Archive for March, 2003

I’ve been a bit lax in writing lately. There’s just too much going on in life and I’m leaving out one of my joys for some reason.

The last two weeks, I’ve had an infected tooth and have been on pain medication. Then I had a root canal and had my braces tightened all in one day. If that doesn’t sound painful, let me tell you that the medication they gave me for the pain would knock out a cow.

In the middle of all of that, I got a new sewing machine and have been working on a quilt. In addition, I’m trying to get a scrapbook done for my mom before Mother’s Day.

Argh! There is just way too much to do!

I should be happy I’m this busy. I just feel rushed, though.

I avoid listening to the radio if they are talking about the war. And, to be honest, I’m missing my NPR fix. It’s nothing but war anymore. I avoid the news or channels that run nothing but war. I don’t want to hear about it. I’m not interested.

I may be like an ostrich and putting my head in the sand but I really don’t want to hear about people dying…especially because my country is the aggressor in the conflict.

My distaste for military actions goes as far as avoiding military displays at amazing places. When I went to Sterling and Edinburgh castles, I avoided the armament displays. I had no interest in it whatsoever. My partner at the time was stymied, I’m sure. He didn’t understand it. I just have no tolerance for implements that are used to kill others. None. Be it cannons, guillotines, or bombers, I am just not interested.

There are so many things in this world that are incredibly beautiful and I would rather fill my senses full of them.

There is nothing like driving away from your home and seeing an entire herd of elk munching away on the grasses that are peeking up through the frost. These large, magnificent animals never fail to make me catch my breath. They never fail to make my heart beat a bit faster and force energy to course through my veins.

There cannot be a better joy than entering your office where pictures of your niece and nephew greet you. Whether they are in a sleepy repose, have a silly grin on their face or are caught off-guard, their pictures never fail to remind me of what is important in this world and to make me smile.

There are better things to talk about than war. I choose to go there.

Diary of a Pacifist

I know when I write this that I open myself up to flames, to anti-American comments, to those “if you don’t like it, move” comments. I’ll preface this by saying that I have lived in another country (Britain) during the bombings that went on under President Clinton.

We think that we are privy to “the truth” by living in the United States. I can tell you that truth is as arbitrary as anything else. The British media shared much different news than the American media which aired much different news than the French, Italian, or German media while I was there. You know the addage: Believe only half of what you see (read).

I rarely believe that force, violence, war, or military events are the answer to problems. I think that we rush into these processes because they are much more dramatic and really capture the ear of the people. In addition, when our governments start using propoganda to scare us into complacency, I get angry.

Yes, I’m being a bit abstract here. It’s why I’m not really writing a lot, either. I don’t want to be called names or deal with anger. There’s enough of it going on around this country. Our nation’s capital changed the name of French fries for crying outloud. How utterly silly is that?

It makes us look like fools around the world. So, we look like the aggressive big brother who is foolish.

Not a pretty sight.

I loved the city. The French Quarter. The Warehouse District. The Garden District. The Riverwalk. Each was a microcosm of something larger, a piece of a whole. One was full of bright lights, colorful beads, feathery boas sliding around necks. Another was decked out in the pink of newly blossomed magnolias and frangipani with green, lush borders surrounding buildings.

Drunken conversations blasted through the air. The ka-chink of money was heard as buyers bought and sellers sold. Heavy equipment worked on reestablishing an old neighborhood. Commuters laughed as they rode the trolley.

Music…music was everywhere. From the live sounds of a jazz band to the hip-hop of a self-styled dj to the piped-in muzak, music was everywhere. I even began to sing as I walked the streets. It was infectious.

I loved the city of New Orleans.

I didn’t realize, probably because of these rose-tinted glasses that I wear, that it’s also a dark city. It’s a dirty city. There is garbage everywhere. It’s a smelly city. The smells of garbage and sewers rose up in the evening air. People walked the streets in fear at night. When it rained, that dirty water met with the curbs of sidewalks and people fled indoors as if they were running from monsters. There was an under-current of anger below the infamous southern charm. It rippled out now and again, striking like a viper and withdrawing before too many people witnessed.

I liked the people at the far-end of the trolley ride much more than those who were servicing tourists all day long. They were real. They were kind and smiled and were polite. Dealing with tourists must be hard work. Rarely did they smile, say thank you, please come again, or I appreciate your business. They didn’t seem happy. They seemed angry.

I loved the city. I enjoyed my brief stay. If I go back again, however, I’ll stay in a different part of town, far away from the tourist hot spots. When I visit, I want to learn about the people. Not what the people expect me to want.

Well, this will probably be my last blog for the next week or so.  Tomorrow I drive down to Phoenix.  I’ll spend the night with my brother and then fly out to New Orleans on Saturday.

Ok…can I tell you how excited I am?  I know I’m going there for a work conference but one of the cool things is that the conference has set us up at the aquarium on Monday night (and I love Aquariums!!!).  In addition, it’s New Orleans, for goodness sake!!!

I’ve been there but I was so young that I don’t remember it.  I’m really looking forward to going and seeing some new things.  I might even skip a few seminars just so I can take some sight-seeing time.  I know that’s bad, considering that my company is sending me there…but…gosh!  I don’t know when I’ll ever get back there.

This is one of the coolest perks of my job.  Once a year we get to go to a conference that is held in a different place each year.  Last year was boring for me…Anaheim.  I’ve been to Anaheim more times than I can count and even lived in Huntington Beach for a few months so I know that area well.  I’ve been to Disneyland at least 20 times and knew, once we got in, with the long lines, that I wouldn’t last long.   Next year, we’re in Philadelphia.  I’ve never been there, either, and am looking forward to it.  I’ve heard that 2005 is in Hawaii.  While I’ve been there, I wouldn’t mind going back, of course.  My boss said that she wants to go that year, too.  Heh.  Of course she does!  Who wouldn’t???

I’ve loved the conversation that you have contributed here this week.  All of your contributions have been fantastic and insightful.  And yeah, xoodom, I do understand.  We need more community so we don’t have these things happening.  We wouldn’t be strangers then, would we?

Peace to all of you.  Thanks for making me smile, think, and even well up with tears each and every day.  I’m lucky I wandered in here and found most of you to read.