C.L. Finn's Journal

4:55pm: Red or Green?
I love New York. I really do and I'm very happy with my decision to move here. But there are days that I miss New Mexico. Especially now that all of my family is out here in the East and my only remaining tie to New Mexico is miafeliz. She sent me a forward today (which I've actually seen before, but I'd lost) that made me homesick for some of the most bizarre things.

You Might Be A New Mexican If:

-You expect to pay more if your house is made of mud.
-You can order your Big Mac with green chile.
-You buy salsa by the half-gallon.
-You are still using the paper license tag that came with your car five years ago.
-Your Christmas decorations include "a yard of sand and 200 paper
bags".
-Most restaurants you go to begin with "El" or "Los".
-You hated Texans until the Californians moved in.
-The tires on your roof have more tread than the ones on your car.
-You price shop for tortillas.
-You have an extra freezer just for green chile.
-You think a red light is merely a suggestion.
-You believe that using a turn signal is a sign of weakness.
-You think six tons of crushed rock makes a beautiful front lawn.
-You ran for state legislature so you can speed legally.
-You pass on the right because that's the fast-lane.
-You have read a book while driving from Albuquerque to Santa Fe.
-You know they don't skate at the Ice House and the Newsstand doesn't sell newspapers.
-You think Sadie's was better when it was in the bowling alley.
-There is a piece of a UFO displayed in your home.
-You just got your fifth DWI and got elected to the state legislature in the same week.
-Your swamp cooler got knocked off your roof by a dust devil.
-You have been on TV more than three times telling about your alien abduction.
-You can actually hear the Taos hum.
-All your out-of-state friends and relatives visit in October.
-You think Las Vegas is a town in the northeastern part of the state.
-You iron your jeans to "dress up".
-You don't see anything wrong with drive-up window liquor sales.
-Your other vehicle is also a pick-up truck.
-Two of your cousins are in Santa Fe, one in the legislature the other in the state pen.
-You know the punch line to at least one Espanola joke.
-You have driven to an Indian Casino at 3:00 AM because you were
hungry.
-You think the Lobos fight song is "Louie, Louie".
-You know whether you want "red or green."
-You're relieved when the pavement ends because the dirt road has
fewer pot-holes.
-You see nothing odd when, in the conversations of the people in
line around you at the grocery store, every other word of each
sentence alternates between Spanish and English.
-You know you will run into at least 3 cousins whenever you shop at Wal-Mart, Sam's or Home Depot.
-You can correctly pronounce Tesuque, Cerrillos, and Pojoaque.
-You have been told by at least one out-of-state vendor that they are going to charge you extra for "international" shipping.

And for the record, I prefer Green. And while I was born in Roswell and lived in Taos, I have never been abducted by aliens or heard the Taos Hum. But I could swear I heard Taos Mountain talking to me on occasion. *g*

In a more serious vein, while driving through Pennsylvania this weekend with my mom and sister, we were discussing the fact that rumour had it the Grand Wizard of the KKK (and really, who expects to be taken as a serious adult with a title like that?) was going to be in the next town over. The area where my mom lives is definately predominantly white. I made the comment that I didn't think I could ever live in a place that didn't have a real mix of race and culture.

I couldn't really articulate my reasons well to my mom, but in thinking about the things that I miss about New Mexico and the things I love about New York, I still can't quite articulate it, but I can see where it comes from. New Mexico has its lion's share of racial problems, but for the most part it is the most truly "multicultural" place I've ever lived. White and hispanic and Native American live together and on top of each other in towns like Taos and Santa Fe, and they have been for so long that the cultures have all borrowed from each other. I never learned to speak Spanish growing up in New Mexico, but I use a heck of a lot of Spanglish in my vocabulary. Chile and salsa are not exotic foods to me, they're just what everyone eats. It's only when I've spent time outside of New Mexico that I realize just how much the lines blurred for me growing up.

New York is multicultural in a different way, I think. But I have to think more about it before I can articulate it. Austin was the worst place I ever lived because I kept thinking something felt off and one day I looked around and realized that it's an incredibly segregated place. There's a highway that runs through town and whites live on one side and poor hispanics live on the other. (yes, this is a huge generalization, but it's not that far off from the truth) I hated Austin for that and several other reasons, and all the people who rave about it never can understand why.

And miafeliz... you have to send me some more green chile. *g* My calabacitas and your mom's queso turned out really well. My red chile sauce wasn't anything to write home about though. I have to work on that.

1:36pm: Amusing new toy...
The Mary Sue Generator.

According to this, my Mary Sue character's name is Monique Havenworth. I have silver azure eyes and my signature scent is Dewy Gardenia and I have flawless skin. My paranormal power is seeing dead people and my specialized skill is that I'm a Master Diplomat. And get this... my newly revealed relationship to a major character is...

I am Ray Kowlaski's distant cousin. Dude! I can avert an international incident between Canada and the US, while carrying on a conversation with Bob Fraser.

This thing is amusing.

5:03pm: Exhausted, but happy...
My portion of the Great Aral Weekend is over. She was whisked away to parts unknown by Rowan last night. Tonight, I will attempt to catch up on my sleep.

Everytime I get the chance to spend time with a group of slash-fen, I'm reminded of just how much I love fandom. Some of the people I have met in slash fandom are the coolest, smartest, funniest people on earth. Aral is no exception to this rule.

The weekend was made up of intelligent conversation, rampant silliness, way too much good food, and lots and lots of talking about and watching slashiness. QaF and Smallville was pimped and Aral went home with many tapes and CDs to watch. Oh yeah, and there was some of that other fandom too.

Right now, I am exhausted but still in that post-slasher weekend glow.

And my sister's in town, which is goodness of a whole different flavor.

7:33pm: The things we do for friends...
So a few months ago, I went with the Roomie to see Sorority Boys because she loves Michael Rosenbaum, and there was a particular image of Michael in drag during the closing credits that she liked very much. Then she was having a crappy day a while back and I wrote her a little snippet. I subsequently promised her a story. This is it.

Sorority Boys fic. Adam/Dave

And oh yeah... she also made me this very cool new icon. For I am. A clever girl. *g*

( Enjoy. )

4:21pm: Remembering the love...
I just read the first due South story I've read in many months. Wow, I remember why I loved these guys so much.

Q & A by Beth. I think it's the first story she's posted that I didn't beta. *sigh* I deserted her for sparklier pastures. But I dunno... I'm feeling the Fraser-love again. I might have to go read more.

1:30pm: I see dead people...
So, the end of X-Files... huh.

( Read more... )

11:30pm: Angel stuff...
Woo, how's that for an exciting title? Such creativity there... the muse must have deserted me. *g*

( Spoilery stuff... )

11:45pm: Some things are just inexplicable...
First, go read this silly discussion. Then, go read the crack-fic that I was inspired to write in my other journal. I blame it all on lunaris_ and miafeliz.

Yes, there are sparkly boys in the story, but don't let that chase you off. There is also Gene Simmons and Dave Matthews and a cast of thousands.

Now, I'm going to go take some Advil because my jaw hurts for some inexplicable reason. And I didn't go anywhere near a tollbooth!*

*a stupid joke meant only for Becky and Rowan

5:18pm: Make the clock move faster!
Fifteen minutes until I can get out of here. Want to go now!

Instead I am searching the internet for New Mexican recipes. I have red chile powder. I have a can of Hatch green chile. All provided by my dear miafeliz. Now I'm having a big craving for home-food. Just have to decide what to make.

I think I really want to make chicken and calabacitas (might be spelled wrong, sue me) burritos. First I have to find a good calabacitas recipe. Then I have to find decent tortillas. Cause the ones at the corner grocery store are crap and if I'm gonna do it, I should do it right. Right?

Right.

Ooh... 5:20. No one else in even down here. I'm leaving. Ha!

And really... all of this nonsense was nothing but a big ol' GIP! Mmmm... sexy CJ.

1:07pm: Tales from the front...
There are days that I hate my job. Not because of the job itself, but because of how completely fucked up the system is.

I went to a welfare hearing with a client this morning. This woman has three kids, the oldest is 16 and her youngest is 1. She served in the military for six years before coming back to her neighborhood and having her first daughter. Now, she's living on foodstamps and five dollars cash per month. Her welfar case has been screwed up since 1996 when they accused her of fraud because her daughter's Social Security number matches some corporation's tax ID number. Eventually they straightened that out, but she has had constant problems ever since. She had a baby last year and it took the welfare department four months and two hearings to get her baby added to the budget, despite the fact that she had done everything she was supposed to do and notified them. She has yet to get the money back-owed to her or the pregnancy allowance she was entitled to when she was pregnant.

Yeah, some may respond... why doesn't she just get a job and support herself? Easier said than done, buddy. She's a black woman with little education, no family support, and three children. She was in welfare's work program a while back because these days in order to receive welfare you have to do slave labor. And when I say slave labor, I mean. New York City puts thousands of welfare recipients to work for them, cleaning streets, parks, etc. They work for below minimum wage. They get no benefits. They do not get any credit in the city or state municipal employees system. They are not allowed to Unionize. And they get no actual job training so that they can get a real job. (which was supposed to be the point of the work program)

She was eager to enter the work program because she wanted to work, she wanted to be able to support her children. Instead, she was paid $215 per month (which is then subtracted from her welfare amount)and was never given child care or carfare. This is not a work incentive!

Her oldest daughter's father died and she is now receiving $300 in Social Security Survivors benefits. This money is counted against the family budget. Here's how it breaks down... after adding the SS income, her welfare budget comes out to $330 per month. Her rent share after Section 8 pays their part, is $220. Welfare cuts her a check for $5 twice a month. So, she has foodstamps, $300 of her daughter's money and $10 from welfare to support a family of four. You try doing that in New York City.

Her oldest daughter is in a gifted program at school. Which is great, except that it requires her to buy extra supplies and college textbooks for her daughter to stay in the program. Since 1996, she has been to about 40 welfare hearings, simply trying to get what she is entitled to. This is the system that we expect people to be able to come out of and become productive members of society. Instead, they go into the system for whatever reason and they get stuck there. The system destroys them. My client said to me today that she feels invisible most of the time. She sits in these hearing waiting rooms and sees women who are having to sell their bodies or sell drugs to feed their children. She hasn't done that. She has stood up for her rights and continued to work with in the system just to get the $10 dollars she's entitled to.

It's really easy to judge so called "welfare mothers". And yeah, many of them have drug and alcohol problems. Many of them have mentals problems. But they are people. And most of them love their children and want more for their children than what they have had. But the system hates them. The system treats them like garbage. The system makes it impossible for them to do anything else.

It all just really pisses me off some days.

9:12pm: My kingdom for an opener...
So Thamiris started people talking about first lines of their stories. I was curious, so I went back and looked at all my web-published stories. Oh man... that was painful. I'm happy to note that my writing *has* actually improved since I first started writing fanfic. Just the first lines of some of my old HL stories made me cringe. That said, I have a tendency to open with dialog or scene-setters. Hmm.

( Anyway, here's a taste... )

5:09pm: But I don't even like heroin...
Heh. I think this is another one of those... I don't want to *be* him, I *want* him. Can't say I didn't like the result though. Even if I'm probably much more Arthur-like.



In other stupid quiz news... I took the Tarot card quiz and I am apparently The Empress. Okey-dokey.

4:12pm: Soylent Green is people!
So there used to be this TV show I loved. Adored actually. It had a very flawed hero and a few of his friends who worked for him and assisted him in helping the helpless, except for that time when he fired them all because he was busy being flawed. But that was okay, because they just stuck together and continued going out and doing good and taking care of each other until such time as the hero came to his senses and apologized, grovelled a little, and put one of them in charge. It was a lovely show. But...

what. the. hell?

Can someone please come and take away the pod people who have suddenly populated Angel?

Here's how I want this season to end... Wesley discovers the "real" prophecy and realizes that to protect the world from evil (or at least seriously annoying character assasination), he must act. Being the true hero that he is, he kills Fred and Groo, entombs Angel and Cordelia together in a block of stone for two hundred years, performs a very intricate exorcism (that must involve nudity) on Gunn that destroys the pod that's been controlling his actions for much of this season, then, with the world rid of this particular brand of evil, he and Gunn go off to Fiji for a much deserved vacation. Meanwhile, Lorne stays behind and opens a fabulous hotel and nightclub in the Hyperion where, due to a well-timed favor to the Powers that Be, Justin Timberlake performs karaoke nightly. (hey! This is *my* season finale. Get your own.)

Yeah, that *might* fix things.

Though I have my doubts.

11:56am: What's the big idea?
Watching the West Wing special last night got me reminiscing about the years I worked in DC. I worked in a Senate office for three years as a very entry-level aide and it was one of the coolest things I've ever done for a lot of reasons, many of which were mentioned last night by former White House aides.

The perception that people outside the Beltway have about Washington are based in part on truth. Washington is a place where everyone wields power in large and small ways, where the struggle to survive in politics creates such huge levels of bullshit that it's often impossible to wade above it.

But it's also a place of ideas. Big ideas, small ideas, ridiculous ideas, and even occasionally brilliant ideas. I've never had a job that engaged my brain like that one did, and it wasn't because my actual job required me to think very deeply, but because you couldn't help but be engaged in the exchange of knowledge and the endless debate over ideas.

One of the things that I've always loved about West Wing is how it reminds me so much of my Senate office. We didn't have the kind of day to day life and death "big stuff" going on that the White House has to deal with, but the kind of discussions and debate that you see on West Wing was the kind of conversation we often had around the metahorical water cooler. (not to make it sound like we didn't also talk about Seinfeld and baseball and hot guys around the water cooler, because there was plenty of that too)

I started working in the Senate in the last year of the Bush Administration, went through a Presidential election and saw the Gingrich revolution ushered in. I was present at Clinton's first Inauguration, nearly froze to death in my excellent seats, and went to some pretty cool parties. My boss was very involved in health care reform so I got to take part in that process from inception to demise. It was fascinating and exciting and ultimately heartbreaking.

I used to volunteer to run errands over to the Chambers because every time I walked through the Capitol building I was awed and amazed that I was there, that I had a badge that allowed me to bypass the tourists waiting in line for elevators, to walk past guards, and to hand something over to a clerk that maybe I'd written which would soon be immortalized forever in the U.S. Senate Record. Despite the fact that I had a crappy job for a really pathetic salary, it was an incredibly heady feeling to be a tiny part of all that. I understand how that sense of awe can easily turn to a sense of power, of entitlement.

For three years, I worked in a place that was clean and shiny and safe (hey, we believed it was back then!), where I got paid just enough to pay my rent in DC, but could get free food just about any night of the week at random receptions around the Hill, where I got respect even though I basically did nothing more than write letters, where any kind of office supply I could ever want or need was a phone call away, where I got computer training and classes and cultural events as a bonus of my job, and where I got to think and learn and question, and my brain was always engaged with big ideas.

I love my job now. I went to law school so that I could do what I'm doing right now. I get a salary that's only slightly larger than what I need to pay for rent and my student loans. I work in the windowless basement of a building that seems to be crumbling down around us, which is never clean, always in disrepair and occasionally unsafe. I have a desk that's propped on blocks of wood and is missing a drawer handle, my files are stacked precariously because they still haven't found me a filing cabinet, and our assistant office manager doles out crappy bic pens as if they are gold. And it only keeps getting worse because everytime Congress or the city council or the state assembly start talking about the economy, legal services is one of the first things to be slashed all to hell. A very large contingent of Congressman and administration officials would love to see legal services done away with completely. (because access to civil courts is for the wealthy, didn't you know?!)

When I tell people where I work, the response is often bafflement, pity, or even outright disdain. Most people, including members of my family, can't believe I'm using my law degree this way. I don't get much call for big ideas because most of my cases are exactly the same and generally require badgering federal and state agencies into simply complying with their own regulations.

And yet, I still love it. Because getting someone's grandchild added onto their public assistance budget may not require any great intellectual debate, it makes it possible for that woman to get into a special rental assistance program so that she doesn't get evicted from her crappy little apartment. I may be freezing one day and baking the next in my basement office, but it's better than many of my clients have in their homes. I may not get much respect from other members of the Bar or agency officials, but the respect I give to my clients is probably the only respect they get from anyone in any kind of official position.

So yeah, sometimes I miss the Senate, but mostly I'm happy with the work I do. It's just that my brain gets a little starved sometimes. These days I tend to feed it with slash. I'm not sure that's an adequate substitution, but it's the life I've chosen.

For now, at any rate.

10:57pm: Christine, I am your father...
Spamming with this quiz only because it made me laugh.


Who's your daddy?? Find out @ blackhole

Like, what else would I get when I said that I want to be Master of the Universe?

(oh and look, it's another GIP)

10:49pm: Nothing but a GIP
Just made a bunch o' new icons for this journal. Just sharing one for now.

I just adore Kate Hepburn.

5:30pm: Huh...
Took the quiz at www.findyourspot.com and apparently I should live in Baltimore. My top results...

1. Baltimore
2. Providence, RI
3. Little Rock, AR (say what??)
4. New Orleans, LA
5. New Haven, CT
6. Sacramento, CA

New York came up nowhere on my list of 24. Albuquerque came up at 23.

It's all because of what I put in as my ideal rent, I'm sure.

1:05pm: God love the Brits...
ukcalico posted some apparently real entries from the Queen Mum's condolence book. Everyone needs to read these... here. The pretty much made my day.

In other news... Angel.

( Cutting away for spoilers... )

4:48pm: My future girlfriend, Amy...
I knew there was more than one reason I adored Trading Spaces. It's the gayest show on TV! Heh. So says this article.

Best line *ever*... Carpenter Amy Wynn Pastor, with her tank tops and tool belts, has our gaydar moving faster than a tub of hummus at an Indigo Girls concert.

11:49am: Survey Bandwagon...
Because this one looked kinda fun, I had to jump on the bandwagon...

( Check me out. )

12:07pm: Dude, we bombed Canadians!
What the hell? Are they suddenly on GW's list of evildoers? Damn Canadians, importing their maple syrup and infecting us with their love of curling. And that Paul Gross? The worst of them all... we must hunt him to the ends of the earth and bring him to justice.

(okay, I know that dead Canadian soldiers are not funny, but I swear this "war" becomes more and more farsical every day.)

4:43pm: soundtrack addendum...
Mia, my dog, has her own soundtrack. Smashmouth's version of "I'm a Believer" is her theme song simply because I've rewritten it to be "I'm a Retreiver".

Yes, I'm just that dorky.

3:46pm: Soundtrack of my life...
I went and bought new cds on Saturday, and was listening to one of them this morning and pondering my ever-changing taste in music. See, right now I'm listening to stuff I never would have listened to before, much less even heard of. And yes, it's in large part one of those peripheral fandom things. When I was in HL fandom I listened to a lot of celtic music and had a Jim Byrnes cd. When I was deep in due South love, I listened to Paul Gross and Stan Rogers, and lots of other Canadian music.

Now, I'm listening to a lot of *NSYNC. But I'm also listening to a lot of stuff that I've been exposed to by *NSYNC. I just bought the N.E.R.D. cd this weekend, and I love it. I'd never even heard of the Neptunes before.

Anyway, I was thinking about my really eclectic music tastes this morning and pondering how it's not really all about fandom. I've gone through definite periods in my music tastes, and they tend to correspond with where I'm living and what's going on in my life.

When I lived in DC and worked in the Senate, my music taste was pretty diverse, running the gamut from Counting Crows to En Vogue. But it all somehow fit with the rhythm of DC. When I was in New York for law school and living in the Village, I was listening to a lot of alternative and indie stuff, and to a lot of country the last year when I was depressed and home sick. And the Rent Soundtrack... "a lot". While I lived in Taos, I listened to a lot of folk-rock-country and what my sister would call Lesbians with Guitars (LwGs). That music definitely fit the rhythm and spirit of Taos.

Now I'm back in New York, living in Brooklyn and working in Bed-Stuy, and I find myself being drawn to hip hop and R&B and blues and funk. Even a little rap. And yeah, the only reason I've even heard of people like The Neptunes and Nelly is fandom related, but I'm also finding that it fits the place I'm in now. It's city music. If I were in a movie, its the kind of music that would be on my soundtrack. I love my LwGs still, but Lucinda Williams just sounds wrong on my headphones when I'm riding the bus through Bed-Stuy on the way to work.

Don't get me wrong, the Indigo Girls will always star on my personal soundtrack, but there's a difference between that and the soundtrack of the city around me. And there will always be soundtracks for certain people in my life. When I find myself thinking about my dad, I always have a hankering for Willie Nelson. My mom? Garth Brooks and Elvis. For Maria, miafeliz, well, there's a lot of music on that 15+ year soundtrack, but U2 and Melissa Etheridge stand out (with a little taste of Heard it Through the Grapevine, a reason for which only she will know). The roomie, lunaris_, will forever be associated with Bruce. Beth's soundtrack is a lot of things, but of course, Paul Gross has a starring role. There are so many others, but I'll just stop here and say, everyone I care about has their own soundtrack in my head.

Music is such a huge part of my life. It seems to be the unifying thread in all my memories. There are times in my childhood that I can barely remember anything expcept a song my mom used to sing or a song that was big on the charts at the time. On the Road Again and Side by Side were the songs of childhood roadtrips with my family. The Gambler was playing on the radio incessantly the summer I was most involved in horseback riding. My sister had a 45 of The Greatest American Hero when she was like 7 and she loved it and drove the rest of us up the wall with it. My grandmother used to sing a silly version of Toreador from Carmen (oh my god, she was a filker!). I bought Rattle and Hum when I was in school in London and practically wore it out while I was there.

I think ten years from now, whenever I hear Justin Timberlake or *NSYNC I'll remember the first year I lived in Brooklyn, the year I worked in Bed-Stuy. For better or worse, that will be part of my soundtrack for this year.

(edited because not only can I not carry a tune, I can't spell rhythm)

2:33pm: New home...
Since I came out and admitted to my alter-ego in my new fandom, I've been trying to decide whether to just get rid of my blog altogether and just talk in one place. But for various reasons, not the least of which being that I have many friends who really don't want to read my squeeing over popstars, I've decided to keep CLFinn and Trixie seperate. However, Blogger's become a pain in the ass, and the prospect of 20 icons appeals to me, so, I'm moving the blog over to livejournal.

And here I am. Had fun with the colors, but I'm not sure how long I'll keep them. I was feeling a little homesick for Taos and thought I'd make my journal look like home.

It's been a week and I'm still feeling the post-con glow (well, and the post-concert glow from last night, but that's a story for another journal. heh). I miss everyone already. Can we have another con next week?

No? *sigh* Fine then, I'll just have to go do dishes and my taxes instead.