karina jean

here lies the ghost of the entry titled “my latest venutre,” forever gone from the interwebs. I wonder what it was?

[[based on a link in this post I think it has something to do with this scarf.]]

I’ve been kind of freaked out all day today thinking about war. I haven’t gotten much work done, and I’m too busy reading up on current events. I’m going to have to bill sick time today, I think.

I remember the gulf war, when I was ending middle school. Or was it high school? I remember trying to get people to meet me by the flag pole for a last minute protest during homeroom, but no one would. Those ubiquitous yellow ribbons. “Support the soldiers, not the war.�

These are things I thought after last night’s speech by GWB:

* We’re going to war.

* We’re going to war, supported by a potentially fictitious “coalition.â€?

* We can’t even afford to educate or feed our children. I know of teachers that have to panhandle for classroom supplies for their students. We’re going to finance the entirety of another gulf war by ourselves?

* There’s a sneaky large tax cut being pushed through the senate right now, and we’re going to finance the entirety of another gulf war by ourselves?

* We are the aggressors in this war. We are attacking another country with little reason. We are attacking another country because:

* Bush is ushering in a super-aggressive future where it’s called “suicideâ€? (his word!) to wait and see if your neighbors won’t attack you, and one should just go ahead and attack them, just in case.

* I have a sneaking suspicion that Bush is trying to coax Armageddon in, to force the end of the world to come in his lifetime.

* The Bush administration has been systematically redefining who is allowed to disagree with the government and still be considered ‘American’, and has been systematically demonizing dissenters, since September 11th. And now people are disagreeing and protesting, there’s no response. Our elected representatives seem to be lost, running in circles and avoiding the immediate and real issues. Many of our rights have been tossed – and all in the name of security. As Michelle said last night, if we really have to discard so many essential American freedoms, ones the country was built on, in order to preserve security, than it means the system isn’t working.

Remember during the last gulf war? When we had to really convince Israel not to return the attack, because of the frightening potential for a Jewish-Muslim war developing? How the heck are we going to prevent that from happening now? Especially now that the Israeli government is taking a ‘hard-line’ stance on Palestine, and is driving bulldozers over unarmed, peaceful protesters. You know, while they knock houses over in the Gaza Strip. An American woman died, and the war talk has kept us from asking, where did these bulldozers and tanks come from? Whose money was spent on this? Was it mine, from my 2001 taxes? 2002? And American woman died and it hardly made the news. What chance did the some-dozen other Palestinians (as young as 4 years old) have to make the news?

This is our “coalition�:

Afghanistan, Albania, Australia, Azerbaijan, Bulgaria, Colombia, Czech Republic, Denmark, El Salvador, Eritrea, Estonia, Ethiopia, Georgia, Hungary, Italy, Japan (post conflict), Korea, Latvia, Lithuania, Macedonia, Netherlands, Nicaragua, Philippines, Poland, Romania, Slovakia, Spain, Turkey, United Kingdom, Uzbekistan.

(I guess it’s a shame that Spain’s once invincible armada is no more. (Thanks a lot, Queen Elizabeth!) Though if we’re fighting in a desert it wouldn’t do much good anyway.)

Here’s another thing I’ve been thinking about. The singer from the Dixie Chicks criticized GWB and was immediately demonized: people drove over their CDs, and the fact that she wouldn’t support our president was denounced. She stuck to her guns for a couple of days, and didn’t apologize until her record company made her. Why wasn’t she allowed by American society to speak her beliefs?

I am a patriot. I believe strongly in the American way of life. I love my country, despite her faults. But I don’t understand at what point I’m supposed to just suck it up, to realize the severity of the situation and to not speak my mind. When is that appropriate? And when do you think our founding fathers would have thought it be appropriate? Our elected representatives are hiding behind the “support the soldiers� tenet – they don’t have to say anything hard, or bad, or dissenting about this war, because they are busy supporting the soldiers. I know a lot of veterans. I know lots of people who went to war, and wish we hadn’t, and also wish we wouldn’t now. I also know many people who joined the military for the wrong reason, not because they want to fight, but because they felt they had to. Will they understand if we speak out against war that we aren’t speaking out against them? Won’t they understand that we speak out against war because we want them home, safe, and with their families?

I don’t want a war, y’all.

Check this out:

If only I can get the student work that I have submitted on time. I’m kind of nervous I won’t be able to, because it’s a lot of scanning and plotting, and besides the using company materials thing, there’s also the nasty working hard at my regular job thing. Oh, the tragedy. Plus, it’s very difficult to get in touch with most of the students because they’ve all graduated. Terrible.

But I think the exhibit stuff that I have to offer is a valuable addition. It’s a good foil to a lot of the recycled materials stuff that will be there, and it’s an unusual course for NYC. Sadly. Everyone should know about sustainable design. Everyone should know how to make a building be cheaper in the long run and also use less electricity and water. Everyone should try to incorporate mixed use development into their urban planning, so there isn’t weird ghost towns after 5PM when everyone goes home from their jobs, or weird ghost towns between 8 and 6 when everyone is at their jobs. Everyone should learn about the true cost of oil, about how we’ve been subsidizing the low cost for years and years by military spending. Or about the true cost of clean, fresh water. Or what it really means to cancel recycling, and to have trucks move more garbage out of the city – what it means in terms of deteriorated air quality, and in wear and tear on roads.

Everyone who can, come to the exhibit. I’ll go with you. I’ll tell you all about this stuff, in more detail than you’ve ever dared to dream there was…

Um, someone got to my web page by searching for “photos peeing behind.” Welcome to the interweb! Thank you Google!

(Um, for the record ((mom)) I do NOT have pictures of peeing behinds. The phrase “peeing behind” is on my photo page. Wild.)

Last night I went to a book lecture by Dava Sobel, author of Galileo’s Daughter. That book is one of the most finely written works of non-fiction I’ve ever read. It was fantastic. Maybe I liked it so much because it was about Galileo, and I love science, or maybe it was because it was about a wonderful father-daughter relationship, and I’m sort of a daddy’s girl sometimes. But it was so well written. Sobel translated over 100 letters written from Galileo’s daughter from her convent, and uses it to tell the story of Galileo, the church, and his science. Wonderful.

While I was at the book lecture, I started thinking about letters. I love letters. I’m a real packrat – I have a couple of small boxes at home full of cards and letters. But at the same time, letter writing is a dying form of communication, really. In Italy in the 1600’s, people would write each other letters much as we might call someone to let them know how our day went. Messangers would take letters from person to person, sometimes waiting to collect a response. That stuff charms me. I collect stationary, and try to write letters. I love sitting down with a nice pen and a nice card and some fun stamps and sending notes out to my friends. And then, when I clean my room and come across stacks of old correspondence, I find myself thinking: what the heck am I going to do with this stuff?

In a time when we come across so many old letters and photos in thrift shops, should we worry about keeping a written record of our daily lives? And, should I save letters for posterity when I don’t really think I’ll ever be a famous person of interest, like Galileo was, and people probably won’t want to read my letters?

And what about this computer stuff? With the emails and the on-line journaling, we’re probably reaching a point very quickly where we may not have a handwritten record at all. It’s still fun to write by pen and ink, but it’s harder to take the time and sit down and do so. It’s also slower. It’s so easy for me to keep a window open on my desktop, type for a couple of minutes crazily, and then leave it.

But besides the historic paper trail, what are we losing from writing electronically? I wonder if we aren’t losing the ability to think clearly and concisely. There’s a lot of pressure when you’re writing something by hand to get it right the first time. I think that the habit of thinking through your arguments is a good one to know. It’s very easy when writing electronically to just zip through the middle, write the intro, and then figure out the best conclusion. I mean, I do that all the time. But here I try to do an off the cuff ramble. Sure, I set it aside for hours some times, but it generally comes out just the way I post it. And it probably shows, hey?

The snow here is melting, slowly but surely. My car was covered right over the top but it’s nearly down to the middle of the doors by now. It’s been in the 40s every day. Alternate side of the street parking rules have been suspended all week, and I’ve been reluctant to shovel my car out. Apparently the city has been reluctant to finish up the job as well – because there’re mountains of snow all over town, and primarily in my neighborhood, that haven’t been trucked off and melted yet. It is a huge job, so I understand it’s taking a while. But you know what Jersey City did? They went out on Wednesday night and took off all of the snow. They towed cars, moved snow, and towed the cars back. That’s seriously hard core! They put all the snow in an old reservoir for storage. It’s rock. It’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow, which means the snow should melt and melt and I’ll be able to move my car with a minimum of shoveling. That’s my plans for Sunday. Saturday, well, I think I may go to another belly dancing class! Whee! I love it.

Went to the protests on Saturday. I took lots of pictures, but I won’t put them up yet b/c they’re old school film style pictures. I’ll have to get them developed, first.

The protests were fantastic! I met up with some friends at the public library where lots of feeder marches were staged, and we marched with thousands of people towards the official rally. The city wouldn’t give us a marching permit, just a permit for a rally, so the marchers were on sidewalks. Until we got near 49th, that is, because first avenue was so full we couldn’t get any closer than third. The streets started to fill up and traffic was halted. People were everywhere, and cars were swamped by thousands of marchers with signs, singing and dancing. It burns my britches that they could have given us a marching permit and then we wouldn’t have shut down the city. But either they didn’t think there would be so many people, or they didn’t want to look like they were “supporting us.”

The police were pretty cool until they realized that they were going to have to get in our way, and then they really divided the marchers up into little groups and dispersed us. They marched a police line down Third Avenue with their clubs held out in front of them to clear out the street, and then where people weren’t moving they stampeded the horses at crowds, and started arresting people. They wouldn’t let us go to First Avenue at all – I heard it was blocked from 42^nd to 96^th, and I believe it because when we got home we heard that the police had to officially shut it down up to 72nd.

It was a good time, there were drummers throughout the protests, and we had noisemakers left over from new years eve that we tooted (kazoos for peace!). There was an incredible Korean drum group who had set up on a sidewalk and was making some awesome noise. And I think it was all very positive, until the police started to clear the streets. The media was very mixed in reporting it, some places insisted on saying “thousands” while others said there were 100,000 at the rally, and “thousands marching around the city.” I think there was between 400,000 and 600,000 people there – organizers say 375,000, and the police say 100,000, but from what I saw on the news, and the aerial photographs, and knowing how the streets were closed, I lean to saying “greater than 400,000.”

So that’s the anti-war protests. It was fantastic. And while I’m mentioning war, why is it that when the country JOINS NYC on orange alert suddenly we have more ‘protection’ in the streets? If we’ve been at orange this whole time, than either we don’t get more people, or maybe we shouldn’t be at orange in the first place. Someone said to me that this terror stuff is just to scare the pants off of us and keep us from paying attention to other, more important things. Like war, and being stripped of our constitutional rights to express ourselves and meet in protest.

Monday I came to work, rushed around being busy, and then took off at around 4:30 for sunny Upstate New York to visit Lake Nasty, and to be part of a public availability session. We got back on Wednesday night, and it really wasn’t a bad trip at all. Saw some people, chatted with the client, etc. etc.

While we visiting Lake Nasty it was very snowy. Snowy and cold. It was fun, I do kind of love the winter weather (and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to complain, because of the number of people in my family who work outdoors. In the winter. And often, at night, or in very poor conditions.) and have a perverse (I hear) joy in tromping around in the cold, safely bundled up, warm and snug in my boots and 4 feet of snow. Because there was at least 4 feet of snow on the ground. I mean, I only sunk in to above my knees, but I think there was a bunch under my feet, too. But it was fun.

As we were driving home, though, (and honestly, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was concerned it would be a disaster given other driving experiences with a Certain Someone during dry road conditions) I did some thinking about patience. It’s hard to be patient these days when it’s desirable to drive super fast and get where you’re going as fast as you can and to always do things when you want to and to have access to information and people when you first think you’ll need it.

But in winter weather, you really have to be patient. I was antsy, at the beginning of our drive, and thought for sure we could go a little faster. But as we went down the highway we passed at least 6 cars on the side of the road. Some were just beat up, others were flipped, and resting on their sides. A couple of cars were on their roofs. There were 2 jackknifed tractor trailers, and one of them was in really bad shape, facing the wrong direction with a broken off nose. There was a third tractor trailer that sliced through a guard rail like it was butter, and who had obviously bailed off of the road when he saw the cars in front of him collide. I was concerned for the people in the cars, but my volunteer EMT coworker said he didn’t see any of the typical signs of injury – you know, busted up windows, jaws of death marks, etc.

This weekend, I’m going to go to some anti-war protests/rallys. It should be interesting. I don’t want to get arrested, but, I shouldn’t if I stay on the sidewalks, I think. And hopefully there won’t be any tear gas involved. Hmm.

There have been terror alerts all over the place. I can’t figure out what’s going on, because the US just upgraded to level orange this week, and because NYC has been at level orange for like 2 years, I don’t know why there are so many more cops around. Operation Hercules, they call it, and it involves body armor and machine guns. It makes me nervous. They said there is a very very high chance of terrible things happening this week. Well, we’re almost through it. I hope! Penn station is on fire right now, but I think it’s just a restaurant. There are sirens everywhere. It’s loud and ugly.

I was talking to our client this week on the trip back and he asked if my folks were nervous about me being here. If they are, they haven’t said anything to me – but I told him they weren’t, and that we’d kind of talked about it before, and that it was kind of a “living in fear is no way to live” consensus. Also, bad stuff happens everywhere. There are more people here, which makes us more of a target, but it could happen anywhere.

It’s a blizzard! Whew. It is snowing so very very hard. I love it. We’re supposed to get 2 feet of snow! It started around 6 last night and has been snowing ever since.

I came to work, but it was mostly just to see who DIDN’T come to work. Bizarro, hey? But I’m tough. Not as tough as the mayor says I am (“It’s going to be a rough commute, but everybody will get there,” Mayor Michael Bloomberg said at a press briefing Monday morning. “Remember, we’re New Yorkers.” – from NY1 news) because I’m LEAVING, but I’m tough.

So like 6 states are in a state of emergency, Pataki declared NYC a snow emergency, and the streets are full of snow. It keeps piling up. As of now, Manhattan has at least a foot and Queens has up to 20 inches. Man-oh-man.

I took pictures of this, too, but it’s all film. I’m trying out a new mail away developer, so hopefully it’ll be easy and good.

So, I’m applying to graduate schools, right? Last week was a disaster area getting everything together and out the door. And to exacerbate things, Cooper had to mail things themselves. They told me so. Themselves. Right. So I gave them all they needed for express mail, and trusted them to get the stuff out on Friday. And when did they get it out? Tuesday. I missed all of my deadlines, by FIVE DAYS. That’s not a day, or just a little bit. It’s FIVE FUCKING DAYS. Gah. I don’t know what’ll happen now. Best case scenario? No financial aid. Lordy. Worst? I don’t get in at all.

I just don’t know what I should do now! I guess I should call the applications offices, and try to straighten stuff out. I mean, it’s kind of a tough requirement to send a complete application, including transcript. But at the same time I messed up by not getting this stuff done early in January. Hell.

Well, this comes on the back of an email from one of my universities thanking me for my application and directing me to contact the student recruitment coordinator with questions. What does that mean?

I did ask around, and the overall suggestion is to call. I am doing that, but I am a babbling idiot. See, I don’t mind not getting into a school if they just plain don’t like ME, but if it’s because my alma matter screwed me up, well, that’s something I mind.

(I guess this is a real-time journal. How bizarre.)

OK. School #1 hadn’t gotten it, but they’re cool with that, Oh, wait, they called me back – they do have it. I’m ok!

School #2 is on the west coast! I can’t call until it’s 9ish there, so I’ll wait.

School #3 sent me that weird email. I guess I’ll call to make sure everything is ok?

School #4, I can’t get them on the phone. Um. I don’t know. I’ll try later.

I ought to write Cooper a letter, I guess? Telling them what a terrible thing they did. But I’m a wimp. I really hope I don’t have to go down there and make them write me a letter saying they’re big jerks and are totally at fault. I hope it all works out.

I went belly dancing last night! I’ve been thinking about taking a class for some time, and finally I got to it. I went to Serena Studios, which is a little bitty studio room in a rehearsal space building. The teacher, Serena, is a cool cabaret style belly dancer. It was so hard, and so easy at the same time. I was so happy while I was doing it – I’m one of those people who can’t really control happiness sometimes, and find myself laughing out loud from joy. That’s what last night was like.

So these classes are so convenient on Tuesday nights, and also pretty reasonably priced (I think I’ll buy a 10 dance-class card for 85 bucks next time I go). I am going to get a hip scarf, some yoga pants, and really try to learn to dance!

Matt was laughing at me last night, and the way I take up new hobbies with such enthusiasm. It’s true. But at least I try to stick with them, right? Even if I do seem to get busier and busier…

This weekend was pretty good, except for the sadness.

Friday night I stayed at home. I tried to felt my too big hat, but it didn’t work out really. It felted about half as much as I wanted it to. Now, when I wear it folded up, it looks like some kind of weird Dutch conquistador hat. But that’s ok. I’ll just toss it in with my wash the next time so it’ll felt a little more. I don’t mind if it turns into a bitsy little hat. It’ll be cool.

Saturday I got my eyelashes dyed – the single most vain thing I do in the whole world. It’s terrifying, and fantastic. I naturally have white eyebrows and lashes, and when I dye my lashes I really think my eyes look so much nicer.

What happens is this: you lie down on a little bed. She puts cotton under your eyes, close to the lashes, you close your lids, and she paints this dye stuff on them. She turns out the lights and leaves you alone (I always fall asleep). 15 – 20 minutes later, she comes back and rinses, and ta-da! Beautiful dark lashes.

Now the catch is, this is illegal. As I understand it, when a couple of women went violently and painfully blind from using dye made from coal tar, the FDA had the oomph needed to get the Food, Drug and Cosmetic act passed. I think they eyelash dye question is decided on a state by state basis, but in NY it’s illegal. That doesn’t stop me, but when I’m lying there with my eyes closed I can’t help but focus on the very bad things that could happen. And you can’t, really, because then you start to freak out and feel trapped in your dark little room with your eyes glued shut. I don’t know of surroundings much more encouraging to a panic attack than that! And this time was worse because they must have gotten it all over my lids, and they stung. It was good to be able to relax and fall asleep.

After all that, I filled my flat tires with air, washed the car (so much bird poop in my neighborhood) and drove out to Gabulo’s margarita party with a couple of friends. It was super fun, and I mashed avocados with my bare hands, but the blended margarita which was legendary for causing one of Gabulo’s Dad’s friends to try to crawl through a pet door was just not that strong.

Sunday was a nice day. Matt and I tried out the New Manhattan Outback for some beef, and it was great, empty, and pretty much uniformly $5 more expensive than Outback’s everywhere else. And then? Went home, and did nothing. It was great.

So, the space shttle Columbia disintegrated during re-entry this weekend. It’s very sad. Something the newscasters kept saying as I watched local coverage on Saturday morning was that everyone could remember where they were when the Challenger blew up. I can’t remember learning about it at all – I only remember how we reacted to it at school.

I remember being in third grade when the Challenger blew up. We had just moved to New York, and I was in Mrs. Fowler’s classroom. We put up a mural in our classroom display case. I had a t-shirt with a space shuttle on it, and I brought it in to use as a backdrop. Mrs. Fowler, and all of the teachers, were extra sad. She was the first teacher who I really remember well, who treated me as an individual. And I remember faintly how she worked to get through her own sadness, and to find a way to discuss the tragedy with us.

Now, all that said, my parents are outer-space-heads. They loved space. We went to the Smithsonian Air and Space museum a lot. My dad had star maps. Coolest of all, when we lived in TN we had a moonscape mural on our living room wall. It was so rad. When we were little, my brother and I had our first day of school pictures taken “on the moon.” My parents read lots of science fiction, and my dad once walked across the UT campus with Isaac Asimov.

I learned today that the space shuttle program is a scant 22 years old. I had no idea. When we were little, my parents would get my brother and I out of bed, take us down to the sofa bed, and we’d all snuggle together to watch shuttle take-offs and landings. This is one of those events in history that was such a large part of my life growing up that I thought everyone loved space shuttles like my family did. Now I realize that these launches were on TV because they were so new and fascinating, not because everyone loved the space program like we did.

Ooh. I finally got my applications done. You know how I was talking all big about getting them out tomorrow? Well, best laid plans, and all that. I just dropped them off this AM at Cooper for transcript insertion and mailing. Boy! It could have been a disaster, b/c even though I stopped by last week to make sure that the way I was planning to send out my applications would be OK with them, when I spoke to them yesterday they were saying it wasn’t going to be ok, and they needed more time. No! but I worked it out. It’ll be all right now. It better be.

So, that was my kick in the pants yesterday. And I missed the alleged sex scene from Joe Millionaire last night, too. Damn! I really wanted to watch that. Not because it’s titillating, because I’m sure it wasn’t, but because I wanted to form my own opinion on what happened. That trash TV is so insidious. Someone I know referenced a Simpsons episode set in the future where Marge “You know, Fox turned into a hardcore sex channel so gradually, I didn’t even notice.” Yeah, that’s how I feel too. Even if Fox did refrain from continuing on with Temptation Island, there’s really no way they can avoid their destiny as a hard-core sex station. What’s really funny is how conservative the news coverage on Fox is – it’s interesting that they can flip from being utterly “immoral” and salacious, to conservative and straight-laced. Sometimes, during the same newscast!

Oh, here’s another kick in the pants. I was making this beautiful hat but I was in such a guilty hurry (still haven’t finished Christmas presents! Aaah!) that I didn’t check my gauge, and therefore, the hat is very much too big (the way it should be is in the middle). So instead I’m wearing it flipped up, like the swiss miss. I’m going to try to felt it down tonight. Boy, I hope it works. I love the hat, and the argentinian raw wool yarn I used was fantastic, bits and pieces of vegetable matter not-with-standing. The moral? Always, always check your gauge. I knew that, and still I was somehow mildly surprised when it came out so large! And I always have to go down in needle-size, too. Dummy!

Another kick in the pants: I found I had not given one of my reccommenders the form for one of my schools. Ah! I had to ask someone here early in the AM to do one for me as fast as possible. He did, and I owe him a big old favor. And some beer, I think.

I did have a super fantastic morning despite having to get the last minute recommendation done. I went down to cooper, dropped everything off, and got a chai latte from the Mudtruck. They make them so good there. And then I read one of my new books on the way back up to work. It was all together splendid to sit on the train with my yum drink and a good book.

And this weekend, Gabulo is having a margarita party! So that’ll be fun too, except for the part where I don’t know what to wear to a margarita party. Hm. I have some fake flowers, I guess that’s always appropriate.

The weather last night was dee-vine. Really. It was cool, but not cold (maybe it was 35 degrees. Balmy). And, it was kind of damp out. It was how I imagine winters in the pacific northwest are, all cool and not quite foggy, but the air feels heavy and wet. It was really very nice.

So it’s back in a deep freeze, after being very very warm this weekend (was it 35 degrees? Or did the sunshine fool me?). When we went to the museum we also walked around the upper west side a bit, and it was so nice and warm. It was a lot of fun to hang out with the girls and schlep around the city a bit. It was also extremely exhausting.

I watched the pirate (super) bowl on Sunday in Williamsburg and almost won 100 bucks! Oh, easy come, easy go. It was a big surprise to leave during half time and to find a snow storm in progress. Actually, Sunday was a day-o-sports for me, Michelle and I went to a knicks game that afternoon (her dad had some spare tickets) and then we went straight to the superbowl. Whoo. We are sporty chicks. Athletes, really.

Speaking of Athletes, here’s a funny story: I fell down in the street last Wednesday. I just fell right over, there was a hole in the pavement and I have trick ankles so I fell onto my tookas on the ground. So many people yelled “oh no!” and ran over and pulled me up by my armpits (I hate that. I hate people, esp. strangers, putting their hands in my pits. Plus, it’s HARD to get up like that! The moment of inertia is all wrong!). I smiled, and said I was ok, and thanked everyone graciously. And then this guy came over to me and said “Are you an athlete?” I wasn’t sure if he was making fun of me, so I said “what?” and he said “an athlete, you know, do you do sports?” so I said I did do tae kwon do, and he said to me:

“I could tell by the way you fell.”

What? I still don’t know what that means. Did I fall like athletes would fall, in that they have trick ankles too, and are prone to falling? Or did I fall in a carefully controlled, secret athlete move wherein I minimized the potential damage to my person? I laughed at the guy and walked into the subway. ‘Cause I’m an athlete.

Monday morning was a big shock to me, because even though I knew it was snowing Sunday night, I just didn’t expect it to be so darn cold the next day. I was lulled into complacency by those two warm days this weekend. When I woke up and the guy on the radio told me it was 8 degrees, I was surprised. When I stepped outside and felt my cheeks go icy stiff, I was still surprised.

It’s harder this week to appreciate the adventure that a deep freeze, a cold snap, an artic blast is. I’m tireder, or colder, and I have to wash my laundry. And I think it’s COLDER this week than it was last week. When I get home late I’m really really cold, instead of just kind of maybe cold.

Last night I went to a book lecture with an old professor and another school buddy, and then we had dinner, and then my professor gave me a lift home. I had to move my car but my tires were both flat in the front, so I had to (at nearly midnight) find an air pump – I drove slowly from 109^th and 3^rd to 106^th and 1^st, but that gas station had a broken air pump. The attendant directed me to the carwash on 109^th and 1^st, but their pump was broken too! Luckily, there was another one of those really kind souls working in the ‘garage’ that night, and he filled up my tires for me using the “indoor” pump. There are so many kind people around. Really. But speaking of cold, I was the most cold ever once I finally made it home. I hear the temperature last night was like 10 degrees, and with a wind-chill of below zero – well, I was very very cold. It pains me to admit this, but my mittens are just not warm enough for this kind of weather. I really need to line them if I want to wander around in subzero temperatures in the middle of the night!

And speaking of things that I’m making, I’m nearly done with my cool aviators hat/swim cap, and I really just want to knit, all the time. All knit, all night. Well, I did knit last night in the bar where we got dinner after the lecture, and I did actually pull the knitting out during the lecture. I’m turning into that weird knitting lady! Also, on the things I’m making list, grad school applications. They’re, well, going. I need to crack the whip and write some personal essays tonight, b/c the whole thing is zipping in the mail Thursday noonish from la alma mater.

At least it’s so cold I’m not tempted to go on any moonlight picnics to avoid my work!

Yesterday we went to the Museum of Natural History for a Mexican folk dancing performance. It was great, there was a mariachi band playing and the dancing was fantastic.

I was thinking while we were there about the American middle class stigma and our bland reluctance to participate. It’s something that Barbara Ehrenrich talked about in “Nickeled and Dimed,” and something that I’ve thought about often as well. I feel that the middle class, is uncomfortable with people in general. In service positions, we don’t like to have people do messy tasks for us, and feel a certain guilt when we have someone into our homes to clean. Often, we’ll clean before the cleaning person arrives, out of embarrassment and awkwardness. It’s difficult to know how much to tip someone, and it’s easy to be uncomfortable discussing money or prices for services rendered. And culturally, there’s this fear of participation that we seem to suffer from. The museum was hosting a Mexican American cultural workshop, and looking at the primarily Mexican audience it was easy to see how comfortable they were, and how they weren’t afraid to join in. That’s something that my repressed middle class heritage lacks. We don’t have a casual give and take with the performer. It’s somehow low brow to make a scene, or to participate in a crowded audience. (But at the same time, there will always be self-assured middleclass people, usually men or older women, who feel that it is their right to participate, or even lead, the gathering. There will always be ‘those guys’ who talk out of place, who serve as the class clown and try to ingrate themselves with the audience, who look around them after every outburst, hoping to make eye contact and find the validation and admiration of their peers.) We’re missing out on a lot by not allowing ourselves to become engaged by a performer, to not allow ourselves to become part of the temporary community that is an audience. I hope that I can avoid that self-alienation.

I am a leetle grouchy about a ticket I just got.

OK, so, on my car, When I first put it on the road over thanksgiving time, I couldn’t get the screws out of the bumper to stick my new plates on. So I got some wire from my dad and stuck the damn things on as best I could. I did a good job, they’ve kept the license plates on there through driving around, and car washes, and kids trying to yank it off. Plus, while I was wrapping the wire through holes over and over and kind of making a coil, I thought “I’m turning my car into an electromagnet!”

So the other day I got a carwash and went to wire the plate on a little better – the top part was bending down b/c of kids and the brooms they use in the carwash to scrub your car squeaky clean. And I got going, and it fell off. Yep, the whole bracket and everything fell right off of my car and into my hands. So I just threw it onto my dashboard, and didn’t worry about it. I guess I should have, because last night when I walked past my car I found I had gotten a TICKET.

So, I was a little ticked off. The air had been let out of my front two tires and a few days later my front license plate falls off, and I’m pretty sure it’s no coincidence. And now I find out that even though my plate is so bent it looks like it’s standing straight up on my dashboard, and even though some kids were messing around with my car despite “Operation Impact” and the pony show being in town to protect me, I still have to pay the city of NY $55? Nuts. Plus, I had left my house and car keys at work, so I had to go home for the spares before I could address the situation.

I went home. I grouched into the apartment. I grabbed the spares, and went back outside. As I walked down the block before my car, I noticed a parked and idling sporty yet not-too-flash car with two biggish (yet short) clean cut guys with sports-team jackets. Those guys were undercover cops. So I moved the car, and stuck the fallen off plate back onto the bolts in the bumper (even though if anyone touches it it’ll fall off again, and they’ll steal it, and I’ll be put out), and then I walked back over to the “cop” car. I kind waved in the window, and the guy in the Jets jacket unrolled it, and I asked if they were police officers, and they said yes, kind of chagrined, and I asked them all about proper license plate display. heh. It was totally funny. I mean, maybe I shouldn’t be approaching strangers who are just chilling in their cars on a dark and cold night, but heck, there’s just not that many sports-team jackets in my neighborhood. What there are a lot of, are police officers. And if you ask, they have to tell you if they are officers… besides, they referred to my ticket as a “summons.” Nerds! Hee. I probably shouldn’t be poking fun at the police officers, either.

This doesn’t change the fact that I have to put a new bracket onto my car soon, before someone notices that my license plate will just fall off into their hands. I’m gonna have to go buy a new bracket, some screws, and get out there in the 20 degree weather with my drill. I need to find a fancy bracket – something flashy and red, maybe? But not one of the fake chain brackets. That’s so 1990’s.

In other news, it’s been pretty darn cold around here. But my Swedish military issue wool leg warmers are so warm! And they keep me so happy and toasty when I go too and from work in a skirt and tights. I don’t know how those people do it who wear nylons and nice work shoes. Do they have someone drop them off a block from work, and then dash in and pretend like they’ve walked blocks from the subway? They’re crazy.