why we need a woman in office (now more than ever)

What is it with men and war? The latest tete-a-tete between the U.S. and Russia is nothing more than a very dangerous “mine is bigger than yours” contest between two countries’ presidents. When will male leaders recognize that this back-and-forth penis contest does nothing to alleviate tense foreign relations?

Without any apparent irony, Bush called Russia a “bully.” Also without irony, McCain said, “In the 21st century, nations don’t invade other nations.” How can Russia (or the rest of the world, for that matter) even take us seriously? We’re a bully too! And we’ve invaded TWO sovereign nations! How is berating Russia for our own mistakes helping the diplomatic situation? Why do we always have to speak before thinking? And why oh why can’t we ever take a back seat, work behind the scenes, let others (like France) be the diplomatic face?

As much as I hate to place blanket blame on the other half of the population, I think it’s time to elect some women. Men may be better at brandishing swords and talking tough, but women are naturally better communicators. They also lack the key ingredient that starts all these world messes: testosterone.

A List of Grievances and their Likely Solutions

I threw my back out last night whilst sitting on the couch. This event – which should be embarrassing for a relatively healthy 28-year-old – led me to question the validity of said relative health. To test the assumption that as a person still in her twenties and not yet overweight I can be considered healthy relative to the rest of the U.S. population, I set about making a mental list of my current principle grievances. Here is the abbreviated list:

GRIEVANCE #1: I’m getting chunky ’round the middle. Putting on pants is becoming a struggle, often resulting in a condition I like to call “muffin top” where too tight pants cause a portion of my once slim waste to overflow like the dough on the top of a muffin. This muffin top is not delicious, however.

GRIEVANCE #2: I have a bad neck/back. Apparently, normal necks are supposed to have graceful C curves, but according to recent x-rays, my head sits on top of a stiff, straight pike. The muscles in my shoulders and upper back are a mass of rock hard knots. And even sleeping is uncomfortable now.

GRIEVANCE #3: I have bad vision. I mean, wow, I really can’t see anymore. It’s the distance thing. Everything is blurry until it’s in front of my face. But I’m hoping it evens itself out because as people age, they tend to get progressively far-sighted. So maybe around 40 I’ll have 20/20 vision again…

GRIEVANCE #4: I’m exceedingly lazy. It’s like I’ve turned into a bitchy old fat lady. I love to talk about what’s wrong with me; self-deprecating humor is my forte at parties. But never doing anything about anything is my forte in life.

PAINFULLY OBVIOUS SOLUTIONS:

• Clearly I need to go to the gym to stop the chunkiness from spreading.
• I also need to quit my hunched-over-staring-at-computers-all-day desk job so that my neck and back aren’t constantly strained and my eyes can readjust to seeing things far away.
• And lastly, I should throw away my couch and TV. Obviously it’s their amazing capacity to entertain for hours on end that are at fault for my inability to do anything at all.

Feeling Sexy

They say feeling sexy is psychological… In that case, I think I need to get my head examined. I’ve started wondering if my recent inability to feel sexy is changing the way my husband feels about me… Have we become buddies because I don’t feel sexy? Where did my mojo go? And how in the hell do I get her back?

These days I can’t put nice clothes on without feeling like changing right back into my holey sweatpants and comfy t-shirt. Every time we go out, I start to dress up, remembering what it was like to be hot… I do my makeup and hair, then go to the bedroom to put on some jeans and a sexy top. But when I check it all out in the mirror, the effect is less than I’d hoped. Much less. So I wear saggy jeans instead of the tight ones and a big ugly t-shirt to cover them up. And then I tell myself (and anyone who asks) that I don’t want to conform to social standards that require women to primp like Barbies before going out in public. But secretly, I just miss feeling hot.

I can’t tell if somewhere along the way my self-esteem has degenerated to the point where I’m overly critical of myself. Or if it’s just that I need to make the adult-who’s-almost-30 decision to either hit the gym hard or buy bigger clothes… Either way, I’m not ready for it.

There’s nothing like getting a second glance or that slow, appreciative smile. I used to love walking by a group of guys, knowing I’m hot, knowing they’re looking. But was it always the way I felt that made them look? Was it always something about my absolute certainty of my own sexiness that drew them in?

Do I really have to rely on myself to feel sexy? Yikes.

In Support of the Chinese

Don’t you think it’s a little bratty of the U.S. media to constantly be reporting about all the mistakes the Chinese are making, have made, or are likely to make in the future? I wonder how Americans would have felt if a more economically and technologically advanced world superpower was hovering over our shoulders, scrutinizing every move we made during the Industrial Revolution? Would it have made us better? Or just angry?

Well I, for one, am supporting the Chinese right now. They’ve made amazing technological, structural and economic advances in the past 30 years. As a humanitarian, of course I understand that some of these advances have come with a steep human cost, but what country has not advanced in such a way? And how can we possibly be the moral police of the world when we are the cause of so much of its current strife? Rather than judge before the games even begin, why not give China a clean slate on which to write their future?

I hope the 2008 Olympic Games shine the spotlight on China in a way that make tourists visit in droves. China needs a steady influx of money in order to fix some of the infrastructure and energy/pollution problems our media seems so eager to judge, and new tourism would be a great boon for the fledgling superpower.

Some are probably worried that China becoming a world superpower will usurp our 50 year claim to that title, but I think not. They will provide us with challenge. And no period of American history has been so productive and innovative as when we’ve faced a challenge. Remember Sputnik? (Well I don’t, but I know the history.) The U.S. needs a challenger if we’re to continue innovating and advancing, because frankly, right now, we’re stagnant.

So while all eyes are on China for the next few weeks, I wish them the best in their endeavor to reinvent themselves. I hope they succeed.

Tired of Being an Adult

This morning I looked at myself in the mirror, fully naked before the shower, and contemplated my midsection. My feminine figure is barely recognizable anymore, what with all the extra flab hanging off the sides. I have grown a cubicle gut. And cubicle love handles. And saggy cubicle boobs. Complete with a round face and the beginnings of a double chin.

I made it all the way through college and grad school drinking beer (like a champ) and eating pizza with a flat belly, but the desk job has killed my body. I sit down all day every day; staring at the computer, pretending to work, hunched over and bored. I used to be hot. Now I have high cholesterol. And heartburn. And a bad neck. And worsening vision. And a real job and health care and a 401(k) and “success.”

I’m 28, and already I’m tired of being an adult.

Remember playing outside? Kickball and four-square and jumping rope and flashlight tag… I want to go there again. Remember when Monday wasn’t a four letter word?

There’s got to be a way to get back there. I just have to finish these reports first…

Costa Rica!

It’s been a long time, I know. I haven’t been much in the mood for writing recently… Or more likely I’ve just been lazy about it. But despite the lethargy, my husband and I have made some pretty big decisions recently, culminating in a first-in-our-lifetime experience of moving to a different country. We’re going to Costa Rica! In October (the 21st, to be exact), we’ll be getting on an airplane, temporarily traumatizing our 3 cats whilst flying through the air, and transplanting to Costa Rica!!

We’ve always wanted to do something bigger and more meaningful, and now we’ve finally decided to go for it. So we’ll be attending a school to get CELTA certification to teach English. Once certified, we’ll celebrate, freak out a bit looking for jobs, then get settled in for at least a year in a place neither of us has been to but looks really good in the guide books.

That said, we’ll take any sage and pithy advice, any insight, any personal experiences you or a loved one may have had… We’re open to anything and everything. In four months, we’ll be moving, and I must say, heading down with no expectations other than we’ll love it feels pretty good.

Traveling through memories

A friend of mine is traveling India right now, sort of vagabonding across the country, and I’m jealous. His witty, exotic, amusing travel stories make me miss mine terribly. So to comfort my currently-grounded self, I’m going to write about one of my favorite adventures…

Standing topless in the surf of the Spanish Mediterranean, embarrassed and laughing internally at my internalized American prudishness, I decided I wanted to see Amsterdam before I left Europe. My Aussie friend Brad had been talking about it for days, and Jordan and I figured why not. Might as well see what all the fuss is about.

Having decided upon a definite course of action, we wasted no time. Running back to our things on the beach (a quick aside for the ladies: I don’t recommend topless running), we hurriedly dressed and headed to the nearest internet café to book flights. The feeling of complete freedom from booking our spur-of-the-moment trip inspired us to spend one of our last evenings in Spain eating Italian food, drinking American cocktails and laughing like idiots in our favorite palapa bar until 2 a.m.

A few days later, we said goodbye to Spain, left Brad in London, and landed in Amsterdam with only one backpack of clothes between the two of us due to a very confusing missing-passport-lost-luggage incident. We were tired from an overnight layover, hungry, and without accommodations, so we hurried to the information kiosk in the airport train station. A very nice young lady helped us call around for vacancies (of which there were few), eventually landing on Bob’s Hostel. Dubious but thankful, we boarded the train and headed into the city to find Bob’s.

Alighting from the train, the most surprising thing about Amsterdam was its charm. People on bikes were everywhere, and it was nice to see multi-level bike parks in place of giant Western parking garages. Only a few cars littered the streets. Old buildings stood proudly with their doors open, ushering in new people. We had heard the city was fun, but its cobbled streets, winding canals and palpable history make it truly beautiful.

Street maps in hand, we wound our way several blocks to a quiet street very near the infamous red light district. A plain blue sign jutting out from a 5-storey brick building spelled “Bob’s Youth Hostel” in skinny yellow letters. We were relieved to have found the place, but it didn’t look good.

Not knowing what to expect, we headed down the short staircase to the basement reception area. The room was cramped, poorly lit and stale. Dreadlocked Americans in Bob Marley t-shirts smoking pot over their egg breakfasts looked up as we navigated the narrow aisle between tables, trying to get to the check-in desk at the back of the room. The Indian man manning the desk looked frazzled and rather inexplicably annoyed with us.

We gave him our names and explained we were there to check in, hoping we could set our stuff down, grab a quick shower and head out to see the city. Looking at us as though we were the stupidest people on Earth, he told us we had to wait until 4:00 that afternoon to check in (it was 10:00 in the morning at the time) and there was no place to put our stuff anywhere in the meantime. OK, fine. We said we’d be back, but there was really no way in hell we were staying there that night.

Instead, we ended up wandering from hotel to hostel until we finally found a small, clean place run by an elderly Australian. We were actually able to rent a small room with two twin beds for less money than we would’ve spent in a big dirty 12-bed room at Bob’s, so we eagerly paid, put our stuff in our private room, locked it, and left to start our adventure.

Now, Jordan is no pot smoker, and though I’ve been known to toke once or twice a year, I’m no professional. But something about our whole ordeal made us really want to go for the complete Amsterdam experience. When in Rome… So we went looking for a place that sells pot brownies. It took us a few tries, but we finally found a small café that seemed inviting. Looking very uncooly American, we approached the young, attractive man at the counter and asked, “Do you sell brownies?”

“Not brownies, but we have ‘space cake’,” he said, smiling and lifting the top off a silver serving dish. “Would you like one piece each or a piece to split?”

Jordan and I looked at each other and shrugged. “One piece each, I guess,” she said. He sliced the cake and we paid, then headed off to a corner table to eat. It was pretty good cake, considering.

When we each had one bite left, three 20-something American girls walked up to the counter and had almost the exact same conversation with the Dutchman, but with one critical difference: when he asked whether they would like to split a piece, one of the girls asked shyly, “Well, we’re kind of new to this, so we’re not sure whether we should each have one. How strong is it?”

To which the hot Dutchman replied, “Oh, you’ll want to split a piece. This is really strong.”

Jordan and I, having just swallowed our last bites, looked at each other. Oh shit.

Nervously laughing off the Dutchman’s assessment of the already-ingested marijuana, we decided to head over a few blocks to the red light district. We passed over a perfectly normal-looking bridge onto a street entirely populated with 18-year-old testosterone. One man wearing stage makeup and dressed in a tuxedo caught my arm and said in a sleazy Italian accent, “Hey ladiessss, would you like to come to my sex show? Lots of licking, sucking, fuckingggg.” I mumbled something to the effect of “no thanks” and we promptly started walking faster.

We needed a protective barrier from harassment if we were going to explore the red light district. We needed to find some men. So approximately 15 minutes after consuming “space cake” we found ourselves in a small sports bar drinking beer and looking for some English-speaking male tourists. We found them in the form of 6 Ohio college boys on vacation.

Sitting around the bar table with our new friends (approximately 30 minutes post-pot ingestion), I began laughing. It was normal at first, laughing at jokes and amusing stories. Then it became uncontrollable. Like a crazy person. Everything was unbelievably funny. I looked at Jordan, tears streaming down my face, and she was laughing hysterically too. We couldn’t stop. I couldn’t breathe. And knowing the unmistakable cause of our behavior, the young Ohio gentlemen asked where they, too, might be able to purchase such potent treats. We laughed and said we would take them, so we all paid our bar tabs and headed out the door.

After 15 minutes of aimless wandering, Jordan and I finally realized we had no idea where the “space cake” café was, so we ducked into a random place painted with wall-to-wall murals of Bob Marley, mushrooms and rainbows. Good enough. We bought more cake, ate it quickly, and jointly decided to go see a sex show at the infamous Casa Rosso.

We made our way back to the red light district and purchased tickets in front of the giant pink elephant for around 20 euro each. Not knowing what to expect, we walked in, laughing nervously. A waiter ushered us to our seats, taking our drink orders on the way. With the curtains and theatrical lights, the atmosphere was more like Broadway theatre than what I imagined a seedy sex show establishment to be.

Until the first couple came on stage.

A large man and tiny woman acted out a seduction scene that lasted the approximately 30 seconds it took to get them both naked. Then they began having some sort of choreographed sex dance during which he started doing one-handed pushups on top of her. Push-up, push-up, push-up, switch… The best part was the circular “bed” part of the stage that lifted the couple a foot off the ground and began rotating so as to give all members of the audience a chance to get a better view. Very, very strange. Hilariously surreal.

After the couple, a single female came out, danced a bit, got naked, pleasured herself with strange objects, exited stage right. Then another female–this time a dominatrix–danced, pleasured, exited. We stayed and watched many more couples and single women “sex dance” for about an hour (which I guess is about the limit of most people because as we were leaving, the first couple came back out and started the exact same routine… Gotta give it up for stamina.)

After the rather uninspiring sex show, we wandered the district for a while, looking at all the beautiful prostitutes on the main drag, then exploring the side streets where they hide the ugly ones. We even found the gigolo section. And at that, we decided to call it a night.

Jordan and I parted ways with the Ohio boys late that night and returned to our clean little hostel. We woke the next morning surprisingly refreshed and ready to explore the less infamous parts of Amsterdam…

Writer’s Block

All I wanna be when I grow up is a writer.

So I keep asking myself how the hell am I supposed to do that if I never write.

And then I answer myself with I don’t have time to write.

And then I say what about when I’m doing nothing at work.

And then I answer well I play solitaire because work is so boring I’ve fried my brain and all I want to do is sit around and not think while waiting for the clock to say 5:00.

And then I say what about after work when I’m not going to the gym and instead am sitting on the sofa watching crappy local news followed by trash T.V. until something good comes on at 8:00.

And then to shut myself up I say I have writer’s block.

And since I don’t have a good answer for that, I realize I’m so horribly addicted to my own lazy habits I keep my energized creativity locked tightly away in a sound-proof room like a crazy person while gluttony is posted at the door as bouncer and lethargy runs the place.

But I’m going to try to break her out because in the words of McSweeneys’ verbal cartoonist Dan Liebert “To overcome ‘writer’s block’ you have to kill your ‘inner censor’ and anyone else who says you’re no good.”

So now I’m writing again. Let’s see what I say…

Visualization

Money: Rob and I have plenty of money. More than enough to live the way we want to live. And now we can afford to help others with it. We’ve paid off my credit cards and student loans. We have helped our families pay off their debt: my mom, my dad, my brother, Rob’s brothers… We have enough money to live compassionately, to help others forget the worry. And we don’t ever have to worry about money again because there will always be plenty.

Travel: We live in the world. We have homes in our favorite places, but we’re only there when we need to be. We are seeing the world. Every corner of it, and it’s beautiful. We’ve been to Indonesia, Japan, China and Cambodia. We’ve been to Australia and New Zealand. We’ve been to Spain, Italy, France, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, England, Scotland, Ireland, Netherlands… We’ve been to Egypt, South Africa, Kenya. We’ve been to Peru, Brazil, Columbia, Costa Rica, Guatemala, Mexico. Canada and the U.S. We’ve met so many beautiful people and shared so many beautiful stories.

Work: I am a writer. A yoga instructor. An English teacher. A humanitarian. A politician. I live compassionately through my work. I help others through my work. I love what I do.

Health: We eat consciously and thoughtfully, taking time with our food. I am a cook and I love to share the joy of healthy eating. I am a vegetarian. Rob and I are very active. We ride bikes everywhere. We practice yoga and meditation every day. My body is firm and limber, my bones strong. We are healthy.

Rob and I are deliriously happy.

Excerpts from a Schizophrenic

We don’t know who sent the letter because there is no return address; it was mailed to my place of employment in a very crisp, nondescript yellow envelope. The postal verification on the front indicates it was mailed September 21, 2007. Aside from that, we know nothing. Except that it’s brilliant.

Attached to the front of the 11 page letter are two yellow post-it notes. His handwriting is hurried and nervous, centered and tilted upward on the paper. He scrawls, “Copy this enclosed for every state government. National crisis: Moscow Institute of Science has implanted 10,000 government employees at national level, mostly. All Congress has implant: part biologic, part metal. Work owns governments.”

Behind the notes, the treatise is entitled “Divine: Treatment for Schizophrenia.”

I wish I had the time to copy all 11 pages here. But these exemplary excerpts are gems:

“The goal of a schizophrenic is to release the aura of a voice. Psychiatrists sometimes suggest playing CDs of instrumental music, or soft tender music like Enya, or Yanni, or Christmas songs over the voices. Throw away all negative or seductive music.”

“Say Divine constantly. The background book for saying Divine constantly is from ‘Creative Visualization’ by Shakti Gawain. In it she describes healing statements. The best for this ailment is saying Divine constantly. Say Divine is within me always. Say Divine correction to any statement. Each of us are a Divine correction. To any problem or negativity, say Divine is surrounding me always. Divine is protecting me always. This trio statement can be made to also help seal your aura so other voices go away.”

“Divine wants you to not have other voices in your head. If a voice says he’s God or Jesus he is not saying the truth. Divine is quietly working on your behalf. If a picture of Jesus comes into your mind, it may be playing with your mind to kick you and make you feel poorly. That is why the word Divine is chosen to say repeatedly. Divine is not a picture of someone. Divine is quiet and protect you from any negativity just by saying Divine constantly. Divine want only Divine and yourself to be in yourself constantly, like a normal person. That’s why Divine is quietly working towards your curing effect.”

“Three other things are primary for self care: Divine Holy Water, Perkl-light, and 10,000 Lux Full Spectrum Light Box.”

“Melatonin has been proven by scientists to help heal the holes in the brain that are often seen in this ailment. Eat ten to twenty a day. There is no limit. If it makes you sad, eat just before sleeping with your psychiatric pill. Use melatonin spray on your head! Shave your head to 1/4 inches.”

“If you hear voices trying to enjoy your own meal in your mouth, hold a tablespoon or two of vinegar in your mouth a while. Swallow. Use Colgate’s ‘Orabase’ soothe-n-seal for canker and mouth sores, on your inside of your mouth to seal away voices. Eat yogurt and Dan-Active only for one to two months. Ensure products add needed vitamins and protein. Then go to soft foods so the mouth is less disturbed by crunchiness. Spread plain yogurt all over your body. Lay on plastic drop cloth over your bed… Ladies, use a tampon with yogurt on the tip and place in vagina. Melatonin lotion can be put into vagina instead. Melatonin lotion may calm the skin on any area. Also vaginal cream feels better.”

“New skin liquid bandage can be used to seal any scratch or skin eruption. Voices try to get in through a skin eruption. New skin liquid bandage seals the skin. New skin liquid bandage can be used on the back of the neck up to the occiput and on the sacrum to seal away voices. Do not use all over the body. The skin needs to breathe! If the skin cannot breathe a person may not live.”

“Use your own energy! Work at keeping a clean room each day. Cleanliness is next to Godliness. negativity goes away with clean room and house. Add air freshener, natural potpourri, and perfume. Keep room sunny! Have clear plastic drawer so light comes into every area of your room if you can go that far! Add angels to your room as pictures or/and statues. Angels magazine has many inexpensive pictures of angels… Divine may be typed in large print and taped all over property and walls to sooth and send away negativity. Put personal identifications such as drivers’ license in Holy Water and in a plastic bag. Wear a fanny pack as a voice may try to persuade you to loose your keys, IDs, and money.”

“If you hear ssss sounds outside you or crunching sounds take a hand vacuum and point it away from you so it sucks away from your head. The hand vacuum may have motor oil where the air comes out so the energy does not go to you again. The ssss sounds may be a voice wanting to be told go back to your body, this will scatter your energy too much if you come too close to me. A large fan can be next to the wall sucking the energy to bounce on the wall. An ionizer without air purifier can be set on the floor with clothes to wear the next day above it in case a crinkle feeling is on towels and clothes.”

“If a voice mentions filth, your job is to be really clean! Put dandruff shampoo on hair longer than usual, 5 minutes or 3 hours or so. Use dial soap liquid over your body and head and keep it there for 5 minutes or so before showering. Use bactine spray on hair if sweaty. Use aloe vera in sauna if sweaty. Pepto bismal for cleaning the stomach, Vaginal cream for cleaning the uterus, Pink eye homeopic tear medicine for eyes, nasal spray for nose, listerine or sore throat spray for mouth, homeopic ear medicine for ears, or olive leaf oil for ears, for the cavities and body openings are susceptible to a lower grad of cellular activity.”

“Write down a few Divine statements such as: Divine is within me always. Divine surrounds me always. Divine protects me always. Divine is in every part of my body. Divine brings me so much abundance and plenty. Divine I care for the weak and unfortunate first and foremost. Divine I live along time compassionately concerned in my area. Divine protects myself, my property, my family, and friends. Divine, I am a caring, sweet, nice person and everyone thinks so. Divine I am alone dressing. Divine, Sir, go back and look for a wife to marry.”

“If you don’t know where to start for treatment consider Divine towel treatment. Do sign of cross with Divine Holy Water, state may I put this cloth in Divine Holy Water. Put Towel in Divine Holy Water and wring slightly. Apply to head and neck, perhaps face and back for laying down position. You can put Divine towel on every part of body. For slight affliction, wear Divine towel around neck, as though you’ve just come from the spa for out and about town. Get a floppy plastic new cake pan and add Divine Holy water. Lay head in it during sleep time. You may add a washcloth to make it more comfortable or/and towel treatment.”

“Light in body openings tends to move the energy out of the body. A clear plastic tampon can be used.”

“Do not swallow Divine Holy Water. State Divine, I’m sorry for drinking Divine Holy Water. Divine forgives you immediately. Divine is quietly working for you in serene contemplative tub. But do not use a tub, for voice may want to submerge you too much.”

“If you sense a white beam of light through you, this is too strong, and the voice may say insightful things from your mind and then say that you are not going to last through the day. Voice and light is faulty. Run around the room! State Divine I want to be normal. Don’t answer any questions. Turn on TV without volume or very low volume and look closely at TV when not running.”

“Tactile yourself by putting own head in kitchen faucet of running water. Do not use a towel, just run around room.”

“For vibrations, walk around room. A helmet may help. Thick metal like a computer laptop held over chest and head may help. If you have the vitamat, place sideways like a shield.”

“If your eyes can’t see right, wash eyelashes with washrag. Do sign of cross with Divine Holy Water and sign of cross on eyes. Look into light or light box (full spectrum light preferred) for five minutes.”

“Keep reading to a minimum. Even the lovely Chicken Soup books are stories that are not written in third person so sometimes the reader gets confused and thinks they are the person in the story and they lose track of their own name. State Divine constantly.”

“Divine Holy Water is from a Divine Cistern in a Catholic church, from a Catholic Pries at a Rectory home, or from a Catholic store. If you are unable to find a Catholic church in severe times, you may declare a cup of water as Divine Holy Water in some instances such as: Severe illness unable to get across room and no one to get Divine Holy Water for you, Foreign country with only non Christians, In a psychiatric ward without being able to get it for you, or unable to convince nurse or relatives.”

“There is an orchestra of music mentioned by many schizophrenic persons. No one yet knows where the music comes from. The music tries to blends voices from several persons until they cannot think very well. Call 202 324-3000 if this is what is happening to you.”

“May you have many blessings and Divine protection all your life long.”