That's infotainment.

Three things about three things:

1. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist today. One, well of course I need the soundtrack immediately. Two, my high school days were more along the lines of Mallrats - do kids these days really have such adventures? I'm jealous. And three, if I were a 14 year old girl you'd better believe that Michael Cera's Tiger Beat photos would soooo be plastered all over my walls. In fact, I'm a 33 year old girl and I'm considering it.

2. The Decemberists at the Crystal Ballroom last night. One, OH. Two, MY. Three, GOD. The best of the four? five? shows I've seen since 2004. And how fun to see them in their natural habitat. They played many favorites including The Island, which I've never heard live (for the record, best song to play on repeat when you're waiting for the bus on a rainy, cold day). They made us re-celebrate the election results, which made me re-regret not getting up at the crack of dawn to stand in line for eighteen hours to see them perform at the Obama rally in June. They encouraged singing along as always, and boy oh boy did we all. My throat hurt this morning. La de da de da de diddy diddy da. And they ensured that my next sick day will revolve around watching YouTube clips of their performances and videos.

[Digression: In the lead-up to the main show I was composing a mental rant about the emo couple behind me who kept bitching and moaning because "unh PEOPLE are cutting in FRONT of me AND my IRONIC T-SHIRT in this GENERAL ADMISSION venue and unh I can't SEE and I've been here since NINE THIRTY this MORNING and I'm TOO COOL to clap for the opening band who is sorta AWESOME but if I clap my bf/gf will think I'm LAME for liking someone that EVERYONE likes and unh do I have the SAME haircut as Colin Meloy does that make ME lame omg WHY am I even here anyway SIGH where's my HOODIE unh I need a clove cigarette..." But then I got over it because the show was just awesome and I forgot about everything except the songs and the band and the fact that I was seeing The Decemberists in Portland. I live here! End of digression.]

3. Blade Runner yesterday morning. One, it took me several attempts over the past week to get through it - kept falling asleep. (Same was true for Hedwig, which just means I am lame, it's no reflection on the movie.) Two, the narration bugged the crap out of me - to the point where I started to wonder if Harrison Ford was actually a good actor. (Results came out in his favor, but it was touch and go for a few minutes in my thought process.) Three, I fear I've seen variations of this story so many times since 1982 that I missed the awe-inspiring groundbreaking conceptualization of the frailty of life that the film was recognized for almost 30 years ago. Or maybe I'm just old enough now to realize that I didn't need a movie to tell me how frail life is. You be the judge.

________________
Bonus infotainment review: best LOL I've seen in a while.

Bonus bonus infotainment review: I finally found Sifl and Olly clips on YouTube. If you don't recall, this was a short-lived very-late-night MTV sock puppet show from the late 90's. Yes, I said sock puppet show. It was probably geared toward stoners coming home from the bar... being lame, I taped it while I slept sober-but-just-tired and watched it the next day. I like to think that its short life paved the way for shows like South Park (now in it's eight thousandth season) and Flight of the Conchords (which we must get more of). All that really matters is that it's absurd and it makes me laugh. Here's a clip that will appeal to you mateys out there. Seek out the rest as time permits. Arrrr.

Add to the "thankful" list.

In a complicated turn of events, later this week I'm baking something wheat-free, egg-free and involving chocolate for two people at work. I know several current or former celiac folks but I've never really delved into their world, opting to make the easier vegetable side dishes over more challenging dishes that normally contain gluten and/or wheat...

And holy crap, now I see why. Not only are the ingredients insane (arrowhead? what the hell is that? amaranth? I don't even know how to say that! vanilla has gluten in it? can someone tell me why?), the recipes themselves look absolutely TERRIBLE. Witness:

• Carob devil's food cake
• Fudgy no-bake chocolate oatmeal cookies
• Victoria Sponge Recipe ("This recipe is dairy free, gluten free, wheat free, corn free, egg free and yeast free." And taste free and eater free, I am guessing.)

Anyone have a tried and true wheat-free chocolate dessert recipe? I can use fake eggs. So there's that... A good chocolate torte perhaps? Brownies w/gluten-free flour? Chocolate chip cookies? The kicker is I'll probably have to make it after a show Thursday night, so quick and easy is preferable, though I could make cookies ahead of time.

And all you celiacs out there - I AM SO SORRY.

UPDATE: I would definitely eat these, and these. Oooooh, and these. Definitely those. OK, I think I'm set on the recipe.

In even more not-yet-December-dang-it holiday news...

I sent an email a few weeks ago to my family and old friends back east, the gist of which was, "I don't need or want anything in particular and I'd be 100% happy if you donated whatever money you planned to spend on me to the charity of your choice instead but I've tried this before and it's never worked, so if you must get me something, gift cards to the usual haunts are appreciated (and easily mailed!). Her Majesty, on the other hand, wants an easy bake oven and a Snoopy snow cone machine."

If only I'd glanced through a copy of Martha Stewart Living before I sent that email.

I'm trying to cut out extraneous magazine delivery for environmental reasons (goodbye, Entertainment Weekly, I'll miss you during my 6-mile elliptical romps) but I can't let go of the paper version of Sunset just yet (killer pear tart recipe a few months ago!)... Last weekend I leafed through the December issue of MSL and got SO MANY EXCELLENT IDEAS! Like this! And this! And this!

And doilies! Who doesn't love doilies! (OK, this is perhaps the only reason I can bring myself to hate Martha. Doilies?!?!)

The fact that she finds ways to reuse just about everything lessens the guilt I feel for wanting a paper magazine subscription to MSL. The fact that I got so inspired from one silly magazine is... well, inspiring. I know I can get almost all the information online but there's something so satisfying about poring over a glossy spread of crafty ideas or tasty treats.

Hmm. I think I know what I'm getting myself for my birthday. In addition to that charitable donation, of course!

Delayed reflection.

I was going to make Christmas cards today. I know, I know, I just ranted about it not even being December yesterday. But making cards is an endeavor of time and trial/error, so it's best that I start early.

However. Every year I buy holiday cards after the new year because they're up to 75% off and I always manage to find funny or charming ones among the crappy leftover selection. Recently I've done this as backup in case I was too busy for, or lost interest in, the handmade card concept. Of course, by the time I pull them out the following holiday season I don't like the cards anymore. (So if you don't get a handmade card this year, I'm sorry about the card you do get.)

Last Thursday morning I dove into the closet I haven't really looked in since May (when I shoved everything I didn't know what to do with, into that closet) and found a bunch of Christmas stuff including... six half-empty boxes of holiday cards. SIGH.

Being the frugal, environmentally-conscious person that I am, I have to use these cards up before I let myself kill more trees in honor of the holiday season. (Well, technically, the trees are already dead and I have the cardstock in my possession. But I digress.)

There is a point to this story.

I started writing out cards. I'm sure it will shock and awe that I'm the type who can't just sign my name - there must be some sort of personal note in each card, which basically means this task is a royal pain in the ass (and wrist!) every year. As I was writing I was amazed to recall all the losses from this year. Good friends and extended family had a rough 2008. Crafting personal notes for certain cards was incredibly challenging - how does one wish someone a happy holiday season when they've just lost their wife of 45 years, or both grandpas, or a life too young to lose?

And then I started thinking how lucky I am that my immediate family is relatively healthy and happy. I didn't get that dreaded call this year. I didn't have to fly home and accept condolences and eat too much casserole and drink too much scotch. One year the call will come, and I'll deal with it. And then it shall pass and others will wonder what to write in my holiday card.

For now I went with something like "this season may you find peace in memories of holidays past... thinking of you." I guess that will suffice.

Call your loved ones. As a friend's FB status said, "Thanksgiving, after all, is a word of action."

Holiday lament.

Oh, Christmas tree lots, oh Christmas tree lots
It's not even December
Oh, Christmas tree lots, oh Christmas tree lots
Days of yore I remember
We put the tree up CHRISTMAS EVE
Trees out at Halloween are my NEW PET PEEVE
Oh, Christmas tree lots, oh Christmas tree lots
What a sad waste of timber

Thank you! I'm here all week. Try the veal.

Now on to NeMoCaUp.*

I finished The Fountainhead. Two days early, still a dollar short. Go figure.

I liked it a lot. I still don't think I fully grasped its significance, but I now understand that my AP English teacher would've assigned us an essay entitled "Power And Why It's Bad" instead of something just about capitalism.

Dominique and Howard were infuriating throughout the second half of the book - SERIOUSLY? YOU LOVE HIM/HER? AND YOU'RE GOING TO LIVE IN SOLITUDE/WITH SOMEONE ELSE? Jesus H. Christ, life is too short already.

If I never have to read another word the fictional Ellsworth Tooley speaks, it will be my lucky day. I loved how he went from respected and revered at the beginning of the novel, to whiny and subserviant at the end.

I'm not sure what to make of Howard Roark. He loved what he did, to a fault more often than not. He didn't care what anyone else thought. But there was something incredibly primitive about his lack of social skills, one-track mind and egotism. It was almost as though he was an animal trying to survive in a human's world.

And those are the deepest thoughts I have on the book at this time. Some interesting excerpts...

"... the person who loves everybody and feels at home everywhere is the true hater of mankind. He expects nothing of men, so no form of depravity can outrage him."
- Gail Wynand to Dominique Francon

"Three quarters of them don't know what it's all about, but they've heard the other one-quarter fighting over your name and so now they feel they must pronounce it with respect. Of the fighting quarter, four-tenths are those who hate you, three-tenths are those who feel they must express an opinion in any controversy, two-tenths are those who play safe and herald any 'discovery,' and one-tenth are those who understand."
- Steve Mallory, describing the art community's reaction to a controversial construction project, to Howard Roark

{I liked this quote because it seems to be a timeless description of any group's reaction to any type of controversy. One tenth of one quarter of the population actually gets it... seems about right.

Oh, and unrelated but also? The cliche about the man ditching the perfect woman out of his own stupidity, then ten years later apologizing and expecting to be friends? Yeah, that happened 65 years ago too. I suspect it's happened since the birth of mankind. Stupid men.}

"[The kitten] was clean - clean in the absolute sense, because it had no capacity to conceive of the world's ugliness. I can't tell you what relief there was in trying to imagine the state of consciousness inside that little brain, trying to share it, a living consciousness, but clean and free. I would lie down on the floor and put my face on that cat's belly, and hear the beast purring. And then I would feel better..."
- Gail Wynand, on... well, surviving

"Howard, everything you've done in your life is wrong according to the stated ideals of mankind. And here you are. And somehow it seems a huge joke on the whole world."
- Gail Wynand to Howard Roark

"Look at the moral atmosphere of today. Everything enjoyable, from cigarettes to sex to ambition to the profit motive, is considered depraved or sinful. Just prove that a thing makes men happy - and you've damned it. That's how far we've come. We've tied happiness to guilt."
- Ellsworth Toohey to Peter Keating

And so, I cross one thing off the list (and coincidentally, the 4Q goals as well). Now to map out a training plan for 10 miles by 30 days from today and a garden visit for the first sunny weekend day I come across.

Considering that I haven't run more than 3 miles at a time in over a month, and that it's winter in Portland, December is going to be an interesting month.

________________
* Netflix Movie Catch Up. Blade Runner has been sitting on top of my TV, along with Away From Her and The Hunting Party, for over a week and a half. Looking forward to all of them. (Yes, I've never seen Blade Runner. I meant to last year when it was re-released, but I didn't. OK?!)

Thankful five.

Five lighthearted things I am thankful for today, in no particular order:

• the Pipeline porter and cranberry stuffing in my refrigerator
• I have no plans with anyone's crazy family (including my own)
  
• the House marathon on TNT
• I am finished with Christmas shopping
  
• I don't have to go to work (!!!)
  

Five not-so-lighthearted things I am thankful for today, in no particular order:

• I have a refrigerator full of food and a roof over my head
  
• I am physically able to take a nice long walk later this afternoon
  
• I can fill up a couple bags for Salvation Army this morning to help those in need
• I have a job
• My friends and their crazy families (and my own) are, generally speaking, healthy and happy

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's one thing...

... to "see" people you haven't seen or thought about in years with their families and their houses and their happy statuses.

It's quite another to "see" a dear old friend you somehow, accidentally, lost touch with a few years ago because of longer distance and changing interests and what have you, suddenly married with a beautiful daughter. (Well, it wasn't "suddenly" for him - it was a three-year process.) I actually got teary with happiness.

Behold the power of Facebook.

"I won the what?"

I didn't get I'm Not There. I wanted to get it. I wanted to love it. Alas. I also didn't think Cate Blanchett deserved to win the Central Ohio Film Critics Association's award for Best Supporting Actress. (Seriously. This is a real association. I can just see her face.) Or that she deserved an Oscar nomination either - why, because she played a man? Whatever.

In other movie news, I don't normally go for movies about family kidnappings that include torture and murder, but Funny Games had Tim Roth and it's hard for me to turn down a Tim Roth movie. Overall it was your typical family kidnapping that included torture and murder, but it didn't have the typical gratuitous violence. Each scene in the film was meticulous, methodical and deliberate. (Those Europeans sure do make fine films.) Most interestingly, there are a few scenes where they break the fourth wall by talking to the audience. I don't think I've seen that in a film since Ferris Bueller, and I've definitely never seen it done in a serious film. The first time Michael Pitt turned to the camera and asked a question I actually felt like he had caught me being a voyeur in his heinous game. He can be creepy as it is,* but this creeped me the hell out, and that's what made me love this film.

________________
* Seriously, Hollywood! Can this boy please have more roles where he isn't a complete freak? He has so much potential, as evidenced in Hedwig and Dawson's Creek (yeah, I went there, and yeah, I actually mean that). I'm going to write his agent.

NaNoReMo update.

"He liked this book. It had made the routine of his Sunday morning breakfast a profound spiritual experience; he was certain that it was profound, because he didn't understand it."

I'm on page 443 of 753 of The Fountainhead (59% complete - but only a week to go! gaaaa). That's a good quote to describe my feelings about it. I haven't read any of the summaries or analyses yet - I wanted to see if I could figure out, on my own, what my high school English teacher would've chosen as the essay topic. The problem is that I read it in bits and pieces, 15 minutes on the bus, 20 minutes at lunch, so it's hard for me to pinpoint the underlying themes. (Other than, capitalism BAD.) I need to just sit down and plow through the rest of it and I'm sure everything will become evident.

Otherwise, I no longer think Howard Roarke is an ass. In fact, I admire him quite a bit. But Dominique is still pathetic and a bit too drama-queeny for my taste, especially after this move she just pulled. Peter Keating is still an arrogant fool. And all the old codgers can call it a life as far as I'm concerned.

Interesting quotes:

"We'd all be a heap sight better off if we'd forget the highfalutin notions of our fancy civilization and mind more what the savages knew long before us: to honor our mother."
- excerpt from Alvah Scarret's newspaper column

"The shortest distance between two points is not a straight line - it's a middleman. And the more middlemen, the shorter. Such is the psychology of a pretzel."
- Kent Lansing to Howard Roarke when discussing who would pitch Roarke as the architect for the Aquitania

"'If you make people perform a noble duty, it bores them,' said Wynand. 'If you make them indulge themselves, it shames them. But combine the two - and you've got them.'"
- Gail Wynand justifying the contents of his newspaper

Onward and upward...

Belated Friday five. Er... Wednesday three.

Five reasons I opted for the Willie Nelson tribute show instead of the coworkers' middle school party, in no particular order:

• The people throwing the party were too young to know who Debbie Gibson was.
• I'm reliving middle school through Facebook almost every day. That's plenty, thank you very much.
  
• Um, hello, Willie Nelson tribute show? How could I not go! (It was awesome.)
• ...
  

OK, I only needed three reasons for this.

Actually, I only needed one reason: I just did not want to go. The show was a convenient rationale.

"I put on some make-up, turn up the eight track..."

I finally watched Hedwig and the Angry Inch last night. I expected a funny musical about an angry German transvestite. It was that, which would've been enough, but it was also so much more than that. It was a commentary on equality, it was a pop culture satire, and it was - GASP! - a love story.

Yes, I am actually recommending a love story. Pick your jaw up off the floor.

Seriously, I must insist that you rent this immediately. Very well done, very moving, very catchy and very fantastic wigs.

In unrelated-but-not-really news, Monday night's Larry King Live featured the pregnant man and his wife, who've recently written a book about their experience. The couple were lovely, despite King's repeated insistence that they weren't right, they weren't natural, they weren't "normal." He asked the wife if she regretted not finding her prince. The husband replied, "She did." King asked how they had sex. (HE ASKED HOW THEY HAD SEX. Jesus H. Christ.) They both replied, "The normal way." King asked why they didn't just adopt. The wife replied, "Would you ask that of a heterosexual couple? Why are you asking us that?"

Then came the callers. Oh dear god, the callers.

I can only imagine that this entire show was intended to enrage the lefties. I know I was yelling at the TV at the gym Monday night.

Dear Larry King, just retire already. Please? Thanks. Signed, Sick of Your Inane and Insulting Interview Tactics in Portland, OR

Oddly, there were no sweaters.

Last night I had a dream that I was helping a bunch of people organize and clean out a huge warehouse, which turned out to be Bill Cosby's warehouse. He was there too, getting things in order while he was still alive instead of leaving it to others after he was gone. Quite considerate of him. But man, did he have a lot of crap. Most of it was pretty old but none of it was dirty or dusty. I remember distinctly noticing that.

I have no idea what this could possibly mean.

In other news, I liked this. A lot.

"You just gotta keep livin' man, L-I-V-I-N."

Before I moved, a friend gave me the Living Life Game - 30 life adventures to add a little excitement to the everyday. I love a good adventure, and I am definitely the type who needs to check things off a list, so I was very excited to play this game. Best played alone - even better!

After the move I got distracted with... well, life... so I put off playing the game. When I finally did pull the game out to start, it turned out that the first adventure was to watch the sun rise. I love sunrises and sunsets, and getting up early wasn't going to be a problem. However, my timing has always been impeccable, and the day I pulled the first card it was overcast early in the morning. After that, the sunrise always occurred around the time I was in the shower, so I put the game aside temporarily.

This morning I woke at 6am, fed Her Majesty and started about my day. One of the first tasks was to take out the trash and on the way back into the building, what to my wondering eyes should appear:

According to the card I was supposed to view the sunrise from a place that is quiet and open, so that I could reflect upon its significance and beauty.

The path back to my apartment may not be "open," but at 6:20am Sunday morning it's pretty darned quiet. After I went back in to grab the camera, I stood and just watched the sky change for about 10 minutes.

I was also supposed to see if I felt more productive on this day. Well... I've been up for 14 1/2 hours and it's only 8:30pm. Of course I was productive. (Kidding, sort of. I did get a lot of holiday and birthday shopping done, and I made the cranberry stuffing for mandatory fun day on Tuesday, and... well, no one cares what I had for lunch but I got a lot done today.)

And now I'm totally wiped out. I was hoping the Pipeline Porter I had with dinner would wake me up a bit so that I could watch Hedwig, but alas...

________________
Tony is Mark! Did you know this? If so, why didn't you tell me? I love him. I just read his memoir, and while I plowed through it in literally a day, and bawled my eyes out through the entire chapter where he describes the first performance after Jonathan Larson's death, I can't recommend it to anyone other than his biggest fan (which is me, so never mind).

And wow - his brother directed Winter Passing. And Tony Mark was in that too, and I didn't notice that either.

Bad biggest fan! BAD!

File under: not worth the time. Well, not worth my time, anyway.

Things We Lost in the Fire: apparently, we lost any sense of what a good story might be, followed closely by Berry's and Del Toro's careers (Duchovny's is already done, I'm guessing), AND almost two hours of my life. So thanks for that, Susanne Bier.

A Lawyer Walks Into a Bar...: the tale of several folks and their quest to pass the bar exam. A very strange documentary that pitted stereotypical lawyer jokes (compliments of Eddie Griffin and actual really bad 3am crack lawyer infomercials) against ambitious youngish people, none of whom I related to, who seemed to be genuinely committed to passing the bar exam for various reasons, many of which had to do with making lots of money for doing as little as possible. The only student I cared about was the woman who killed herself working herself up from the dregs only to be told she didn't have enough credits to qualify to take the bar exam at that time.

(Seriously, how did this get into my Netflix queue? I think there is a bug in the software.)

Next up: Before the Devil Knows You're Dead. I suspect it's going to royally suck, Seymour Hoffman aside. But I will watch it. And then I will write a scathing review. Because that's how I roll.

I'm Not There is coming soon, and a coworker lent me Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and I have some sort of scrapped-together BSG Season 4 which I can only watch on my computer monitor while sitting in my uncomfortable desk chair (which might just force me to buy a comfy desk chair, which I've been procrastinating since May)... and I suspect I will enjoy those immensely. So there's that.

Belated Friday five.

Five Facebook stati I would've posted today, except that I've already posted two, and no one cares that much what I think, and also one is kinda rude, in no particular order:

• ... spent all afternoon in various levels of strip mall hell looking for a store that seems to only exist in a parallel universe, and also on the interweb, but I guess that's redundant.
• ... is starting to understand the yoga high.
• ... is ignoring the "duck duck goose," "basketball fan," and all other stupid Facebook app invitations from "friends."
• ... wants to live in Effington. (It could be a wonderful effingplace.)
• ... can't believe Her Majesty hasn't thrown up in over a week. Laundry day tomorrow, if it happens it will happen as soon as laundry is done. Or maybe this, or this, or this will happen instead.

I can't guarantee that the Effington status won't appear at some point. Loving that song, loving Ben Folds right about now.

NaNoReMo update: Howard Roark is an ass.

And Dominique is kinda pathetic. At the moment, anyway, these two things are true. Book II has taken a sudden downturn, and these two have ended up in a rather twisted something-or-other.

That said, it's good page-turning drama, so I plod on... But not today. There's a mass of incandescent gas, a gigantic nuclear furnace, in the sky right now and I am going to go enjoy that.

Should've just read the short story.

I had high hopes for Wristcutters: A Love Story. Tom Waits, Will Arnett, that kid from Almost Famous, a take on suicide that we haven't seen before...

Alas. The in-between was interesting enough, but the cliche ending ruined the whole thing. Apparently, Desiree's character wasn't in the original short story so I'm curious how that turned out...

Not curious enough to spend any more time on this, though. I've got NaNoReMo to get through! And The Fountainhead is turning out to be a great read. Unlike other acclaimed novels, there aren't an exacerbating number of characters I can't keep up with. Howard Roark continues to grow on me, and this Dominique gal is a pistol too.

Interesting excerpts:

"Do you ever look at the people on the street? Aren't you afraid of them? I am. They move past you and they wear hats and they carry bundles. But that's not the substance of them. The substance of them is hatred for any man who loves his work. That's the only kind they fear. I don't know why." - Henry Cameron to Howard Roark

"... he's always told me marriage is old-fashioned, an economic device to perpetuate the institution of private property, or something like that..." - Catherine Halsey on her uncle's thoughts on marriage, to Peter Keating

Interesting in light of recent CA events... Can't say I disagree.

Not in Kansas anymore.

Spent last weekend in Oaktown catching up with friends and wandering around my old neighborhood. Palm trees and sun and blue sky, oh my. A far cry from fall leaves and rain and cloudy sky, for sure.

I stayed in my old apartment building (at my out-of-town friends' place, not squatting in the hallway as some suspected). It was a bit disorienting for most of the weekend... especially when I wandered into the antique store on a nearby street and saw a Washington Redskins "collectible" plastic hat - I really had to stop for a moment to figure out where I was.

It was great to visit, but coming back to Portland definitely felt like I was coming home.

That made me happy.

Other things for the "things that made me happy" file:

• my last-minute flaky catsitter came through while I was gone
• applying for a job - any job - with the Obama-Biden administration
• plotting a Costa Rica getaway with my travel buddy (can March come any faster?!)
• my first yoga class last night (I know, I know...)
• the calm that started last Tuesday night hasn't worn off yet

Boss is back from vacation today. I'm fully expecting a 180 degree mood shift in about an hour. :)

Editorial. And other news.

For the record, I was pretty happy* when I wrote that last post. I had just heard a concession speech from the person I did not want to win, I had just heard an acceptance speech from the person I did want to win...

I don't regret posting it. I do wish I had been more respectful, like this was. I am glad that so many people voted, regardless of who they voted for. I do think we need to buckle down as a country and figure out where to go, regardless of who won the Presidency. I do hope the next leader of the free world takes a fine-toothed comb to the budget to see which programs are working and which are not, and figures out an exit plan for Iraq and Afghanistan, and...

Most importantly, I do hope he does something about those obnoxious Brooke Shields VW commercials.

In other news!

I am packing for my Oaktown trip, which has suddenly evolved to include former-coworker coffee dates and a facial at my former favorite old spa, in addition to all the previously planned visiting...

And because it will be sunny in Oaktown, I get to see if my solar powered iPod charger actually works...

And I have decided upon The Fountainhead for NaNoReMo. I'm already behind, and it's a long story, so we'll see how this goes. So far I know that Peter Keating is an arrogant fool and Howard Roark is a maverick. (A real maverick, not the kind we've been hearing about for months.) I think I'm gonna like him.

And...

________________
* By "happy" I mean that I had just had a lot of wine out of nervous anticipation. But you already knew that.

For the last time, I mean it.

I have many good friends that are Republicans. My own brother is a staunch Republican (as are most of my extended family on Mom's side). I admit that despite numerous conversations with all of them about this, I will never understand or accept it. Same with them and my liberal ways. We solve the problem by not discussing politics, ever, except on our Facebook statuses (stati?)... which I blatantly ignore around election time, and they surely do the same (as they surely ignore my "schmolitics" rants here).

People. All of you. Reds and whites, donkeys and elephants, lefties and righties, innies and outies.

Take a moment.

Look around.

The economy has collapsed, our freedoms and personal civil liberties have been at risk for years, almost everyone outside the US hates us, we can't take care of our own citizens, unemployment has reached record heights this year... And if that wasn't enough, the person who has ruled our country for 8 years can't speak basic English.

But.

More people than ever came out to vote this year. More people than ever want SOMETHING to change, for red or for blue. More people than ever were part of history in the making over the past few weeks. That says something.

To the fearful, to the depressedly hungover on Wednesday, I say... No one is going to take away your right to bear arms. No one is going to take away your right to choose, either. Your tiny bit of extra taxes will actually help to bring our economy back around and make the dollar worth a damn when you go overseas on vacation, instead of toward the war we were blatantly lied into initiating. Socialism is not a four-letter word. (Uh... OK, I need to work on that last one a bit.)

This is directed at no one in particular, and at the same time, to everyone I know in general. It's the last I will speak of politics with friends whose politics I don't agree with, because to do otherwise will just make me sad and frustrated with people I otherwise hold with utmost respect.

Something's gotta give. Give the next four years a chance. They might surprise you. And they are likely to disappoint me. It's gonna take a lot more than four years to see any real change, after all...

And on a related note, if any of you CA people voted Yes on Prop 8, I don't want to know. LALALALALALA FINGERS IN MY EARS I CAN'T HEAR YOU. I don't care how you voted otherwise, but if you voted Yes on Prop 8, I'm pretty sure I could never speak to you again. And I think I really mean that.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Other than to say, Cindy McCain better get busy...

I'm speechless. Completely speechless.

Butterflies in the stomach...

"I want it to be next Wednesday. I want Obama to win, and I want to start getting fretful about something else. Imagine what mischief George Bush is going to attempt between now and Jan. 20. He's gonna pre-pardon everybody for everything. He's going to kill endangered species with his bare hands. He's going to deforest entire states. Now, that's gonna be terrible, but there will be a date certain, as they say, when he has to go back to Texas and do - well, pretty much nothing, is my guess. Jimmy Carter he ain't."

More here.