The most purely exploitative ploy I've seen in quite some time

So I was watching TV one day when a Burger King commercial came on. It proposed a taste-test by people from remote areas of the world, who'd never tried a Whopper or a Big Mac before. I was immediately a bit horrified. But not nearly as much as I am now that I've checked out the website, which is the whole point of the commercial. There's about a 7 minute video there, showing the process. They claim there are no actors involved, so I'll take their word for it.

The good folks at Burger King decided that it would be a brilliant idea to travel to remote villages in various places of the world, round up some people, and transport them to some place where there are a Burger King and McDonald's nearby, so they can conduct a "pure" taste-test of the competing burgers.

What?!? I can barely find words to describe why I find this so terrifyingly exploitative. It is pretty much the definition of exploitation. So hopefully, I shouldn't have to do much explaining.

The second thing that disturbed me (beside the entire concept, I mean) was how the people speaking in the short film spoke about the "Whopper Virgins." Which is to say, very condescendingly. They made it sound just so quaintly precious, how the people didn't even know how to hold a hamburger, and how grateful they were to the Burger King folks for bringing them Whoppers.

The third thing that disturbed me is that Burger King decided to make a bunch of BK broilers portable and schlep them out to the remote villages from whence they'd harvested their taste-testers, to bring the joy of cheap, poor-quality American fast food to even more "Whopper Virgins." And what wonderful ambassadors of American culture. I believe it when they say that the locals were eager to try new things from other cultures, but... seriously? Is this really what we want as perhaps these folks' first encounter with American culture?

BK, you won't be seeing me anytime soon. But hey, you've discovered a whole new customer base of adorably quaint villagers worldwide. So you'll probably be all right. Except for that whole soul thing, you know. But, hey. At least you won the taste test.

Ok, so that's 'nuff said about that.

FYI:
Burger King Consumer Relations department
305-378-3535
Monday - Friday from 9 am to 5 pm EST

Bailouts? What bailouts?

Just thought I'd share these two articles that I've come across at random points in the last few days. Neither is stunningly eloquent, but raise good points about where in our society bailouts are really needed.

Where's the bailout for nonprofits?

Where's the "Bailout" for the Millions of Women and Children Falling Deeper Into Poverty?

On an unrelated bailout-related note, here is yet a third article, this one by a man with the worst hair ever (there's a pic on the article) regarding the automaker bailouts and the Detroit Lions:

Help, Congress: Bail out Lions fans from Ford

A picture I just found...

So, I'm searching through a bajillion folders of pictures on my computer, looking for one in particular, and came across this picture that I took, over a year ago, of something that amused me. Well-timed, since I kept finding all these amazing pictures of my puppy and missing him unbelievably much.

So, I don't know why this still cracks me up so much, but I am pretty sure that the only known artifact of the biblical crucifixion was not "the ho"! Way to keep track of your maximum characters, folks. Ha.

P.S.

(to the previous post, that is)

This morning, I found myself an undecided voter. I've never been an undecided voter on a major office before (even before I could vote). But I left the presidential race for last, not sure if I really wanted to vote for Obama. I still didn't know if it was the right choice, or just the popular, charismatic, energizing choice. (Don't worry, I wasn't considering voting for McCain; it was just a mattered if deciding if I wanted to vote for Obama. I don't know if he's entirely ready. I don't know if I entirely agree with everything he plans.) I leaned over my ballot in the flimsy fold-up polling cubby, and held my head in my hands. And I knew that, someday, my children would ask me what choice I had made on this day. I didn't get a cop-out. I didn't get to vote for a third party just to avoid making a real choice for something that mattered. And I didn't get to stand by and watch McCain get elected, and think I'd washed my hands of it.

And so I picked up my pencil, and I voted for Obama.

It is new to me, being in this part of the country, that you don't have to wait up late into the night to get electoral results. So it seemed there were relatively few states reporting when I checked the election coverage half an hour ago or so... yet when, a few minutes ago, I flipped back to the NBC election coverage, there I saw: a declaration that Barack Obama had been elected president. I looked at it for a moment, registering. Then I cried. Sobbed.

Then I gathered myself together for about 5 seconds. Then they cut to the rally in Chicago, crowds of so many people-- young people, so many young people!-- shouting and dancing, crying and hugging, kneeling on the ground in overwhelming relief and victory, waving American flags everywhere. And I cried. Sobbed.

Side note: This is the first time I've supported a presidential candidate that actually won. (Yeah, when I was little, I thought I was a Republican.)

God bless America. We might just be ok, y'all. I don't say that because Obama is going to be president. I say that because we elected him.

Why I love election day

I love voting. Like, perhaps unnaturally much. I find it absolutely exhilarating, and always have. I was registered to vote before I was 18. (Yes, that's legal.) I think the first election I actually voted in (at the very least, the first one I voted in, in person) was I think some sort of minor primary for like school board positions, or something relatively small and local like that. I went with my mom. We certainly did not need to wait in line. The nice older ladies who highlight your name off in the precinct name books gave me my first "I voted" sticker. I felt like I should get a cookie.

In fact, I always feel like I should get a cookie. I packed cookies in my lunch today so I could have one, post-voting. Perhaps next year, I should take election day off work, bake a bazillion cookies, and hand them out to people leaving the polls. Hmmm.

So anyway, here is why I love election day. (Even more so than voting in general-- I mean, I could have sent in a mail-in ballot or participated in early voting, but I decided to risk the predicted hours-long lines on this day, in particular.) And in particular, why I am so, so happy with THIS particular election day.

I remember even as a kid, seeing historical and current pictures from other countries, where the right to vote was a more recently earned privilege, a right people still vividly remembered fighting for-- and lining up for blocks and blocks for the opportunity to exercise that right. And I was always amazed at all this reported voter apathy in our own country-- I mean, was it really so long ago? Is it really only the first generation who wins the right (even if it took many generations of fighting for it, before them) who realizes its value? Especially as a woman, and having learned of how the women before me fought for my right to cast that ballot, I don't see how I could not do so.

I know all the scandals, the malfunctioning voting machines, the talk of corruption, all that. But why would you ever not at least try? I don't think our system is nearly that far gone. People who stay home, saying that they don't trust the voting system, or are disillusioned by the two-party domination of national offices, or think one vote doesn't count. They don't get credit for being all cynical and cool. What they get blame for is being apathetic and lazy. If something is wrong with the system, fix it. If you have problems with something, let your voice be heard about it. You don't get to have an opinion and expect it to magically be fixed for you.

But all of that is WAY beside the point, today anyway! I don't know the final numbers yet, of course-- and even once they come in, no matter how historically good they are, they'll still fall so far show of how many people are eligible to be registered and active and vote in this country-- but regardless, for Americans, and amazing number of us appear to have turned out to cast their ballot in this election!

At my voting site, I was so lucky as to cruise in and out in under 35 minutes, even with the dozens of ballot items in Colorado this fall. It spoke of good preparation and a well-staffed site, dealing with so many people from 4 precincts. But I read of stories of elsewhere, where people lined up for hours just to vote. I wouldn't have minded if I was stuck in such a line. Everybody coming to vote got a smile from me this morning. It was just so exciting to see such a collective fervor over an election. I don't even care who they were voting for. I mean, ok, I do care, but I'd rather someone vote for someone or something that I don't support, than stay home and not bother to vote at all.

I work with young adults, a great proportion of whom are homeless, and the rest of whom are dealing with a lot of other stuff in their lives, like children, substance abuse, or mental health issues. Not too many people would blame them if they didn't make voting their top priority.

But the amazing this is, a lot of them did. These young people-- for most of whom, this is probably their first election voting-- have been energized by this election for months, and today I helped more than one person look up their polling site and find out the types of acceptable ID. Also-- and this may be a difference of geography, or size of polling place, or some other factor, but I don't know-- the folks working my polling place today were not all retirees. In fact, probably most not. They were a mix of all ages, people who probably took the day off work just to help manage the long lines and help this historic election go as smoothly as it can.

That was all sort of incoherent, to be sure. But that is a little bit of why I love voting, and election day, and people in this country actually realizing that the right to choose who represents them is an amazing right and carries a corresponding responsibility to exercise it.

Woohoo! Voting.

The next book you should read

...is "The World Without Us" by Alan Weisman.

It is an intriguing look into what the planet might look like if humans disappeared from it today. Sometimes chilling, sometimes inspiring, it asks-- and prompts the reader to ask-- the questions that everyone should be asking: What did the planet look like before humans spread across it? In what ways could it recover if we left, and in what ways have we already left an permanent impact? What traces of humanity would still remain in 100, or 100,000, or 100 million more years?

And most importantly, how can we do better by the planet than disappearing from it? Because even if we all disappeared tomorrow, the after-effects of our presence here will endure, we can't know for how long.

So, knowing all of this, how can we do better by this home we call Earth-- how can we soften the edges of the footprints we've already made, and tread a bit more lightly on this fragile planet?

Unexpected blessings

I have a friend. She is 10 years old, and lives half a world away from me. She shares my birthday. And she brings a smile to my face.

For the past two years I've been sponsoring this friend of mine through Compassion International, and I never imagined the blessings she'd have brought into my life. I mean sure, sure, they have all these stories about how sponsors were in awe of what they got out of the experience, and how it made them cry when their kids wrote about how they and their family pray for them, and how you get to see your sponsored child grow over time as you correspond.

But, see, as it turns out, it's all true! At first, I got a picture, and some basic information about the child I'd sponsored. Then my first letter arrived. I write letters to her as well. Things catch my eye that I think a kid might like-- a postcard of a faraway (to her) land, or some stickers she could share with friends. With each letter I receive, and with each new photograph that occasionally accompanies them, I really have seen her grow and learned more about her. She writes to me about her family, the different kinds of fish they catch in the lake near her home, how she is doing in school, and the fact that she has 2 goats and 4 chickens (which is exactly the kind of detail I would love. Perhaps she has picked up some idea of who I am, as well. Or maybe I just love the same kind of details that a 10-year-old kid would love).

And she does write to me about how she and her family pray for me. And asking me to pray for her as well. Or for specific requests, such as for family members. How amazing is it to know that someone across the world-- a child, no less-- whom you've never met, thinks you're worth praying for? That is why I never forget to remind her that I keep her and her family in my prayers, as well.

When her letters arrive in the mail, I don't even bother to sit down when I get in the door... I just open it up and read it, like a kid opening a long-awaited Christmas present. When I got in to this, I thought it was a good thing to do. Some small way to share the blessings I've been given with someone who needs to be blessed, as we're supposed to do. I really did have no idea how much I'd get out of it.

So, many thanks to my young friend (who will probably never read this). But thanks anyway. And to those of you who are reading this, don't imagine for a minute that you would ever miss that small monthly bit of your paycheck that would go toward sponsoring a child. Sure, there may be months when you really had something else you could have used it on. But just wait till you get those letters. Those pictures. That faraway (or not-so-faraway) child who puts your name into their prayers.

See, this is one of those aforementioned stories like I read, and still didn't really get it. But just go ahead. Start. You'll see. And hopefully someday I'll be hearing your story about the blessing that you just didn't expect.

Compassion International

My love/hate relationship with Fall

I have mixed feelings about fall.

On one hand, it is the season of football, voting, and my birthday. It is the time of year when, after months of sweltering summer, making soup and hot chocolate starts to sound good again. It is a season of cool, wonderful sleeping weather. It is the beginning of a season of holidays that involve lots of good food and magical twinkly lights. It is when I start to think about Christmas shopping, and fleece pajama pants, and warm hats.

On the other hand, it is the beginning of a long season of needing fleece pajama pants and warm hats (and gloves, and coats, and scarves, and sweaters, and etc.). It is a time of blustery winds (especially since I moved to Denver which, no one tells you, is a very windy place) and icy rains (though that less so since I moved to Denver, so I suppose it's a trade off), and snow soon to come. The changing colors of the leaves mark the end of summer days of barbeques and glowing tans and sandals all day long. It brings drastically shorter days and nights that start too soon.

This is why I have mixed feelings about fall.

Here are a couple of fall pictures from the last few weeks.

Best story I've seen all week...

Ok, so I promised heartwarming... I guess this is heartwarming, since the ending is good, but really it's mostly just amusing. Thanks to Lizz for passing along this entertaining tale-- I'm including a link to a different article with less high-tech graphics, since the first time I read it I was on a computer where the picture didn't show up, and that is just CRITICAL to the optimal entertainment value of the story. Poor Gracie!

Horse gets head stuck in tree

Promised happy items

In the below post, I promised happy and heartwarming. I'll find heartwarming later. Here is fun & happy.

I Can Has Cheezburger

The Original Laughing Cat
(put on your speakers)

When all you can say is "WHY??!"

Lately, there have been several stories on the local news that just had to make me exclaim out loud, wondering why on earth such things even happen. Here are the two I found most disturbing. I don't even know what more I can say about them.


This is Bobo the dog. A neighbor called the police about a fire in Bobo's apartment. He was found hog-tied on his back, on top of a burning phone book on the stove top.

They said on the news that his owner may have mental health problems. I should care, but I find myself entirely unmoved by that detail. Anyone who can manage the premeditation to realize the dog would need to be tied, and that phone books are a good flammable fuel source, does not get my sympathy. Bobo does.


This is Judi Lawrence. She was 19 years old, and had a learning disability herself. She met a man on Myspace-- a soldier from Fort Carson-- who convinced her to meet him. She was supposed to be at a bowling class at a special education school. She never made it.

Instead, she met up with the aforementioned soldier. He took her into the woods for sex, then blindfolded her, gagged her, and slit her throat as she stood there.

This is something like the 5th murder that has been connected to that Fort Carson unit. War is traumatizing, I bet. But people who prey on the mentally disabled also do not get my sympathy. Judi, and her family, do.


I swear I'll find something happy and heartwarming to post on here soon.

Oh... and in case you were wondering, Bobo, despite being burned on 50% of his body, is expected to be ok in the end. They found him in time.

Why I'm probably voting for Boulder liberal Mark Udall

A couple of months ago I wrote a post about the rather humorous ridiculous attack ads that various campaigns were launching against their opposing candidates, but which in general just made me aware of things I actually like about the opponent. For a refresher, read here.

So anyway, one of these batches of ads is that attacking "Boulder liberal Mark Udall." Oh yes, it is apparently quite important that we understand not only that he is a "liberal" (gasp! does the FCC seriously allow such obscenities on TV??) but that he is from Boulder, which of course means that he is the worst variety of hippie/snow-bunny/trust-fund liberal. One of the ads literally shows a map behind the evil liberal's head, clearly demarcating the location of Boulder on a rectangle which is apparently intended to be Colorado. I'm not entirely sure though, as "Boulder" was the only thing the marketers chose to include on the map. They perhaps intended to mark its place amongst the circles of hell.

These ads, beyond the declaration of "Boulder liberal Mark Udall" (which is all the discreditation they really needed, you know... "what?? Mark Udall is a Boulder liberal??" I asked myself as the commercial began. "Well, Committee to Elect Bob Schaffer, enough said! How can I sign up for your campaign?") these oh-so-creative ads decided to take it one step farther, and point out some of the horrors which BLMU (as I shall hereafter abbreviate the monster) supports.

"BLMU is against massive new offshore oil drilling projects!!"
...egad! The horrors!!

"BLMU supports oversight of massive corporations and financial institutions!!"
...gasp! Why would he even think such a thing??

"BLMU opposed widespread slaughtering of cute baby puppies!!"
...he should not only not be elected, he should be indicted for such national treason!!

Ok, so maybe the last one was not a real ad. I think it may have been about kittens, or something else. But you get the general idea. Insert ominous music and depressingly dark hues, and you have a conservative scare campaign that raises the bar to a whole new level.

So, after all of these ads had pointed out the many horrible things which the evil Boulder liberal Mark Udall supports (and which, it turns out, so do I), I was already starting to think I'd probably be voting for him. I'll be looking into his positions and history further, of course, to make sure he stands for the things I'd want my senator standing for on my behalf, but it isn't likely that the attack ads got it wrong, seeing as they're actually supposed to be for the other side, and all. But nonetheless, I like to be as informed a voter as I have the means to be.

But then I was sitting in my living room one evening, checking my e-mail or cooing over new pictures of my fabulous nephew & niece, or something else half-distracting while the TV was on, when I hear none other than the Boulder liberal Mark Udall himself, his sinister liberal voice oozing from my TV... "lock your doors and hide! It's me, Mark Udall!.... just kidding!" and going on to remark that it's important to keep a sense of humor, and making some mildly cheesy but upbeat comments about bring Coloradan (or is it Coloradoan?) common sense to Washington. All while standing in a a very Colorad(o)an-looking dusty scene, leaning against an old wooden cow fence or something. Looking somewhat rugged and Colorad(o)an and blue-collar-y in a denim shirt (which of course, actually HAS a blue collar, as you might guess) and somewhat-too-tight jeans. All while wearing a big belt buckle with a cowboy scene or a buffalo on it. Ok, I made that part up. Just the belt buckle. The rest is accurate. But still beside the point.

So in addition to apparently agreeing with Boulder liberal Mark Udall's platforms, I also appreciate that he does have a sense of humor, as well. And in addition to laughing with him, I can also laugh at him in a good-natured sort of a way, since I find it entertaining that-- while I'm sure he meant "just kidding" about needing to lock the doors and hide, it actually comes out sounding like he's "just kidding" about being Mark Udall.

Which, maybe is what he meant, on second thought. I mean, who'd want to be identified as Boulder liberal Mark Udall? He sure sounds like one scary guy.


Boulder liberal Mark Udall: They'd accuse him of making obscene gestures at the French, but then they remembered that they hate the French.

Two ridiculous stories

Part I:

So, this morning, our fearless leader made another brilliant statement, this one about the rapidly downward-spiraling economy in which we find ourselves. Said the W:

I'm a strong believer in free enterprise, so my natural instinct is to oppose government intervention. I believe companies that make bad decisions should be allowed to go out of business.

Under normal circumstances, I would have followed this course. But these are not normal circumstances. The market is not functioning properly. There has been a widespread loss of confidence, and major sectors of America's financial system are at risk of shutting down.

How are these "not normal circumstances"? Because it's not going as he wants? This is not an issue of the free markets "not functioning properly;" it's a matter of them functioning exactly as they were meant to. It just happens not to be "proper" in the sense of not functioning as Bush had really hoped they would. This is not a matter of special circumstances of the free markets being forced to fail by some outside force-- it is a matter of years and decades of unchecked corporations being able to make reckless choices with our money, with minimal to non-existent checks. Get a clue, W.

This is so ridiculous, that that's all I have to say about that.

The full text of the president's aforementioned speech

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part II:

Most people are familiar with the laws, now existing in all 50 states, which allow new parents who are unable to care for their newborns, to drop them off-- usually within a fairly short period of time after birth, I believe in Michigan it's around a week or less-- at certain safe havens such as hospitals or fire stations, no questions asked.

But the brilliant people of Nebraska have decided to take this well-intentioned genre of laws one-- or 17-- steps further.

In the state of Nebraska, you can now drop off children of any age up to 18 at a safe haven. There have been pre-teens and teens abandoned at hospitals.

Ok, so I count this in amongst the others as a well-intentioned law, but one that I think is seriously misdirected. There are certainly many out-of-control children and teens, and many parents who are entirely unequipped to deal with them. This does not mean, however, that parents should be given a carte blanche to abandon said children en masse. The more common safe haven laws, which usually apply only to infants, provide an option for parents who were not ready to be parents, recognize that immediately, decided to have the child anyway and now don't know what to do with this baby. It prevents newborns being abandoned in dumpsters and high school bathrooms.

So what are the alternatives? There is a child welfare system, but of course no one wants it to get to the point where a child is being abused or neglected by their unfit or simply overwhelmed parent, and the law has to step in. It's not a good thing for anyone involved. But when parents are dropping off a pair of pre-teens, or a 13-year-old daughter, where are these kids to go? To an already overburdened foster care system, which I'm sure doesn't have an overabundance of foster families eager to take on older kids who were so difficult that their parents voluntarily gave them up?

While well-intentioned, this law doesn't seem nearly well enough thought out.

Said a legal analyst who was being interviewed about this law:

"I think it's time to tighten up that law a little bit, so that not just any child can be dropped off at a hospital for virtually any reason, which is what we're seeing... What's interesting about this approach is, parents can drop off teens or adolescents for a day, or a week, and then reclaim them."

This is the most absurd part of this story, the part that really makes me categorize this law among the ridiculous tales of the day.

This is going to become the new threat amongst Nebraskan parents. If you really, truly are unable to care for your child, to the point where you feel the need to bring them to a hospital and leave them-- perhaps because you fear you may hurt the child, or because you are unable to prevent the child from hurting you or others or themselves-- then it should not be a simple matter of heading to the Lost & Found and retrieving them at will. You should not be able to drop your 12-year-old off a hospital because he talked back. You should not be able to abandon your 10-year-old for a week because she wouldn't do her homework.

If this law is meant to provide respite for overwhelmed parents, it needs to come up with another method that having them abandon their children to an overwhelmed system. If it is meant to provide support for parents who can't cope, it needs instead to provide real support, education, and the resources that they need to better deal with their children. Parents are parents. We don't need to make it too easy for them to give up on their kids. I've worked with too many teens and young adults whose parents have done basically just that (safe havens or no). It is the parent's job to raise the child. We need to be supporting parents in doing so, providing them with resources and information and options so that they feel able to effectively and positively raise their kids. We should not be enabling them to turn their backs on a whim, only to pick right back up again when the fancy strikes them.

If you read the article, or watch the corresponding video, there's a mother who defends the difficulty of parenting against the children's feeling of abandonment. As if it's an either/or dichotomy. The child having behavior problems for many years may mean that the parent isn't to "blame" per se, but certainly nor does it mean that the child is to blame. And it certainly doesn't mean the child won't still feel abandoned when they are dropped off... and perhaps picked back up... and, dropped off again? It's just a sad story all around, and I'm a little disturbed at the way some of the people in these interviews speak about the difficult children involved.

CBS News story: Neb. Law Lets Parents Dump Kids of Any Age

Diary of a Convention: Part II (a confession)

I do have more to say about this wild week of DNC-ness (can I admit that I might sort of miss the craziness of having the DNC around? that's not the confession, however), but I feel I must first get this off my chest... because all the people I know who are more Obama-obsessed than I am will eventually find out, and then they will be horrified, and some may wish to strangle me, and so I'd rather they find out whilst not in the same room as me.

I passed up a chance to go see Obama's acceptance speech tonight.

(Pause for shocked gasps.)

I mean, it's not like there were tickets just sitting there and weren't going to be used if I didn't go. At 2:30 today (yeah, they advised people to already be in the security line by 2:00) there were 2 tickets magically appearing in our office, and 3 interested co-workers. At first, I was going to put my name in for a chance at one of the two, but then relented. After all, the other two are the most Obama-crazed people I know (see an earlier post on Obama fans; one helped inspire those feelings). The crushed look on either of their faces had they not been selected to go would have been horrible. I knew they'd want it more, not just to be a part of history, but because they may have secretly had on "Barack Star" tees under their shirts. (My teasing is directed more at Obama fans in general than at these two, mind you; I'm glad they got to go.)

I also wished them off with the condition that the rest of us please not have to hear ever detail giddily re-hashed all day tomorrow. At least one agreed.

Then there was the thought of standing in a 6-hour security line, which reportedly stretched a mile and a half at times. And the thought of the who-knows-how-long journey home afterwards (84,000 people and ALL of them took public transportation to get there. Oy to the vey). Beyond all that, though, I had a house to clean. A very dear friend of mine is coming to visit for the long labor day weekend, and there were boxes and messes and all sorts of things threatening to cause injury or discomfort, which I wished to clean up on this, my last day prior to his arrival.

So you may weep and gnash your teeth, and wish that you were in my place, for surely, you may think, you would have made the right decision and taken those 2-out-of-3 odds for a ticket, crushed co-workers be damned.

But you weren't here. And while I can't for the rest of my life say, "I was there," what I can at least say is, "I turned down the chance to be there".... which is still more than you can say.

(so there.)

Scratches on a wall

I live on the third floor of an apartment building with a particularly slow elevator, but also a particularly hot stairwell. This means that when it's very hot, or I'm very tired, or I'm carrying something heavy, I get to spend some time in the elevator as it creeps up two floors.

There are things scratched into the paint on the inside of this old elevator's doors. I've never paid too much attention to just what-- initials carved with the end of keys or who knows what, scratches from the feet of various furniture packed into the tiny space, and the like. Yesterday, after a very long and tiring day of work, as I stood in this elevator waiting to reach my final destination, I saw one scrawl that struck me as particularly poignant and intriguing, however: "I miss my mom."

Who took the time to scratch this phrase into the elevator door? A college student away from home for the first time? A young professional, overwhelmed by the demands of life and wishing for a simpler time when someone else packed their PB&J for lunch? Or, more tragically, someone whose mother is no longer around? I found myself wishing the best for the elevator graffiti's author, and hoping that he or she was able to see their mom soon, if that was a possibility.

Today was another long day. Another long walk home, through much DNC madness still occurring downtown. So once again, I found myself in the elevator. I looked back to the scribble on the wall. It was then that I noticed-- not once, not twice, but over and over the same phrase was scratched into the door: "I miss my mom."

Were they carved in one day, on someone's even longer trip up to the fourth floor? It seems unlikely, as even this elevator isn't that slow. Was each phrase added one day after the next? Were they even written by the same person, or by others echoing the original sentiment? It's impossible to know. But I feel like I want to give the scrawler a hug. So I hope someone else is.

(There was a nice woman giving out free hugs on the 16th street mall today. I got one. It made me smile. Maybe I should write that on the elevator wall.)

Diary of a Convention: Part I

Today, I stepped out of my front door, and a military helicopter buzzed past over my head, so close I wondered it didn't hit the building.

But perhaps I should rewind.

If you haven't noticed yet, a year and a few days ago I moved myself to Denver. A few days ago, insanity began to settle upon said city. Also known as, the Democratic National Convention, which officially began today. But the preparation has been going on for months (years, if you'd seen the rent-my-condo craigslist ads that were out there already when I was first looking for a place in Denver, over one year ago)-- renovating the Pepsi Center to make it all convention-esque, adjusting college schedules to allow for a week off (yeah, I go to school now right across the street from DNC central), giving downtown businesses spiffy new signs, and permanently changing bus routes lest they veer too close to the craziness for these few days.

The real fun, however, began on Saturday. That's when I first began to notice 14-year-olds with press passes. Well, at least they look like 14-year-olds. Maybe they were a bit older. College interns or something. But if you live in some other media market across the country, and are not getting great convention coverage, I could tell you why.

Saturday was actually not too nuts, yet. I had to venture downtown (by which I mean the 16th Street mall) for a few errands, and it was actually less full of bewildered tourists than any other average weekend. That's probably because normally there's a convention center (which is right downtown) full of, like, dental hygienists, or administrative assistants, or whatever other random group is convening there, who have been loosed upon the city to aimlessly wander about and gawk at such amazing sites as the Hard Rock Cafe and generally just get in the way.

Yet not everyone had quite arrived, it appeared, for the DNC; so Saturday in downtown Denver was still sort of sane. I did see about 3 or 4 lost-looking visitors almost get creamed by a MallRide bus in as many blocks, however. (Seriously? Seriously! From what place do this people come, where it is ok to just walk in the streets in a strange place? It's not even hard to avoid the MallRides. They're the only thing that drive down that street! Just don't wander immediately in front of one! I know they're all super-sneaky 'cause they're all hybrids, but... for real, yo.) I predicted at that point that no less than 3 DNC tourists would get hit by MallRides during this week. And that no less than 2 would get hit by me.

There were many cops afoot, however (and a-horse, and a-bike, and a-cop-car). All standing around in clumps looking sort of bored. One discussing how he'd picked up a bucket of frozen margaritas. (I wondered it if was to maintain him through the week, or to celebrate having gotten through it, after.) There must be untold multitudes of crimes ravaging the suburbs right now, because it appears that every member of law enforcement in a 100-mile radius has converged upon downtown. Colorado Department of Corrections busses were standing by en masse.

I guess I did see one little booth of people set up near Civic Center Park. Based on the t-shirts they were selling, however, it was really not at all clear what they were advocating or opposing. People really need to get more clear about their issues, yo.

Yesterday (Sunday), the crazies had really started to turn out. I wish I had stopped to take a picture of the "Please do not feed the leftists" sign (I was on my way to a Rockies game; the camera I had along was not, however, for that, but to capture any occasions of madness we passed along the way). Don't the silly right-wingers know that we leftist can grow our own granola and tofu and shit, and probably survive much better with no one feeding us than any right-winger ever could? I felt like I should bring veggie burritos. Or tofu. Or something equally scary to good red-blooded Republicans. And feed the leftists.

(I was also rather entertained by the sign with said something like "Al Qaeda supporters that corner / Support our troops this corner." It included helpful arrows, in case you couldn't figure out which corner was which. And may have been more inflammatory if there had actually been anyone on the other corner. Or if it had been slightly less ridiculous.)

There were also many a souvenir-seller about. Selling Obama buttons, magnets, framed photos (you could also get sets with the Clintons, as well), "Barack Star" t-shirts, etc., etc. As well as various DNC memorabilia. And burritos.

I was actually a bit disappointed by the lack of craziness downtown during my walk to work this morning. I mean, if I have to hear about the DNC a multitude of times each day for months on end, I deserve to get a glimpse of some craziness, some good stories, no? But there was no craziness to be had at 8:00am.

I heard there was some during the day, though. One of my co-workers saw a SWAT truck-- complete with an entire SWAT team hanging onto the sides and back (gotta be ready to jump into action, yo: no time to waste with trivialities like opening doors, here!) cruise past outside our window. Sadly, I missed that sight. A client reported many protestors on 16th street (this is a mere 4-5 blocks from my office, keep in mind) and SWAT teams all about. ("Don't get tear gassed," my co-worker and I were advised as we contemplated our trips home from work.)

Apparently, no one has yet gotten tear gassed. Though, this evening-- as the news reports-- the first use of pepper spray has occurred, as well as the first mass arrest of up to about 50 people. (Side note: on the news they just had a very young-looking Colorado delegate talking about how she'd forgotten she had mace in her purse before heading into the Pepsi Center. Her mom had wanted her to carry it. Needless to say, they took it away from her before . I feel like you should get arrested for that. If only to save the good people of Colorado from being represented by such idiocy.)

They've also arrested a few folks in a suspected plot on Obama's life. I really hope no craziness like that goes down. Belligerent protestors. Crazy signs. Enthusiastic activists. But nobody getting hurt. Just something to distract all these stinking helicopters that keep grazing my apartment building every 10 minutes or so.

I sorta can't wait till all this goes away and they just give downtown its mailboxes back.

Better things I could have done with that 75 minutes

Being back in school again, I'm rediscovering how much I loved being in school in the first place. I mean, I knew I missed it, but that joy of the fascinating new things that now you know, and you didn't know before. I've learned what diatomaceous earth is. I've looked at chloroplasts crusing about. I've delved into the world of Nobel prize-winning quantum physics. (Yeah. That's right. I know what Bose-Einstein Condensate is, yo.) But I am also rediscovering other things, such as those classes where the instructor is, by all appearances, so worthless that you really wish you had those minutes of your life back.

So in memoriam for those 75 minutes of my life that were lost forever this evening, I thought I'd compile a short list of things that I could have been doing with that time, that would have been more productive than attending the class I attended today. In no particular order, here goes:

1. Watching "Mythbusters." Well, I don't know if that, in particular, was on during the time period in question. The point is, there was something-- probably many somethings-- on TV that would have been more educational than my prof's lecture this evening.

2. Eating some food.

3. Sleeping.

4. Watching swallows flit about one area of campus.

5. Watching the local news.

6. Reading my newest issue of National Geographic, which I would have (75 minutes earlier than I did) realized had arrived today.

7. Seeing the entirety of Jaws. Yup, I've never seen the whole thing. And now here I am again, watching just a portion, having begun an hour and a half into it. (And already, I learned that apparently there was a time when you could smoke inside of hospitals. See? Bad science as far as the shark is concerned-- WHICH I LEARNED WATCHING MYTH BUSTERS-- but educational, nonetheless.)

8. Talking to myself.

9. Watching the Olympics.

10. Drinking a margarita. In other words, there is very little that I can think of that is less educational-- or at least less productive-- than the 75 minutes I spent in that class today. Oy to the vey.

It's been a while...

...since political candidates' ads made me laugh out loud. By "it's been a while," I actually mean, of course, that I don't actually remember this occurring in the past. Normally they stick to the categories of "so cheesily patriotic as to be completely meaningless," "incoherent mud-slinging," or "vague claims of supporting universal values that no candidate would ever claim to be against."

But in recent months, I have discovered an entirely new category of campaign ad, the sort which makes me laugh out loud at it's utter ludicrousness... and it's absolute back-firing. I categorize these as the "gasp! look what the other candidate supports! ...oh, wait, $!#%, that's what you actually want?" ads. (Except that, in reality, that last part never occurs. I keep seeing these ads over and over, as apparently no one in these campaigns finds them as ridiculously humorous as I do.)

This category includes the ads that hold Barack Obama single-handedly responsible for high gas prices. But then, oops, they mention that it's because he-- HORRORS!-- doesn't support drilling for more oil. Huh. Score: campaign 0, Obama 1. Just in case anyone was holding out voting for him because they mistakenly thought he wanted to drill all over, thanks, dear campaign, for clearing this point up.

Actually, a lot of the ads in this new category fall under the "how dare they wish for alternative fuels!" umbrella. And it's by no means just on the presidential level, as many similar ads have popped up for more local candidates. I think one, aghast, even accused their opponent of the mortal sin of supporting wind energy. Or maybe I just made that one up.

If I stop laughing long enough, I have to think about the fact that these ads are on TV because they actual fool some people. There are people in this country who actually believe that the choice is either between off-shore drilling, or high gas prices (and that there actually even is a choice between those two, as if the former were even an option for combatting the latter).

But that would be too depressing. I hear enough ridiculous things on a daily basis, from people on the bus or the street or clients at work. Just horrifyingly ignorant things. (And I mean that literally: I really think these folks just don't know any better.)

So in the meantime, I will sit in my living room and chuckle to myself at the silly campaign writers. I will try to give Americans more credit for intelligence than the ad writers clearly do. I will try to have a little bit of faith in my fellow country-folk to not act quite so stupid as the ad writers think we all are, this time around. (Even I won't ignore the sad track record that American voters... or, eh, courts, anyway... have had over the past decade or so.) So I will be optimistic. And I will laugh at the things my TV is telling me. And I hope that most Americans are seeing through it all enough to laugh with me, too.

Things I like

In no particular order:

~ People who say "bless you" when a stranger sneezes.
~ That scuba-diving cat commercial.
~ Being an aunt.
~ A mist bottle full of water on hot, hot days.
~ Pigeons, pigeons, and more pigeons.
~ This car commercial where a raccoon sings about a mountain.
~ Fruit smoothies.
~ My Blistex "moisture splash" lip balm, especially in the winter when the roller ball gets all cold.
~ Several of the musicians who can be often found on the 16th street mall.
~ My Tevas.
~ National Geographic.
~ The prairie dogs who hang out along railroads and the road to the airport.

Not an exclusive list by any means, of course. Just a few.

Some like it hot... me, not so much

Back in 1901, folks in Denver were having a rather warm time of it. 18 days in a row of temperatures over 90 degrees. Of course, the average person probably didn't know that. I don't know if they had information like weather forecasts (or results) in the papers back then, but I'm quite sure they didn't have any overly perky meteorologists broadcasting straight into their living rooms from news station "back yards." So they probably didn't realize, at the time, that they were setting a record that would not be broken for over a century. They probably just knew that it was reeaally freakin' hot, and they didn't have air conditioning (...but then again, neither do I).

But we've sure heard a lot about 1901 in Denver lately. Why, you might ask? Oh, I'll tell you! That would be because, day by day, the aforementioned perky meteorologists-- and even the somewhat more serious anchors and reporters, everyone's in on the countdown!-- have been ticking off the days till that record is met, broken, and thoroughly stomped upon.

Today was tie day. For the last 18 days, counting today, we've had days of over 90 degrees. Many of those well over 90. Today we were 10 degrees above average, at 99. We've had days that were 10 degrees hotter than Phoenix. (And we get more sunburned, too, so don't even start whining, Phoenix. We know all of your apartments have A/C.)

Tomorrow will be the day we break that record. The only question is, where will it end?

No one knows. Not even the overly perky meteorologists. But yes, I am quite confident-- as are all those who actually seem sort of excited about this rather dubious distinction in the pages of weather history-- that the record will be broken. Tomorrow has a predicted high of 99 degrees (the record for that day was 100, set in 1899... so we may be about to put an end to some even more long-lived records). Friday, 100. Saturday, 101 (are we noticing a trend here?... thank goodness I'll be on a plane by the time that high hits!) Sunday, 97. By the time Monday rolls around, there will be a "cool down" (and they WILL refer to it in such terms!) for a high of a mere 92. I'm sort of scared to look beyond that. What I do know is that as of today, we've already had 3 more days over 90 degrees than the average Denver summer has all season. We're also about 7 inches behind on rain. I think we've had about 3.5 inches of precipitation of any kind since New Year's. That includes all the snow that people in Michigan (Michigan?? REALLY, people??) warned me about, when I was first heading Colorado-ward.

So anyway, that's what I'm doing. Lots of being hot and wilting. Not cleaning my apartment, which desperately needs it, because it is too hot to move. Not sleeping very well, despite desperately needing it, because it is too hot to sleep. Not eating much when at home, despite desperately liking food, because it is too hot to live off pretty much anything but fruit smoothies and iced tea.

Hot, hot, hot. I like it not.

So anyway, while contemplating all of this this evening, while folding baby socks and melting on my futon, I wondered what Denver was like back in the 1901 that I've heard so much about of late. So I googled it, and this picture is supposedly of Denver around that time ("circa 1898"). Well, it is definitely of Denver-- the Brown Palace hotel is still standing, 16th and Broadway still meet at that angle, and the mountains still loom in the background-- but much else has changed, so it is a little strange to try and decipher what is what, and imagine the things that are now in those places.


Speaking of things in places, this picture was reportedly taken from the top of the State Capitol... which means that if the photographer turned around in just about the opposite direction, the spot where my apartment now stands would be about 4 blocks away. In the picture, if you follow Broadway (the gray-paved road in the foreground that looks slanty, but actually runs North-South) just a couple of blocks beyond where it would run off the right side of the picture, there is where my work is now.

So, for those friends & family afar who want to see where I live... that's it. Sort of. Just 110 years earlier. And not quite as hot.

I'm an aunt!

So, if you haven't already heard, the big news of the week is... I'm an aunt!

Well, I have been for several months now, but the fact is my little bitty niece & nephew have now actually made their appearance outside of their mama, and have cute little faces that we can see, and little squalling newborn voices that we can hear, and their little hands and feet now have room to flail about (though I imagine, and from the many pictures it appears, that like most newborns they probably prefer to just be bundled and nap). And names! Sebastien & Eden are the latest additions to the family, and they are soooo precious!

Perhaps I am biased, since I can claim some genetic connection to the little miracles. But really, I think the facts speak for themselves. I told them to stay put until they were fully baked, and lo and behold, they did! See, so well-behaved already! They are beautiful and healthy little babies and I cannot wait to meet them in person in a couple of weeks! (I've already spoken with Eden on the phone. Yup.)

More importantly, I cannot wait to watch them grow. I mean, meeting them will be super cool and all, but with all likelihood they'll still be in that bundle-y, nap-y newborn phase. (I do hope they open their eyes, though. They have pretty eyes. And they need to start getting the idea of who this Aunt Corrie character is.) But the exciting part is going to be watching them grow and learn and express their unique personalities-- these little humans who entirely began existing in the last year. And now get to be people of their very own.

And I get to be a part of that. (Unless my brother and sister-in-law join some sort of cult or something. But I don't foresee that happening any time soon. And if it did, I'd probably just have to intervene and run off with the twinsies.) Helping them grow and learn and explore the world and try new things and become Lions fans. ;)

That's what's really exciting about being an aunt. Well, I guess I don't know. Maybe there's something more exciting about it, that I haven't discovered yet, because of course, this is my first shot at being one.

In the meantime, welcome to the world, Sebastien & Eden. It's a big place, and can be sort of scary sometimes, especially when you've just come from a place that's so warm and cozy and safe. But your Aunt Corrie is here and you can always come find me when you need somebody to help you navigate it. I'm so glad you're here.


(p.s. below are pictures added later, from when I got to first meet the little bambinos. Are they just perfect, or WHAT?! The kids I mean. Though the pictures are memorable, too.)

Why I'm having trouble getting (back) behind Barack Obama

Two words: Obama fans.

I used to like Barack Obama. I thought he was fabulous. When he was elected to the senate in '04, one of my roommates at the time was from Illinois, so it was a matter of note in our household.

Mind you, to begin with I had some reservations about his run for presidency. His lack of extensive experience, for one. His charismatic personality-- I don't personally think "rock star" politicians are a good thing. They too easily sway people. Lots of bad things have happened throughout history because of charismatic, convincing leaders. Not that I'm saying he's about to attempt one such bad thing. I just think people should have to evaluate their candidate's policies a bit more, rather than just swooning the minute they appear on TV (I still think Al Gore would have made a great president. But people thought he was boring. That and the whole rigged election thing, I mean... but it wouldn't have come down to that if more people had actually thought about who or what they were voting for. We are a shallow, shallow country sometimes). And, I'm really a H. Clinton fan.

That all being said, the point is that I used to really dig Obama, and thought he was a great addition to the political climate of our country.

But there are Obama fans who are just some of the most obnoxious people I know.

Ok, before you jump all over me: not all Obama fans, nor even the vast majority, I'm sure. I know and love many an Obama supporter, who are for the most part well-adjusted, reasonably sane people who give proper importance to their core beliefs and don't freak out about things that don't matter. But something about this primary race has brought out just the most disgusting rabid fanaticism in a small but very vocal portion of Obama fans-- something I have not witnessed in any previous primary race, even if this one may have been somewhat unique.

My stance from the beginning was "I think either Obama or Clinton would make an excellent president. However, I think Clinton has more experience. And I think it's high time for a woman president. There's real change for you-- historically advance have gone white men, minority men, white women, minority women." I'm not trying to decide which minority status is most important. Hell, if there was a minority woman running for a major party, that'd be even cooler. As long as it wasn't, like, Condoleeza Rice or something. (Ahem, Green Party, anyone??)

But I have seen a few Obama fans get thoroughly petty, personal, obsessive, offensive, and generally lose any shadow of a grasp on reality and how normal people in society interact. I have dreaded the beginning of political conversations for the first time in my life, because they were so rarely intelligent political discussions. They were groupie rants with some of the most blatantly stated double standards I've ever heard uttered by people who claim to be intelligent and socially conscious citizens.

So the point of ALL of this is, I'm trying, folks. Really I am. So to all the nice, sane, normal people who were always fans of Obama, please do your best to rein in your obnoxious compatriots. I am trying my best to look past them to support someone I always meant to be supportive of in the first place.

(Of course... it probably doesn't help that his people called me at 7:15 this morning. They're lucky I was already up. I did laugh out loud at the woman when she asked me for $300, though.)

Have you ever seen the rain...

This afternoon, as it was-- for yet another day-- too hot to even think of moving, and the run of good TV luck I'd been having for a couple of hours had expired, I returned to my bedroom to pick up the National Geographic where I'd left off last night. However, after finishing one article and halfway into the next, my head could no longer resist the inescapable draw of the pillow (correction: pillows, as I think I have 6 on my bed).

What brought on this weakness? Perhaps it was the comfort of my wonderful bed (this is a recurring problem while trying to read, due to my ongoing failure to acquire any kind of actual furniture for my living room). Perhaps it was the momentary escape from the obnoxious, ongoing screeching/humming noise of unspecified origin which had started outdoors some time earlier in the day, and which could be heard clearly throughout the rest of the apartment. Perhaps it was the belly happily full of tofu sloppy joe. Perhaps it was just the heat.

Anyway, I awoke from my dozing just long enough to fumble for my phone and set the alarm for some 45 minutes later, lest I doze all evening. I didn't make it even that long, however. For some reason, about 15 minutes later I found myself awake, stretching like a sleepy kitty and drowsily gazing out of my sheer-purple-IKEA-curtained windows at the sky over the building across the street. I saw its gray hue. I saw the dozen or so drops of wetness on the middle of my windowpane-- appearing to be one of those little splashes that comes some times, when the wind grows strong and there is the teasingest sense of a storm coming... only to have a few small droplets whipped against the window, and then nothing.

Yet as I lay there, I had the growing sensation that it was actually raining. As in, present tense. Could I be dreaming? I peered down at the street, only to find it dark with wetness. Hurray!!

For those of you who live in Michigan, or other equally soggy parts of the world-- especially if you've never lived anywhere else-- you will not fully understand the sheer joy that rain brings to those, such as myself, who are used to wetter climes but now find themselves stranded in arid landscapes. Once or twice (I think twice is wishful thinking, as I can only recall one occasion for certain) in the fall, I saw it rain very hard in Denver... for about 2 minutes. So perhaps you can understand my haste as I traded in my long skirt for shorts (the better to feel the cool rain, of course) and hunted for my keys, that I could get outside and feel the rain before it was gone, not to return for days, weeks, or months.

In Michigan, you wonder if you'll be able to make it indoors before the rain begins. In Colorado, you wonder if you'll be able to make it outdoors before the rain ends. At least, if you're from Michigan, you do.

Leaving my apartment, intending just to go around the block, I marveled that this could be the only time in Denver that I could actually venture outdoors without sunglasses (my shades are usually a constant companion, even all winter). I ran down to the back door of my building. Peering out the squares of glass in the door, I wondered at the bright sun and whether it was even still raining anymore. A glance down at the cement pad behind the building, however, confirmed that it was, with little raindrops dancing on the already-moistened ground.

I happily stepped out into the rain-- now in the strong sunshine of broad daylight in the Rockies, I probably could have used my shades after all-- and headed down the alley, intending to start with a little trip around 1/4 of my block, to see how hard it was raining (and because I'd heard a slight and distant thunder rumble, while still in my apartment) before heading all the way around the block.

Now when I say that I stepped into the rain, I do not mean it was pouring cats or dogs or any other sort of small creatures. It was brightly sunny, and while it was a little bit more than misting-- I could see actually droplets on my clothes-- I would have had to stay out in it for quite some time to get any amount of really seriously wet. Yet people in Colorado tend to overreact to any sort of moisture that isn't snow. No, I take that back, they overreact to snow, too, because the snow here (down in Denver, anyhow) usually melts within a day or two, on all things paved anyway, and all winter I did not see anything like the ice of Michigan form on road or sidewalk.

So yes, Coloradans generally act like they will melt at the slightest hint of water. Shortly after moving to Denver, I saw people walking around in full rain gear (I don't think I ever even saw rain pants-- is that even what they're actually called??-- in person, in Michigan) and giant golf umbrellas, in the mildest of mists. I once saw a headline that read something like "Coloradans beware: Moisture on the way!"

The first person I encountered on my rain-sprinkled walk was a woman on a cell phone. I smiled at her. She eyed me suspiciously from under the rim of her huge black umbrella. I fully assume that after completing her phone call, she hastily dialed up whomever one dials up when one suspects that there is a certifiably crazy person wandering the streets, lacking even the sense to get in out of the rain. Good thing she didn't know where I live.

I continued my journey around half of the block, cutting back down the alley and returning through the back door of my apartment building. By the time I reached it, I could barely feel any more misty drops on my skin. There were still dry patches of sidewalk beneath even the small trees. Half an hour after the last raindrop fell, you can barely tell any came down at all.

Still, not a bad sprinkle for Colorado. I bet the entire shower must have lasted like 4, maybe even 5 minutes, though. Good stuff. Good stuff.

Embarking on a new endeavor

Well, here is the big news in Corrie's life, these days. Except it isn't really news yet, more like the anticipation of news. Or news of things to come. Maybe that's a better way to put it.

Anyhow, the endeavor upon which I plan to soon embark is the pursuit of my bachelor's degree (yeah, another one) in biology, which plan I plan to undertake at Metro State. Most likely beginning this fall. This is, of course, less to do with any desire for schooling, and more to do with my continued quest to attend and conquer every post-secondary institution in the Western hemisphere. (For those who have not been keeping track, this shall make four.)

No really, though. If you are asking yourself "why," you clearly have not met me... and thus, I ask of you, "why" are you reading my blog, anyway? I don't even read my blog, and I know me quite well, methinks.

Yes, I have already spoken with a department co-chair and been assured that I shall have no trouble not dissecting the animals I so love in the course of earning said B.S. Yes, I have realized that to attempt to go to school while working 40 hours a week (in a circumstance where I have to take the more time-consuming public transit, no less) is sheer insanity. Yes, I know that this degree is going to involve lots of chemistry, and some math as well. But I'm not shying away from that, like I did years ago, which is when I should have actually been embarking on this-- or some similar-- venture, in the first place.

Because while I love the work that I do, my favorite time of the day is still talking to the pigeons and squirrels in the park on the way there. So I could pretend to be waiting until the timing is perfect, the job schedule is perfect, the finances are perfect, the... everything is perfect, but then I'd still be sitting here in another 8, or 58, years, wondering why I didn't ever get off my butt and go back and get some schooling that would allow me to do some sort of work that I love.

I don't know how long this will all take me. That is yet to be seen. Hopefully not more than 4 years. (Since my GRE is already 1 year in towards its expiration date. And I don't really feel like taking it again.)

So, yeah... that's that. That's the news.

Oh, yeah... and for those who like to know more:

Metropolitan State College of Denver
MSCD Department of Biology
Auraria Campus

It's like the apocalypse, yo

So, maybe just no one told me when I was little, but this kind of stuff was happening all the time then, too. Maybe not. Maybe the world is coming to an end. I'm really leaning toward that one-- not that it's actually some sort of apocalypse, other than the kind we'd brought down on our own heads by seriously messing up this planet. It is not happy with us. Not happy at all.

Just a few of the more headline-grabbing recent examples... just a few. They stand without needing much further comment, I think.

Every couple of years, a massive storm in southeast Asia-- just the most recent being Cyclone Nargis.

Unbelievable earthquakes in China.

Wildfires in North Carolina. (Yeah. I know. That's not even in the Southwest.)

An unusual tornado recent swept a mile-wide, 34-mile long path of destruction through Weld County, Colorado. More recently, another in Iowa killed four Boy Scouts.

Flooding all over the Midwest. Thousands evacuated from cities in Iowa.

How much changes in a year...

It dawned on me today that very, very much has changed in the last year of my life.

A year ago, I had not yet decided to move to Colorado. I was being talked into it, and the decision followed not long after (and not long before I was to actually move), but I believe that at this time last year, I was still leaning towards staying put where I was. I had a different job, a really adorable apartment, was close to family and friends, loved my volunteer gig at Crash's, and had the best furry friend you could ask for just a short drive away.

All that has changed in the last 12 months. I'm now 1200 miles away, have lived in Denver almost 12 months (in 3 different places... some more or less adorable than others, though it's hard to compete with that last place I lived in MI), have been working a different job for the past 6 months, am now far away from most of my family & friends, have lost my beloved dog, and spend lots of time bored out of my mind in what should be a fabulous city.

So the question: what's the verdict? Was it a wise choice I made, which so radically changed my life in under a year?

The verdict's still out. We'll give it the rest of the year. After all, life changes quickly. This time last year, my plans were rather different. So I'll give it another 2 months to see what else is still to be, in this first year of life in Denver. I'll keep ya posted.

Direction

So, I've been thinking a bit over the last couple weeks about direction. Mainly, the direction I want my own life to go in. I mean really, where I am right now (both generally in life, and geographically) has really come about through a series of random occurrences and abrupt decisions, rather than some deeply thought-out master plan for the next 60 years... or even 6.

But as I've been trying to plan some direction for my life-- steer it towards where I want to be, in 6 years or 60-- I've been getting frustrated, because that's easier said than done. Having direction and being able to, in fact, go forth in that direction are entirely different things.

I encounter kids (or rather, "youth," as we term them, some of them being not much younger than me) everyday who have some idea of the direction they want their life to go in, but don't know how to get there. The fancy GPS system on your rental car (sorry, folks, but I know I don't know anyone who actually owns such a fancy car) can tell you to turn left 300 feet ahead, but sometimes they just happen to have built an office building right there.

Which suddenly brings to mind a trip to Vegas, a year ago-- well, an incidental trip, anyhow. It was more a matter of returning to Vegas from the barren desert, as that was where our flight departed. But the maps-- which were, if I recall, actually provided by the rental car company-- failed to mention that there was now an entire highway in our path. We followed the road where it told us to go, only to be met by an open field and no place to go but back in circles.

So it is with the young people I work with. And me. And, I'm guessing, most of y'all. Sometimes you can know exactly where you want to go; the difficulty is in getting there. Obstacles of time, finances, family circumstances, misinformation, or inexperience (among many others) have this amazing way of placing themselves directly in our paths.

So much for finding direction.