Those of you who are privy to some of my secrets should click here, especially if you gave me a penguin.

*smiles*

Having had much better dreams, I start again. And again, and again, and again, apparently. I will say one thing for myself: I am a quick study in some matters. There is no repetition here of lessons learned in my twenties, which is comforting. No, this is all new material, and the only problem is that I'm so used to being good at just about everything I try, it's hard to keep a beginner's mind. It also indicates that, clearly, I need to try more things and stretch out of my comfort zones. I think I will hold off on this, though, until after I move.

And that will be all over today, one way or another. Si's friend D. is coming to help me move furniture. I have one very large box, that used to hold Granger, and my eleventh-hour strategy is that everything goes in either a) the box, or b) the garbage. I can't wait to see what I find today, as yesterday was a veritable treasure trove of things lost and forgotten, little touchstones that served to brace me against my current wild flood of emotion. I'd like to say I did that on purpose, buried things because I knew I would need them later. But that's just sort of the way it turned out.

Have actually managed to find time to read a little. Tried As Francesca, but couldn't get into it. The premise was quite interesting: successful corporate businesswoman by day, internet submissive by night. However, the violence quotient, which started small, then escalated, squicked me, and I had to put the book aside. There's a huge difference between "submissive" and "battered," and if your tastes don't lean toward the latter, you might want to pass this one by. That being said, if you skip certain chapters, you get an interesting look at the dynamics of power. Not interesting enough, IMHO, to justify a full read. But then, I am a bit of a priss, as we have long established.

Much more pleasing is Edward Willett's Lost in Translation, not to be confused with the film of the same name starring Bill Murray. In this book humans and a race of gorgeous little flying creatures called S'sin despise each other with a passion equal to the heat of a thousand suns. A misunderstanding escalated into a war, then into a Hatfields-McCoys mindset that clouds both species minds with hatred and prevents any kind of reconciliation. The governing council, seeing that this state of affairs will never do, decides to intervene and get to the bottom of the grudge match once and for all, and for that, they need translators: the two who are chosen must work against their own prejudices to come up with a solution for the future of both species, but it's not going to be easy, as their backstories indicate. There are shades of Bradbury here in the style, which I personally find pleasing, and I'm also keen on the S'sin because it's hard to create an alien race that isn't "been there done that." Recommended for adult summer reading, as this is the kind of book you want to take out to the hammock and savor, while the sun still shines.

Am seriously considering getting kittens. This has always been a possibility for Team Isabel, but my kittenyearning has increased of late, so we're back in practical negotiations. Cons: it can be expensive to have pets, and they require a certain amount of care and upkeep. Pros: Unconditional love and fluffiness. Those of you who currently have cats are laughing right now, but I wouldn't just go get any random kittens. They would have to be kittens that liked me, and I'm willing to wait for the right ones. I think, perhaps, visiting shelters and playing with cats might be a temporary solution. But we shall see.


Out there in the windswept, rainwashed world, it's business as usual. Observe.

It's been implied all along, but for the first time, somebody's actually stating it openly: if you are opposed to this war, you're a goddamned communist. This rhetorical strategy stymies me, because it assumes there's nothing to dislike about senseless death and wrongful occupation - if you hate those things, you're really just harboring a secret grudge against capitalism. It's really not a simple either-or problem, because violence, death, and war are inextricably intertwined with money, greed, and power. But to reduce it to such a simplistic argument is an insult to everyone's intelligence. If wanting a non-violent world makes me Red, well, sign me up. I'll make sure to get a Chanel suit and wear it to my Senate hearing, just to be ironic.

*headdesk*

A new poll indicates that two-thirds of the respondants believe creationism should be taught in schools. Another poll on a seemingly unrelated topic declares that Bush is less popular now than at any point during his presidency. But before you get too happy or sad either way, let's not overlook one key thing: poll samples are so ridiculously small that they don't mean diddley. Can you really take the temperature of a nation based on what 1,000 or 2,000 people in a specific region think? Why do we even bother with polls? Are there not enough genuine problems going on that we have nothing to fill the papers with without number-tweaking? Enough already. If you want to know what people think, have meaningful dialogues with as many of them as possible. Save the number-crunching for elections.

*pauses*

Er, strike that. But I think you see what I mean.

*sighs*

Meanwhile, over here, more baby panda goodness.

*dies from cute*

There are some things that require no further explanation. If your heart doesn't melt at the sight of that tubby little fella, well, you're just cold. Take my sweater. I have more.

Today's poem, At the Algonquin, puts me in mind of something colleenrose18 said last night that I didn't get a chance to address: dating sucks. This poem doesn't exactly capture all the reasons why dating sucks; we'd need an epic for that. But it does incorporate, and quite nicely, the sense of frustration and longing that so often springs up while dating. The dynamic here is a little different - the only thing weirder than dating is getting back together with somebody - but the emotions run on parallel tracks. Click and see.

Jeremy Blachman believes that bloggers should have more protection against job loss. He makes his case quite eloquently, but I'm still a little uneasy about the whole thing. Maybe it's because he brings up the whole notion of at-will employment, only to dismiss it. If you can be fired for just about any whimsical aristo reason, why should blogging get special protection? Of course, you could go out and find meaningful work at a whiz-bang company that could care less about what you do when you're not at your desk. But that takes a lot more work and effort, particularly in this economy. My usual advice stands firm here: if you have any hesitation whatsoever about saying what you're saying, don't say it. Or lock it up. It's not like that's not easily done these days.

Once more into the breach, dear friends. I am so ready to be done with so much, it's not even funny.

That is Danaggressively all.