in the weirdest sense of the word I am walking through my life. I am getting everything done, mostly on time, and mostly well, but not quite the way I would have last year. Something is happening. Maybe this is the Year I Dissapear into the Life I was supposed to lead. i think we all find ourselves in places that we woudln't have guessed we would be, and that is diagnosed as our life.

Have we been lied to, when we got told we could do anything we wanted? Was it all a Bush conspiracy designed to keep America's young people confused and at bay. Because there are enough of us who are pissed that we could easily take over the world, and shove Bush (Cheney too) out of the plane.

Who are we really that we allow his kind of crap to exhume our dead? That we allow these men to dictate our choices, that we allow our lives to be something other than they are? It is time to change.

Man, I am looking around at my friends and i have done nothing compared to them. And yet I hear this all the time from my friends about me. What is this thing that we do to ourselvesi n whcih we decide that we are not good enough by what others do. What fresh hell?

Now that I have ranted poetic about the socialogical impact of this crap, my true reason for writing today is that i feel as If I have no time to write, and I resent the hell out of it. Alll I want to do these days is write, clean, and graden, like I have been transpported back into the 1950's version of an art chick housewife. maybe I will start drinkign and baking while I stand in my underwear staring into the frigidare. Yipe. Maybe not. Maybe just the drinking.

Write write write write write.

I have not really spent much time blogging on myspace lately. i have been trying to create one one of my own called Debutante Gone Wrong,© whch hopefully should be up and running shortly (like in the next week - but then again I have been syaing that for a while now). It has been a weird little ride though, I even got the name copyrighted and intellectually protected. I woudl take credit for it bu tmy friend the Bulldog _ finest legal mind to hold a joint MBA/JD strong armed me into it. i am glad she did because i have been getting some odd little inklings that folks think that I am clever and want to steal my work. I think it was the Dissertation that got stolen and published by my advisor in graduate school that gave it away. ya' think?

At any rate, I have been writing this whole time, just not posting anything. I even wrote a story about the time I jumped on an Octopus (yes that really happened - I have scars on my face and body to prove it).

at any rate I may be here more and then again, I may be soley at the Deb.

..

Boo to Bush and his administration for wanting to sell off pieces of the NATIONAL FOREST (yes, you heard that correctly) to pay for rural school and education programs. Are you kidding me? Hey Dubya, didja EVER think of stopping the war that is garnering you such a low approval rating (the lowest in the history of the presidency) and using THAT money for the schools?? Sorry, I forgot for a second that you couldnt do that because it would actually be GOOD government. Using the peoples money for the people and not your own personal agenda goes against the grain. Right. I forgot. Boo to you buddy !!! Cant wait until you are gone, and dont even think about getting JEB in there. We have enough of the Bush family. It is time to Beat the Bushes.

So I have spent the weekend watching my old nanny kids. For you non nannys out there, this means the kids who i used to be a nanny for. They are six years older, and yet still the same. Things were almost exactly as I had left them the last time I was here. So of course me being me, I began to question the whoel nature vs. nurture argument, and wonder hwo much of it is what. I think it is a never ending argument and one that I will never satisfy to my cognitive content. Ethan the oldeerst ios also a severe dyslexic. He also gets mad at things that infringe upon his "head" time. He completely lost it with his younger brother a couple of times. I wondered if some of that was not my influence, although I never completely lost it wqith the kids, but i did have definiteboundaries with them in terms of infringement of personal time. Did Ethan learn this from me because he is the oldest and we spent the most time together, or is this a dyslexic trait?

Wandering around in my head, afraid of my flesh Disconnected I cannot commit the ultimate act blind trust Letting the body lead gets messy It denies neat academic jargon I hold dear A turn of the phrase a tidy conclusion Well planned in timing Will not work this time What do I do? Jargon cannot save me As I encounter you

What a shitty day. I had to attend the funeral of a student today as well as go for round two of a possible postdoc at Stanford doing something with some one I REALLY want to work with and they were assholes to me. Stupid Stanford. The funeral was just weird. I mean, I knew this kid for all of two semesters, really liked him and really saw his potential. He didn't. Where do you go with that? Could I have somehow shown him more that I believed in him. Where does my professionalism end? I recently confronted this with another student too, who told me that I was the only prof she had whom she couldn't read in terms of personal feelings. Part of me thinks that is good, and part of me is sad that this is what my professionalism has been reduced to. Are my students unaware of how great I think they are? I brag on them all the time and wish just for one day they coudl see themselves the way that I see them. They read Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden. It was perfect. Crap. Stop the stars from shining

Normally, I love Easter. It is bright and rife with possibility. Not this year. There is too much transition happening and too many things up in the air. Yesterday was rainy and while the usual celebration was had, it was subdued and very mellow. Almost not worth the effort. Hippity hoppity indeed.

Women speak in silence. A universal communication born of poverty, expectation, politics and hope. In the hush we wait lurking, looking, for that one day we scream out with bodies, eyes, lips, stance and Tongue, STOP. We will. I first heard of this idea when reading an autobiography of a First Lady who had been publicly punched, pummeled, and pushed Into silence a twelve year old came, to speak in poetry, shame and courage. She stood in front of America, or at least one, and said Stop. We must. Out of the mouths of babes comes a violent stillness. Do we want, can we afford, are we aware this allowed female rhetoric. The Land of the Free isn’t, and won’t see love as a verb, which has no need to harangue or say, shout, whisper, utter stop. We don’t.

WHAT is the deal with all these girls and their boob shots? Or the gratuitous butt shot? The descriptor Stupid Girl seems to apply here. While I completely get that the viewer and beholder creates the vision of object, in this case tits and ass, I, as one beholder, am oh so very tired of Stupid Girls thinking that this is all they have to do to be a real person in todays world. I am not a product of Mattell, and I do not sleep on a hard plastic bed painted Pepto Bismol pink. Blaine is not my boyfriend (oh, didn't you hear? Ken got dumped) and Good Lord do you really think that someone has boobs THAT big naturally? Please. Be a real girl. And it is not just the girls. it s the Dum Boys who create the objects. Maybe it is just wishful thinking to think that a space that creates cool can keep Barbie out. Stupid Stupid Girl. Barf.