Wedding present hangovers … are the best!

I just got a package from a good friend back home. In it were some pretty things from here and 2 homemade mixed CDs. I couldn’t ask for anything better.

Here’s the playlist of one of these CDs, and you’ll see why this grrrl is close to my heart:

Stand by my Woman — Lenny Kravitz
Say Goodbye — Dave Matthews Band
Bodies — Jennifer Nettles Band
Summertime — The Sundays
The Water is Wide — Lillith Faire
Waste — Phish
Fields of Gold — Eva Cassidy
Don’t Ever Wonder — Maxwell
You are so Beautiful — Joe Cocker
At Last — Etta James
Sexy — Black Eyed Peas
You Sexy Thing — Hot Chocolate
I Want You — Cheap Trick
Kiss Me — Sixpence None the Richer
Let Go — Frou Frou
These Arms of Mine — Otis Redding
The Promise — Tracy Chapman
Turn Me On — Norah Jones
I’ll Close my Eyes — Dinah Washington

Love it. The next CD has everything from Cold Play, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, to Patty Griffin.

If I had a million dollars, you can bet I’d be flying home to South Carolina to thank her in person. Until then, phone calls and emails will haveta suffice.

The old idea of the intellectual as the one who speaks truth to power is still an idea worth holding on to. Tyrants fear the truth of books because it’s a truth that’s in hock to nobody, it’s a single artist’s unfettered vision of the world. They fear it even more because it’s incomplete, because the act of reading completes it, so that the book’s truth is slightly different in each reader’s different inner world, and these are the true revolutions of literature, these invisible, intimate communions of strangers, these tiny revolutions inside each reader’s imagination, and the enemies of the imagination, politburos, ayatollahs, all the different goon squads of gods and power, want to shut these revolutions down, and can’t. Not even the author of a book can know exactly what effect his book will have, but good books do have effects, and some of these effects are powerful, and all of them, thank goodness, are impossible to predict in advance.

Literature is a loose cannon. This is a very good thing.

It looks like Mark Fuhrman is going after Michael Schiavo — and the media, not wanting a horse to remain dead, is kicking —

Sean Hannity and the Confederacy of Dunces

Of course Hannity wants the spotlight on Schiavo. This will distract the public from the fact that Terri’s autopsy backs Michael Schiavo’s contention that his wife was in a persistent vegetative state, a claim that Hannity fought. Like Jeb and George Bush, Tom DeLay, and Bill Frist, the Fox talk show host doesn’t want to look stupid.

[…]Terri’s autopsy destroyed every claim Hammesfahr made about her condition. Terri’s brain was half its normal size, severely and permanently damaged, giving her no chance of recovery. She was also blind.

How did Hannity respond to the autopsy report when it was released June 15? He had as a guest that day Mark Fuhrman who suggested that Michael Schiavo had strangled his wife with a pillow back in ’90. Though the autopsy revealed no evidence of this, Fuhrman explained that a police choke hold could deprive a person of oxygen without leaving marks. (Fuhrman ought to know, the ex-cop who used to brag about beating and torturing suspects.)

Shameless. Disgusting.

But Jeb Bush’s response wasn’t much better than Hannity’s. On the day of the autopsy results he directed Florida’s state attorney to open an investigation into whether Schiavo delayed in calling paramedics when he found his wife passed out in their bathroom. The pretext for Jeb’s sudden interest, 15 years after the fact, is that over the years Schiavo has given different estimates of the time he discovered Terri—was it 4:30 a.m. or 5 a.m.?

Never mind that it was very early in the morning, and Schiavo was panicking and trying to revive Terri—a far more human response than Jeb’s brother, George, showed as he sat dumbstruck in a second-grade classroom after having learned that his country had just been attacked by terrorists. …

Sigh. I do feel sorry for Terri, what a legacy to leave behind.

Last night, I had epiphanies at Tims. Tonight was an entirely different experience.

We headed over there a little after 1, complete with newly-repaired laptop in tow. Tonight I got up the courage to let Jerry read over my literature survey, to see if there were any gaps in my logic or flawed citations. Sometimes being married to another writer has its privileges!

That wasn’t the odd part of the night. (it was actually quite nice — not only in editing together, but in seeing how far I’ve come in this chapter!)

After about 2:30 or so, the crazies of Saskatoon start to appear. For some reason, tonight felt extra creepy — maybe it was the stormy weather outside? We had everything from stoned out rich kids looking for some free donuts to soaked night drivers coming in to refill their cup.

Of course, the one night I bring my laptop is the one night it would not stop pouring outside. Poor husband had to run all the way home to grab the car. And, like magic, as soon as he leaves the cafe, a really creepy shakey guy comes in and orders a coffee and muffin and sits RIGHT BESIDE ME in the completely empty restaurant. Disturbing, to say the least.

Luckily, my knight in a shining Beretta wasn’t too long in coming to the rescue. The end.

Computer, be slow no more!

I’m content with my new desktop — but the 256MB of memory that came with it just wasn’t cutting it. I’m at heart a multi-tasker — so while I’d be working on the computer, I would get the dreaded “out of virtual memory” message, and things would go downhill from there.

But now, thanks to a local computer store and advice from my tech guy, I now have 768MB of RAM — installed and running for less than 100 bucks. It was even delivered to my door!


Welcome to the 21st century, where we’re still stuck in the “you asked for it” mode.

This billboard is found in Tennessee, and it’s causing notable waves. It’s put out by an abstinence group for teens, and in the attempt to generate good “buzz” for their campaign — they’ve opened a different can of worms.

While some find the message sexist in the way it targets girls, Scott Hughes, director of Just Wait, says it’s really more about teenage boys.

“Guys are turned on visually by what they see, so it’s really saying guys aren’t men enough to control themselves, therefore you have to be careful on how you present yourself,” says Hughes.

I hate these types of messages. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for encouraging teens to think twice before having sex — but I’m not for reinforcing stereotypes that if a girl wears a certain outfit, the onus is on her if anything should happen. Accountability goes both ways, fellas. Sure, I’m old school enough that I think particular body parts should remained covered — but showing a little ankle doesn’t take the responsibility off of the guy. He should be “man enough” to make the right decision.

These messages in society are frustrating, yes. But typical? Maybe a little too much, these days. I just hope girls don’t buy into them, or other Revolve-esque attempts to subvert them into a particular mold.