. GRR! ARRG! I can't bring in my lap top because the computer guy here won't let me. He says there will be a faster computer available soon but meanwhile I am trying to learn a zen-like acceptance that life here is just slower. I shouldn't care if I can't work quite as fast or (fool around quite as much) because my computer is old. I should just breathe deeply and relax and enjoy the continual whirring sound of a computer with Alzheimers trying to think. If I thought kicking the computer would work I would definitely try it but so far I have refrained.

Cult Inductions

2005-05-25T11:23:00.000-07:00

I have been invited to attend 4 marriage cult inductions in the next 6 months. Apparently, I have now hit the age where everyone starts to get married. Last Saturday, it was my cousin Cami who is now known as Cameron because she changed her last name to her husband's last name, which is Cain. I can't blame her for not wanting to be Cami Cain, but why change her name at all? I was at a meeting for my job the other day and 3 out of the 4 women there had been previously married and then divorced. Their advice to me, when I get married I shouldn't change my name. They told me that when you get divorced it is a big hassle to get your name changed back, and if you already have kids you have to decide whether or not to try and get your kid's last name changed too. I now have the sneaking suspicion that there is a third cult and this is more horrifying than the first two. After the wedding cult comes the baby cult, but after the baby cult comes the divorce cult! According to the women I was with around 5 years after all your friends started getting married, many of your friends start to get divorced. My guess is once a critical number of friends move on into the divorce cult there is pressure for other friends to join. They all have divorce cult things to talk about like exes, alimony, child support, the divorced people dating scene, the strange family gatherings involving the new significant other meeting your ex, etc. It is a horrible idea, but I think it is true. It makes me feel that I should not join the first cult for fear of pressure to join the next two. Is it harder to resist other cults if you have already joined one? I find these cults very troubling...

Angst: Getting My &*%$ Together

2005-05-25T11:01:00.000-07:00

This last semester has been difficult. I was (and still am) struggling with what my body. I used to run myself ragged; I put eating and sleeping after work, music, theatre and hanging with friends. I have always been able to handle stress well. I have been a very busy girl since 6th grade but I rarely break down. This semester my body quit on me, I know that it is my fault since I have treated it so poorly but I still feel betrayed. I have been in a lot of pain, I have gained weight, I have acquired acne under my chin, my hair is falling out. I didn't complete a single course this semester. Even after dropping two classes, I couldn't keep up with what I needed to do. School has never been this hard for me. Getting my life together has never been this hard for me. Why can't I do now what I always could do before? What does this mean in terms of finishing school? What does it mean for future career stuff?

I know I sound melodramatic and as though I am suffering through some extistenial crisis. But I guess I am in a way. I've given myself this summer to try to relax, stop panicking and then take these questions one step at a time. But sometimes I feel scared.

On Being Angry

2005-05-18T08:21:00.000-07:00

So last Friday we was supposed to turn a paper, the culmination of a semester long group project. "We" ostensibly were Fauna, G and S. However S, through a mix-up that was not his fault, was in D.C. and suspiciously unable to locate an internet connection. So G and I spent Friday finishing up sections, editing and generally putting the paper together. I had stayed up the night before writing my sections and was operating on two hours of sleep. I was irritated because G, continuing the behavior pattern that he established early in the project and sustained throughout the 13 week process, was condescending, bossy, and basically directing me as if I were his assistant. Although frustrated, I bit my tongue and focused on the paper because it was time to get the thing done and I didn't want to waste my energy arguing with him. By 10:30 pm we had finished putting the paper together and making it pretty with a table of contents, cover page, and chapter headings, the last being G's idea. I was 1/3 of the way through a bibliography. Then he turned to me and said, "I'm done." I took that to mean that it was time to do a final read through. So I suggested I do the copy editing and he finish the bibliography. But he said no, he was through working, he needed to go drink with his friends. Yes, he actually told me that he was leaving so that he could go party. In addition to the bibliography and copy edit, we were missing an executive summary, an appendix, and graphics. Now G has threatened to leave a couple of times before when our group had to work late against a deadline. But always S was there with me and we managed to get him to stay. I was a.) so shocked that he would even think about leaving before the paper was done, and b.) sure that he wouldn't actually leave, that I didn't make the sort of fuss that I probably should have. So at 11:00 on a Friday night, I started a "copy edit." Only it wasn't a copy edit. There were some major problems: statements not backed up or cited; questionable punctuation choices; poor section and paragraph structure; even some factual statements that were false. S had edited G's sections and I don't know if S was a poor editor or if G didn't take his edits, although I am inclined towards the later explanation, but there were some pretty serious problems. I worked by myself, on our final group paper until 7:30 a.m. Saturday morning.

The thing is while I know that G's behavior was outrageous, I feel like I should be able to let it go. But I am still quite angry. I mean what an asshole! He is so pompous that he had the nerve to send the group an email saying "great job team"!!

I thought that I was getting over all of my semester long build up of frustration and anger but he sent me a link to his blog, Live from Kosovo, and it set me off all over again. He is a jerk face who belongs in the same category as He Who Shall Not Be Named, he makes my ex-boyfriend P seem kind, humble, and thoughtful. It is true!

I know I shouldn't let this guy get to me and I should just let it go but he drove me crazy for a semester and I think I am going to resort to mocking him mercilessly until I can laugh about this whole thing. Any of you who want to join me are welcome.

Co-Workers and Colleagues who drive you crazy

2005-04-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

		Everyone I know works with someone who they think is a complete moron. I have often wondered if that is because I know very smart people or (which is more likely) everyone in the world thinks at least one other person is a moron. In which case everyone of us has been talked about behind our backs by coworkers and colleagues who think that the work we do is shitty and aren't we stupid to not even realize it. I guess I should resign myself to working with people who drive me crazy, who seem not to be able to think things through and who generally make my life more difficult than it needs to be. However, I am still suprised by human beings capacity for stupidy and pettiness. To translate: The people that I am consulting with for a class project, despite being accepted to Berkeley's School of Public Policy are unable to do simple analysis of policy issues and seem to not understand what policy analysis is in the first place. One gentleman at one point insisted that the Isreali constitution was very interesting when, in fact, Isreal DOES NOT HAVE A CONSTITUTION. I should have know at that point that working with him was not a very smart idea, but of course I am in the end almost as foolish a my group members because I let them get to me and because I choose to work with them in the first place.

Why I won't have the Best Tan in the East Bay

2005-04-24T12:35:00.000-07:00

So I went tanning this week. I know, I know. I can hear your gasps of horror; I can guess what you are thinking. It is horrible for my skin. I will look orange when I am young and be gross and wrinkly when I am old, well even more gross and wrinkly than I would have been normally. I will get skin cancer and put myself at even greater risk for breast cancer. You may even be wondering how it is that I knew all of these things and still went tanning. Well, I will tell you.

I was reading the weekly rag here, the East Bay Express, "Best of the East Bay" issue. In it was listed the best tanning experience in the east bay as a tanning salon in Berkeley, about 10 minutes walk from my house. And the listing said that the first visit was free. Now, tanning is actually something I have always wondered about. Why do people do it? Is it vanity? Is it the warmth of the tanning bed? Is it away to demonstrate wealth or class? What is it like to tan anyway? In fact, I am sort of embarrased to admit it but it has been on my "something I would like to try just once in my life" list since highschool. I am not someone who has ever had the desire to try acid just once or cocaine, but I think that that is sort of what tanning is like for me. Anyways, I decided to go and find out what the best tanning experience in the east bay was like.

It was great. I went into a small room and undressed except for my underwear which I left on so that I could see how much of a difference a tanning be actually made. I put on ear phones so I could listened to NPR and I wore funny goggles so that I didn't damage my eyes. Then I pressed a button and lay down on a comfortable bed that was strangely like a coffin.. I pulled the lid most of the way down (they actually don't shut all the way) and relaxed. It felt kind of like being in a sauna, but there was no stickiness or that feeling of not being able to breath deeply. There was a fan at my head and at my feet that kept air circulating over my body and I was able, for the most part, to keep the image of cooking flesh out of my mind. 15 minutes of radiating warmth all around me. Or maybe radiating is not the right word, it was like being an egg in incubation. It was great.

Afterwards, I talked to the guy at the counter and he said that most people come in 3-4 times a week for 10-20 minutes for 10 visits in order to get what is referred to as a "base tan." At this particular location if you buy a package of 10 visits each tan costs $7.90. In the end even if I were stupid enough to tan regularly which, by the way, I am not. I am to cheap to spend 24.00 a week for 30 minutes of warm pleasure. The hot tub place 5 minutes from my house offers 1 hour of hot tub time for 10-15 dollars, a much better deal.

So that is my tanning adventure. I suppose I won't ever have the best tan in the east bay, but it is probably better that way anways.

All about me and the MBTI

2005-04-21T00:01:00.000-07:00

Tonight I took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator "personality inventory." I am one to take these sorts of things with a grain of salt but I had a good time. According to the test results I "draw energy from the outside world of people, activities and things." As E might say, "No Duh." I don't imagine I have a single friend, acquaintance or enemy who would identify me as anything other than an extrovert. I am a person who prefers to intuit things rather than sense them, although I rather think I tend to do neither as often as I should. Apparently sensing has something to do with fact-based understandings whereas intuition is about inspiration. I was informed tonight that sensing people are also detail people and as is apparent by my poor spelling, bad grammar, and ridiculous punctuation, I am not that. As I am goal oriented and enjoy planning I am a judging rather than percieving person according to Myers-Briggs. However, we hit a slight bump when attempting to diagnose whether my preferences leaned towards feeling or thinking. The test showed me as being slightly more of a thinker but reading all of the descriptions in the hand-outs and booklet I am not sure. So here is the interactive part of tonight's post. I will describe thinkers and feelers and if you like you can comment and tell me which you think I am. The woman that talked to me about my results said asking people that one is close to when one is on the fence about these preferences can sometimes help. So I will list short descriptions of the two people I might be and, if you wish, you can let me know which sounds more like me.

ENFJ: Appreciative, congenical, diplomatic, energetic, enthusiastic, expressive, idealistic, loyal, organized, personable, responsible, and supportive. Most likely to irritate others by taking emotional and moralistic stands, creating dependencies, and overextending myself. I am highly sensitive, especially to criticism and can be inflexible with respect to my ideals.

ENTJ: Challenging, controlled, decisive, energetic, logical, methodical, objective, opinionated, planful (their word not mine), straightforward, strategic, toughminded. Most likely to irritate others by being skeptical, spliting hairs, hurting other's feelings and taking people for granted. I am often unrealistic in my expectations and can be impatient with personal matters.

OK folks, I am intrigued, what do you think? Also, if you are familiar with Myers-Briggs personality inventories, please tell me which you think you are.