Rage

I am breathless with rage right now, so much so that I am taking time out of my insanely busy day to...vent, I suppose.

Politics is my bread and butter, it is what I surround myself with daily, both professionally and personally. Embroilment in local politics can be trying but is ultimately extremely satisfying when I can help constituents with their needs. It's a cesspool, though, of wannabes and self-important jackoffs who never made it to the state or national level and crave even insignificant levels of power within their own small community. I deal with these people too, and it's distasteful but part of my job.

For graduate school I chose Washington, D.C. I attended one of the most prestigious schools of international relations in the country, if not the world, and I became enmeshed in national/international politics at the highest levels.

I spend my free time reading political blogs, political novels/books, talking to friends about politics. It's my passion, my weakness, my strength, and basically, my life.

However, I do not myself blog or write about politics because I need some sort of outlet, some alternate form of reality to save me from jumping out of a window. There's no levity in that statement - I have been moved on occasion to end it all because I cannot seem to deal with the overwhelming passion and disappointment I experience on a daily basis, experienced by just driving to work in the morning.

But this.....this.....this is too much to bear.

The Stupak Amendment, passed on November 7th, is a direct assault upon my body, my brain, my soul, my individuality, my identity, and my purpose.

Should I be surprised? No. We haven't managed to get the ERA passed and therefore there is no constitutional recognition, let alone protection, of women in this country. We can't argue for our human rights because we still are not recognized, legally, as human beings. I can own property, get divorced, vote, hold down a job...but I do not have control over my body.

Sexism pervades my life so exquisitely that it is impossible to notice most of the time. Informally, sexism is something I cannot change, but I can defend myself against it. Formally, however, well.......the Vatican has more of a say over my rights than I do. Who the fuck do they think they are, legislating morality and religion? I do not believe in god, any god. I do not believe in heaven or hell or limbo or purgatory. I do not believe that a fetus is a tiny little human with a soul. It is definitely something, which is called a fetus, but it's not me.

Regardless of the way in which religion has framed the abortion debate, it's essentially about my right to decide what to do with my body. It's actually legal in this country to receive an abortion, yet since Roe v. Wade, protection after protection has been culled away until this most recent assault.

I can't offer any answers right now, I'm just insanely enraged and cannot focus on anything else. I must get back to work, I feel slightly less homicidal.

Celibacy & Smokes

It happens mostly when I realize I don't have anyone to go to a bar with. Loneliness, that is. 95% of the time I am completely happy to be alone, sans romantic interest.

It's probably that I'm just being selfish with my time, but I'm 28 years old. I'm designed to be selfish with my time. I spend roughly 60-70 hours a week working for the constituents of my district, so it's not like I need to volunteer on weekends or anything. NOT that I shouldn't volunteer independently; I actually belong to a very active volunteer organization and we do amazing things. Essentially, I don't give a fuck about amending my time or life to accommodate some smelly asshole who wants to watch football on weekends. I'm done with that.

So - celibacy. This Friday it will be a month, which makes me sad, because I really liked that guy. His loss.

Celibacy and cigarettes is my new motto. If I'm not hooking up with anyone, there's no one to criticize my smoking. A colleague of mine, with whom I had a dangerous flirtation that was eventually consummated in a very inappropriate place, keeps nagging me about smoking. I called him yesterday to schedule a meeting, and he said he would come only if I quit smoking.

That reminds me of a line from Tori Amos' "Precious Things."

"So you can make me cum, that doesn't make you Jesus."

He didn't even make that happen, but it's beside the point. He's not my boyfriend, brother, or father, therefore his opinion was duly noted and filed away the first fucking time he told me, 4 months ago!

If he wants to be able to tell me over and over to stop smoking, then he needs to do some serious stepping up. This will never happen given our similarities as 'players' so the next time he says anything, I will hurt him.

The worst part is that he was a smoker for YEARS. He smoked a pack and a half a day, in addition to weed, so exactly where does his motivation to scold me at every opportunity come from? His own reformed state? Please and gag me. The minute I start taking life lessons from him is the time at which my soul will be irreversibly damaged.

It just occurred to me that perhaps he thinks he can tell me what to do because we slept together. Good thing our meeting is on Friday. If he were to appear in front of me right now, I'd bitch slap him with no remorse.

The friendship is worth saving, so I'll just need to confront him nicely about this crap and hope he moves on and finds something else to tease or nag me about.

Celibacy and cigarettes.

Levoquin

I am on my second set of antibiotics, the first having failed spectacularly at curing my sinus infection and causing it to come back tenfold with a vengeance.

I had to take another day off from work, in which I tried to sleep but the blinding pain in my nose and face wouldn't allow such a luxury.

I missed Halloween too. I could have gone to any number of places, surrounded myself with great friends, but no. I sat at home in my Nancy Spungen costume, watched 30 Rock on Netflix, and played Vampire Wars.

Instead of giving me the shits, this new antibiotic just makes me very tired. Sick of being sick, sick of taking Nyquil and Robitussin and Theraflu and Fisherman's Friends and my nose is red and ugly.

Bundle of joy, that's what I am. My brother and I did watch Shaun of the Dead yesterday, best zombie movie ever (objectively not really but I just love watching it). My sister bought Fright Night with the always lovely Prince Humperdink (otherwise known as Chris Sarandon), and I did manage to carve a pumpkin with a cat and a crescent moon, only bungling it up a little. Oh, and we ate fantastic salted pumpkin seeds, sooooooo yummy.

I need cigarettes but don't have the energy to shower up and go outside. After yesterday's wind storm, today has turned out quite lovely. Sky blue skies and crisp cold Fall air. A decent day, actually.

The quitting of the smoking is not going well. Truly I detest smoking, but my willpower is at an absolute low currently. I look like crap, feel like crap, and I just don't care.

In other news, the lament of Tori Amos' career begins today.

She has been so spectacular in the past but somehow her muse has been corrupted and she's fallen into the trap of self-important weirdo musician. It saddens me considerably, but there are an infinite amount of artists out there making far better music than her, and I am moving on. Nothing can beat the glory of Blood Roses or Putting the Damage On (to which I cried when I saw her live in August, sue me).

I promised my bestest buddy Cisco that I would download the iTunes version of her new record "Midwinter Graces" (yeah, I know), since he is buying the other two and it is his mission in life to acquire every recording ever produced by Tori. Gag me.

I'd rather spend money on finishing my Will Oldham/Bonnie Prince Billy collection, or figuring out how to make Caleb from Kings of Leon fall in love with me.

Tori did talk about nicotine and cigarettes and smoking a lot on her last album, which intrigued me. Often when an artist/musician/band references smoking, it makes me happy in an oh so not pc way. Because people smoke! We do! People actually like smoking!!! There's something to the whole smoking thing, why else would we do it?

I was addicted to nicotine yet when the nicotine fully left my body, I still craved a cigarette like nobody's business. Why? Not because of my nicotine addiction, but because of my psychological addiction. So - when it is portrayed in artwork, I relate.

Just for fun....