December 2003
comment 8:26 AM December 1 2003 I think I should clarify something about my Sunday post. I was in a weird state of mind when I wrote it. I'm always frustrated by having physical pain. I never know what to do. I know there are resources but I become paralyzed by the idea of what should be true. I shouldn't have to use resources that are there for the poor. I should have it together. And the shoulds are loud and wrong headed. I spin for a while and then I go on. I was tired and achy from a night of restlessness and pain. I read something that bugged me and it reminded me of some other things that have been bugging me and I tried to write about it without taking it on directly. And, honestly, I still don't want to take it on directly. It was something that was written in a manner that I knew was intended as parody, or hyperbole. But I had to stretch to hold it. And it reminded me of all the times I've stretched to hold something that is intended to be one thing but hits me as sexism. I have a friend who sends me lists of jokes about men and women. I just don't get the joke. Or. I do get the joke. But I don't like it. Writing about something without writing about it makes for bad writing. And I'm still doing it. Oh well. So, for the record, I get linked plenty. I have found some wonderful friends on line. It's not just about links. I'm grateful for anyone who spends the time it takes to read anything I write, ever. I haven't watched Oprah for a while. She pisses me off too much. But when she's good, she's good. And I knew she had Cry The Beloved Country as her book group book because there are stacks of it in every book store with the sticker on the cover. I do hate those stickers. As always you gotta give her propers for getting people to read. It's a beautiful book. She sent three women from the book club to South Africa. As the show began we see the women in an expensive hotel and shopping in a mall. And then they take a trip to Soweto. The obvious portrait of the extremes. Which isn't to say that the extremes don't exist. But there was something about Soweto as a stop on a grande tour that felt unreal. It was in the Apartheid Museum that things got a little bit real. The women of color went in one side and the white woman went in the other. They were separated by bars. The African American woman wept. If you go to the site for the museum you are given the choice to enter through the white only or black only door. I stared at the screen for a few minutes in shock, unsure about what to do. The women on Oprah continued on their tour. Villages. Schools. Mountain tops. And Robben Island. They sat in the cell in which Mandela began so many years of imprisonment and the talked. I don't think I would be able to talk. At that point the show turned to some talk about AIDS in Africa and other parts of the world, ending with Oprah and her book group at the big concert. It was moving. And interesting. Star studded. Oprah will be sending a gazzillion books to South African libraries. Which is a good thing. It also felt slick and glamorized. An on the one hand/on the other hand kinda thing. So much beauty in the world. So much horror. So much. comment 10:37 PM December 2 2003 Happy Birthday Elayne! Happy birthday Monk! I may be falling into a brain blur. Everything I see seems to splay into a spectrum of meaning. I am given to seeing both sides of things. I'm actually given to seeing more sides of things than may actually exist. Heh. Cleis picked up on my sexism post. I got the thrill/paranoia rush that I often do when I see my own words on someone else's page. Cleis looked at how many blogs on her blog roll were by men and by women and notes that "My blog roll is just a list of what I read." Which is absolutely true. And there are people with no blog roll. Dorothea moved her blog roll off her main page. My own blog roll has become completely unwieldy. I do not get through it every day. So what is the meaning of a blog roll? When I come upon a new blog I look at the blog roll. If I see people I know and read I feel connected. It's a superficial connection. It's the beginning of relationship. I have also had the experience of seeing a blog roll full of unfamiliar names and, a few clicks later, I find myself in a whole new world of interesting writing. I often read through other people's blog rolls. There's only been a few times that I took someone off my blog roll. I do think about how people feel when they are delinked. Recently, I was delinked. It happened when the person was reorganizing. I think it was unconscious. But it's been a while and I'm still not on the roll. And it does make me feel erased. But should it? There are people on my blog roll who don't have me on their's and people have me on their blog roll who aren't on mine. What does it mean? Some times it's just about the amount of time that any of us can spend reading. Sometimes it's about naming our tribe. Amp has a completely overwhelming blogroll. But he does this very cool thing. He regularly posts a list of things he's been reading. Of course, I might use Amp as an example of all things good about blogging. Susan does something similar. Elayne does. George does. (Although why I'm not on George's blog roll I can't figure.) I don't. If I'm liking someone in my post I'm usually calling out something they said, or did, or linked to. In part that's about the constantly shifting purpose of my blog. Cleis goes on to talk about unwitting marginalization. And that was what I was trying to talk about. I think there's a fair amount of who gets linked that is just about interest. People find something that you are saying interesting. They link it. There is a big conversation happening on the web. When it comes to things I'm not all that interested in, I don't link. But there are things to be contemplated. I don't participate in things like Technorati, or the Ecosystem, or Blogshares, when it was happening, because I can't handle the emotions. I can't handle the competition, the feeling of not being good enough. Maybe that's about maturity. And maybe that's about resisting the way hierarchy overlays so much of what we see and read and think about. My post suffered from oblique reference. I was talking about two things at once. Sexism in the blog world is often subtle. And the blog world is big. There are many different reasons for writing on line. When I get too whacked out trying to parse the meaning I try to remember my blog parents. Both are still writing on line. Neither seems to pay much attention to metablogging. I followed their lead when I started. I wasn't sure what I was doing. I'm still not. comment 12:54 PM December 3 2003 Matt kicked rhetorical butt last night in the debate. Of course it wasn't hard. I'm still feeling bad. Still not sure what to do. comment 9:48 AM December 3 2003 As it turns out I have pleurisy. Isn't that the weirdest thing? My doctor is as sweet as I remember her to be. It cost so much money. Makes me want to cry. But I have pills. Big pills. I should be feeling better soon but it might take a month before it goes away. A month. So strange. And it hurts. But not that bad. Doesn't it seem like I should be laying on a fainting couch reading Mary Shelly? comment 9:59 PM December 4 2003 DOH! I never get the lay/lie thing right. Cheryl (best editor in the world) tries and tries to explain it to me and it's in one ear and out the other. And my copy of Strunk & White just sits on the shelf. But really. Doesn't pleurisy seem like something people got at the turn of the century? The truth is I can't lie anywhere for long. That's the big problem. In the day I feel OK. Some movement hurts. Sometimes taking a breath hurts. But I'm OK. It's when I lie down in bed that things get bad. I can lie on my stomach for a while but not too long. I cannot lie on my side. I can lie on my back if I'm propped up on pillows. But for the last three nights I've had to get out of bed because it hurt too bad and sleep in my chair. I love my chair. But it isn't a good sleeping chair. I tried to use enough pillows to sit up straight in bed. It just didn't work. Being in my chair wasn't even working last night. At one point I was staring at the ceiling in my living room trying to decide if it was a perfect square. So I'm dingy from lack of sleep and pain. But it really isn't that bad. I'm taking my pills. I'm taking it easy. I read a few blogs today. It turns out my metablogging was a few days early. There is some discussion on the web about the Wizbang weblog awards. I nominate Lauren for the coolest response to her nomination. I haven't read them all. There were so many blogs I didn't know and the ones I did know seemed to be on the conservative side. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Heh. I want to go off on a nice long rant about hierarchy and marginalization and what does it mean to be a feminine writer but I fear my lungs aren't up it. And when I say that I really want you to picture me with one hand to my forehead and the other clutching my chest. Maybe I should be more worried about having pleurisy. But it just seems too kooky. I need to not make jokes because it hurts when I laugh. comment 12:24 PM December 5 2003 It's raining and cold in SF. The perfect weather for pleurisy. I've entered into some Dickinsonian dream state. I've been planning to bake some cookies. I haven't done anything for the holidays for years. School sucked everything out of me. But Mom & Ken will be here. The guy who cuts my hair, having received some cookies from me once, always asks if I'm going to bake. So... Yesterday I made dough for some cookies and baked oatmeal, date, walnut cookies. It's hard for me to move around for too long because my chest starts to hurt. But my chest hurts when I stay still as well. April posted a question at WHB about holidays and politics. She also had interesting things to say about Buy Nothing Day and diet mentality. There was a commercial for Walmart in which a man and a woman were shopping, buying plastic storage tubs and new pillow cases and whatever. At the end of the commercial they look at each other fondly and one says something about having a productive day. Every time I saw it I shouted, "NO! YOU'VE HAD A CONSUMPTIVE DAY!" It doesn't really bother me that people buy stuff for their home and feel happy. I do that. What I like about Buy Nothing Day is that it calls out the frantic cha-ching of the holiday season. But I take April's point. There is a way in which this time of year is about bacchanalia and should be. It should be about pleasure and bounty and all that. There's a great convergence of more than one holiday and it's a big party before the long dark winter night. But if you can't keep up, financially, emotionally, it can just suck. So my politics are a comfort to me. My politics, my general world view, makes it possible for me to opt out. The neighbors down the hall moved out a while ago and the apartment is being painted and fixed up. The handy man asked me to check on something the other day so I got to walk around in it. It's great. Beautiful view. All new and shiny. I've been imagining my furniture in every room. It's way too expensive and my life is way too uncertain to move. But I have been entertaining myself with thoughts about how I'd arrange every room. And I would feel happy for a while, having more space and new stuff. And I need some fun. Some sense of things beginning. So I day dream. And then I wake up and I'm in my already pretty cool apartment. It is raining and my lungs hurt and I'm worried about the parent visit. I still need a job and an agent and ... Sigh. I've been operating outside of the holly-daze for a few years now. It just wasn't what my life was about. If I had money I'd buy stuff for people. But I don't. And in a way my politics are a comfort to me. Because I do think Americans have consumption and production mixed up. And I think we take both too far. And I think this time of year becomes a hetero nuclear family Judeo Christian Hallmark frenzy. It's too hopped up. Diet mentality is about fear of pleasure. It's the thought that pleasure will have a negative impact on who we are. And maybe sometimes pleasure does have a negative impact on who we are. So? We can recover from most excess. I think moderation and balance is a good daily practice and excess is a release. My politics are (hopefully) about inclusion and understanding that life is full of surprises and possibilities. This year I'm baking some cookies. I have the time. I almost have the energy. I'm pretty good at it. Honestly. I don't know if any of these last week of posts makes any sense. My thoughts are just all over the place. I did get some sleep last night. When I first got into bed it felt like there was a ton of bricks on my chest. I put my pillows in a pile and managed to sit almost straight up and the pain dialed down. I woke up a few times because I was uncomfortable and I was still having jabs of pain but I got more sleep than I've had in a few days. There's something about the dreariness of the weather and the ache in my chest and the pondering of the meaning of the season. I'm woozy. And loopy. Someone pass me my laudanum and guide me back to the pillow pile. Pat me on the head and say, "There there dear, do try and sleep some more." comment 9:22 AM December 6 2003 Sometimes you think a thing is gonna be OK and then you get into it and you know it's not but you're already committed. Like, I had an appointment to get my hair cut yesterday. My hair guy is only a block away so I figured I could go. The minute I walked out the door I felt like I had a fever. I didn't have a fever at the docs office the other day. I guess it might have been a hot flash. Getting the hair cut was OK but by the time I got home I felt pretty bad. I guess I need to take pleurisy more seriously. I've just been having too much fun making jokes and thinking that because I'd seen a doctor I was all better. She did say it was going to take a while. I tried to take a nap but I couldn't get to sleep so I watched The Four Feathers. I couldn't stand sitting in the chair any more so I moved to the computer and started fooling around with the site design. As you can see. I don't know when I stopped feeling flushed and achy. I was in a daze. Have I been saying I'm in daze for awhile now? Well. I think I was afraid to go to bed. Despite the fact that I felt so tired. It's just so weird because I don't feel that bad as long as I'm sitting up and not moving around too much. So I convince myself that it's not that bad. When I finally went to bed I didn't even try to lie down. I sat, propped against the pillows. At about five I woke up and decided to roll onto my stomach. Which turned out to be the second bad idea. After about twenty minutes of misery I ended up in my chair. When it hurts, it really, really hurts. My hair looks good. comment 10:58 AM December 7 2003 I'm changing the name of the blog to the woe is me blog. Or is that woe is I? Night time is a trial. The day is really not terrible. I'm tired. I get pains. But no big deal. It's the night. I can't lie down. I can't get comfortable. And the more I try the more pain I feel. Last night, at three-thirty eight, I was standing at the side of my bed. I'd already been in the bed and then to the chair and now I was back at the bed. And I just didn't want to get into it. But I did. At eight I moved back to the chair. I am not getting deep rest. And it is making me cranky. In the middle of the night I was reading an old McSweeney's because it was on the shelf next to me. I finished The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night. I'm gonna write about it. I never do that in my All Consuming lists. I keep thinking I need to that. Maybe later. After I take a shower. It's the middle of the day and I'm still in my pjs. Mom said something interesting about pleurisy. I was commenting on how odd it seemed and that I'd never known anyone who'd had it. And she talked about being from Pittsburgh. She said people from Pittsburgh often had problems. Things in the city were being cleaned up when I was young. It is true that my grandmother had emphysema and my uncle had lung problems. Mom spent more time in Pittsburgh than I did and she has a funny little cough. But she's never had big lung problems. I dunno. It's also been interesting because now I seem to know so many people who either had, or have, or know someone who had it. It's always like that, isn't it? The Internet is just too much fun. Cleis Linked Mr. Picasso Head. AKMA linked this Snow globe. Leslie Harpold has her advent calendar up. Dru and Aaron blogged this cool tarot site. Countless hours of fun. Rene is blogging up a storm about Matt. I'm missing the action. But I wont miss my time in the polling booth. I had another dream about Matt. He walked into a bar and ordered a beer and then poured some darker beer into it. I can imagine him doing that. I want him to be the mayor. So much. Sigh. So. Yeah. Sleep. Woe
is comment 12:45 PM December 7 2003 David Weir wrote an article about slumlord support for Kamala Harris. I haven't mentioned my support for Terrance Hallinan. I've been focused on Matt. But I will be voting for Terrance. If you live in SF please read this and link to it. comment 7:52 PM December 8 2003 I did watch a bit of Average Joe after Paul blogged it. My antipathy for reality shows (except the ones in which cooking is involved) remains in tact. I knew there was going to be a fat suit on the show and frankly, I wasn't in the mood. Of all the reality shows the ones in which a group of folks vie for the (cough) love of a man or a woman are the most offensive to me. Maybe it isn't about offensive. Maybe it's about fear. I can't really bear the idea that love is about beauty and money and a few dates on national television. And there's always a deceit involved, isn't there? All the people think their love interest is a millionaire and they aren't. The girl pretends to be her fat cousin. Is love about surviving deceit? Frankly if someone wore a fat suit to find out how I felt about fat people I wouldn't be feeling love. Why is it that these shows can't use real fat people? Would it have been too real if they watched the men react to me? I guess the idea was that this was the same woman - inside. Thin. And fat. Why should her appearance change their feelings for her? Well. Because their feelings for her are developing in about six weeks. They don't have time to know her in any deep way. And there's a camera. The whole thing is about appearance. There was a section of the show in which she is walking along in her fat suit and she asks a few men where the nearest movie theater is and is shocked when she is ignored. Apparently when she is thin she has no problem getting directions. So we learn that fat people aren't even afforded courtesy on the streets. Gee. Who woulda thought? I didn't watch the whole show. Really. I do not have the strength to fend off the horror I feel knowing that this is called reality. I see the guy that they are saying is average and I just don't get it. I don't really know what average means. But I thought I might want to write about it. So I kept the sound off and watched for the parts in which she wore the suit. I may have missed a few of them. I resent the use of fat suits. People in fat suits aren't fat people. They don't live in those bodies. I bet I could get directions to a movie theater. I would know who to ask. There certainly are people who have been rude to me on the streets. But I also know how to navigate all that silliness. One of the things you learn when you aren't someone who people react to because you look beautiful by some social construct is that people actually enjoy being treated as if they matter. Approaching people to ask for information with an open heart sometimes works. The idea that being fat isn't part of who I am is what bugs me. Fat suits are a lie. Love isn't served by a lie. Love isn't served by competition and rose ceremonies. And we aren't served by these ideas. But it isn't as simple as if you love what's inside a person you don't care what's outside. the inside and outside are connected. Love is a process. The inside and the outside both change with time. Love is the thread that holds it all together. Or. Maybe that's just what I hope is true. I don't know why I didn't write about the show the next day. Maybe I was on my way to becoming pleurisy girl and I just didn't have the energy. I don't know why I'm feeling the energy now. Maybe it's because I'm spending so much time staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night. There's a place in town where homeless men are given chairs in which to sleep. Suzanne told me that they all end up with problems in their legs. I'm getting about half of the sleep I do get in a chair. This morning when I woke up I noticed that my calves were really swollen. I did manage to sleep on my stomach and on my side for a little while last night, which I thought was a good sign. I started off sitting up in bed and then rolled over, sat back up for a while and then rolled to my side. By six I was in enough pain that went to the chair. I guess a pain killer might not be a bad idea. I'm trying to wait a week to see if the meds she gave me work. But I'm staggering. And I'm awake in the middle of the night thinking about love and fat suits and bad TV. comment 9:07 AM December 9 2003 Vote early and often. I wish I could vote more than once. It's gonna feel so good to vote today. Matt for Mayor. I felt pretty good voting for Clinton. Completely betrayed by the time he left office. More so yesterday. I'm holding onto my membership in the Democratic party long enough to vote for Dennis and then I'm going Green. I've voted Green in the last two elections. I'm voting Green today. But the truth is today has never been about party politics, for me. It's about the issues and the men. And Matt is the one. My polling place is right across the street. So I should be able to get there. And I actually got a fairly good night of sleep. Maybe I'm healing. Why does my computer sound like it's working so hard? It's making very weird noises. That cannot be good. comment 8:55 AM December 9 2003 The Guardian article is interesting. I didn't know Matt had been called the Socialist stud. The "scruffy, combative" Socialist stud. That kind of stuff drive me crazy. But the mayoral election has been shadowed by notions of virility from the beginning. Now we have the battle of the cute boys. What ever. I'm trying to ignore all that. I love that Matt's supporters are always characterized as young. Heh. Somebody check my ID. I guess from the outside this looks like the left eating the left. But I think it reflects exactly how much the Democratic party has drifted from some core values. We really need a third party. Listening to Gore say that Dean is the only candidate who has been able to inspire a grass roots movement pissed me off. Almost as much as listening to him (and Clinton) endorse Newsom. If either of them had looked at the sloppy, inhumane care not cash bullshit and the redundant panhandling measure that Newsome sold with money and hype, if they had checked out Matt's work with LAFCO, just so many things... Well. Actually. As I write this I'm thinking about NAFTA and GATT and all the other lovely ways Clinton betrayed us and I realize there's no where to go with my point. Gore can ignore Dennis. The Dems can continue to walk in the middle of the road. But what's happening in SF is happening all over the country. I want to get Bush out of office. I would not vote Green just for the sake of voting Green. But I don't like Dean. My thoughts are all over the place. My lungs hurt. Earlier I was listening to Matt preside over a meeting of the board. Marveling that he could sit there and do that on a day when so much is about to change. One way. Or the other. comment 4:45 PM December 9 2003 Eight oclock and it does not look good. Early absentees put Newson and Harris ahead. I've been clicking back and forth on channels and reloading the SF Gate page. Every time I reload the margin narrows. And narrows. Finally the television starts some reporting. I'm trying to be calm. But I can't be. It's so close. It's clear early on that Terrance won't win. Which makes me very sad. At 9:15 KPIX calls it for Gavin. This sucks. comment 9:17 PM But what is this urge not only to write, but to publish one's work? Besides the pleasure of being praised, there is the thought of communicating with other souls capable of understanding one's own, and thus of one's work becoming a meeting place for the souls of men. - Eugene Delacroix Via Whiskey River
December 10 2003 Right after Arnold was elected a friend of mine said he wondered when he had become the kind of person who cared about who was in the state house. And it made me laugh. For the entire time Reagan was in office I ignored constitutional politics. I went to India to sit at the feet of my guru. I came back and put together a rock-n-roll band, did cocaine and believed in the night. I just didn't pay attention to politics. It had nothing to do with my life. It's hard to pay attention when things are so weird. This was a close election. Matt is still the president of the board. He has great support. Newsom out spent him 10 to 1 to get the narrow win that he got. It's not all bad news. But it feels bad. Matt gave a very dignified concession speech. I'm not sure how to do political work. My heart is too easily fractured. I can hardly bear the way language is used to twist perception. And when did I become the kind of person who cares? I don't know when. But I do. So. My lungs are achy and raw but I think I am getting better. I slept again last night. Not entirely pain free but I did sleep. I have baked three kinds of biscotti and three kinds of cookies. I have two more doughs in the fridge. I'm trying to get all the baking done before Mom gets here. Life. Goes on. comment 8:55 AM December 11 2003 For a few days in a row I was eating scrambled eggs in the morning and chicken noodle soup in the afternoon. I'd eat a tangerine at some point in the day. I just didn't have an appetite. Until yesterday. Yesterday I ate a farmer breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, tangerine, tea, and a biscotti. When I was done eating I wanted to make the whole meal and eat it all over again. I think that's a good sign. But this morning I don't feel like eating again. Normally I go to bed around midnight and wake up around seven. Now that I can sleep I've been having trouble waking up before 9:00. Last night I was so deeply asleep that when I woke up because my chest was hurting I couldn't remember why. I turned over, went back to sleep and woke up at 8:00. I'm not worried about these things but I do feel out of sync. And not too interesting. I spent most of yesterday on the phone. Days and weeks will go be and I don't hear from anyone and then everyone calls on the same day. It was fun actually. And I still got two batches of cookies made. There are tins full of cookies piled in the kitchen. AND I'M STILL BAKING!! Really I don't feel very interesting. I moved the Bloggers for Matt button down to the left and the vote for Matt button to the refrigerator door. I have to turn the news off when they start talking about Newsom. Not a very Democratic thing to do but hey...I'm sad. Still haven't written that book review. Oh well. Maybe I'll do laundry. Sigh. comment 8:32 AM December 12 2003 Today is stay at home Friday. The Mexican American Political Association is calling for a general strike to express outrage over SB60. I am so excited about this. If they were really able to get even half of the people from Mexico, Central and South America working in the state of California to stay home the state would shut down. At the very least there would be a bad Friday night for restaurants. It will be hard for them to get folks to stay home. They won't want to risk their jobs, they need every penny they make and, if they are undocumented, they will fear exposure. It would have been great if they had been able to build coalitions with other immigrant populations. If I had a job I would stay home in solidarity. I won't go out to eat but I probably wouldn't have anyway. I hope it is HUGE !!! I think they should do it every Friday. Deb took me to Hell Foods because I wanted to get some already-made-for-me food. Mom will be here on Monday and we'll eat out while she's here. They can't stay with me because Ken can't get up the stairs. Actually up might not be as much of a problem as down. He has no balance. I doubt they'll come over. Mom might come. I'm not sure yet. Anyway I wanted to get enough food to get me to Monday and I'm trying to do lots of baking and then I'm not in the mood for cooking. My appetite is still whacky. I knew it would be best if I just had a few things that were not a hassle. So I got risotto cakes and roast beef and Mediterranean tuna. I have arugula and some beets and green beans,which I will roast (the beets) and blanch (the beans) today. I got some red beans so that I can make soup with some kale that has gone rather limp in my vegetable bin. And I also got some scallops and shrimp because Marilyn is coming over for dinner on Sunday. I guess I will be doing some cooking. So I'm hooked up. But the shopping trip wore me out. I had to head back to my fainting couch and call for tea. Which is hard since I have no fainting couch and no matter how loudly I call for tea no one responds. Heh. It's weird because I don't have trouble getting a breath but I can tell that my lungs are working harder. It's not as painful as it's been. It's just a drag. I am better every day. I just hope I can keep up with my 77 year old mother. Deb brought me a copy of The Greens cookbook in which there are recipes for her desserts. I don't think she gets near enough credit in it. She did a taste test on my cookies. She says they're good. I did not get the laundry done. comment 9:05 AM December 13 2003 Last night I curled up on my side. Seems like a small thing but I haven't been able to do it with pleurisy. After awhile I became uncomfortable and had to turn over but it really felt so good for the time I was able to be curled up in an embryonic ball. This morning my chest is really sore so I may have pushed it. And yesterday I did laundry, which meant going up and down the steps and I did more baking. So I may have pushed it all day. But I was so happy when I was curled up. I guess I mostly sleep on my stomach. It's one of those things you don't think much about until you can't do it. The boycott was small but it did get some press. It's one thing to talk about what should be true about labor laws and practices. The drivers license may have been a non issue and maybe it should be again. It certainly isn't the biggest issue. It is about dignity. And the truth is that the whole country is driven by a lot of undocumented labor. And that's about greed because businesses don't want to pay well. It's also about how economic policies and realities aren't well met. One time I was standing in a restaurant listening to a guy who was putting stainless steel up on the walls. White guy. Working class. Hard working. It was his own very tiny stainless steel business. I liked the guy. But that day he was ranting about people who came to this country and took all the jobs. He was ranting to the handy man and I. The handy man was from Nicaragua. He was married to an American woman so he was here legally. The ranting guy looked at us and realized we weren't sharing his outrage. He tried to make a distinction between the hard working people and the lazy people but we were already backing away from the conversation. That restaurant was filled with people from Mexico and Central and South America. Hierarchy was established by who had legal papers and who had fake ones, who spoke the best English and who had the most skills. I worked with one man who had dubious papers and not a lot of English but was smart, hard working and factitious. Eventually he became a manager in the kitchen. I had so much respect for this guy. And he wasn't the only one. There was one guy who had no English, washed dishes for 5.50 an hour, always smiled and did anything he was asked to do, was never late, never called in sick. No hope of advancement. Just day after day of brutal dirty work and money orders sent back to Mexico. Not many of the people I worked with were so in love with this country that they left their homes to be here. Many of them longed to go home. They spent heartbreaking amounts of money on phone bills. Combine that with the money they were sending home. They lived six or seven people in studios apartments. They often worked more than one job. They worked so hard. Every time I hear a story about immigration issues I imagine all the people who are here stopping their work and walking South. Every one of them. It would be so dramatic. And the Latino population is only one part of the story. But my friend from Australia with the blond hair and the blue eyes and lapsed work permit never seemed as worried about things and my friends with black hair and brown eyes and brown skins were. Most of California used to be Mexico. And my attitude is that, unless you have some American Indian blood you're an immigrant. I am. These are really complicated issues. But I was thrilled to see the photos of lines of people marching yesterday. Someone in the news characterized them as the sleeping giant and that's what they are. But they were awake yesterday. On the news there was a bit of film of the manager of Gordon Biersch saying that he had waiters chopping vegetables and he was cooking. A woman on the patio said she thought that people should be able to get their license but she didn't like the boycott. She said life shouldn't stop. Life. That would be the life where she sits on a patio drinking beer and eating garlic fries, waiters take home a living wage in tips, management takes home big checks and over arching corporate guys take home the biggest checks of all while some guy makes 5.50 an hour, half of which he sends back to a home he longs to see again. comment 9:53 AM December 14 2003 So Mom and I are on the phone. Because we talk on Saturday night. And because she's going to be here tomorrow. She's talking about how all her friends are so happy she's coming out to visit and how they all say hi and how impressed with me they were last year. And she says that she tells them about how I'm having a hard time finding a job and I have two strikes against me because I'm 50 and because I'm ...big. One of her friends tells her that when she first saw me she was shocked by how ... big ... I was but that within a few minutes of talking with me it was clear that there was "something there." Mom goes on. She says something like when a person first sees me they're like ... and she made some noise of disgust ... but then they talk to me and people usually like me. Yeah. That's me. Likeable. And it's a good thing. Since I'm ... big. I just ... sigh. I have a little place in which I store that kind of stuff. It's this place that looks like a post office. I sit there busily sorting through all the emotions and thoughts and compartmentalizing like crazy. She's 77. She loves me. She thinks I'd be happier if I was thin. She's been on a diet most of her life. I'm not around her that often. She's only gonna be here two weeks. People who don't know me think I'm disgusting. No they don't. Yes they do. No they don't. I don't care. Yes I do. No I don't. Sigh. The thing is, she's right. People who don't know you (me) make assumptions based on appearance. And age and weight are things for which I will be (am) judged. I just wish she had some outrage about it. For me. comment 8:41 AM December 15 2003 Wow. I really really really appreciate all the support. There's a lot to parse in all the comments. But really. So much great stuff. I realize that I have some new readers and it's been a while since I wrote thoughts about being fat. So. To be clear. I think there is more than one fat gene. I think there is more than one kind of fat body. I think there are people who can stop eating desert and take walks and they will begin to lose weight. There are people who will need to work-out with a degree of athleticism and become hyper-vigilant about food and still struggle to maintain what would be considered average weight. And there are degrees in between. I think it's possible to be fit and fat and healthy at any size. I think some fat people have issues with compulsive overeating (and they have my concern) but I don't think all fat people eat so much. I think the eat less/exercise more equation is simplistic and misunderstood. Food issues and the need for movement are things to talk about. Being fat begins with genetics and there are many things, like stress, that cause how fat any one person becomes. I don't think fat people are ugly and I do think there is weight based discrimination. If someone thinks I'm ugly that may be about preference and it may be about not looking at me with an open heart. But that's not a hill I'm going to die on. If someone doesn't |
