Ergh. I've been staring at the word Specialty all day while updating contact information for the gas project I am working on and just now I finally got to sending out the email to the 30 or so suppliers I've chased all day. And believe you me, I looked and looked through the email, saw nothing amiss, and sent it out. Composed initially by my colleague and teammate, and altered twice by me, I thought to myself, in lower case letters (because one is always more interesting when one thinks in lowercase), 'there ain't no mistakes here, no siree.' But then when the email showed up in my boss' inbox, and she sits right behind me, I noticed it said 'speciality gases' instead of 'specialty gases.' mortified i asked her if there was any chance speciality was the proper British way to say it. She abstained from answering, not wanting to incriminate herself, having been burned before in the past what with the different way her people and my people flaunt the English language to each other.
I looked it up on the internet (oh the internet) and both words DO exist. Slightly different uses, of course. But I was not necessarily wrong in not catching and correcting that extra i. All I can say is that the word special has ABSOLUTELY NO MEANING for me whatsoever, and I do not think it will for a very long time.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Take-Out Box
he sat there with his head down
his take-out box next to him on the bench
but instead of food inside
it carries a little piece of him
happiness and laughter mingle
with loss and sorrow
in the halls of a place where neither pair
recognizes the other for what it is
‘Oh kitty!' cried the group that walked by
oblivious to the colors of misery shading our tread
part of me wants to correct them
but the moment passes all too quickly
you can tell that the men who do this
do it everyday hundreds of times,
their manner not quite reverent enough
their explanation not quite long enough
as they skim through the details like
rocks skim over water
i keep trying to ask more questions
or maybe just the same one over again, rephrased, each time
expecting more detail, expecting them to say that
the injection actually cures cancer and heals any sickness
she seems calm and unafraid to be handled by a stranger
and when it’s done she lays on the table and actually sighs-
breath once ragged and quick becomes slow and peaceful
and her whole body gives off slight purr that fades
very slowly into nothing
she sleeps, and because instead of fire we choose earth,
we, too, get a take-out box of our own.
his take-out box next to him on the bench
but instead of food inside
it carries a little piece of him
happiness and laughter mingle
with loss and sorrow
in the halls of a place where neither pair
recognizes the other for what it is
‘Oh kitty!' cried the group that walked by
oblivious to the colors of misery shading our tread
part of me wants to correct them
but the moment passes all too quickly
you can tell that the men who do this
do it everyday hundreds of times,
their manner not quite reverent enough
their explanation not quite long enough
as they skim through the details like
rocks skim over water
i keep trying to ask more questions
or maybe just the same one over again, rephrased, each time
expecting more detail, expecting them to say that
the injection actually cures cancer and heals any sickness
she seems calm and unafraid to be handled by a stranger
and when it’s done she lays on the table and actually sighs-
breath once ragged and quick becomes slow and peaceful
and her whole body gives off slight purr that fades
very slowly into nothing
she sleeps, and because instead of fire we choose earth,
we, too, get a take-out box of our own.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
10 Things I like About Myself
I was reprimanded by Abi for not doing this yet. So I do it now. I do not know who to tag because the people I know who visit here have been tagged already. Except Ingrid. And Sarah A. I think anyway....so umm..yeah you are tagged. Am I supposed to link you now?
1. I am nearly never bored
2. I have passion for beautiful things
3. I crack myself up. A handful of others think I am funny too and that is good.
4. I like my hair
5. I am resilient
6. I am reflective and positive
7. I love people easily
8. I like my writing and my volleyball
9. I am a good friend when you need it
10. I have straight teeth and a nice smile
1. I am nearly never bored
2. I have passion for beautiful things
3. I crack myself up. A handful of others think I am funny too and that is good.
4. I like my hair
5. I am resilient
6. I am reflective and positive
7. I love people easily
8. I like my writing and my volleyball
9. I am a good friend when you need it
10. I have straight teeth and a nice smile
Let's Talk about Race, Baby
So a co-worker and I have been having fly-by book conversations for the last few months, starting from when she spied my lunch time entertainment "The Children of Hurin" by JR Tolkien. Later she saw me pouring over the last Harry Potter and these two titles convinced her that we might have similar reading interests. I was suspicious, because I had yet to notice certain tell-tale affinities in her that I usually notice in my fellow book fan buddies. But taking it in stride, I agreed to read a couple of her suggestions and even gave her two of my own for our respective upcoming plane rides.
Neither of the books she gave me inspired immediate response, so after I tore through three library books on my vacation last week I finally decided to read the one she gave me with the most renown....."East of Eden" by John Steinback. It is well written but the first several pages are so full of descriptive nature prose that I kept throwing the book down in impatience. I then realized I hate descriptive prose about nature. It bores me. But that's just me.
But the image of her asking me if I had read either book kept popping into my head and though I imagined she would not be too offended if I told her I couldn't get into it, I managed to perservere enough into the story...
I came to not one but several places in the story where they talk about black people very casually using the N word. One character, a brothel owner, is referred to simply as the 'N' and she possesses a steel sexuality that he talks about in a poetic way. It goes on for most of a short prose-y descriptive chapter. And by the time I am done with the chapter I feel really offended and angry at the person who gave this book to me telling me how it was her favorite favorite book in the whole world.
Now I am not beyond recognizing good literature in spite of history. But a part of me wants her to REMEMBER that that was in the book and REMEMBER that that is my biological history and at the very least, call it out for what it was. It makes me wonder however briefly, what white people internally feel and think when they come across stuff like that. Do they recognize themselves in the literature, do they feel horror, are they alienated from the writer as I am? I seriously doubt it. But I learned last night that I am supposed to suspend my suspicion, be grateful and forgiving.
In a discussion last night, a friend was expressing her difficulty with maintaining good feeling toward members of society who make racially insensitive or ignorant comments in her presence. Our mentor had been reading to us quotes from the "Advent of Divine Justice" and another person in our group said he, as a Persian, could identify with her black experience and for a moment it felt heated in the discussions about the differences in those two historical experiences and their subsequent impact on the groups of people involved.
But it got me thinking about how much we need to talk about it, keep talking about it. A few months ago an acquaintance of mine joyously pronounced how wonderful her mother was for not being afraid to speak to a black person. When I mentioned my issue with this, I was told that in that particular ethnic group, this was a huge accomplishment.
Back to the book, I wondered what I could possibly communicate to my co-worker that impresses upon her how it feels to read something like that without getting her defensive, which accomplishes no feat......I thought about what it might feel like if we lived in a world where prostitution was so taboo, it had been banned on an international scale for over 200 years and completely and utterly frowned upon not just in public, like it is now, but in private too. If women finally reached a status where we were universally viewed as equally valuable citizens whose purpose is ever so much more than a tool for man's sexual 'needs'. And yeah, then I could tell her that it's like reading a book where prostitution is the norm and some man gives it to you raving and you wonder and think and suspect that the man who gave it to you takes no issue with the inequality of description. And you fear, too, that if you brought it up the man would laud the ART of the book and the talent, and excuse the language as a function of the past, not worth talking about at all because after all we did BAN it long ago.....
I'm just saying we should talk about it. That's all. Even if it feels like nails on a chalkboard sometimes.
Neither of the books she gave me inspired immediate response, so after I tore through three library books on my vacation last week I finally decided to read the one she gave me with the most renown....."East of Eden" by John Steinback. It is well written but the first several pages are so full of descriptive nature prose that I kept throwing the book down in impatience. I then realized I hate descriptive prose about nature. It bores me. But that's just me.
But the image of her asking me if I had read either book kept popping into my head and though I imagined she would not be too offended if I told her I couldn't get into it, I managed to perservere enough into the story...
I came to not one but several places in the story where they talk about black people very casually using the N word. One character, a brothel owner, is referred to simply as the 'N' and she possesses a steel sexuality that he talks about in a poetic way. It goes on for most of a short prose-y descriptive chapter. And by the time I am done with the chapter I feel really offended and angry at the person who gave this book to me telling me how it was her favorite favorite book in the whole world.
Now I am not beyond recognizing good literature in spite of history. But a part of me wants her to REMEMBER that that was in the book and REMEMBER that that is my biological history and at the very least, call it out for what it was. It makes me wonder however briefly, what white people internally feel and think when they come across stuff like that. Do they recognize themselves in the literature, do they feel horror, are they alienated from the writer as I am? I seriously doubt it. But I learned last night that I am supposed to suspend my suspicion, be grateful and forgiving.
In a discussion last night, a friend was expressing her difficulty with maintaining good feeling toward members of society who make racially insensitive or ignorant comments in her presence. Our mentor had been reading to us quotes from the "Advent of Divine Justice" and another person in our group said he, as a Persian, could identify with her black experience and for a moment it felt heated in the discussions about the differences in those two historical experiences and their subsequent impact on the groups of people involved.
But it got me thinking about how much we need to talk about it, keep talking about it. A few months ago an acquaintance of mine joyously pronounced how wonderful her mother was for not being afraid to speak to a black person. When I mentioned my issue with this, I was told that in that particular ethnic group, this was a huge accomplishment.
Back to the book, I wondered what I could possibly communicate to my co-worker that impresses upon her how it feels to read something like that without getting her defensive, which accomplishes no feat......I thought about what it might feel like if we lived in a world where prostitution was so taboo, it had been banned on an international scale for over 200 years and completely and utterly frowned upon not just in public, like it is now, but in private too. If women finally reached a status where we were universally viewed as equally valuable citizens whose purpose is ever so much more than a tool for man's sexual 'needs'. And yeah, then I could tell her that it's like reading a book where prostitution is the norm and some man gives it to you raving and you wonder and think and suspect that the man who gave it to you takes no issue with the inequality of description. And you fear, too, that if you brought it up the man would laud the ART of the book and the talent, and excuse the language as a function of the past, not worth talking about at all because after all we did BAN it long ago.....
I'm just saying we should talk about it. That's all. Even if it feels like nails on a chalkboard sometimes.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Upon Returning....Lots of Dirty Work
This is a quick update. I have returned from my nine days away from the city. I had a great time. A very good time. Made me realize some big changes are needing to be made. Aside from those big changes, which are a few months in coming and not worth mentioning here at the moment, other things are happening.....
Let me preface what I am about to say by pointing out that I am not yet emotionally distraught. I could be soon.
1. My cat is dying. I do not have any details I feel like sharing at the moment. Funny enough, another cat showed up on my doorstep the other day and I thought very seriously about keeping it....but I didn't. I will likely be putting her down within the next two weeks but this all depends how soon I can get a friend to help me by driving me and her to the appropriate place.
2. I seem to be a victim of fraud. Someone managed to get my numbers and used my CC at Greenlake, of all places, and then this morning at Walgreens, for some VERY LARGE purchases that have maxed out my credit card and put me in a very frustrating position. I am still waiting to find out about more details on this as well.
3. The exterminator came while I was gone to get rid of the mice who were leaving me presents in the kitchen for the last couple of weeks. He came and was successful at killing them, but now they are dead in my walls and my apartment smells like dead animal. Luckily it's been breezy and with my windows open it is not so discernible.....
Let me preface what I am about to say by pointing out that I am not yet emotionally distraught. I could be soon.
1. My cat is dying. I do not have any details I feel like sharing at the moment. Funny enough, another cat showed up on my doorstep the other day and I thought very seriously about keeping it....but I didn't. I will likely be putting her down within the next two weeks but this all depends how soon I can get a friend to help me by driving me and her to the appropriate place.
2. I seem to be a victim of fraud. Someone managed to get my numbers and used my CC at Greenlake, of all places, and then this morning at Walgreens, for some VERY LARGE purchases that have maxed out my credit card and put me in a very frustrating position. I am still waiting to find out about more details on this as well.
3. The exterminator came while I was gone to get rid of the mice who were leaving me presents in the kitchen for the last couple of weeks. He came and was successful at killing them, but now they are dead in my walls and my apartment smells like dead animal. Luckily it's been breezy and with my windows open it is not so discernible.....
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