It's not easy being me

	27 September 2002, 4:57 peeyem Oh, dear. The weekend already. I am happy for the rain we have had. It has been slow and steady and soft, for the most part. My headache is, for the moment, gone. This pleases me, too. The other thing that is pleasing me a whole lot is that my YH roommate Jennifer contacted me the other day. I had given up on ever knowing what happened to her, and now I know that she's safe and sound and warm and dry. Other friends are having a tough time of it right here lately, though, and while I am keeping them close in my thoughts, I wish I could do more. 26 September 2002, 10:18 ayem I have a headache. I don't know if it's a migraine or a sinus headache, but I'm about tired of it. I have had a zomig, and if that doesn't do it, I think I'm just going to have to go home and take a Tylenol PM or something and try to sleep through the rest of it. I feel like my head wants to bust wide open. 25 September 2002, 5:38 peeyem Did I ever mention that I sing? A lot? And that I can't carry a tune? But I do it gleefully anyway? One of my favorite things to sing along to is anything on The Austin Sessions, which I will call one of the the finest CDs I have. If you don't appreciate Kris Kristofferson yet, you should. He was a Rhodes Scholar, in case you didn't know, and turned down a teaching position at West Point. Click here for an update to the lyrics page. 25 September 2002, 2:11 peeyem N-O. What is so hard to understand about me saying no? What is so hard to understand about letting something go? What is so hard about just Not Being An Ass? Last night we arrived at 6 to start our makeups. There was a gentleman (you know, my grandmother used to say gentleman is what we say when that is not quite what we mean) who told me in no uncertain terms that his team was practicing on those courts at 7. Um, no you're not. I have the keys and am on the schedule for three matches. Tonight. On these courts. And you know what? This happens to the best of us. But makeup matches take precedence over practice, because there's a deadline for getting your makeups done. It happened, in fact, to my team last week, and we just moved to another court and let it go. But he kept on, trying, I think, to intimidate me. He threw up the fact that he paid for courts. Well, guess what? So did I. Things are tough all over. At one point he told me that he would have 20 men there at 7 who would make me clear those courts. I just gave him the blank stare and told him I didn't much see it, if I had to park my car in front of that gate. He wanted me to move to other courts. And it's not just that he wanted my team to move, he wanted vistors to move, visitors who have no idea how to get back to the other courts. In the middle of a match. Fat chance, buddy. I feel that I showed remarkable restraint in not turning him over my knee and spanking him. How do you suppose he will like it if I show up there at 9 this Saturday morning and harass him before his match and delay him starting? Hmmm? 24 September 2002, 2:31 peeyem Normally I would make a link to things like this, but it's so important I'm going to write it on the wall... By Molly Ivins AUSTIN -- No. This is not acceptable. This is not the country we want to be. This is not the world we want to make. The United States of America is still run by its citizens. The government works for us. Rank imperialism and warmongering are not American traditions or values. We do not need to dominate the world. We want and need to work with other nations. We want to find solutions other than killing people. Not in our name, not with our money, not with our children's blood. I rarely use the word "we" because it's so arrogant for one citizen to presume to speak for all of us -- and besides, Americans famously can't agree on the time of day. But on this one, I know we want to find a way so that killing is the last resort, not the first. We would rather put our time, energy, money and even blood into making peace than making war. "The National Security Strategy of the United States -- 2002" is repellent, unnecessary and, above all, impractical. Americans are famous for pragmatism, and we need a good dose of common sense right now. This Will Not Work. All the experts tell us anti-Americanism thrives on the perception that we are arrogant, that we care nothing for what the rest of the world thinks. Even our innocent mistakes are often blamed on obnoxious triumphalism. The announced plan of this administration for world domination reinforces every paranoid, anti-American prejudice on this earth. This plan is guaranteed to produce more terrorists. Even if this country were to become some insane, 21st century version of Sparta -- armed to teeth, guards on every foot of our borders -- we would still not be safe. Have the Israelis been able to stop terrorism with their tactics? Not only would we not be safe, we would not have a nickel left for schools or health care or roads or parks or zoos or gardens or universities or mass transit or senior centers or the arts or anything resembling civilization. This is nuts. This creepy, un-American document has a pedigree going back to Bush I, when -- surprise! -- Dick Cheney and Paul Wolfowitz were at the Department of Defense and both such geniuses that they not only didn't see the collapse of the Soviet Union coming, they didn't believe it after they saw it. In those days, this plan for permanent imperial adventurism was called "Defense Strategy for the 1990s" and was supposed to be a definitive response to the Soviet threat. Then the Soviet threat disappeared, and the same plan re-emerged as a response to the post-Soviet world. It was roundly criticized at the time, its manifest weaknesses attacked by both right and left. Now it is back yet again as the answer to post-Sept. 11. Sort of like the selling of the Bush tax cut -- needed in surplus, needed in deficit, needed for rain and shine -- the plan exists apart from rationale. As Frances Fitzgerald points out in the Sept. 26 New York Review of Books, its most curious feature is the combination of triumphalism and almost unmitigated pessimism. Until last Friday, when the thing was re-released in its new incarnation, it contained no positive goals for American foreign policy, not one. Now the plan is tricked out with rhetoric like earrings on a pig about extending freedom, democracy and prosperity to the world. But as The New York Times said, "It sounds more like a pronouncement that the Roman Empire or Napoleon might have produced." In what is indeed a dangerous and uncertain world, we need the cooperation of other nations as never before. Under this doctrine, we claim the right to first-strike use of nuclear weapons and "unannounced pre-emptive strikes." That means surprise attacks. Happy Pearl Harbor Day. We have just proclaimed ourselves Bully of the World. There is a better way. Foreign policy experts polled at the end of the 20th century agreed the great triumph of the past 100 years in foreign policy was the Marshall Plan. We can use our strength to promote our interests through diplomacy, economic diplomacy, multilateral institutions (which we dominate anyway) and free trade conditioned to benefit all. None of this will make Al Qaeda love us, but will make it a lot more likely that whoever finds them will hand them over. This reckless, hateful and ineffective approach to the rest of the world has glaring weaknesses. It announces that we intend to go in and take out everybody else's nukes (27 countries have them) whenever we feel like it. Meanwhile, we're doing virtually nothing to stop their spread. Last month, Ted Turner's Nuclear Threat Initiative had to pony up $5 million to get poorly secured, weapons-grade uranium out of Belgrade. Privatizing disarmament, why didn't we think of that before? The final absurdity is that the plan is supposed to Stop Change. Does no one in the administration read history? 24 September 2002, 11:02 ayem Google is a wonderful thing. Britt Parker is the Dublin Area Conservationist. I don't want to get in touch with him, don't need to know more. 24 September 2002, 10:22 ayem Does she walk? Does she talk? Does she come complete? My homeroom homeroom angel Always pulled me from my seat She was pure like snowflakes No one could ever stain The memory of my angel Could never cause me pain Years go by I'm looking through a girlie magazine And there's my homeroom angel on the pages in-between My blood runs cold My memory has just been sold My angel is the centerfold... God, I love FM radio. I heard this on the radio this morning on the way in, and it took me way back to high school. This song always reminds of Britt Parker, because he did his pantomime to it in Dramatic Arts class. How he ended up in that class is beyond me, because he was a hunky jock. Wonder what ever happened to him? My guess is that he went off on his mission, then came back and got a degree in agronomy or something and has taken over his daddy's farm and has a wife and a few kids and a great dog. I treasure my delusions of people. Britt has a brother, Al, who I actually saw here at Lenox Square one day a few years ago. Michael and I were walking down the mall and we passed this couple and I grabbed Michael's arm and said "Omigod. That's Al Parker!" Michael, of course, has no idea who Al Parker is, and I had to explain. I couldn't decide whether to say something to him or not, so we kept walking. All of a sudden, when we were about 30 feet apart, I turned around and yelled "Hey, Al Parker!" Then I got all flustered and walked away, leaving Michael standing there looking at him. I think at that moment he could have gleefully killed me. I think Al's a gynecologist here in Atlanta...you can bet I won't be going to him. I think I'd want the earth to open up and swallow me whole. Not that he's not a nice guy and all, it would just be too weird. 23 September 2002, 2:15 peeyem What I have learned in the last few days: 1. It's not as easy for me to pay attention in class as it used to be (not that it was easy before, you understand). 2. How to make a short movie using Flash 3. Persagel, while great for zits, is hell on your linens, leaving bleached out spots. 4. Sometimes enough sleep isn't enough sleep. 23 September 2002, 10:58 ayem Happy Boss Day, Brenda! 18 September 2002, 3:24 peeyem Tomorrow and Friday I will be in a class at Georgia Tech, so probably no posts. Well, unless I do it from home. Who knows? Speaking of which, I need to go to the bank on the way home or I won't have money to park the car when I get there in the morning. Parking at Georgia Tech, if you are wondering, just sucks. I'd take MARTA, but it takes too damn long to get there that way, and I'd still have to leave the car somewhere. There's a really great parking lot that I know how to get to, but once I get to it, I don't know how to get to my class except by making a lap around the entire campus. People are starving in India and I can't find anywhere to park. I have been pissy this afternoon to someone who was pissy to me yesterday. And no, this does not make me happy, not in the least. 17 September 2002, 12:18 peeyem Man. Those ladies at JP Stevens are worthless. They have acquired a traffic cone from who knows where and taped a sign to it that reads Do Not Remove This Cone. Thank You. JP Stevens. They keep it in a parking space. I thought it was there for deliveries, but no. Today I went to pick up lunch, and as I was walking down the sidewalk back to the car, one of the ladies ran for the telephone (cigarette dangling from her lip, trashy novel in hand) and then ran back out, just in time to move the cone for her (also bottle blonde) coworker to pull her urban assault vehicle into the spot. I think the second one called the first one to come move the cone. But here's the thing: it's not a big parking lot to start with. At most, she'd have to park, oh, 40 feet away from the door. In addition to the parking sorriness, I went in there several weeks ago, wanting to have some informals engraved. They asked if I had a die and I told them that indeed I do, but they'd need to call the commercial department and have it sent over. I don't want commercial to do the informals, because I don't want 500 of them. I just need a box or two. The next thing I knew, I was being called by a representative at the commercial office with a quote. Now I'm not ordering at all. I'll just go to the Crane's store at the mall. I think they just didn't have the gumption to pick up a pen and fill out the paperwork themselves. 16 September 2002, 3:48 peeyem Got the rain I needed. But that didn't stop us from having to go out there anyway just to feel the rain. Now we have the extreme delight of makeup matches. I just did the shameful thing and took my laundry to be done. I do it myself, unless I just run out of time. I'd feel worse about it, but it's only ever about $10 or less, and it costs me nearly that much to do it myself. I don't know. It just feels so...decadent. I am wearing long pants for the first time since April. I'm hot and cranky and my feet are sweating. 13 September 2002, 2:25 peeyem In a stunning display of Being Responsible and Thinking Ahead, I took myself to the bank today and opened a savings account for vacation that is completely unrelated to my other accounts. I have never done such a thing and am feeling a little giddy with it all. I have had savings, but never specifically earmarked, and never this hard to get at. Put that with the online bill pay and I might start looking like a reasonable adult. It's raining here, finally. I need it to rain all day Sunday, or at least Sunday afternoon. I need this in the worst way, so do your little rain dance or whatever and help me out here. 12 September 2002, 2:37 peeyem I paid two bills online. Hot damn, I'm cooking with gas now. I noted this morning that Mary Mac's is now serving "Breakfast." I'm not certain to whom they're attributing the quote, or if they're trying to say that they are serving a breakfast-like meal. I hate misplaced quotation marks. At the Atlanta Journal, of all things, where you'd expect them to know better, there's a sign over the door to the production building that reads "Authorized Employees Only." Who said that first? Was it Ralph McGill? Or no, Henry Grady? Should every sign in the world that reads Authorized Employees Only have quotation marks? Because I don't want to deny credit to anyone who deserves it. 11 September 2002, 2:01 peeyem This time last year, I was practically mute with horror at what was happening to the world around me. When I saw the first plane hit on television, I thought it was an accident for just one brief moment. And then when I saw the second one, all I could think was Holy Shit. Somebody did that on purpose. When the plane hit the Pentagon an hour later, I was convinced there was going to be one every hour. I spent a great portion of that day scrambling to find out if my New York friends were okay. I spent more of that day sending up a little prayer of thanks that Trace was here. I wanted Leanne to leave work. I wanted Kate and Dana to leave work. I wanted Brenda to leave work. I wanted my friends at the JC to go home right away. I didn't want Kara to ride MARTA. I was grateful that Chris and Susan and Chip had already come home from New York. I was hopeful that Chris wasn't traveling. I hoped against hope that Tod wasn't near the Pentagon when it happened, and I was happy that Joanna and Ethan had not already moved there to be with him. I don't think I cried at all that day, though I have certainly cried about that day in the past year. I and many others spent the days mesmerized by the television, the morbid fascination refusing to subside. Today there are tributes on the radio, on television, in the newspapers. There are billboards and flags waving all over the place. Many people will go to their house of worship some time today to say a special prayer for peace, and many others will take part in other activities to mark the day, to remember the dead, to celebrate the living. I don't want this day made a holiday. I don't want Hallmark to mark it with warm fuzzies. I don't want it to become a day people look forward to because it means a day off. I don't want it to become an exuse to spend the day working in the yard or lying on the beach. I don't want it to become one of the government-assigned Mondays. Today I will do the things that I normally do, and I will celebrate my ability to still do them. I will eschew random acts of kindness in favor of deliberate ones. Just for today, I will stop thinking about war and retribution. I will try to remember that it's true what Bruce Springseen says: It ain't no sin to be glad you're alive. I hope that as you wend your way through this day that you are able to find some peace and comfort and be glad to be alive. 10 September 2002, 4:19 peeyem It tickles me endlessly when people I do bidness with are happy to see me. I had to go back to the motorcycle shop today to pick up the thing I dropped off for Susan for rechroming, and Gary, the guy, the one who reminds me of Tom Petty, whipped off his mask and came out of the machine room and threw his arms around me, saying he had been wondering when I'd come by. He asked me wasn't it a pretty day, and I said yep, sure is, but I don't need to be out in lunchtime traffic because I'm way too inclined to get out of my car and conduct my own little vigilante driving class. He thought that was funny; apparently he has a vivid imagination. We putzed around a little and he got me the chain and hook. I told him I had a check and I had cash and would pay him however he preferred. Naturally he preferred the cash. Then he said, "I'm going to tell you something, but you look like you might already have been told, 'money talks and bullshit walks.'" In fact, I have been told this, and live by it, because while most people take a card, the farmer who's eventually going to have to pull me out of a ditch doesn't. I hope I have to go there again for something. He's nice. I like him. It all almost makes up for realizing this morning that I had left my hairdryer at Dick and Greta's and would have to go with my normal big hair to work. 9 September 2002, 2:46 peeyem For those following along at home, here's the skinny on my brother and his broken neck. He has a fractured cervical vertebra and is in a Philadelphia collar, which is a rigid pink plastic thing. As long as things stay aligned as they are, he won't need surgery, and there's about a 70% chance of that. The collar doesn't allow him to move at all. Of course, it also makes it difficult to do things like look anywhere besides directly ahead. He is, effectively, out of commission for two months. But he's at home, walking around. Actually, he's doing a lot of walking and standing, because sitting is uncomfortable. Pete Sampras won the US Open last night, which I guess is fine, though I was favoring Agassi, for reasons I cannot put my finger on. 6 September 2002, 10:52 ayem Whatall I saw on Ponce this morning... A fairly nice but abandoned stroller, fortunately no abandoned baby with the stroller. A pregnant hooker. A woman who was either a new hooker or a tourist. Either way, I give her about an hour before one of the veteran hookers tells her to move along, or before Ponce itself swallows her whole. A bumper sticker that read Government Strategy: If it ain't broke, fix it till it is. A man trying to back out of a driveway into traffic. Good luck, pal. 5 September 2002, 4:37 peeyem My mother just called. My brother broke his neck last night. I am furious and scared and I don't know what else. All I want in this life is for him to be okay. 5 September 2002, 3:18 peeyem When will I ever learn to save things? Jesus saves, thus Jesus probably doesn't occasionally feel like pushing the computer off the desk. I got behind the trash truck this morning. I have noted that trash trucks often have things attached to them. Not like mechanical things, but, you know, garbage things, put there for decorative purposes. They never have bumper stickers on them, and I'm guessing that's because they're municipal vehicles and you can't go around espousing your beliefs that we all live downstream on the bumper of the company car. If you're the trash man, do you get the same truck every time, or do you take your chances if you get there late? Do you get to take it home? I seem to have some weird fascination with the trash truck. I also have a strange affinity for traffic cops. I cannot pass one without waving and grinning like an idiot. I think this might be because when I was little, there was a very vivid one in Dublin who I always thought was waving just at me (do you remember him, Mama R? I think he was at the corner near the Goodyear place, just up from the shoe store with the foot x-ray thing). The one up the street from the office thinks I'm a nutjob, but he waves back just the same. You probably can't tell, but the thing in the lighter oval above is a knight. He used to be standing atop R. Thomas, which is right next door to my office. I don't know why he's not upright anymore, but it kinda bothers me to look out there and see him all tumped over on the roof, like a fallen knight (or a knight in tarnished armor, if you will). I wish they'd get up there and fix him, but I have a bad feeling that now that he's out of sight, he's pretty much out of mind. 4 September 2002, 2:20 peeyem :::::::::::::::pounds head upon floor:::::::::::: Excelsior. 3 September 2002, 2:07 peeyem The screws for the new pulls for the kitchen are not long enough. Not only are they not long enough, but they're not readily available, either. You can easily get screws that are long enough, but they are too large in circumference, and they are slotted and not shiny. The ones I need are neither slotted nor dull in finish. I told the rocket scientist about my dilemma and he said, "how are they too short?" I said, "In the way that most things are too short; they aren't long enough." I think he doesn't believe me, because he just sat right there and said it was inconceivable. However, I'm a good bit smarter than I look, and if those screws were long enough, I'd know it. To add to my extreme delight, my toe hurts. Not where it hangs off my foot, but in the tarsal region. I hate when things like this happen, these unspecified, unprovoked things that just go wrong. Last December, the top of the second portion of my right index finger started hurting. I asked my mother, who could only come up with, "Sometimes fingers just hurt." No, not my fingers. Then I asked my friend Julie, who's a hand therapist, and she said, "Sometimes fingers just hurt." I iced it, just like I was told, but that felt like a stake was being driven through it. Then I put the office heating pad on it, and that seemed to help a little, but you know, I can't go through life with my hand wrapped in a heating pad. The pain lasted for about 3 days and then I woke up one day and it was gone. The toe pain was enough to keep me from sleeping, and that's quite a feat; I don't miss much sleep. I was out running errands with Leanne the other day and we got stopped for grand theft auto. We were in her car, and she made a protected left hand turn. Then the lights came on behind us and I said, "What did you do?" Nothing, she said. So we pulled over and the officer said that he had run the plates and they were registered to a Subaru, which is what Leanne used to have. She gave him all the paper work from the dealership, and he still gave her a ticket. Honestly...give some people a little authority and they just run amok. She asked why he pulled her plates to start with, if she didn't do anything wrong, and he said that's just what we do. Frankly, I'd rather he exert himself stopping people for talking on the phone while driving, or having their kids loose in the car. Or maybe he could enforce things like the fireworks and noise ordinances, maybe close down the crackhouse, or do his part to stop littering on our roads. As a special note, Leanne says things like this happen to her only when I'm around. 3 September 2002, 12:49 peeyem Yesterday was Anna's birthday. She says she's over the hill. I pointed out that she is no where near over the hill, and even if she is, she can coast and let her pigtails fly in the breeze. She responded that when you have an antique Vespa, sometimes coasting is your only option. She's a funny one, that Anna.


{3 times. 21 days and counting}