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I’ve tried blaming my lack of updates on any number of things:

  • “writer’s block”
  • comment spam
  • the lunar calendar
  • being “busy”

But then, my dinner presented me with more plausible reasoning. My dinner you say?

I got home today, and thought “hamburger helper!” This is partially because their cheesy enchilada is tasty, but mostly because there’s little else in my larder.

So, I pulled out the ground beef which I’d conveniently forgotten to defrost and stuck it in the microwave. After some random tidying up, the beef was defrosted, and it was time to pull out the hamburger helper box (I know, I’m a gourmet). Well, it wasn’t in the cupboard where I normally keep things like hamburger helper, cayenne pepper sauce, tea, etc.

It wasn’t there. Furthermore, I know I purchased it (just last week! along with some vegetables!). So, I looked around. Did I forget to put it away? Was it under the coffee table? Behind the tv? the futon? in the papasan? the hall closet? The cupboard again? The spice drawer? The dishwasher? The oven?

No.

I looked in the cupboard again. This time with the aid of my trusty step stool. Guess what? It wasn’t there.

I thought, “damnit.” I know it’s here. I looked under the futon again. in the papasan. the hall closet. The bathroom? my closet? under the bed? under the bathroom sink? in the toilet?

I kid you not. I looked in all those places. My box of cheesy enchilada-laden goodness was no where to be found. What to do? Should I order out? Pad thai sounded nice. Should I go to the store and buy some more? Put the ground beef back in the fridge?

No. I decided I should look in the cupboard again.

Guess what I found? The hamburger helper. The rest, I imagine, you can glean from the side of the box.

You’re probably wondering what this has to do with me not updating this blog (which, no doubt, looks different). Well, the hamburger helper was right in front of me, and I couldn’t see it. Often enough, I want to update, but can’t quite find the words; or something to write about. Often enough, both things are right in front of me, and I can’t see them.

Does this mean I’ve found the magic solution? Probably not. Does it mean I’ll keep updating regularly? For a while, probably. I find that a little change of scenery does me good.

I guess I should just apologize in advance for being a poor weblogger!

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This is late. It is, unsurprisingly, also late.

It’s a new year now. It’s two thousand and five. It’s twenty-six years after I was born. It’s (less than) four years since September 2001. It’s (less than) one year since November 2004. It is, in fact, nine days since 1 January 2005. It is, precisely: nine days, three hours, and twenty-seven minutes past 1 January 2005.

I’ll say, right up front, that 2004 was absolute crap. I failed my Ph.D. qualifiers. I saw my father fall deathly ill (in september no less! I’ve learned to hate septembers, if nothing else). Most miraculously, I found romance; I found happiness. I can’t tell if it’s lasting, but it sure feels like it. In the midst of pure crap, I learned to dance like no-one’s watching. I learned to hug like I’ve found Santa. I’ve learned to kiss like there’s no tomorrow.

I’ll make the same resolutions I make every year: I’ll do work. I’ll make schedules. I’ll save humanity. I’ll save the world. This year, though, is different. I won’t do all that, but: I’ll save myself. I’ll do work. I’ll treat my friends and loved ones the way they should be the treated. I’ll update my blog regularly. I don’t think I’ll save the world this year. I won’t even save humanity! I’ll come one step closer, though. I’ll think globally, and act locally. I’ll take the bus. I’ll recycle. I’ll participate in fair trade.

I can’t say I’ll even do what I’ve said I will. I’ve made new year’s promises before. I’ve broken them. I’ve kept them. This year, though? I feel it. I feel ready. I feel in love. I feel like I can save the world and still have time for hot chocolate. Experience tells me that maybe I’ve only time for hot chocolate. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try though, right?

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Sinfest today is apt. We can put God anywhere we want, but it’s all pretty meaningless unless we really listen to what he has to say.

I’ve got more to write, but also a stack of papers to grade, and some homework (can’t… forget… homework…).

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I’ve been trying to get back into the swing of things since the election, and it’s been tough. I’m behind on the news, and having trouble catching up. I know what I want to do next, it’s just a matter of making some phonecalls, budgetting time, and getting involved.

That’s not really the breaking news, though. Actually, I guess the breaking news isn’t really breaking, either: Well, to my reading audience who doesn’t really see me on a regular basis, I have (wait for it)… met a girl! Without gushing too much, she’s wonderful. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. And her direction sense is about on par with mine.

So, if I seem to be walking around with a dopey grin on my face? She would be why.

And, if, in the space of this blog, I start referring to her as EEEEEEE!!, well, blame Stanek and the fact that I probably sounded like that as I was typing.

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As I sit down to write this, The Kerry campaign is conceding victory to George Bush in the 2004 Presidential election. While I have reasonably strong feelings about this, it’s not what I’m about to talk about. Though, I will; probably at great length.

Instead, I’m going to ramble about 2 November 2004 in Cleveland, OH. Or, at least, I’m going to ramble about what I saw, and what I thought.

Yesterday, I woke up at 4AM, showered, put on my Election Protection t-shirt, and drove out to one of two EP centers in Cleveland. There were a few logistical issues, like the person who was having a seizure on our front steps, the fact that they sent me to the wrong EP center, and the organizer who wanted to set me up with his Malayalee girlfriend’s sister (I respectfully declined).

After helping a few teams get their things together (toy box, signs, chairs), my partner and I drove over to the HQ where we were needed. Everything proceeded smoothly from there. We drove out to our polling place, stuck our signs in the ground, and met the people from the Voter Protection Team (sponsored by the DNC), and East Cleveland Pastors for Progress.

The day was rainy and fairly wet. Of all the groups out there, we were the only nonpartisan one — not that it made a difference. The only republicans we saw were GOP challengers, and they just took notes.

We made a good team: while we came from a variety of organizations, we all helped ensure that people were able to vote. The other people came from as far away as NY. My partner was a school teacher in his everyday life. He managed to be so liberal, that NPR was a bit too far to the right for him. The people from the DNC included a Columbia law professor, her high school daughter, and another NY lawyer. We were rounded out by a few representatives from East Cleveland Pastors for Progress: a nice young law student who was planning on spending some time in Honduras after the election.

Making friends is a strange thing in circumstances like that. Everyone was there for the whole day, and we traded information, and services. We ganged up on the booth officials when we thought they were doing something wrong, we split duties (some of us calling to confirm precincts for voters, others calling for rides), we traded information from our various organizations, and we brought each other coffee and snacks and chairs.

Watching the various groups work was a pleasure: they tracked voter turnout, and sent people canvassing if numbers were low. They coordinated rides, provided legal advice, confirmed polling locations, and enforced election law.

What made it most interesting though was the voters. Almost everyone who came through was pumped to be voting. Our oft-heard “if there are any problems, please come see us” was often answered with, “Oh, you’ll hear about it all right!” or (our personal favorite), “There won’t be any problems. I’ll see to it!”

We had a woman come in with her son and daughter, both of whom had voted earlier in the day: The mother did not walk to well, so they had come to help her vote. We informed them that, by law, she was permitted to vote from her car if that would be easier for her. The son, a large (6’4″ or 6’5″, and barrel-chested) man bent down to ask his mother if she’d prefer to vote in the car. She was pleased as punch! We spoke to the presiding judge, who was reluctant. She finally gave way under our combined insistence. I don’t think I’d ever seen someone so happy. She came, she sat, she voted: and we helped make that experience more comfortable for her.

We had other people who had trouble finding their place on the ballots. One such woman came out of the precinct with her sister, unhappy. We let her know we could provide assistance, either in confirming her registration, or ensuring that her provisional ballot was correctly filed. She went back in to straighten things out, while her sister waited outside. It was (as I’ve no doubt mentioned) cold and rainy: I shielded the sister with my umbrella, and listened to her talk: she might have been old, but she was fiesty! After 20 or so minutes of her telling me how no one would interfere with her voting, she looked up at me and said, “how tall do you think I am?” I replied that I thought she must’ve been 4’11” or 5′. She retorted, “I wish! I don’t normally tell people, but I’m 4’3!”

Another 20 minutes of her listening to me counsel voters, and she remarked, “You have a very pretty voice.” It is a good thing I don’t blush.

To say the least, I enjoyed the fact that East Cleveland came out in force to vote, and in record numbers: In the 2000 election, this particular polling station reported 389 voters. This time, over 800 of them turned out. It was like that all over cleveland: young, middle-aged, old, infirm, carefree. They were gung ho, and ready to make their voice heard.

I might not be happy with the outcome of the election, but I’m proud of what I saw at St. James Lutheran Church, East Cleveland, OH. I was proud of the Americans who came out to vote, and I was proud to ease the voting process for them.

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I can’t sleep again. I’ve also, again, been following the news with an almost hawk-like intensity. It varies by week — some, I’ll stay far away. Others, I’ll be glued to it like a junky. Except, I think, that election news may be worse for your health.

I don’t like where this country is headed, and, while I’m not leaving, I’m getting tired. Not, since you asked, tired enough to actually go to sleep.

It seems like all the questions we really need answers to don’t have answers. The more we argue about them, the more we realize that we’re simply different.

Right. I’d laugh, but things to laugh about are escaping me right at this moment.

I realized, on Thursday, that I don’t think I can watch ER, anymore. I should note that I don’t actually watch the show anymore. Instead, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t think I can even watch the old episodes (some of which I recall being quite good) without being uncomfortable. I discovered this on Wednesday while watching the West Wing. In this season’s premiere, Donna is in a hospital bed in Germany after a carbomb attack. She’s beat-up, she’s tired, she’s nauseous, and she’s trying to comfort the people around her.

I had a last sentence for that paragraph, but nothing seemed appropriate. Instead, I’ll leave this entry with this wholly unsatisfying two sentences. Well, three, really.

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A few weeks ago, I picked up some flannel sheets at Bed Bath & Beyond on clearance ($25!). It was a total impulse buy (shutup. There’s nothing wrong with impulse buys at BB&B). I put them on my bed yesterday, and they’re absolutely wonderful.

I lost part of my homework assignment and had to redo it.

Apparently, the homework assignment I thought was due today was moved to next week while I was in the bathroom.

I have a midterm tomorrow. I can’t sleep, and I’m not feeling terribly productive.

The sheets, however, are really comfortable. Once I got to sleep last night, I slept like a baby.

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I went canvassing for John Kerry this weekend. It was ok, except for the fact that it was rainy, no one was home, and I met a republican (who was very nice, just… not a swing voter — which, he was supposed to be). That, and the whole thing was completely disorganized: we had an hour orientation, where I had to tear down temporary barriers so I could see. Also: no one knew where the sign in sheet was. After that, we tried to divide up into teams: that took another 90 minutes of people shouting, “anyone need 2 more team members!?”

Right, so, after that, they gave me 3 streets which no one was home on. Well, except for the republican and the head of Doctors 4 Kerry. And, it was raining. Still, it was a learning experience. I may go back in one of the next weekend for a better performance.

I’m also thinking it might be nice to offer basic organizational skills the next time an election rolls around. I mean, it certainly can’t hurt!

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A Brutal Sexual Assault Galvanizes Swazi Women.

An 18 year old girl was beaten and raped, for “wearing a miniskirt.”

The attack has caused outrage, marches, and calls for legal action among the normally second-class-citizen Swazi women.

There have also been calls to make “public indecency” illegal. This law would “ban the wearing of anything that would expose a woman’s thighs, her navel and also the wearing of G-strings.”

The activists are planning more protests, a boycott, and lawsuits against the taxi depot.

This is a sad story: that there are still places in the world where it takes a protest to get rapists arrested is something of a travesty. It is also a happy story: women in Swaziland are taking matters into their own hands. It is, I believe, where the true strength of a world economy comes in handy: not through the imposition of sanctions or heavy-handed diplomacy, but through the interlinking of local networks. Being able to give aid from across the globe is, arguably, of more comfort and more use than doing it for them.

Change, and action, must come from within — all we can do is offer to help.