My baby is sick. Not just a little bit. He is 104 degree, vomiting every three hours, laying around listlessly sick.
His little three old year face is sallow, with deep blue circles under his glassed-over eyes.
Nothing makes me feel more helpless than seeing a microorganism have its way with my son, while knowing I can do nothing but try to make him more comfortable.
It's amazing that such tiny creatures can alter our lives so much...
Monday, October 6, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Wow.
In the span of a few weeks, we have seen the
(1) nomination of a creationism-loving, book-banning, moose-killing, hockey-mom as vice presidential candidate
-if you are ridiculed on SNL and the actor playing you doesn't say anything other than what you ACTUALLY said, then you should not be considered to be the second most powerful in the world. Seriously, everyone--Calm the F*CK down--yes she's a MILF, yes, she shoots guns and kills animals, yes she likes hockey. Sure, she is a mom of 5, sure she thinks everyone should have a baby they don't want, even if they end up killing said baby in the microwave during a crack binge. But all of those things don't matter...let's see this for what it really is, a Manchurian Candidate. If McSame/Failin get into office, McSame will become ill, she will take over and Cheney, Rove, and Rice will be pulling all the strings.
(2) complete melt-down of the economy because Bush/Cheney and co. let greedy people made stupid greedy decisions
(3) the spinning of a presidential campaign so twisted that we are now to believe that Republicans, not Democrats were for regulation of Wall Street, and the Republicans, not Democrats are against free market ideals
(4) Our current president at a 70% disapproval rating...
I can't even begin to articulate what I think about our country right now. For the first time ever, I have completely lost faith that we will ever, ever, get back what we've lost.
I can't handle this. Vancouver Island, here I come!
In the span of a few weeks, we have seen the
(1) nomination of a creationism-loving, book-banning, moose-killing, hockey-mom as vice presidential candidate
-if you are ridiculed on SNL and the actor playing you doesn't say anything other than what you ACTUALLY said, then you should not be considered to be the second most powerful in the world. Seriously, everyone--Calm the F*CK down--yes she's a MILF, yes, she shoots guns and kills animals, yes she likes hockey. Sure, she is a mom of 5, sure she thinks everyone should have a baby they don't want, even if they end up killing said baby in the microwave during a crack binge. But all of those things don't matter...let's see this for what it really is, a Manchurian Candidate. If McSame/Failin get into office, McSame will become ill, she will take over and Cheney, Rove, and Rice will be pulling all the strings.
(2) complete melt-down of the economy because Bush/Cheney and co. let greedy people made stupid greedy decisions
(3) the spinning of a presidential campaign so twisted that we are now to believe that Republicans, not Democrats were for regulation of Wall Street, and the Republicans, not Democrats are against free market ideals
(4) Our current president at a 70% disapproval rating...
I can't even begin to articulate what I think about our country right now. For the first time ever, I have completely lost faith that we will ever, ever, get back what we've lost.
I can't handle this. Vancouver Island, here I come!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Honey, I think I'm getting wrinkles...
Rest assured, lonely blog: I have not abandoned you.
Allow me to set the scene for you, dear reader.
One Week Ago
A peaceful, unseasonably warm Saturday night. J. has come over to cook dinner for Finn and me. Finn and I play with J.'s new german shepherd puppy (so cute!), then eat. J. helps me put Finn to bed (can you see my heart melting into a disgusting puddle?). We are now on the porch; candles, wine, puppy, a few puffs...lots of great conversation. Many hours and several bottles of wine later, we move inside. I get so excited to show J. my essay for Western Political Thought (Why living adjacent to a foreign country is NOT foreign policy experience) that I open the laptop and pull up my file. As he returns from the bathroom, he says, "Honey...I think I'm getting wrinkles..."
*At this point it's all slow motion in my head, so it may help for you to imagine it that way*
I turn my body to look at him, as he has just thrust his head into my bubble-my wine glass crashes onto the keypad of my laptop...and i just watch.
Five minutes later, I've removed the battery and turned the laptop upside down, and watch, as the damn thing is BLEEDING red wine.
Luckily this story has a happy ending, and Apple was able to repair the machine under warranty, but...I felt as though I had lost a limb for about a week.
Allow me to set the scene for you, dear reader.
One Week Ago
A peaceful, unseasonably warm Saturday night. J. has come over to cook dinner for Finn and me. Finn and I play with J.'s new german shepherd puppy (so cute!), then eat. J. helps me put Finn to bed (can you see my heart melting into a disgusting puddle?). We are now on the porch; candles, wine, puppy, a few puffs...lots of great conversation. Many hours and several bottles of wine later, we move inside. I get so excited to show J. my essay for Western Political Thought (Why living adjacent to a foreign country is NOT foreign policy experience) that I open the laptop and pull up my file. As he returns from the bathroom, he says, "Honey...I think I'm getting wrinkles..."
*At this point it's all slow motion in my head, so it may help for you to imagine it that way*
I turn my body to look at him, as he has just thrust his head into my bubble-my wine glass crashes onto the keypad of my laptop...and i just watch.
Five minutes later, I've removed the battery and turned the laptop upside down, and watch, as the damn thing is BLEEDING red wine.
Luckily this story has a happy ending, and Apple was able to repair the machine under warranty, but...I felt as though I had lost a limb for about a week.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
a good day to wear orange
Today is perfect.
The morning air is crisp, bright with that purified, glowing sunlight you only see in early fall.
Finn and I wear woolly sweaters as we troop to the car. He has to wear orange; daycare is ROY G BIVing this week. Monday was red, today is orange...tomorrow we will have to find something yellow.
My trusty coffee cup fails me during the commute. As I come to a stop, it decides it no longer wants to sit nicely on the dashboard every morning.
My stereo has been drenched in some generic hazelnut blend my mother brewed and is now joining the mug in protest. No matter, I'll be fine without NPR, I think, as I remember: I listen even during the pledge drives.
I get a nostalgic feeling as I get out of the car and start traversing my small, but beautiful campus. Remembering September back and back and back, every year I ask myself: Was it this beautiful last year?
The constructions guys are already out, making the most of the cool air.
Something about autumn sun recharges me, makes me feel more connected to myself, the earth, reality. When asked, most would say spring is the season of rebirth, but for me it is autumn: time to shake off the sluggish, weighted heat of summer and pry my mind back open like that new philosophy text, just begging to be read, already asking questions I may never know the answer to.
Some time at work (assisting the amazingly indefinable English chair) goes by and I head outdoors for some Aristotle in the sun. Nothing seems to quiet and soothe my mind like reading. It helps to read something that must be read, digested, and then read a second time. I lose an hour in deep focus, forgetting even that I exist as I drink in Politics.
My favorite class begins. The subject is Western Political Thought, cross-listed as phil/poli sci.
My professor (we shall call her Eve) won me over two weeks ago during the first class. She is without a doubt the smartest and most eloquent professor (or teacher, even) that I have ever had the pleasure of learning from. Passion and intellect literally radiate off of this woman, and all I can think, as I watch her pace across the classroom, voice flaring with emotion and geniune excitement, is: This is the woman I want to become. Strong, passionate, and wise. It is obvious that she knows and loves what she is teaching, and she encourages the class to foster the same attitudes within ourselves. I am in awe.
When I find myself once again slowly packing my things up, so that I can talk to her about today's lecture, I think to myself that I CAN become like her. I'm already on the path.
Now all I need is some serious spiritual and emotional healing, and I can be like my Sister, Eve.
The morning air is crisp, bright with that purified, glowing sunlight you only see in early fall.
Finn and I wear woolly sweaters as we troop to the car. He has to wear orange; daycare is ROY G BIVing this week. Monday was red, today is orange...tomorrow we will have to find something yellow.
My trusty coffee cup fails me during the commute. As I come to a stop, it decides it no longer wants to sit nicely on the dashboard every morning.
My stereo has been drenched in some generic hazelnut blend my mother brewed and is now joining the mug in protest. No matter, I'll be fine without NPR, I think, as I remember: I listen even during the pledge drives.
I get a nostalgic feeling as I get out of the car and start traversing my small, but beautiful campus. Remembering September back and back and back, every year I ask myself: Was it this beautiful last year?
The constructions guys are already out, making the most of the cool air.
Something about autumn sun recharges me, makes me feel more connected to myself, the earth, reality. When asked, most would say spring is the season of rebirth, but for me it is autumn: time to shake off the sluggish, weighted heat of summer and pry my mind back open like that new philosophy text, just begging to be read, already asking questions I may never know the answer to.
Some time at work (assisting the amazingly indefinable English chair) goes by and I head outdoors for some Aristotle in the sun. Nothing seems to quiet and soothe my mind like reading. It helps to read something that must be read, digested, and then read a second time. I lose an hour in deep focus, forgetting even that I exist as I drink in Politics.
My favorite class begins. The subject is Western Political Thought, cross-listed as phil/poli sci.
My professor (we shall call her Eve) won me over two weeks ago during the first class. She is without a doubt the smartest and most eloquent professor (or teacher, even) that I have ever had the pleasure of learning from. Passion and intellect literally radiate off of this woman, and all I can think, as I watch her pace across the classroom, voice flaring with emotion and geniune excitement, is: This is the woman I want to become. Strong, passionate, and wise. It is obvious that she knows and loves what she is teaching, and she encourages the class to foster the same attitudes within ourselves. I am in awe.
When I find myself once again slowly packing my things up, so that I can talk to her about today's lecture, I think to myself that I CAN become like her. I'm already on the path.
Now all I need is some serious spiritual and emotional healing, and I can be like my Sister, Eve.
Monday, September 8, 2008
and i stepped into the river
so i have a blog. having, for several months, felt the urge to purge myself of feelings, questions, opinions, and a nameless something, i have decided to write letters to...somebody, anybody, to you. revealing myself may offer me some lightness, maybe some peace. i have every hope that insight, questions, comments and criticism will be given. and even if this is never read by anyone, i will at least know that it could be.
here's to my first post...
clemens
here's to my first post...
clemens
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