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Archive for April, 2007

I’m telling ya, this master’s degree better be worth the end-of-semester stress. I’ll be walking around for the next week with a knot in my stomach and this everpresent thought swirling around the back of my brain “I don’t have enough time; I don’t have enough time; DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN THERE’S JUST NOT ENOUGH TIME!!!”

Undoubtedly this is related to the fact that I work full time AND part time (check out April’s Southern Distinction — everybody else promotes their talents and how mah-velous they are online — why can’t I? Oh — because it’s tacky… TOO BAD!!! :0D )

So, I was gonna talk about how I get treated like I’m a snarky wench at work for delivering the same kinds of statements I’ve heard my father say a million times and that have earned him enormous respect as a real insightful and go-getter kind of guy. Apparently you can’t be a real insightful and go-getter kind of guy when you have breasts. It throws people…

But then I thought, you know what? I just want to look at this

and be happy. The sun’s shining and I’m going swimming later, and I just noticed that someone I was kind of curious about likes Dylan Thomas (yes my friends, this means a lot), and my girls are doing their thing tonight at the Morton, and I’m doing my thing tomorrow at the Morton. Seems like a pretty good world to me.

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I have a new nephew, a glorious punch in the eye to all the rage and venom that’s been floating around. Life just keeps on coming despite recent efforts to stamp it out. Let’s call the new guy J.G. — he’s a fatty at 8 lbs, 6 oz. He’ll no doubt be a total spaz (like his father) but extremely meticulous about it (like his mother). In fact, if his gene pool has anything to do with it, he won’t rest till he’s the best spaz around!

And for you Noj (“The Noj…”), because you introduced me to this band and it subsequently became one of my alltime faves. How’s it feel to be a daddy? Yea!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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More updates from HotAir.com on the VT tragedy. I’m sure at some point I’ll have a lot to say about this. But for right now I just keep cycling this question through my mind: why? Why? Why? Why?

My heart tears at the thought of those parents getting phone calls saying they’d lost a child in the fray — in a war for which none of them signed up; indeed one that existed inside the head of one lonely, tortured, selfish, self-involved child.

I’m sending this song out for all those lost. It always makes me feel reaffirmed somehow — maybe because I thrash around a lot when I hear it, or I know it was written by a bit of a tortured soul, or that it is essentially about freedom. Either way, now you know you’ll never be afraid…

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Dear Lord….I don’t even know what to say.

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Got this from Michelle Malkin. Truly fascinating piece on how there really is no continuum of hate. What I mean is hate, hateful rhetoric, simple minded-ness, bad behavior, etc. simply is what it is no matter where it’s directed, where it’s coming from or what the reasons are behind it. In other words, a racist is a racist no matter if s/he hates blacks, whites, greens, purples or blues. It’s always fascinating to me how those who are anti-semitic (for example) can look down the (now disproven) spectrum at those who bark epithets like “nappy-headed ho” and somehow feel superior. Baby, you’re just looking in a mirror.

Anyway, read this article. Here’s a teaser: ” The anti-war left and the racist far-right have come full circle and are now in total mutual agreement…” Compelling, eh?

Also, there’s this little gem about negative refraction and invisibility. Truly awesome.

And, just for Friday fun, because it made me cry with laughter (Thanks Peach!), here’s the PG version of the 300 trailer:

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You know it’s a slow news year when Larry Birkhead being the father is what rivets the attention of the nation. Except, um, there is a war going on and the economy is improving and teachers are abusing their power and the bureaucracy is getting out of control, etc.

Maybe the attention of the country is the problem.

Anywho, talked to my friend Bob last night and was delighted to discover that I can still make her laugh. And, trust me, I’m not that funny. That’s true friendship man.
So, for you Bob, here’s a little song from our college years. Wish I had a copy of Stephen King’s Misery as an audio file to give you memories of Room 206, Brumby Hall. Those lofts were da bomb, baby!

And, here’s to Diane, photographer extraordinaire, old family friend and cranky bee-otch. She gives good photo. (www.photosbydiane.com)

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Awesome

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