Upward and Onward

2016 is only a few weeks old and already it's giving me a giant mental wedgie.

I don't even know what that is, but it kinda sounds like what I feel...disoriented, confused, reeling...

Between Christmas and the middle of January there are no less than 4 major celebrations that all combined together to pack a major wallop this year...

First, Christmas - wow, magical, love, goodwill...

Second, my birthday - wow, I'm old, no, like for real now, seriously this time, FO REALZ...

Third, New Years - ah, a whole new year, carpe annum, what am I doing with my life? goals, I need goals beyond mere survival of my young...

Fourth, Noah's birthday - wow, my youngest is getting big, no more baby, no more babies? hmmm...

Now that Noah's turned 3, and we don't really have any plans to have another baby, I feel like we've finally reached the next "stage" in family life.

I used to fantasize about this stage when Noah was just a few months old.

The long extended trips we could take.
The lack of diapers in the house.
The convenience of everyone eating the same food.
The freedom of not worrying about anybody's napping.
The verbal communication skills that would negate the need to scream like a banshee in my ear.
The big chunks of uninterrupted sleep, ahhhhhhhh.

We're not really there yet, but it's tantalizingly just around the corner...maybe by this Summer even...

2016, I have high hopes for you.

The Black Turtleneck

I have a giant to-do list, but instead of tackling it, I'm blogging.

This irrationality is driving me crazy, RIGHT NOW.

And yet, I can't stop.

It's like eating Pringles. Just. Can't. Stop. Eating.

I have so much to say and nothing at all. Nothing of any consequence what so ever.

What's with our social drive to share about our lives? Some strong "stuff" there.

So, instead of fighting it anymore. I'm going to scratch that itch. And then call my dental insurance, and then pay my property tax, and then renew my home insurance, and then [insert myriad other boring things that make me want to stick a fork in my eye].

So...things that are going on...

Today is the 3rd day in a row that Noah has refused to nurse. I feel deeply ambivalent. He LOVED nursing and it was his sole source of comfort in this whole entire world. He never took a bottle, never had a pacifier, never had a lovie toy, none of it. When he was scared or tired or sad, he went right for the boob.

For months now I've been longing to wean him, but because he's my last baby, I kept holding out. I set a limit date - his 2nd birthday, after which, the boob shop will be closed. Forever.

I was already planning to celebrate by wearing a turtleneck. I fantasized about what color turtleneck I could wear. I haven't worn one for 4+ years, ever since Judah was born. It was going to feel oh so cozy and modest. And then I was going to stop by the Gap and by a few crew-neck t-shirts.

But a few days ago, Noah told me his "teeth" were "sick" and he refused to nurse. He's also been drooling a ridiculous amount. Either he has mouth sores or he's teething badly. He won't open his mouth enough for me to inspect it. But he does tell me "Noah teeth sick" and "call doctor" and "get medicine."

And then 3 days of non-nursing went by. And today I feel sad. I think this is the end.

The end of an era.

Why do I feel so sad closing up shop now when I was already going to do it anyway in 3 months?

I might as well put on a turtleneck now.

I just didn't realize the color I'd choose is black.

This was meant to be light, oh well

Dear Diary,

I should be going to bed now but...I feel like talking to someone, so, yeah.

Unfortunately, you're not a real diary and this is a sorta public forum so I can't really spill all my uncensored guts, but I can tell you this.

I'm still not used to taking care of my kids all day. Being a stay-at-home mom is still hard. Noah still has times when he screams and cries the entire car trip home (for no apparent *good* reason). Judah has all kinds of ridiculous phobias that defy logic and strip me of sanity. And I still can barely hear myself think when the kids are around.

I fantasize about the day when Noah is 2.5. No more stranger anxiety. He can watch a video like his brother. They might even play together. And definitely no more nursing.

In fact I'm holding on to that bright and shining day like a beacon in the night. In a stormy night with pounding waves that toss me under like a rag doll before I can catch a breath.

Oh, and what else...

I've started drinking a giant mug of coffee in the middle of the day. It helps.

My kind and thoughtful friend lent me her double-jogging stroller this week. I jogged with it once. It was awesome.

My reward at the end of a long, hard day is listening to Chris Rice albums as I wash dishes and tidy the playroom. Not exactly putting my feet up but I'm starting to accept my role as a 16 hour a day menial house slave. I don't glower as much as I used to.

If ever there was a time I needed to practice being positive and grateful, it is now. Giving thanks is no longer something 'nice to do' for me. It is the difference between life and death. Between despair and hope. Between sinking and staying afloat. Because my goodness how the storms rage on.

Listen...

I try to be thoughtful on this blog.

I try to be coherent.

I try to not let it descend into word-barf followed by a chaser of emotional vomit.

But you know what? Sometimes I just can't.

Sometimes I just have to word-barf and emotional vomit somewhere to someone. And although you poor readers are not exactly flesh and blood people sitting in front of me, this will just have to do because I am currently all alone.

And the problem is I am almost always all alone. Because being with your kids who are all under age 4 does not really count as real company. As much fun as they are (and they really are) you can imagine how limited the conversation gets. Judah doesn't even get the concept of time. How long is five minutes Mommy? Yeah, we're not going to be discussing world events anytime soon.

But even if I'm at the park or having a playdate, if the kids are around, I'm in "soundbite" mode. That means I try not to say anything or respond in a way that would cause the other person to say anything that requires more than 3 seconds time. Because someone somewhere is trying to talk to me (Mommy, MOMMY, MOOOOMMMMMYYYYYY! I'M TRYING TO TALK TO YOU AND YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!!!!), or about to eat a discarded cigarette butt, or needing his butt wiped, or simply wandering off.

So you can imagine how shallow the conversation gets.

After the kids go to bed is the only time I can actually finish 3 consecutive sentences without interruption. But sadly for me the Spouse is an introvert. And frankly, I'm a very sucky conversationalist after spending 14+ hours with the kids and cooking, serving, and cleaning up 16 meals, plus dealing with countless episodes of meltdowns, irritating behavior, and general all-day non-cooperation.

Maybe, gentle blog reader, you ARE the ideal conversationalist for this beleaguered and weary shell of a woman. You can not talk back. And I can go on forever about me, me, me without a second's thought about you. How was your day? Uh-huh, and how did that make you feel?

Anyway, I suppose it's only right to say, at the end of all this, thank you. Thank you for "listening". Thank you for "being there". Thank you for letting this tired, lonely woman prattle on into the wee night. Now, can you also please just HOLD ME?

The barbarians arrive at the gate in zero minus 6 hours.

The 'What if' Game

Sometimes I like to play a twisted little game called "What if I didn't have kids?"

I would still be working. But I wouldn't just be working, I would be KILLING it at the office. High heels, pencil skirt, lipstick...okay, maybe I just mean my outfit would be killer. But seriously, I really loved the attorney job I left. It was hard, challenging, totally noodle-cooking stuff, but my boss was reasonable and it was really rewarding to feel like a lean mean drafting machine.

I wouldn't miss my friends so darn much. It took until my 30's to realize how much I LOVE my girlfriends. I think I prob love them more than the Spouse (sorry honey!). But seriously, they are so so so awesome. Girls are just better than guys. There I said it. It's true. Sorry guys, I love you too but my idea of quality "hanging out" consists of something deeper than watching sports games or playing video games. It ranges from talking smack about celebrities to drooling over the new Michael Kors collection to ruminating over deep life sh*t in a way that makes you feel like the spirit of Oprah has descended upon you.

But alas, ever since kids entered the picture, it's been so hard to find time to just hang with the gals. And it's absolutely impossible to have a conversation with the kids around. Especially now that Noah has entered his IS THAT YOUR CELL PHONE? OMG I HAVE TO HAVE IT NOW!!!!! phase. Btw, if you get a random text from me that says 39fd8i389hunr893892he89hf, you can be sure it's from Noah.

And then there's all those little things.

Like, if I didn't have kids, this weekend I would definitely be watching Maleficent in theaters. And eating out before or after it.

And I would get a proper haircut. Instead of letting this mop grow haphazardly on my head cuz I need something low-maintenance.

And as cliche as it sounds, I would definitely be having brunch in the city with my fabulous gay and childless friends.

Oh, and I would have an immaculately clean house. No crumbs. No random foam swords in the kitchen. No pee-soaked diapers in open containers. And no disgusting car full of snack debris and smelling of old crusty milk.

And speaking of house, I would not live in a house. I'd live in a tiny little apartment in a cute little urban spot where I could walk to farmer's markets and feast on ghetto gourmet. And of course the school district there would be horrible.

What an amazing, awesome, fun, and sanitary life I would have. I guess I'm supposed to end this post by saying something like--but I wouldn't trade my precious angel miracles of life for any of it.

But you prob know by now, I'm not that kind of blogger or that kind of parent.

All I can say is...it is what it is.

I love my kids of course.

They've made me a much better person than I otherwise would be. But you know, that's also what people with cancer say about their illness. I'm just sayin'...

On weather, pediatric oncology, smartphones, and my awful mandarin skills

Some random thoughts I've been having in no particular order:

Today was the first really nippy day of the season.  Usually it's cold in the morning but the sun shines through around noon and it feels like a balmy 78 degrees.  But today it was truly cold all day long.  Looks like Summer is really over now.  The changing of the seasons always makes me feel happy for some reason...not sure why.

I've been reading Emperor of All Maladies, which is about the history of cancer treatment in the US.  It always makes me sad and paranoid, reading and thinking about all the 2-6 year old kids who have cancer.  Getting cancer or my kids or spouse getting cancer is definitely on my Top Five Most Horrible Things I Can Imagine Happening to My Family.

Also on the Top Five Horrible Things list...my kid(s) getting kidnapped, somebody dying, being sexually assaulted, my kid(s) becoming meth heads later in life.

I hate thinking about my kid(s) possibly dying young.  And yet young kids die every day.  Makes me realize "Love" is a two sided coin--one side shining brighter than the sun and the other darker than hell.

I hate smart phones.  I don't want to be connected and distracted all the time.  I don't want to constantly check social media networks.  I want to be bored and sad and feel my boredom and sadness because that's reality.  That's life.  (It's nice to know that Louis C.K. agrees).  But...

...I'm seriously contemplating getting a smart phone for the Chinese language apps.  My mandarin speaking skills are pretty sucky and that's totally inhibiting me from helping Judah learn Chinese.

Words I see with Judah all the time but have no idea how to say include: ladybug, penguin, alligator/crocodile, and dinosaur.

I'll Have What She's Having

Can I just say one more thing before I dig back into my Giant Pile of Work Docs?  (The more I work, the more I procrastinate on the interwebz!)

This girl does NOT age.

Check her out--Ms. J. Alba is 31 and looks 18 in this recent pic!

I'm no Alba fan--the girl can not act to save her life. But I'll give her respect for one thing--genes that defy time.

Forever-young snaps girl!

Inspections (and bonus random thought)

Great news, the inspections went swimmingly!  (And thank you Brits for giving us such an awesome way to say 'well').  The only real issue was an old heater that should be under a thousand bucks to fix.  Phew!

Next hurdle--the appraisal.  There's a very real possibility that the appraisal will come up 20k short, which would pose a huge problem for us.  Fingers crossed again!

Lastly, a random thought to tickle your brain--riddle me this--why do men cheat with unattractive-looking women?

I was reading a recent Newsweek article about the Arnold Schwarzzeneger (yeah I'm not going to try to spell that correctly) scandal--remember that one?  He cheated on Maria with their dour-looking, frumpy housekeeper and fathered a kid with said frumpy housekeeper?  Yeah, that one.

Newsweek published a photo of the housekeeper and honestly, I don't get it.  She looks...well, like your average latina Walmart shopper.  Arnold is a celebrity of mega-proportions.  He can have any (insecure and immature) hottie he wants and I'm sure he's had plenty.  But why also have an affair with the frumpy housekeeper?

The author of the article said "...because the same reason why [some other dude] climbed Mt. Everest.  Because she was there."  That's it.

What?!  I don't get that at all.

But then again, I don't want to climb Mt. Everest either.

Can someone explain?

People Who Don't Want Kids

I know a lot of people who don't want kids.

In fact, I used to be a person who didn't want kids.  I suppose I still would be, but for the fact that I already have a kid, so kinda doesn't matter anymore how I feel about that topic.

But suffice to say I completely understand not wanting to have kids.  There are a lot of reasons to not want kids.

First, kids are a lot of work.  No joke.  Kids take up the bulk of your time and energy until they finally fly the coop EIGHTEEN LONG YEARS later.  Not to mention the expenses!  Hello college tuition--why yes, please help yourself to my wallet, take whatever you want.

Second, kids are emotional hijackers.  Your happiness and well-being are now forever linked to the happiness and well-being of another person.  As my mom-in-law put it--a parent can only be as happy as her unhappiest child.  It's true.  The sound of Judah wailing in misery or pain makes my blood pressure go through the roof.  It's scientifically proven to do so.  We are hard-wired to care until our hearts burst.  I know that if anything ever happened to Judah, the lights in my world would go out.

And you know you're going to fail.  Every parent fails their kid.  Everyone.  It's only a matter of degree I suppose.

Third (really, do you need another reason?) you just might not feel the biological need to reproduce.  I didn't.  I think maybe 75% of people have a strong urge to have kids just because that is also how we're hard-wired.  But some people are just missing that gene, or whatever.  I was just happy with the way things were.  It's not that I didn't love kids--I did, especially babies, but I just never felt the need to MAKE one.

Having made such a compelling case for not having kids, why the heck would I have one?  Asked and answered here.

And now that I have had one for 2 years, do I regret it?  Do I even, dare I say it, recommend it?

These questions are huge and would take way too long to answer.  So let me just say this for now--there is nothing like parenthood. 

There is nothing that even comes close to its heart-expanding powers.  Where before there were only puddles in the desert, there are now oceans of love.  But, beware, as the great poets of our age have sung about--love hurts.  Or rather, as Mellencamp reminds us--love hurts so good.

The one in which I ramble on about the past, present, and future

I like the bi-faceted Roman god Janus. With one face looking backwards and one looking forwards, he appropriately ushers in the new year. The ancients understood well that a new year is a time of reflection, as well as projection.

As I look back, I realize how ungrateful I've been for all the good things that have happened to me in 2010. I take for granted, among other things, that I had a smooth pregnancy and fantastic labor and delivery; that our baby is happy and healthy; that we had good jobs; that we have a wonderful church community; and good health.

Each one of those items is cause for great joy and celebration, but somehow I've quickly adapted to them and did not give them the weight they deserve. I am frankly amazed at my ability to not be thankful.

As I look forward, I see a sea of challenges. Will I be able to find good childcare for Judah so I can go back to work? Will Judah be okay when I leave him for hours at a time? Will I be okay with the separation? Will my work be understanding of my new situation? Will it be the best of both worlds, or the worst?

As an aside--it is amazing how 99% of my thoughts now center around this child. I knew in theory that this would happen, but the reality is still quite remarkable. My fierce and natural self-centeredness has now been replaced by an equally fierce baby-centeredness. If I found it difficult to be other-oriented before I had a child, I now think it is near impossible.

Having a child certainly strips you of your selfishness, but it is not virtuous. I still find it hard, if not harder, to love my neighbor. But at least now I know the joy of loving someone more than myself.

Women in High Places

Elena Kagan will be the 4th woman to be appointed to the Supreme Court.

Apparently, it's significant that she's a woman. But I'm not entirely sure why.

Is her appointment supposed to symbolize some kind of "equality" or advancement of women in society? Is it supposed to signal to little girls everywhere--you too can aspire to the highest pinnacle of worldly achievement?


I suppose those messages are being sent by Kagan's ascension to the high court. But I also hear another message that isn't quite so "empowering". I hear--If you want to climb the ranks to the top, you have to give up on healthy relationships (and a family in particular)--especially if you're a woman. At least that seems to be how it is in the legal field.

The legal profession has seen required work hours climbing ever higher for decades, crowding out any opportunity for legal careerists to do anything other than work and take care of their hygiene and health (which too many unfortunately forgo).

I think it's telling and chilling that the only women justices who've ever had families were born in the early 30's--when times were slower-paced. Men, however, still benefit from the bias of traditional gender roles within the family. And being an absentee father is and has always been more acceptable than an absentee mother.

What Kagan and Sotomayor (both unmarried and childless) represent to me is The Choice. The Fork in the Road. In the legal profession, you can climb higher, or you can have a family.

But cheer up ladies, at least you have a choice! (spoken with only mild sarcasm intended)

The one in which I'm just talking to myself like an office-crazed cubicle monkey

I usually know what I want to blog about before I write my entries. Some idea has fascinated me, made me feel an urgent need to make my opinion know, compelled me, like an itch to scratch.

But today I have no topic.

None. Nothing. Nada.

I'm just going to freestyle it. Like an OG rapper. Straight up.

Okay, I'm stalling.

But seriously, I have no topic, but I just feel the need to write. About anything and nothing. I think it's because I work for hours a day without much human interaction and I just need to talk to someone-one-un-n! (empty office wall echo)

So, pregnancy. That's been going okay. I just turned the corner into the 8th month and mother-freaking-load-of-goodness, the belly is big. During the 2d trimester I was all cocky, like, pregnancy is no big deal. I live a totally normal life and nothing's different. But you turn that corner into the 8th month and it gets unwieldy, let me tell you.

First, I go to the bathroom, literally, every 30 minutes. That's exacerbated by the extra water I have to drink to make sure my "system" stays "regular." Getting up and down from the floor is now a major undertaking requiring some prep, some props, and some deep breaths. Putting on socks and pants requires a lot of mental prep too, and props, and grunts.

And the craziest thing is trying to remember to NEVER point your toes, EVER. Why? Because that leads to the most mother-freaking-nature-worst-death-grip-of-pain-ever--a foot or leg cramp. Those suckers come straight from the bowels of hell and completely wake-up your tired butt in the wee hours of the morning, cursing and foaming at the mouth.

And let's not forget the indigestion. The irony of being so big is that you consume so much more food, but your stomach is the smallest ever because it's being so squeezed. So you eat a lot and then wish you hadn't cuz you can't digest it properly!

I realize this all sounds rather physically uncomfortable, but it's really not so bad. These are minor annoyances compared to much worse things like getting a rash, having bad allergies, a sore throat, etc. I'd still much rather be pregnant that experience any of the foregoing.

Not sure if I'll still be saying that in the 9th month though...

My greatest struggles these days consist of deciding when to start my maternity leave. Start too late and I won't have time to prep for baby's coming and get all the gear ready. Start too early and I'll waste my precious maternity leave and have less time with the baby afterwards. What's a girl to do?

And I'm starting to realize more and more the dark side of having kids. The dark side is the sinking feeling of dread and sorrow and fear over things you can't control. Just the other day I was reading my bedtime novel in which the main character's baby was delivered stillborn. And I swear I was depressed for the whole next day.

I often think of some friends who've had miscarriages, stillbirths or difficulty getting pregnant and see it all in a different light now.

Okay, wow, who knew one topic would take so long to ramble on about. Moving on...

So, the BP oil spill, what a mess. Hopefully they cap that sucker soon.

I wonder how the whole Israeli attack on the Palestinian aide-carrying flotilla is going to turn out. Will Israel apologize? Pay off some arab leaders under the table to make atonement and save face at the same time? That was a real clusterf**k.

And what about N. Korea's "alleged" attack of a S. Korean naval ship? The quotes are there cuz N. Korea denies it, but COME ON! Is there anyone who believes that N. Korea didn't do it (other than maybe China and N. Korea...and maybe Iran)?

Um, can you believe it's June already?! Half of 2010 is almost over!

By the way

I just have to say 2 things really quickly.

(1) It is really unbelievable how often I need to pee. Un-freaking-believeable. Literally, I've gone 4 times in the last hour, and that's when I'm really really holding back and waiting until I feel like I'm going to burst. (Even now, as I write this, I'm debating whether to suck it up or make it 5 times before the hour's up!) And I didn't even drink any water yet! I hear this alarming trend is only going to worsen as the bladder gets ever more squished. In which case, I will just shoot myself. Or get really really dehydrated in an attempt to stay at my desk.

(2) It's so funny to live in a land of "quarter-clothing". I have clothes that only fit me during my first trimester. Different clothes that will fit me correctly in the second trimester (which are not maternity, just loose and long normal clothes). And clothes that will only fit in the third trimester (cuz they're too huge and tent-like prior to). And then, of course infant clothes follows the same 3 month schemes from 0-3, 3-6, 6-9, and 9-12. I'm so used to buying "classic" clothing that will stand the test of time. So it's just wierd to think of clothing as so short-lived it can't even survive half a year. Wierd and kinda' wasteful.

Four Entries for the Price of One

So I've had some random-ish thoughts lately, which apparently, I just HAVE to share:

Random Thought #1: How I Lost Out on Making Thousands of Dollars on Sunday

Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, uninitiative, passive me. Why oh why can’t I think more like Warren Buffet and less like, well, like my unambitious self. Once again, for the 2nd time in my life, I’ve passed up on a sure bet. A Sure Bet.

I know that sounds like a Vegas-junkie talking to his rehab counselor, but seriously, it was a sure bet. I just saw Roger Ebert on Oprah give his predictions for the Oscar winners TWO days before the awards show and he said it was the easiest Oscars for him to predict, ever. EVER. The man has been doing this for a very long time. And of course, every single one of his predictions came true--best supporting actress, best supporting actor, best actor, best actress, best director, and best picture.

I’m tearing up as I type this. I could’ve bet money on each of these categories and become a pretty rich lady. Sigh.

Random side note--Did you know Ebert married a wonderful black lady named Chaz? They are the cutest couple.

Random Thought #2: Will Gabourey Ever Work (as a lead) Again?

Howard Stern says Gabourey is “enormous” and will never be in another movie. As crass and unnecessarily vicious as Stern sounds (trust me, I did not quote the worst of it), weren’t we all wondering that same thing? What kind of roles will she get in the future? Starring roles? Best actress nomination roles? I’m not saying she’ll never work as an actress again, but she won’t be up for the lead role.


Sadly, I think the most she may be nominated for again is best supporting actress. Since when has a plump girl ever been nominated for best actress? Even the slightly fluffy ones don’t get lead roles--Jennifer Hudson, Mo’nique (okay, Kathy Bates is an exception), but you get the idea. But maybe, just maybe they’ll make Precious, the sequel.

Random Thought #3: The Right to Know Who We Are

There are 2 shows about to premier featuring celebrities tracing their ancestry and tearing up in front of the camera, so moved are they to find out their lineage. Although, at first, such detective work seems like the ultimate act of narcissism, I’ve now come to appreciate how strongly our identity is linked to the family members who came before us. We are not an island, shaping our identities from a tabula rasa. We have histories and traits and imprints that have begun shaping us before we even grew to be self-aware. That’s why people universally want to know and are so moved when they find out about their family histories. They are finding out about themselves. I imagine it is the burning question of all adopted children at some point in their lives--who are my birth parents?

Which makes having children through anonymous sperm donation all the more tragic and heartbreaking. Out of ignorance (at best) and delusion (at worst), the women who choose to have kids through anonymous donors are cheating their children out of a fundamental human right--to know who they are. It made me think of this story I read years ago, written by a child of just such a union.

(Not So) Random Thought #4: Name Pains

So, naturally, people have been asking the spouse and I if we have any names picked out for the child. At first we blithely blabbed the names we liked (well, the one name we liked) to anyone. But after being given faces of discouragement (ranging from confusion to down right disgust, DISGUST I tell you) we’ve given up.

Not on the name, but on telling people. Of course it’s a bit of a Catch-22. Maybe everyone’s right and the name we picked does suck. If we don’t take into account the critical comments we might end up damning our kid forever with a bad name. But if we do take into account all the criticism we’ll, well, get an earful of criticism that is just plain annoying.

Actually, people can change their names, so I’m not so concerned about saddling my kid with a bad name from birth.

Obama Drama

I'm like a second-hand smoker.

If political punditry is a fire and those who consume it, like Michael, are first-hand smokers, then I am a happy second. I don't care enough to actually watch the You-Tube clips and the broadcast debates, but I love hearing about the general shape of things filtered down from Michael and the occasional Shields and Brooks.

And just when I thought things couldn't get more exciting in one of the most exciting primary seasons since...before I was born, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright sure proved me wrong! Talk about adding fuel to the fire.

In all the rhetoric and soundbites, the whole thing strikes me as more than a little tragic. Truly sad. How did a pastor who shepharded his congregant for so many years become a true thorn in his side?

We've all heard about how Obama's pastor was by his side during major life events: marriage, baptisms, and blessing the inauguration of his presidential bid--but that does not begin to describe the depth of relationship there must have been between Obama and Rev. Wright. Their interaction was not just formal, but substantive.

Obama became a Christian in 1988 after listening to, what must have been a very moving sermon by Wright, entitled "The Audacity to Hope." And the rest, as they say, is history.

Obama entitled his attention-grabbing 2004 DNC speech, The Audacity of Hope, and his subsequent eponymous book, and continues to brand himself as the pope of hope on the campaign trail.

So what the heck happened?

How did a man whose sermons inspired a movement (Obama toted the Rev. Wrights tapes to law school too) become the proverbial embarassing drunk uncle at the wedding reception?

I guess the easy way out is just to say that the Rev. Wright had some great inspirational messages and some kooky conspiracy theories. Obama loved one and not the other.

Indeed, none of this drama would've happened really if a Hillary supporter didn't goad the Rev. Wright into taking to the media circuit and "vindicating" himself from Obama's first light reproach.

Now see, that's the real lesson in all this. Hillary is scary. You don't wanna mess with her. Oh yeah, you know that when she plays, she plays to win.

Touchy subject

I'm bored from studying so this is my "break."

I don't really have anything to write about though.

Except this recent thought: I really hate talking to people about their beliefs...unless we already pretty much agree.

It's not that the subject itself displeases me, it's everything that comes with it. The emotion, the perception of judgment and the triggering of inferiority complexes. I'm much too afraid of offending the other person, which renders me rather mute and inarticulate. Everything has to be couched so diplomatically so as not to make the other person feel "bad." What I'm trying to say always gets lost in the hems and haws of niceties.

I hate the sensitivity dance.

I've learned long ago to speak about beliefs only to those who already know my intentions toward them are non-judgmental--basically, my friends. To strangers who do not understand where I'm coming from I often resort to actions only. I find for myself that it is both cowardly and necessary.