...nothing but the blood...

"Foreign suspects held in Guantanamo Bay have the right to challenge their detention"

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 00:18:40 GMT

Finally.

Brushing aside the government's arguments that the detainees were enemy combatants being held at a time of war outside the US, the court said they had "the constitutional privilege of habeas corpus".

Justice Anthony Kennedy said: "The laws and constitution are designed to survive, and remain in force, in extraordinary times. Liberty and security can be reconciled; and in our system they are reconciled within the framework of the law."

Is he out of office yet?

Warrantless Wiretapping

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 19:57:30 GMT

"Surveillance efforts will not cease when the law lapses. Administration intelligence officials said agencies would be able to continue eavesdropping on targets that have already been approved for a year after the initial authorization. But they said any new targets would have to go through the more burdensome standards in place before last August, which would require that they establish probable cause that an international target is connected to a terrorist group."
— The New York Times, February 15, 2008

Maybe I don't understand because I'm not employed by a government security agency, but why would one choose a target to eavesdrop unless there was probable cause to listen to that particular person/group out of the billions of people/groups one could wiretap? Or do our agencies need a way around the "burdensome standards" of probable cause because they arbitrarily select targets? Hmm... I think I want to listen to Bob Jones today. Why not? Rather ineffective tactics, no? If this is about terrorists, and one had a suspicion, presumably somewhat realistically based, wouldn't a judge issue a warrant even on highly circumstantial evidence? What judge wants to be the one who let the next big terrorist group into the country/successfully attack? So how hard is it, with reasonable suspicion, to get a warrant? And why the living hell would anyone select a target without reason? Unless we're listening for other reasons... In which case, there are other government agencies that don't seem to be subject to judicial review, so why aren't they handling the government's special interests?

Bottom line, if there was probable cause, this law would be superfluous. If it's a slow bureaucracy issue, fix the system.

You didn't know? God's a Skee-Ball fanatic.

Sun, 10 Feb 2008 07:19:21 GMT

Alanis Morissette is God. Don't know how in ## years I missed that...

Cardinal Glick: Christ didn't come to Earth to give us the willies... He came to help us out.
***
Nun: You don't believe in God because of Alice in Wonderland?
Loki: No, "Through the Looking Glass". That poem, "The Walrus and the Carpenter" that's an indictment of organized religion. The walrus, with his girth and his good nature, he obviously represents either Buddha, or... or with his tusk, the Hindu elephant god, Lord Ganesha. That takes care of your Eastern religions. Now the carpenter, which is an obvious reference to Jesus Christ, who was raised a carpenter's son, he represents the Western religions. Now in the poem, what do they do... what do they do? They... They dupe all these oysters into following them and then proceed to shuck and devour the helpless creatures en masse. I don't know what that says to you, but to me it says that following these faiths based on mythological figures ensure the destruction of one's inner-being. Organized religion destroys who we are by inhibiting our actions... by inhibiting our decisions, out of... out of fear of some... some intangible parent figure who... who shakes a finger at us from thousands of years ago and says... and says, "Do it — Do it and I'll fuckin' spank you."
***
Serendipity: I have issues with anyone who treats faith as a burden instead of a blessing. You people don't celebrate your faith; you mourn it.
***
Rufus: White folks only want to hear the good shit: life eternal, a place in God's Heaven. But as soon as they hear they're getting this good shit from a black Jesus, they freak. And that, my friends, is called hypocrisy. A black man can steal your stereo, but he can't be your Savior.
***
Metatron: This is who you are.
Bethany: Everything I am has been a lie.
Metatron: No... knowing what you now know doesn't mean you're not who you were. You are Bethany Sloane. Nobody can take that away from you, not even God. All this means is a new definition of that identity. The incorporation of this new data into who you are. Be who you've always been. Just...be this as well...from time to time.
Bethany: I guess this means never cheating on my taxes.
Metatron: To say the least.

A few gems from an uneventful evening spent with Bob, sparkling wine, and Dogma.

Poorly Written Thoughts from the Road (and House)

Sun, 23 Dec 2007 03:48:43 GMT

I don't know if every local government between Redding and Yreka is bored and hurting for money, but they sure have a ridiculous amount of CHP camping out in the medians with radar. I just want to know if they seriously don't have anything better to do than to slow down the flow of traffic.

In an effort to keep myself awake during my 12-hour drive after only 2 hours of sleep, I played a radio game that, among other things, involves quickly flipping through every FM radio station. I learned that in the vast wasteland from Bakersfield to Sacramento there are only 4 types of stations: country, "Christian," Spanish-language (most specifically those genres I have not fully warmed up to), and hip-hop/rap. I suppose there are 5 if you count the full 20% that are dedicated to ear-bludgeoning renditions of every poorly written Christmas/Holiday song. Speaking of both Christmas music and hip-hop, I discovered this gem at about 3 hours into the drive. Certainly not the worst cover created.

Ah, home... before my parents left to run an errand and after I'd already had a glass, my mother made sure to explain to me exactly where the wine and champagne are located (surely, the way my mother was acting, one would think I'd never been to their house before nor spent any amount of time without them to care for me). Don't get me wrong, I like alcoholic beverages as much as the next, but they're only going to be gone a couple of hours.

Thoughts on Tuesday, December 4

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 23:43:30 GMT

Child's Mother: "I'm hoping that when Child goes to visit my parents, Child will learn some manners."

As a parent, isn't that your job? Certainly, other input is vital in reinforcing lessons and behavioral patterns taught in the home. But putting the onus on the grandparents? I think not, especially when the child sees them infrequently. Maybe I say all of this because I'm not a parent...

Mini Review (halfway through the book): The Sins of Scripture, John Shelby Spong

1) Too few citations. I imagine that a lot of his claims have been assimilated into his common knowledge during his years at seminary and through his studies thereafter, but these aren't common knowledge to everyone, and some scholars would disagree. I'd like to know who his sources are.

2) Inflammatory rhetoric. If an idea is ridiculous, its ridiculousness should be evident to all once you're done with your counter arguments. Telling me time and again — with exclamation points — how absurd someone's position is only makes yours more suspect.

3) Stop repeating yourself. Reiterating your conclusion instead of providing evidence for it makes everything you say seem less credible.

4) I think he falls into the same trap as so many others: throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I am in full support of questioning, critiquing, and deconstructing our presuppositions, assumptions, conclusions, symbols, metaphors, evidence, traditions, methodology, hermeneutics, etc. Question everything. But if you find something to be ‘problematic,' re-imagine and reconstruct before you dismiss it entirely because it doesn't fall within your world-view or favored epistemology. Just because some have used the Eucharist to reinforce guilt and thereby maintain power doesn't mean that this beautiful, symbolic tradition can't also be used to bring life and a deeper understanding of community. Ridding ourselves of traditions that have been misused doesn't solve the problem of their abuse, and, in many cases, makes us poorer for having lost rich spiritual metaphors. We should examine oppressive doctrines, but do we have to essentially throw out Genesis 1–2 because it's been (mis)used against women for centuries? Instead, couldn't we question the androcentrism of the passage (in both the reading and the writing)?

I (currently) believe that "the holy scriptures of the Old and New Testaments...contain all things necessary to salvation," so I'm quite comfortable with calling some of Paul's assessments of women, slaves, and nonheteronormative individuals ignorant and wrong. I'm not, however, comfortable with saying that the Pauline corpus should be dismissed (which he has not yet suggested, but a position some academics have taken).

5) Despite all of this, he does have some valid conclusions.

...and now back to work...

Browsing the BBC

Fri, 09 Nov 2007 23:03:13 GMT

Finland moves to tighten gun laws

I don't disagree with their proposed legislation. Why should a 15-year old be allowed to purchase and license her or his own gun? But if only 14% of all homicide is gun related, and they have the 3rd highest per capita gun ownership in the world (according to a BBC stat, 56 guns per 100 people), they must be doing something right.

Really, my question is about their logic. If the student was 18, how does preventing minors from owning guns solve the problem? Even retroactively, he would have had legal opportunity to purchase and use the weaponry. I'm not familiar with Finish crime rates, but because they don't mention a large incidence of 16-year olds shooting people, I imagine that population isn't a particular problem unless otherwise severely provoked. Why not deal with bullying?

EU far-right bloc faces collapse

I suppose it's my own prejudice that isn't surprised that Mussolini's grand-daughter is being accused of xenophobic remarks. I'm more saddened however by the Romanians' apparent shortsightedness. They are upset that they were compared to the despised Roma (gypsies), which is almost exactly like calling a male a "fag" or "girl" (or calling a Latino an "illegal alien"). And instead of questioning why being nonheteronormative or being female is something horrible, we question the comparison. How dare you compare me to them! But isn't that just furthering the problem? If you allow for anyone to be put down based on social categorization, you're not dealing with the root issue (yes, males and females are biologically different, but why one would respond in disgust to being called the other isn't based in biology but in society). Why do we value idealized masculinity? Why is anyone better than a Roma?

"The Greater Romania party has itself campaigned on a fiercely nationalistic, anti-Roma platform."

Why expect the Italians to behave any differently? If you encourage xenophobia, there's not much room to complain when the system turns against you. "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere" (MLKJ).* When society changes the ideal, and inevitably it will, you may be the next target. If nothing else, protecting the least in society is prescient self-preservation.

*Have you ever noticed that MLKJ backwards is alphabetical?

brief thoughts from Sunday

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 23:35:44 GMT

After Sunday's events, I'm becoming more and more convinced that the root issue isn't the morality of homosexuality. It's how the bible is read.

And to this issue, I can see great arguments on both sides. If the Bible is culturally bound, how do we decide what transcends culture? Which parts are literal, if any, and how do we apply these?

Obviously, there are many more questions than these. But I wonder if it isn't easier to demonize someone than to open the very foundation of one's beliefs to questions. There may be a reason that Evangelicals, who believe in sola scriptura, are those most vehemently against the LGBT community. Where other denominations/branches of the church, like Catholicism, Episcopalianism, etc, rely on their traditions/liturgy and many of the church's earlier writings in addition to the Bible, there seems to be a greater openness to inclusiveness.

Thu, 11 Oct 2007 00:24:06 GMT

"In the book of Isaiah the bible tells us to defend the cause of the fatherless. We are committed to doing just that every summer."

You only defend the fatherless during the summer? I suppose that's more than a lot of people.

(I know the source, and he probably has no idea what he really said. But still...

Skimming my BBC RSS feed

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 21:06:54 GMT

You've got to be kidding me: "The August expedition planted the Russian flag on the seabed below the North Pole." Countries still do this? Seriously?

I don't want to clean

Sat, 15 Sep 2007 00:25:23 GMT

Starin' down the stars
Jealous of the moon
You wish you could fly
But you're stayin' where you are
There's nothin' you can do
If you're too scared to try

“Jealous of the Moon,” Why Should the Fire Die?, Nickel Creek

I should listen to the lyrics of the music I own more often.

I think my pizza-making skills are improving. My dough was the best it’s been by far. Now if I can just figure out a way to evenly spread the spices, I should be golden.

Her question caught me off-guard. It shouldn’t.

I’m not sure I want to be salaried. At least with hourly you’re paid for every hour you work. If you’re exempt, it really sucks to be you.

Thank you, Flexeril

Sun, 02 Sep 2007 21:01:57 GMT

New diet proposal: dislocate or misalign your mandible; wait a few weeks; get your mandible relocated/realigned. The pain caused from the acclimating muscles and ligaments will not only encourage fewer, smaller bites of softer, uninspired food, but as the muscles continue to spasm, the quarter-portion of one's meal thus far consumed will be deemed enough to make one's grumbling stomach quiet, if not nearly full. It works! Whenever one considers quelling the hypothalamus' complaints, the most powerful muscles in the human body begin to spasm in contempt, and the thalamus argues successfully that hunger pangs, however maddening, are the better exchange.

deep thoughts from aboard an airplane

Fri, 24 Aug 2007 20:23:16 GMT

Why are there ashtrays in airplane restrooms if it is against federal law to smoke aboard airplanes and to disable the smoke detectors therein?

Thoughts from the kitchen table

Tue, 24 Jul 2007 18:27:36 GMT

It will be weird attending without her there. The comfortably-known other is a continent away for another few weeks, and I don't know her plans thereafter. I want to know who was at that meeting. At the "celebration," she discussed things as if I were perfectly normal.

In a conversation that I am sure we will repeat many more times before — if ever — we reach a conclusion, I said that I was good at hiding. Hiding isn't a problem. Being is.

Everyone is moving away. Charlotte, Gander, Ojitas... I suppose three isn't quite representative of 'everyone,' but they're three that matter to me. So here comes growing up and learning to communicate.

It's weird not going into an office. I miss my coworkers; I almost want to take a break at 9 and 3:30 just to honor them. At the same time, there is freedom here. I anticipate overall improvement in my mental health.

It occurred to me that I live — quite arbitrarily — with a miniature living creature that has affectionately been named Bob. I suppose it needed a name. Humans like to name things, and 'once-little, tan mammal that makes a nuisance of itself' is far less emotionally satisfying, not to mention verbally inefficient. The four-legged one was wandering around the kitchen and dining room table meowing at me. It looked at me blankly and kept wandering in circles making plaintive noises. I continued to sit there watching it, and — eventually — quite the curious thing happened: it forgot I was there.

Here I must interject a significant anecdote if you are to fully understand this retelling of my morning. When I was working in an office, I would frequently come home to find the bottom kitchen drawer completely emptied of its contents (kitchen towels, hot pads, things you don't want touching your never-been-mopped kitchen floor). Occasionally, the cabinet under the kitchen sink would be open or the previous residents of the linen closet would be in diaspora. Once, I even walked into pots and pans strewn across the kitchen floor. Apparently, soft materials lost their appeal.

Back to the present story... As I watched, the whiskered fiend started sniffing the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen. It became especially interested in the third drawer, the one housing Ziploc bags. Because the contentedly overweight quadruped was not focusing its attentions on the fourth, kitchen-linen-containing drawer, I held back from throwing a well-aimed, blue, ballpoint Papermate pen at its fuzzy head. Instead I waited (with pen in hand). It managed to open the drawer and tried to dig out the Ziplocs. I debated about letting it have free reign to claw holes in my sandwich and freezer bags, but I was entranced by the problem-solving process, which included much time on its hind legs, of this little living creature.

I am not sure what was so interesting about static-wrapped plastic...

2 Weeks – one long-ass period of time

Mon, 16 Jul 2007 03:09:05 GMT

I should be packing. I think a year and a half is the longest I’ve lived in one location in the last 6 years.

65 hours a week is a bit much. Another week of it doesn’t excite me. And here’s to not being absolutely sure – about anything. It’s hard when some want me to stay. I like them; it’s the system that’s hellacious. A person is worth more than the amount of capital you think they can produce. Again, I was asked what my passion is. Learning living exploring being relating discovering analyzing loving. You cannot feed a family, let alone one person, pursuing any of my passions without corrupting their purity (my personal experience). I don’t want to analyze so your budget can expand. I don’t want to explore all of the different ways of dehumanizing employees/consumers. I don’t want my relating to be defined by your politics. I am tired.

I am becoming a Modest Mouse fan.

If you have a high-speed internet connection (and Quicktime – I think it’s free), check this out: More.

Can’t do it, not even if sober;
Can’t get that engine turned over.*

In a quiet desperation of the emptiness he says
There's gotta be something more than what I’m living for**

And I have no plans
I’m a plane in the sunset
With no where to land
And all I see
It could never make me happy
And all my sandcastles
Spend their time collapsing***

*Modest Mouse, The Lonesome Crowded West, Cowboy Dan
**Switchfoot, New Way to be Human, Something More (Augustine’s Confession)
***Switchfoot, New Way to be Human, Let That be Enough

Sharpie tattoos and promised pigtails

Sat, 30 Jun 2007 21:29:45 GMT

I have come back to a different world.

The world moves on without you. It does not stop because you do. "Make good choices." Nurse R, how do i measure "good"? There are so many choices now. (Were there ever any fewer?) Where will [we] live in a month? Where will i work? How will i pay my bills if i can't find a second part-time job? How quickly will i learn the language(s)? Is this a "good" choice? And the ever-present question: where am i going from here?

Whenever I come back, i always wonder about an MSW. What am i doing with my life? I don't play nicely with others; i like to learn and to analyze. But is there fulfillment in learning but not teaching, in analyzing but not providing reports? How can i give without burning out? She said that i am more drained by such interactions than even she is. 3.5 hours a day without children. Only the 20-minute showers provided relief from the adults. 20 minutes to think and to breathe and to be. 1.4% of the day. I hate that i come back with more questions than answers. I hate that i process so much differently than the societal standard. I wonder if she looked down on me for not crying. The ones i love - the cool ones - don't. The cool ones don't hold the power; maybe that's why they are cool.

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 00:50:24 GMT

I hate politics.

The USA. We designated India as a Tier 2 country because Rice didn’t want to alienate the Indian government. What? If India’s human trafficking is so bad that the committee/coalition in charge of such measurements wanted it on the Tier 3 list of countries, why should we change its status? What good is this report if we modify the findings every time they’re inconvenient? And Bush can veto any resultant sanctions that aren’t in the US’s “best interest”? Why bother? So we can pat ourselves on the back? Don’t we do that anyway?

My office. I just want to work. Please stop dragging me into your bullshit. And you’ll all tell me that it’s like this everywhere. I contend that some organizations are worse than others.

“You know we need oxygen to breathe…”* Please don’t suffocate me with your absurdities, inconsistencies, and logical fallacies. When I can’t any longer hide my defeat, it’s time to move on. You aren’t important enough to break over.

I prefer the PC version of Office: more features, better UI. Oh, and I despise that little computer helper dude. Who thought up that nuisance?

*(Cowboy Dan, The Lonesome Crowded West, Modest Mouse)

happy, for the moment

Tue, 12 Jun 2007 01:04:42 GMT

Por fin! An arm of the judiciary branch has done/said something.

"To sanction such presidential authority to order the military to seize and indefinitely detain civilians, even if the president calls them 'enemy combatants', would have disastrous consequences for the constitution - and the country," the court opinion said.

This does not mean Mr Marri must be set free though, the judges stated, saying he could face civilian criminal charges or be deported.

"Like others accused of terrorist activity in this country, from the Oklahoma City bombers to the surviving conspirator of the September 11 attacks, al-Marri can be returned to civilian prosecutors, tried on criminal charges, and, if convicted, punished severely," the court ruled.

"But the government cannot subject al-Marri to indefinite military detention."

"Give me the suit."

Sat, 26 May 2007 05:05:24 GMT

I don’t know why, but that line struck me. That was the first time I had ever heard the legend (that I remember). I wonder if we won’t all have to wear Jester’s suits.

I’ve recently become a huge fan of Tool and A Perfect Circle.

He misses her. So do I.

I don’t know what’s wrong with my mind. More frequently than I would like (as if any more often than never is likeable), I fall prey to weird quasi-visualizations of either someone or some creature about to murder/torture/attack me. These usually occur when I’m showering (during the afternoon or evening when I’m alone; almost never in the morning), when I’m getting ready for bed, or when I climb into bed. When I’m showering it’s always this feeling like I’ll look up or open my eyes and – almost before one could think s***! – there is an attacker. It could be a barracuda (like the one in Finding Nemo…seriously, that specific caricature has been haunting my thoughts for over a day now), a shark, a giant tarantula, or a funnel-web spider (aggressive, nasty villains). I don’t like octopi, either… If it’s not some sort of heinous monster outside of the homo genus (we’re the only ones in this genus, yes?), it’s Bates, it’s the guy in the Pelican Brief who slowly opens the mirrored closet doors before shooting Gavin Vereek, it’s one of the perpetrators from CSI, it’s my schema for all of the serial killers I have read about, it’s the girl from The Ring, it’s the hitchhiker from a direct-to-DVD horror flick (of which I’ve only seen the previews), it’s an alien from Signs or the red-loving beast from The Village, it’s my schema from all of the slumber-party scary murder stories, it’s the costumed rabbit from Donny Darko… I know it sounds ridiculous.

I ask myself why there would be a giant cartoon barracuda about to devour me as soon as I finish rinsing the shampoo from my hair. To date, I haven’t found a reasonable reply. Does this stop my heart from racing? No. Does the knowledge that I couldn’t do anything about it anyway help me? No. I mean, if there really were a tarantula about the size of Boggs’ car in striking position right outside of the shower door, would keeping my eyes shut make it go away? Oh, maybe it will get so bored of watching its prey that it loses its appetite. Right. And tell me again why anyone would wait until after his or her victim paid attention to deal the discapacitating blow? Isn’t the greatest chance of overall success when one catches another unawares? Unless terror is the goal… But here, again, what would I do lying down in bed? Nothing but hope I die quickly.

I would just like it all to go away. I don’t like seeing, even for a split second, terrifying, logic-defying sights. And I don’t like feeling crazy.

My mind is now as fuzzy as mold. I’m going to bed.

Never wear mauve at a ball...

Wed, 23 May 2007 00:09:27 GMT

Into the Woods is an incredible musical.

“Congrats on opening yourself to questions...” Well, now the questions are coming.

Freezer-burned ice cream

Sun, 13 May 2007 02:56:13 GMT

I was surprised at receiving a text two mornings in a row. When I read it, my first thought was “Did she die?” I must have said as much aloud, because then my coworker queried me on the discontinuity of my emotional response to the question. A few minutes later he understood that I wasn’t laughing at the prospect of her death but at my not knowing what I felt or should be feeling at that moment. For what else could that text mean than that something serious had happened? And knowing provides no more emotional clarity than the text.

Relationships are messy. And I mean really messy. Not even my room – at any time in my life – compares. I have a few metaphors to choose from, but I think, perhaps, chocolate chip cookies are the most pleasant and illustrative of the bunch. (It wouldn’t do to compare relationships and love to out-of-code chicken parts or crab innards.) Think of freshly baked C.C. cookies, when the dough is still a little soft, and the chocolate is gooey. When you pick them up from the cooling rack, because there is no way in hell you’re waiting until they’re “ready,” not only do you burn yourself, but you get chocolate all over your mouth, your fingers, and under your nails. Now, and this could just be my obsession with clean hands, begins hide and seek with the chocolate, which definitely was fully melted before it ever had a chance to reach your mouth. You find one patch of chocolate and clean that off (whether you’re licking your fingers or using a napkin is up to you). But wait! Why are there dark smears on your white shirt? Alas! It seems that you missed a dab stealthily crouching between your ring and middle fingers. Then your friend laughs at you because you still have some chocolate on your face, and while you’re trying to remove that little bit, you discover chocolate on your other hand, too. Ad infinitum on the chocolate hunt. I swear I have to use my meat-worker hand brush when I’ve eaten C.C. cookies. The chocolate runs into my nails to avoid detection. Relationships are like the freshly melted chocolate. You think you’ve only gotten chocolate on your fingers, and all you’ve got to do is wash the one and be done with the mess. But no! In the time it took you to isolate the one smudge on your pinky, the chocolate has spread to other locations, rendering them messy, as well. And in the meantime, these chocolate splotches are staining clothing and marking coffee tables. The one cookie succeeded in getting your face, hands, elbows/forearms, clothing, and furniture messy.

Hmm…okay, well maybe a rock dropped in a pond would have worked as well, but thinking of a chocolate chip cookie was just yummy. It also stretched my narrative and descriptive skills.

Last week's song. This week's song.

Sat, 21 Apr 2007 01:04:53 GMT

Anyone else reeling from that Supreme Court ruling? Ouch.

Below are excerpts from the ruling. Regardless of what i think about abortion, the reasoning of the Court is severely flawed.

Majority opinion:
Respect for human life finds an ultimate expression in the bond of love the mother has for her child. The Act recognizes this reality as well. Whether to have an abortion requires a difficult and painful moral decision. Casey, supra, at 852-853 (opinion of the Court).

Dissenting opinion:
Ultimately, the Court admits that "moral concerns" are at work, concerns that could yield prohibitions on any abortion. See ante, at 28 ("Congress could ... conclude that the type of abortion proscribed by the Act requires specific regulation because it implicates additional ethical and moral concerns that justify a special prohibition."). Notably, the concerns expressed are untethered to any ground genuinely serving the Government's interest in preserving life. By allowing such concerns to carry the day and case, overriding fundamental rights, the Court dishonors our precedent. See, e.g., Casey, 505 U. S., at 850 ("Some of us as individuals find abortion offensive to our most basic principles of morality, but that cannot control our decision. Our obligation is to define the liberty of all, not to mandate our own moral code."); Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U. S. 558, 571 (2003) (Though "[f]or many persons [objections to homosexual conduct] are not trivial concerns but profound and deep convictions accepted as ethical and moral principles," the power of the State may not be used "to enforce these views on the whole society through operation of the criminal law." (citing Casey, 505 U. S., at 850)).

     Revealing in this regard, the Court invokes an antiabortion shibboleth for which it concededly has no reliable evidence: Women who have abortions come to regret their choices, and consequently suffer from "[s]evere depression and loss of esteem." Ante, at 29.7 Because of women's fragile emotional state and because of the "bond of love the mother has for her child," the Court worries, doctors may withhold information about the nature of the intact D&E procedure. Ante, at 28-29.8 The solution the Court approves, then, is not to require doctors to inform women, accurately and adequately, of the different procedures and their attendant risks. Cf. Casey, 505 U. S., at 873 (plurality opinion) ("States are free to enact laws to provide a reasonable framework for a woman to make a decision that has such profound and lasting meaning."). Instead, the Court deprives women of the right to make an autonomous choice, even at the expense of their safety.9

     This way of thinking reflects ancient notions about women's place in the family and under the Constitution--ideas that have long since been discredited. Compare, e.g., Muller v. Oregon, 208 U. S. 412, 422-423 (1908) ("protective" legislation imposing hours-of-work limitations on women only held permissible in view of women's "physical structure and a proper discharge of her maternal funct[ion]"); Bradwell v. State, 16 Wall. 130, 141 (1873) (Bradley, J., concurring) ("Man is, or should be, woman's protector and defender. The natural and proper timidity and delicacy which belongs to the female sex evidently unfits it for many of the occupations of civil life. ... The paramount destiny and mission of woman are to fulfil[l] the noble and benign offices of wife and mother."), with United States v. Virginia, 518 U. S. 515, 533, 542, n. 12 (1996) (State may not rely on "overbroad generalizations" about the "talents, capacities, or preferences" of women; "[s]uch judgments have ... impeded ... women's progress toward full citizenship stature throughout our Nation's history"); Califano v. Goldfarb, 430 U. S. 199, 207 (1977) (gender-based Social Security classification rejected because it rested on "archaic and overbroad generalizations" "such as assumptions as to [women's] dependency" (internal quotation marks omitted)).

     Though today's majority may regard women's feelings on the matter as "self-evident," ante, at 29, this Court has repeatedly confirmed that "[t]he destiny of the woman must be shaped ... on her own conception of her spiritual imperatives and her place in society." Casey, 505 U. S., at 852. See also id., at 877 (plurality opinion) ("[M]eans chosen by the State to further the interest in potential life must be calculated to inform the woman's free choice, not hinder it."); supra, at 3-4.

Dissenting conclusion:
In sum, the notion that the Partial-Birth Abortion Ban Act furthers any legitimate governmental interest is, quite simply, irrational. The Court's defense of the statute provides no saving explanation. In candor, the Act, and the Court's defense of it, cannot be understood as anything other than an effort to chip away at a right declared again and again by this Court--and with increasing comprehension of its centrality to women's lives. See supra, at 3, n. 2; supra, at 7, n. 4. When "a statute burdens constitutional rights and all that can be said on its behalf is that it is the vehicle that legislators have chosen for expressing their hostility to those rights, the burden is undue." Stenberg, 530 U. S., at 952 (Ginsburg, J., concurring) (quoting Hope Clinic v. Ryan, 195 F. 3d 857, 881 (CA7 1999) (Posner, C. J., dissenting)).

“So how was being a girl?”

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 23:15:04 GMT

Apparently, being a girl is defined as wearing a formal dress, having an updo, and wearing makeup. She did quickly correct herself to “being girly,” but I don’t think that’s an accurate description either. Why is it a problem that I don’t like wearing makeup? I don’t mind eye liner, if only it didn’t hurt my eyes after a while, if one could rub one’s eyes or even cry without smearing black all over one’s face, and if it didn’t take 5 minutes to put on and an eternity to remove. The whole formal dress bit…how impractical. The accompanying shoes are painful, the train has to be bustled or it will be stepped on, and even then I trip on the trim of the dress; of course one ought not to traipse around but instead to stand still or to sit. And the updo! Getting ready in the morning would be another job, as would going to bed in the evening. I wouldn’t accomplish anything but being presentable. I thought I was free from such constraints. Dressing up occasionally is nice. I don’t mind it if I’m not made especially self-conscious of the fact that I’m “being a girl.” As if I don’t have XX chromosomes or breasts or a vagina and clitoris. As if I’m not already daily reminded of my position in society because of these things.

Why do people make such a big deal about my nonconformity? Who cares if I prefer blue or black to pink? More pink for you. Who cares if I’m not into makeup and finery? Less competition for you. Why am I so threatening? “Ohh…cute, red.” So my toenails are red. So what? They’ve been pink, purple, neon green, neon orange, black, blue. How does the color of my nails make me a girl?

What she should have asked was, “So how was living up to the feminine ideal designed to objectify, dehumanize, and oppress? Did you enjoy being seen for the object you painted yourself to be? Aren’t aching feet, burning shoulder blades, and throbbing head enjoyable?”

I enjoyed myself, but not for the reasons you think I did.

Another incomplete thought

Sun, 01 Apr 2007 02:09:14 GMT

Duplicities, contradictions, paradoxes, liminal spaces, borderlands.

Who are we really? Our own interpretations, I suppose. There is no special knowledge. Like the Once-runner said, woven yarn. And I suppose we’re shaped just as much by what doesn’t “touch” us as by what does. And whose answer is correct? I am, to you, whoever you want me to be, regardless of who I consider myself to be.

If I didn’t know something about myself, and having found out, can it be said that I was who I am now if nothing but cognisance has changed?

I am a wind-swayed bridge, a crossroads inhabited by whirlwinds… You say my name is ambivalence? Think of me as Shiva, a many-armed and legged body with one foot on brown soil, one on white, one in straight society, one in the gay world, the man’s world, the women’s, one limb in the literary world, another in the working class, the socialist, and the occult worlds. A sort of spider woman hanging by one thin strand of web.
Who, me confused? Ambivalent? Not so. Only your labels split me.
- Gloria Anzaldua, “La Prieta” (as quoted in Women and Bisexuality: A Global Perspective, 35)

“The fact that reality is not always as discrete as we wish it were leads us not to reject our categories, but rather to reject reality.” (Rust, as quoted in Women and Bisexuality: A Global Perspective, 59)

“[Something] is only invisible because it is not seen…The failure to see [something] lies in the observer, not the observed.” (Rust, as quoted in Women and Bisexuality: A Global Perspective, 46)

I am Beloved. I am a daughter, a sibling, a lower middle-class paper-shuffler, a college graduate, a friend, a female, ## years old… I could just as easily say I am one who owns more than 8 beater shirts or I am the one who calls Bob a defective dog. Why is one description privileged over another? For what is the answer of the “Who am/are?” question than a series of descriptions? What one does in order to earn money, who one’s family is, what one does when not working, what one values religiously or politically. What you do is who you are?

The big brown dog with the golden eyes and red patchy fur that drinks from a blue-rimmed bowl and plays Frisbee with the kids every Thursday afternoon once it’s finished with agility training. Who is that dog? It’s brown. It’s big. It has golden eyes. It’s the one that is training for agility. It’s the one that lives with/plays with children. But what is that dog really? I gave a physical description. Certainly there are other dogs that fit that description – probably half that particular breed. How many of those blue-rimmed bowls did the pet store sell? Training for Agility is a magazine, so there have to be other dogs that endure such rigorous exercises. What is that dog among the others? Or all they all just dogs dressed up with verbs and modifiers?

Mon, 26 Mar 2007 02:39:09 GMT

This morning I enjoyed a Sunday brunch replete with champange/cranberry cocktail.

But Habit Is A Great Deadener....or "(she) do(es) not move"

Mon, 26 Mar 2007 02:37:55 GMT

(My Waiting For Godot remix)

ESTRAGON:
We are happy. (Silence.) What do we do now, now that we are happy?
VLADIMIR:
Well? What do we do?
ESTRAGON:
Don't let's do anything. It's safer.
VLADIMIR:
Let's wait and see what he says.
ESTRAGON:
Who?
VLADIMIR:
Godot.
ESTRAGON:
Good idea.
VLADIMIR:
Let's wait till we know exactly how we stand.
ESTRAGON:
On the other hand it might be better to strike the iron before it freezes.
VLADIMIR:
I'm curious to hear what he has to offer. Then we'll take it or leave it.
ESTRAGON:
What exactly did we ask him for?
VLADIMIR:
Were you not there?
ESTRAGON:
I can't have been listening.
VLADIMIR:
Oh . . . Nothing very definite.
ESTRAGON:
Inspiring prospects. (He turns to Vladimir.) Let's go.
VLADIMIR:
We can't.
ESTRAGON:
Why not?
VLADIMIR:
We're waiting for Godot.
ESTRAGON:
(despairingly). Ah! (Pause.) You're sure it was here?
VLADIMIR:
What?
ESTRAGON:
That we were to wait.
VLADIMIR:
He said by the tree. (They look at the tree.) Do you see any others?
VLADIMIR:
A—. What are you insinuating? That we've come to the wrong place?
ESTRAGON:
He should be here.
VLADIMIR:
He didn't say for sure he'd come.
ESTRAGON:
And if he doesn't come?
VLADIMIR:
We'll come back tomorrow.
ESTRAGON:
And then the day after tomorrow.
VLADIMIR:
Possibly.
ESTRAGON:
And so on.
VLADIMIR:
The point is—
ESTRAGON:
Until he comes.
POZZO:
(suddenly furious.) Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? (Calmer.) They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
ESTRAGON:
In the meantime let us try and converse calmly, since we are incapable of keeping silent.
VLADIMIR:
You're right, we're inexhaustible.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't think.
VLADIMIR:
We have that excuse.
ESTRAGON:
It's so we won't hear.
VLADIMIR:
We have our reasons.
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! (Pause. Vehemently.) Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Not indeed that we personally are needed. Others would meet the case equally well, if not better. To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late! Let us represent worthily for once the foul brood to which a cruel fate consigned us! What do you say? (Estragon says nothing.) It is true that when with folded arms we weigh the pros and cons we are no less a credit to our species. The tiger bounds to the help of his congeners without the least reflection, or else he slinks away into the depths of the thickets. But that is not the question. What are we doing here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come—
ESTRAGON:
Ah!
POZZO:
Help!
VLADIMIR:
Or for night to fall. (Pause.) We have kept our appointment and that's an end to that. We are not saints, but we have kept our appointment. How many people can boast as much?
ESTRAGON:
Billions.
VLADIMIR:
You think so?
ESTRAGON:
I don't know.
VLADIMIR:
You may be right.
ESTRAGON:
That's enough. I'm tired.
VLADIMIR:
You'd rather be stuck there doing nothing?
ESTRAGON:
Yes.
VLADIMIR:
Please yourself.
(Silence. Vladimir goes towards Estragon, contemplates him a moment, then shakes him awake.)
ESTRAGON:
(wild gestures, incoherent words. Finally.) Why will you never let me sleep?
VLADIMIR:
I felt lonely.
ESTRAGON:
I was dreaming I was happy.
VLADIMIR:
That passed the time.
VLADIMIR:
We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don't protest, we are bored to death, there's no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste. Come, let's get to work! (He advances towards the heap, stops in his stride.) In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!
(He broods.)
VLADIMIR:
No no! (He reflects.) We could start all over again perhaps.
ESTRAGON:
That should be easy.
VLADIMIR:
It's the start that's difficult.
ESTRAGON:
You can start from anything.
VLADIMIR:
Yes, but you have to decide.
ESTRAGON:
True.
(Silence.)
POZZO:
(To Vladimir.) Think twice before you do anything rash. Suppose you go now while it is still day, for there is no denying it is still day. (They all look up at the sky.) Good. (They stop looking at the sky.) …what happens in that case to your appointment with this . . . Godet . . . Godot . . . Godin . . . anyhow you see who I mean, who has your future in his hands . . . (pause) . . . at least your immediate future?
VLADIMIR:
Who told you?
VLADIMIR:
Well?
ESTRAGON:
We're not tied?
VLADIMIR:
I don't hear a word you're saying.
ESTRAGON:
I'm asking you if we're tied.
VLADIMIR:
Tied?
ESTRAGON:
Ti-ed.
VLADIMIR:
How do you mean tied?
ESTRAGON:
Down.
VLADIMIR:
But to whom? By whom?
ESTRAGON:
To your man.
VLADIMIR:
To Godot? Tied to Godot! What an idea! No question of it. (Pause.) For the moment.
ESTRAGON:
His name is Godot?
VLADIMIR:
I think so.
ESTRAGON:
Fancy that.
ESTRAGON:
We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?
VLADIMIR:
(impatiently). Yes yes, we're magicians. But let us persevere in what we have resolved, before we forget.
ESTRAGON:
Didi?
VLADIMIR:
Yes.
ESTRAGON:
I can't go on like this.
VLADIMIR:
That's what you think.
ESTRAGON:
If we parted? That might be better for us.
VLADIMIR:
We'll hang ourselves tomorrow. (Pause.) Unless Godot comes.
ESTRAGON:
And if he comes?
VLADIMIR:
We'll be saved.

VLADIMIR:
Well? Shall we go?
ESTRAGON:
Yes, let’s go.
(They do not move.)

***********
VLADIMIR:
Was I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot? That Pozzo passed, with his carrier, and that he spoke to us? Probably. But in all that what truth will there be?
(Estragon, having struggled with his boots in vain, is dozing off again. Vladimir looks at him.) He'll know nothing. He'll tell me about the blows he received and I'll give him a carrot. (Pause.) Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. (He listens.) But habit is a great deadener. (He looks again at Estragon.) At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, He is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on. (Pause.) I can't go on! (Pause.) What have I said?

***********
ESTRAGON:
We are all born mad. Some remain so.