ZippyLand

Scary Jesus lovers

Now I am truly all for the kinds of beliefs that empower people and give them hope in life, but I'm sorry, this is some scary-ass propaganda.

First, tooling around on a blog by this guy who loves the Onion, I found his link to the Creationist Science Fair (oxymoron, yes?) which has both funny winners like "Pine Cones Are Complicated" and "Pokemon Prove Evolutionism Is False" and disturbing ones such as "Women Were Designed For Homemaking".

Then I realized that this fair took place in 2001, so I was curious to see if there were any more recent 'Science' Fairs. Instead, I discovered this fascinating site update: "While closely rereading the Statement of Faith of our previous webhost, Cross Spot, we made the sad discovery that they are not firm enough in their opposition to the erroneous doctrine of triclavianism." Triclavianism is the belief that Jesus was nailed onto the cross with only three nails, which somehow has the power to transcend web hosting skills.

Additionally, I found a helpful hint for the end-of-the-month Satanic festival known as Halloween: "Consider this: At what other time of the year do throngs of unsaved children come to your door, begging for you to give them a treat? Why not use this unique opportunity to give these deprived children the best treat of all - the treat of Christ's Love and eternal Salvation?"

Wow. I'm speechless. And a little scared of the prospect of throngs of unsaved children knocking on my door...that sounds creepy.

Tic of the Day

It is like, gross. (in Czech accent)

Floating

Dissociative disease - probably a catchphrase I picked up somewhere to describe a medical malady, that I'm sure I don't suffer from in real life...it still accurately describes my view on the past and present.

(Aha! Dissociative Identitiy Disorder - a.k.a. Multiple Personalities. Yeah, I'm definitely not suffering from that.)

I ran cross country in high school - the first day, we ran 7 miles, and I remember my legs turning to jello and my chest tightening as though readying for liftoff into space. I remember the physical sensations, yet a major part of my brain has difficulty accepting the fact that that person was ME. I remember writing an epic poem summarizing The Odyssey, writing feverishly on the tourboats I worked on, in between cleaning the boat and waiting for the tourists to show up. Was there really a time when I wrote epic poems with skill? Was I really in plays and choir, even karate just 2 years ago?

This goes both ways, regarding some of the questionable choices I've made - I have done some things that the accepted moral code of this God-fearing American society would be ready to jump all over. I can accept this intellectually, yet in my mind I can only look impassively at these acts as events that have shaped the course of my life, and revel in the fact that they are proof that I'm ALIVE.

Mostly, though, I feel that this behind-the-scenes approach leaves me wanting - wanting to be a better friend and girlfriend and lover and worker, more creative, less boring, more intellectual - things that seem out of reach for someone removed from her physcial self.

Pesty

I reread one of my all-time favorite books, Richard Scarry's Please and Thank You Book today. I have always enjoyed the 'Lowly Worm's Horrid Pests' section, and I was curious to reevaluate what type of pest best describes me. Well, nothing has really changed from when I got my book at age 2. I have some 'Interrupting Pest' in me, but the winner by far is 'Driving People Crazy Pest'. My methodology and target audience have changed greatly over the years, but I still hold my titles with honor. As to whether I've mastered my other favorite childhood book, How to be a Grouch by Oscar the Grouch...I think I still need to work on that one a bit.

Yummm

I'll admit it - it's one hour until the season premiere of Alias and I'm actually excited. About a TV show premiere. I will defend myself with the fact that Jennifer Garner looks insanely hot in certain outfits and does a believeable job of defending herself, despite the fact that the situations she finds herself in are the stuff of fantastic imaginations.

I am not as excited about the prospect of a new season of listening to my resident geek tell me how completely ridiculous most of the techie jargon is, and using the wonders of TiVo to pause, rewind, watch and laugh in hilarity again at each instance (or to check its validity). Karma in effect, I guess - the good with the annoying. Heh.

The Next Day

Oh, yes - the day after a night of revelry, attempting to appear to work diligently and wondering where your brain oozed out to - most likely on to the pillow to sleep the sunlight away. Kelly and I decided to face our long-time fear of feminists, and check out the Guerrilla Girls at the Corcoran, discussing their new book 'Bitches, Bimbos and Ballbreakers' etc. etc. It was a good step for us, because the women were very intelligent, spoke in normal voices, had a lot of humour, and had very clear goals - to promote women and minorities in the art world, and to, in their words, reinvent the 'f' word - feminism. Thank god, there was a distinct lack of men-bashing and 'womyn' superiority. So we were able to enjoy ourselves and then top it off by going out and agreeing to do large kamikaze shots. Woo-hoo! Go girls!

In many respects, it's been hard for me to approach ideas or fields of study in men/women terms - being raised to consider things from a logical, analytical, equal mindset makes it hard, even distasteful, to think of something like art as gender produced. It's art, and art I enjoy triggers emotions and thoughts in me, and that's what always been important - regardless of the sex of person from which it came. I realized last night, that my naïve self has failed to consider the many people involved in actually putting the art in front of me, and the fact that many of those people are extremely biased in choosing what they present, and most likely not biased in the same ways I am - where as I might not like something from an emotional standpoint, the art world makes choices based on race, gender, politics, etc. From my dabbling w/ art I know the extreme personalities involved, so this should not have been a huge revelation; but still, my assumption of fairness clouds reality sometimes. Duh.

Anyway, the women in gorilla masks put my brain to work, but in a tongue-in-cheek, 'wake up, silly!' manner, whereas they could have easily been angry about it and pissed me and most everyone else off. They probably wouldn't have lasted 18 years, then. Plus, they have an altered 'Women's Terror Alert System' poster w/ the Low Alert being: President Rides Around On Horse, Clears Brush on Ranch'. Isn't that a great visual? Even better to imagine him on his Segway...

I'm Will Turner

...at least according to one very reputable quiz, of the 'What Pirates of the Caribbean Character Are You' kind. My sister and I are apparently in battle over who loves Orlando Bloom more; although I think at age 13, she automatically wins. As it should be.

Although I am a little perturbed by her profile announcing her as 'SuperVixen'. Am I old?

In other news...the water is drinkable again in the City of Alexandria and surrounding counties.
Also, my friend Chris is very funny. Ha ha, Chris! You're nuts!
Weird things happen when you must take a canoe to get to a party.

*Sigh*

I am in my fuzzy, slightly sleepy state that comes after a long, enjoyable night/morning of partying followed by sleeping through the day. Everything is relaxed, my long-affected sense of smell seems to be returning in full force (after 3 months of muggy-DC sinus problems), and it is a beautiful, clear, cool & fragrant night. Perhaps enticing enough to rouse me to celebrate more of the 4-day weekend.

I found out, as I was sitting & interneting, that my favorite host ever, David Brancaccio of Marketplace, has moved to a different job and is a contributor to NOW w/ Bill Moyers.
http://www.pbs.org/now/series/contributors.html
How sad is that? Maybe I never really did care about the stock market, but just that intellectually stimulating, full-of-humour-and-zest voice that brightened my commute home every evening. The thought of no more Fridays of witty banter between David B. and Dallas stockbroker David Johnson is thoroughly depressing.

No, really - I'm serious.

At least I still have Don & Mike.

Storm Survivor

Of course, I tempted fate last night by beginning an entry concerning my disbelief that we hadn't lost power yet...causing us to lose power at least 5 times. My apt. is an island surrounded by evactuated houses and extreme flooding from the Potomac River...only a left turn into the city is an option right now.

My experience of the force of the storm is only an experience because I took the time to look out the windows and turn off the fan; otherwise, our little den would have continued shielding us from any knowledge of Isabel. Almost like living in my dream home of age 11...

http://www.findaproperty.co.uk/cgi-bin/story.pl?storyid=3918

(which still looks pretty cool, except for the fact that it's called an 'Earthship')

Eeep

Hurricane's a' comin', hurricane's a' comin'...doodle-eee-doo doo doo.