My latest nightmare looked like this: waking up to no electricity, no cell phone tower, no postal service, no modern convenience, and coming to the sad realization that I had no means of communicating with people who live thousands of miles away. This whole pile of people, including my entire biological family, was lost to me; whether they were living or dead was almost irrelevant.

From the moment I woke my caffeine-hungry brain mined for solutions. (This is, in general, how I roll.) The most obvious solution, and perhaps the easiest to fathom actually working, is a more elaborate version of passing a note across a classroom. Amanda addresses it to Suzie, hands it off to her nearest willing neighbor, who then passes it to the person closest to the addressee. Eventually, Suzie gets the letter. Every once in awhile someone chooses to just read it him or herself and then throw it away, or maybe the teacher grabs it and everyone has detention, or maybe a rogue lightning bolt comes racing through the classroom and clamps down on that specific letter and everyone bursts into flames. BUT: most of the time, it reaches the addressee.

So: in our population of too-many-people separated by a whole lot of miles, would it work?

Experiment time! I need your help. There’s two ways you can participate:

1.) Volunteer yourself to be a recipient of a hand-delivered letter. To participate in this way, please email me your preferred name and address. If you have privacy concerns, perhaps your hip employer wouldn’t mind you using that address, or maybe you can simply have it addressed to “Ray V.” and keep your full name out of it. OR
2.) Volunteer to mail a letter to me, to see if it makes it back to Portland from wherever you are. If you’re not comfortable locating an envelope and printing the instructions on the back, I can mail you a letter addressed to me. There’s something a little funny about that last option, but still…

I’ve got other ideas going through my head to expand the experiment, but these two seem a good place to start. (Examples: if I just drop a pile of letters somewhere, will random citizens feel inclined to pass them on? When addresses don’t exist, is it possible to get a letter to Jim Jones of Cleveland? etc) The back of each letter will have detailed instructions of what each passer is expected to do. Passers will be encouraged to initial the back, or write their name on it, to better determine how many people it takes to get a letter from Portland to X. I’m also setting up a blog for this (which will be posted on the envelope) to encourage people to comment so I can see where some letters “vanish” and how long a delivery takes.

So: anyone interested?

Last night was the first of two Mortified shows I'm participating in. For those who don't know, Mortified is a produced show of folks reading from their high school journals. Yeah: the name is appropriate.

It's been more like being in a play than doing a reading, with the rehearsals, brochures, stage, power point of bad photos, etc. For participating, I'll have free comp tickets for life. Not bad.

After the first show I can safely say: how utterly intoxicating.

What I generally gun for in readings is to get an emotional reaction out of my audience. Usually, this means making them cry. Making them crack up is a much more satisfying experience, even if it is at the expense of my adolescent self. My adult self is over it, and can take it.

Thanks to everyone who came to the Friday show, and everyone coming to the Saturday one. Something tells me this won't be my last time performing with this troop.

Dear Fair Citizens of Portland,

So I was *supposed* to be in a good mood on Tuesday. Barack Obama was getting sworn in, and Portland has always been my little sweet safe haven, sheltering me from the greater suck...and all is well here, right? Wrong.

Apparently, some of you want to crucify my mayor for getting laid, and not making it the center piece of his political campaign. I mean, I can't understand why a gay man (or any man or woman) would be reluctant to talk about his sex life with the media. What else would he talk about? Issues? Policies? His QUALIFICATIONS TO BE MAYOR? None of those are reasons to grab a torch and gather outside his home. What fun is that?

It's my understanding that the following are considered universal truths among the haters:

1.) Anyone under the age of 18 is a slobbering fool. Oh sorry, 18 and under, because "18 is just a hair away from 17." I mean, that hair makes it so you can join the military and vote, but fuck it - let's call it a "hair" in this instance. And as we all know, when you're 17 and so horny you're lubing up your couch cushions and fucking the creases, you should not be having sex because this is not legitimate experience. Your emotions aren't legit either. IT IS ALL FALSE! If you fucked yourself, you took advantage of yourself, and should probably go slap your reflection in the mirror. If you waited until you were 18, but didn't allow for a six-month abstinence grace period after the official birthday, go slap yourself for that, too. I'll wait.

2.) Sex = FREAK OUT! Police brutality? Huh. Mildly disturbing. A recently elected mayor with an outstanding political record admitting he had sex with a smoking hot 18 year old? RESIGN! RESIGN!

I know every shitty newspaper with a box on the street and a frightening yearly projections sheet is calling for his head. There's going to be a lot of layoffs at print media outlets this year, and if they don't go out squealing like pigs, how will they secure jobs at US Weekly? But here's a thought: since when does ANY mainstream outlet in Portland report actual news? These are the same people who endorsed a douchebag who bankrupted a corporation for treasurer, who said "Bush lied!" two years after everyone else did, whose biggest story in 2007 involved Facebook, and have agreed since the election began that Sam Adams was most qualified to be mayor. Is he less qualified now? Um...no.

Please consider that a certain segment of the populous knows your insecurities about sex and teenagers. This group might choose to take advantage of your potential to freak out from time to time. This may have happened before, say...when Bill Clinton got impeached? keep in mind that we're coming off of 8 years of utter suck, 8 years of an utterly deplorable man half-assedly running the country into the ground - who never got impeached. Wasn't fucking...wasn't helping the country either. Think about it. Bill Clinton is practically considered a saint by some, simply because he sucked so much less than Bush 2. if all they've got on Sam Adams is his confession to getting his fuck on, don't you think that's...I dunno...a waste of a good lynching?

But hey, let me be fair. There's other reasons the corporate media could be gunning for Sam other than boredom, like wanting to fire up the conservative Gresham-dwelling douchebag idiots with nothing better to do than troll second-rate media message boards. But let's be honest: they don't seem to know what a scandal is. You know what a scandal is? A (literally) cracked-out Washington DC mayor. Camden coming under state control because THREE mayors committed fraud. the Cleveland School Board - the entire board - being ejected from their offices for embezzlement. Now THAT is scandal. What Sam Adams did is called fucking.

I know some of you out there have never committed fucking before, and that's okay. It rains a lot here and it can be kinda cold, and sometimes taking off all those clothes is a bit of a drag. There's also diseases to worry about, and pregnancy...and sometimes you just go through picky periods where no one seems cute. That's fine. You don't have to fuck.

Here's a scary thought: even if you're not fucking, there are other people in the country fucking right now. Even as I type this, someone in Portland is getting it on. Some gay men are getting it on for sure. Some of them are even UNDER 18. Some of the straight folks are under 18, too. Or just BARELY LEGAL. And you know what? A majority of them are probably having a kick ass time. How uncomfortable are you feeling right now? Very uncomfortable? Good. Now sit in that feeling until you figure out what sort of prudish programming has been pounded in your head to make you respond to sexuality with such hostility. Marinate on it for a LONG time. I wish you good luck in working out your issues; sex issues in particular can be a lot of work. There's lots of therapists in Portland for just such purposes.

But in the mean time, stop calling for the head of my mayor because you're an uptight dipshit, mmkay? Thanks.

Love and Kisses,
1madgirl

The crazy weather has prevented me from hanging out with my favorite trees for two weeks now. Grumble. Yet: the 18 inches of snow has finally melted. Hurrah! Now i just have to wait for my cramps-initiated vicodin spell to subside. Just a few more days...

Until then, vicodin has invoked the babble monster, and LJ always ends up the best outlet for such prattle.

I haven't been in the office for almost two solid weeks (we lost a whole week due to weather...one of the perks of working at over 1000 feet) and for the most part it's been...bleh. Stumbling around in the snow was only fun when we were at the peak of blizzard, and T and I looked like two determined hobbits with the good sense to wear shoes. After that, it was just slush.

Waiting for the bus has been a trip. Friday I waited a full 45 minutes for the 8, trying to avoid the foot-deep puddles that had sprung up everywhere, and it never showed. There were about 20 people at the bus stop. Calling Trimet didn't help, as they had the standard winter "I guess you're doomed!" response blaring in my ear, with no time offered for when we could expect to not be cold. Fine. So I called XP to see if the intertubes offered more solid information.

"Shit! There was a fire on the bridge!" he said. "The bus isn't stopping there. It's stopping on MLK!"

Fuck. I told the 20 freezing folks sharing the bus stop with me (who I'd become chummy with) that we were collectively screwed, and everyone ran for the 6 while I started trudging home.

It was only after I got home that I was able to read the "bulletin" XP was referring to. Yeah, there was a fire - in October. The rerouting he was referring to took place much, much further down the road. In other words, instead of rerouting a whole bunch of people to the proper location, I basically created a cluster fuck. Sigh. Time to write one of those "I, Anonymous" things to the Mercury.

Stuffing my face with Queen's Delight magic pills (propolis, and other hive goodness) and wearing a gaiter when I wandered out spared me a sinus infection. A $30 pair of uber-gloves from the Mountain Shop was an ingenious purchase. The gaiter I got XP for a holiday gift was so well appreciated, he gave me his old ipod in exchange.

Snow bonus: XP has rediscovered exercise. One night he stumbled in the snow a good two hours in search of cigarettes. We shoveled the stairs together, hoping that would make our MIA UPS packages magically appear. No such luck, and I hate UPS forever. Then XP shoveled his car out, and the entire sidewalk. I'm pretty sure he was going to shovel a path clear to Whole Foods when the snow finally started to melt.

We collectively rediscovered a dorky passion for board games.

I've read so many books I don't know where to begin. I will say that Buffy Season 8 (the comic) has taken a turn for the suck, but "Joker" by Brian Azzarrello is great. Also like the young adult book "Betwixt" even if it is too slow for a YA novel, and there's this great book I'm lost in about the trees of the Pacific Northwest. Now in addition to being really annoying about all the traffic laws people are breaking around me, i can be really annoying about plant life. Score!

Movie-wise: the documentary "The Mindscape of Alan Moore" is great, not because of the comics talk, but because of the magician-talk. I highly recommend it, especially for those pagan/occult/magician/shaman inclined.

The gifting of a sweater to XP that looked like something out of a WHAM! video led to an 80s themed spontaneous dance party in the living room.

Finally: snow seemed to put Winston into hibernation mode, and he's just now busting out of it. Kitty slept (no kidding) about 22 hours a day for an entire week. Scooter, on the other hand, seemed to respond by getting bigger. Not fatter. Bigger. That cat is so f-ing big now that I had to get him a new collar - a dog collar. The only way I can get him in a cat carrier is with lube. One of my neighbors keeps mistaking him for a raccoon. If he gets any larger, someone is going to call animal wildlife on me.

And no - he didn't stay inside. One night he played "hide and go scoot" with me and XP in 16 degree weather. I'm pretty sure he was laughing his ass off while XP and I slid around on the ice, trying to get him inside, because he'd already been out for four hours and must be freezing. Um...no. But we were. Last time I try that one...

There's a lot more to say. My mind and spirit have been very occupied. Brace yourselves in the coming days for more blather.

This completely re-sparkled my day:

Dear Obama Campaign,

Okay, so let me make sure I'm sober here: dude was elected, right? Yes? Sweet! Go team! I'm so happy!

Since that mess has been decided, quick question: why do you keep sending me emails asking for money? Today you sent me an email inviting me to make a donation of $35, in exchange for a super-swank four years of Obama calendar. Um...what? Are you a presidential campaign, or a 501 (c) 3 nonprofit? In the midst of economic collapse, do you really think it's prudent to ask folks to continue to donate to a campaign that's, well, over, instead of donating to their neighborhood nonprofits?

In other words: what the fuck is wrong with you?

I've officially unsubscribed to your mailing list, which will hopefully halt the non-stop solicitation farm. Thanks for utterly disgusting me before the man is even sworn in.

Hearts and stars,
1madgirl

Well, little miss me finally started her monthly bleed. the second day was so dramatic (pain wise) that there was a point in time where I truly believed I was going to die. I thought to myself, "Well, I guess this is it. Life was pretty good. Never saw a book published, but overall I feel pretty peaceful about things." I could feel my spirit/soul start to detach...then slowly come back into my person as I called upon God, ArchAngels, anyone/thing that felt like listening to help me find my feet. It was the longest hour of my life, before the percoset kicked in and T came over and blew hash into my face...and Scooter's face. That cat loves getting high.

As my body recovers from this fit of trauma, fits itself with new anchors, I'm starting to feel pretty good about the world - in the grand sense, and in terms of my own private sphere. T and I have decided to "take a time out," where we basically remain a duo but give each other appropriate space to figure out our personal shit. I've never done anything like this before, and while our relationship hasn't changed much (in the practical sense) we both seem to feel a renewed sense of freedom to do what needs doing to make our lives better. We both have a tendency to, (in a relationship), to focus on the relationship to such a degree that we neglect ourselves personally, and see personal problems as relationship-problems. So far, this is a good move for both of us, and gives him the chance to figure out (once and for all) if he's on the baby train or not. did a really intense, thorough banishing after this conversation.

In the mean time, I've connected with a few people i haven't spoken to in years, and it reminds me how many positive changes I've made in my life - and how comfortable I've become with myself. I feel at peace with all my identities: writer, shaman, lover, friend, cat-lady, sister, daughter, dreamer, trouble-maker. I'm enjoying watching my friends embrace adulthood and leave behind days of uncertainty and emotional fragility.

I'm feeling optimism coming back, and it feels good.

It occurred to me yesterday that my political obsessions have prevented me from blogging about anything personal, so I'm probably starting to seem non-human. Better rectify that...

It doesn't help that things are rather fucked up now. That's usually when I post infrequently. Wow, life sucks. Better keep it to myself and stew quietly. This will ensure randomly Care Bear-staring my suck at stranger. Awesome!

A big part of the problem is that taking Cipro for last month's sickness has severely disrupted my menstrual cycle. Regular PMS in my world is pretty awful...a two-month build up is downright dangerous. Even writing this, I feel like any second I could start crying for no particular reason. If someone wandered into my office and criticized the quality of my sweater, that could be it. I'm so extremely late, for a brief period of time I thought I might be pregnant. I brought this up to T, and his reaction was, and I quote: "Don't you have student loans?"

I wish there had been a camera to capture my face, as I'm certain I've never made that one before; I know my mouth was hanging open and I blinked several times. Yes: I have student loans. We've talked about the financial aspects of this before. This is his first reaction? This is his *only* reaction?

My sister kind of laughed, and explained to me that in the face of the practical pains of childbirth and subsequent rearing, something can bleep in the male brain. When her husband found out she was pregnant with #2, his reaction was a disappointed, "Really?" She said to me that it sounded like he "short-circuited" and just needed awhile to recover. Sure. It's possible.

Before T and I even started dating, I made it extremely clear that I was interested in having children, and had no desire to even sleep with someone who wasn't prepared to deal with pregnancy as a maybe-occurrence. No way am I reliving the dark days of 22. I've reiterated this thousands of times since we started dating. He's always claimed to be on board. Now, after further probing, he "isn't sure". Fantastic. Can you be sure soon, please, since I'm 30 and don't feel like being fucked with, regardless of age? Thanks.

I've been very work focused, and in the aftermath of the Wordstock reading (which went quite well) I feel like I'm back to grasping at straws. Also feeling like I've neglected other aspects of my life for the sake of push-push-push towards finally getting a book published. I'm getting closer: the fiction book is in the final review stage at a small publisher, and then I should hear a yes or no. If that doesn't work out, I've got other options. In doing some reading, I read a statistic that said "only one in 15,000 manuscripts achieves publication." My first reaction was, "Wow, those are better odds than I thought!"

In my ideal universe I'd just disappear for two weeks, spending the entire time re-imagining what my life could look like. My brain has gotten used to the concept of being partnered with T, and it's scary to envision feeling comfortable in "alone" space. Since I turned 18 I've basically been in one relationship after the other - so maybe it would be good for me to enjoy a period of time where all decisions are made without negotiation. At the same time, like a lot of people I know, I seem to fare better when partnered. With the anxiety of "when am I going to meet someone?" properly put to rest, I can be as driven towards my other pursuits as I like. This has been especially easy with T, who is not as "look at me! Look at me!" as some of my other relationships have been.

Sigh.

I haven't exactly been excited by...well, anyone Obama has picked for his cabinet so far. In fairness, I don't know much about any of them, other than the few who have leftover baggage from the Bill Clinton Ultimate Self-Absorbed Indecisive Presidency. Then I read this, sighed, and said: oh fuck.

http://www.reuters.com/article/wtMostRead/idUSTRE4AD04820081114

If he makes Hillary Secretary of State, I'll really start to wonder if it was all bullshit, and I was just another kool-aid drinking sucker.

First of all, if you're a sick bastard, this is hysterical. I can thank my sister for it:




Second, this is just sad. Falling for the Nigerian money scheme, in the age of technology, is tragic:

http://www.katu.com/news/34292654.html#idc-container

Okay, here's the question: what is Barack Obama saying to Little Bush?

I feel so proud to be an American.

It wasn't the initial announcement that got me. Or the concession speech. Or the victory speech. It was heading down Alberta after all was said and done, to crowds of people cheering in the street, cars honking horns, people shouting out windows - it was then that it hit me: "We're sort of a democracy again...and I'm not alone in wanting to see things get better..."

Hallelujah!

Been trolling websites and making phone calls around Ohio to encourage people to vote for Obama. Yikes.

"I don't really like either candidate, but I know abortion is wrong, and that's how I'm voting."
Okay - that's your issue of choice, I get it. Something to think about: Republicans have probably been in office 30 years since Roe Vs. Wade was first decided, and it still hasn't been overturned. If you're against abortion and want women to have fewer abortions, don't you think it would be a good idea to prioritize making our country a decent place to live, with readily available health care, so women are less inclined to have abortions? Don't you think it would be a good idea to make our economy healthy, so that people have jobs, and money to raise children?

"Obama's gonna take our guns away!"
Interesting. What makes you think this? Has any Democratic president in history repealed the second amendment? No? Do you think that maybe Republican stumpers are just saying such things to get your riled up? No? Huh....

"Obama's from Chicago, and Chicago is one of those most corrupt places in the country!"
Um...what?

I will now return to my regularly scheduled Portland, Oregon bubble, and frantic praying that Obama will emerge victorious, and I'll have a reason to celebrate this evening.

As we get closer and closer to final ballot counts, I grow weary of hearing this statement: "All politicians are the same."

Sigh.

"I'm voting for Nader, because all politicians are the same! Don't drink the Kool-Aid! They're all the same! DON'T DRINK THE KOOL-AID!"

The rebuttal: crack a history book. All politicians are *not* the same. FDR was not the same as Hoover; Lincoln was not the same as Jackson; Carter was not the same as Reagan.

In 2000 I voted for Nader under the "all the same" banner, and in defense of my vote, Gore did have the bad sense to pick Lieberman as a running mate. Add to that the fact that Clinton oozed out of the White House with a series of utterly disgusting decisions and pardons, and the country was doing well enough that we had time to linger on blow jobs. Bush was new on the national scene, and perhaps at the time, for a lot of voters, it was hard to tell the difference between the two. I didn't actually think Nader could run the country in an especially productive way, and I never thought he'd win - I just thought he deserved a shot, and he disgusted me a lot less than the other two.

That was 2000. Fast forward to now: one of those two candidates (Gore) won a Nobel prize; the other (Bush) is considered an international war criminal. Sure, I couldn't spot any difference then - but it's obvious there's a helluva lot of difference now.

2008. When I looked at the options on my ballot, it was an obvious choice, simply because Obama is the best choice I've ever had. Sure, a lot of what he says are things I've been dying to hear - but that doesn't mean he's insincere. After years of bumbling and blundering we have someone promoting actual diplomacy; after years of ass-backward thinking, we have someone who wants to move us forward. Each election I've observed candidates have offered wishy-washy plans; Obama's is the most concrete one I've ever heard. Yeah, there's a possibility he'll turn out to be all talk, but how can I *not* vote for someone who has been talking the talk I've been waiting for?

There are lots of reasons to be cynical about American government, but refusing to believe in the possibility of change is just lazy thinking. Scoffing at Obama as part of the "all the same" equation is also lazy thinking, because surely we can all agree that the country would be in a radically different place right now if Gore had been elected and not Bush, if anyone had defeated Reagan, etc. The hysterics of bad leftist radio, the need to make everything a disaster, a conspiracy, a shady deal, while offering zero real solutions is downright tired. I'm voting for what I *want*, which is a diplomat who will restore our international integrity, an innovative thinker promoting green jobs, a promoter of education beyond the shitty "No Child Left Behind" travesty, someone who wants us to have health care, and someone with an eye on something other than war. I'm voting for someone who says he wants to do something about it, other than point out everything we've done wrong, or falsely claim that nothing was ever wrong in the first place.

I was a constitution nerd as a kid, a history nerd, and I've found the story of our country fascinating. While flawed, I consider the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence to be fantastic documents. Since the Supreme Court decided an election, I've felt nothing but heartache for our country. Still: I always clung to a nugget of hope that we'd eventually rise out of this. When I watched Obama's speech at the 2000 convention, I knew there was a chance.

Hope may be a catch phrase, but it's not a dirty word. Maybe it'll turn out to be a load of bunk, but we won't know unless he's given a chance. I'm thrilled to vote for Barack Obama. No Kool-Aid involved.

Yeah, good point McCain. If anyone is working tirelessly to set the feminist movement back 150 years, it's Mr. McCain and Sarah Palin. That's right folks: show the women of America you disrespect them and consider them, as a whole, feeble minded, by choosing as your running mate a former pageant queen without a lick of sense - with the assumption that women will jump all over it. What you hadn't counted on is that the GOP Diva would figure out that she was the hot item on the ticket, and would start running her mouth at will for the sake of cementing her place in conservative history. What a sad old man he is.

So I got off the airplane, and three days later I was diagnosed with tonsillitis and an ear infection. The nurse practitioner I saw prescribed Cipro - the same shit they give you if you're exposed to anthrax. Took it one day, and was amazed by how fast my infection seemed to be clearing up. Took it today, forgot to eat or drink water, and four hours later - kablam!

After my heart rate clocked in at 120 beats per minute I contacted my doctor to express alarm. While talking to her, it slowed to 90 beats per minute, and i drank 32 ounces of water. Then I started crying and blubbering incoherently. After sending T away to get "safer" movies for me to watch, and calling everyone i know who was either busy or asleep, I crept on my reflection in the mirror and realized: "Holy shit. This is like being on a bad acid trip. The only problem is, I don't know when this is going to end."

I then instantly went into bad-trip mode, where I soothed myself by putting my cat-ears hat on (which conveniently muffles the terrifying noises coming from...everywhere...), drinking another 32 ounces of water, and promising me I'm never going to take this shit again. Ever. Ever.

Jesus.