Monday, September 29, 2008

Could This Urban Legend Be True?

Hello Everyone! I heard this for the first time tonight from my old roommate Debbie in Rochester and was dumbfounded. We are both Hillary fans and were devastated when she dropped out of the race. Maybe it's wishful thinking but I believe this would clinch the presidency for Obama and make history for WOMEN! Rock on Hil! I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens but I can't say I'm sorry to kiss ol'Joe goodbye. He could never hold a candle to Hillary. Power to the people! Rene'

Let me share some info with you that I have gotten from excellent sources within the DNC: On or about October 5th, Biden will excuse himself from the ticket, citing health problems, and he will be replaced by Hillary. This is timed to occur after the VP debate on 10/2.

There have been talks all weekend about how to proceed with this info. Generally, the feeling is that we should all go ahead and get it out there to as many blog sites and personal email lists as is possible. I have already seen a few short blurbs about this - the "health problem" cited in those articles was an aneurysm. Probably many of you have heard the same rumblings.

However, at this point, with this inside info from the DNC, it looks like this Obama strategy will be a go. Therefore, it seems that the best strategy is to get out in front of this Obama maneuver, spell it out in detail, and thereby expose it for the grand manipulation that it is.

So, let's start mixing this one up and cut the Obamites off at the pass - send this info out to as many people as you can - post it on websites and blogs - etc etc

Lastly, I have put an excerpt from Rudy Giuliani's speech at the 2008 RNC below - it seems to address this very issue:

"Well, I'll tell you, if I were Joe Biden, I'd want to get that VEEP thing in writing!!! " (How Prophetic)

Sunday, September 28, 2008

WARNING OFFENSIVE....Sarah Silverman on Voting

The Great Schlep from The Great Schlep on Vimeo.

Debate Debacle

I'm not really sure what I saw on Friday evening. At times I was horrified, offended, happy, sad, empowered but I was also annoyed and bored for the most part. Sorry to use a myriad of jacked up emotions to describe what should have been a least for one of them, but all I saw was a bitter old man and a candidate who was afraid to walk the line for fear of losing the election. How are we as viewers supposed to fully understand the current platforms of candidates when all they do is waffle and fence straddle. I try never to practice either of those nasty little habits so I suppose I'd be a lousy politician and an even worse liar..oh but aren't they the same thing?

I'm a "No Nuke" voter who is disinterested in drilling for more oil, especially in the pristine wilds of Alaska but also oppose seeking out fossil fuel the greater Pacific, Atlantic and Gulf of Mexico. Our nation should be looking for alternative fuel sources that can run our vehicles with little or no impact on our already crumbling environment. I recently read that in the greater Los Angeles area, gang bangers are stealing used restaurant grease to sell on the black market. Even the Bloods and Crypts understand the value of alternative fuels...why can't the elite and educated politicians we elect understand their constituents need to "Go Green" and spend less on fuel costs. I don't think anyone wants to rape the ecosystem any more than we already have. If alternative fuels were introduced to Americans, I think it would catch on quickly, much like the whole, organic food movement that has forced food manufacturers and retailers to change their piggish ways, introducing quality foods minus the pesticides, trans fat and food additives that are surely contributing to the mass outbreak of cancer.

I can't say that anyone won that bout on Friday night. There were no gut or kidney punches that wowed me and won me over. There were flutters of defiance on both ends but McCain's short temper and stymied agenda made me snicker a few times. Obama is truly more intelligent, well-spoken and better understands the plight of the middle class. In that respect, he'll always be a winner against McSame but he needs to take a stance on the issues, be as progressive has his Obama-files want him to be and loosen up a little...we like you Obama...we really do!

I wanted someone to solidify a Wall Street plan that would take the heat off of working and middle class people but instead they both EGGO'd it out and flip flopped through non-answer after non-answer.

This is not about who looks better in a dark suit, crisp white shirt and red tie. Unfortunately, most of America will base their vote on how their candidate physically looks and not what's in their heart and heads. I've given up on the intelligence of American people who give more thought to the brand of chicken pot pie they'd prefer than to who will be the next leader of the Free World.

In certain parts of this country, those running for president may garner more votes if they stopped by their local Wal-Mart for an in-store appearance, but be sure to visit the sports department for your welcoming costume...camouflage jacket and hat, hip boots and a shiny new 12 barrel shot gun to finish off the newest red-neck fashions recently profiled on Project Runway(South of the Mason-Dixon Line Edition.) Now you're ready for any Red State Wal-Mart and rest assured, you'll collect a host of Super Delegates in one fell swoop. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED....Again.

I'll call this miss matched melodrama a draw and wait in earnest for the next round of hot air boxing, hoping that at least my candidate will step up and stop chirping about change and map it out to everyone in laymen terms. I'm sick of McShame's easily sparked hot temper and the stoic, non-reactive Obama. I'm going to say it people..."Where is Hillary?" I'm going to keep plugging for the candidate of change with the shear belief that he really means it and we can end this frightening dog and pony show that has become a two and a half year battle royale for the top seat in the White House.

The only thing I have my eye on this week is the Vice Presidential debate. Joe Biden could read Archie comics all week in preparation for this gig and still do well because anything she says is going to dig the proverbial hole deeper and deeper till this "five colleges in six years" silly heart realizes that she has no business near the presidency. She's no Betty or Veronica and even Jughead wouldn't date her! Oh, but I heard she's really big near the Bearing Strait!

Friday, September 26, 2008



White Privilege

I got this in the mail from my friend Drew last week and then saw that my old roommate Staci posted it on her blog. I thought I'd do the same and since I agree with many facets of this disturbing, yet brilliant article. Thank you Drew and Staci!

By Tim Wise

For those who still can't grasp the concept of white privilege, or who are constantly looking for some easy-to-understand examples of it, perhaps this list will help.White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because "every family has challenges," even as black and Latino families with similar "challenges" are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.White privilege is when you can call yourself a "fuckin' redneck," like Bristol Palin's boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you'll "kick their fuckin' ass," and talk about how you like to "shoot shit" for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don't all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you're "untested."White privilege is being able to say that you support the words "under God" in the pledge of allegiance because "if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it's good enough for me," and not be immediately disqualified from holding office--since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the "under God" part wasn't added until the 1950s--while believing that reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because, ya know, the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), is a dangerous and silly idea only supported by mushy liberals.White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you. White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto was "Alaska first," and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you're black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she's being disrespectful.White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do--like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor--and people think you're being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college--you're somehow being mean, or even sexist.White privilege is being able to convince white women who don't even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a "second look."White privilege is being able to fire people who didn't support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God's punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you're just a good church-going Christian, but if you're black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you're an extremist who probably hates America.White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a "trick question," while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O'Reilly means you're dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism is, as Sarah Palin has referred to it a "light" burden.And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren't sure about that whole "change" thing. Ya know, it's just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain.White privilege is, in short, the problem.

Tim Wise is the author of White Like Me (Soft Skull, 2005, revised 2008), and of Speaking Treason Fluently, publishing this month, also by Soft Skull. For review copies or interview requests, please reply to

VP Candidate Bloopers or Are They Both Just Dumb!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

David Letterman on the Sarah Palin/John McCain Ticket or How I Stiffed Dave and Lost the Election!

Remember to Breathe

I'm stuck in a rut between high anxiety and outrageously high blood pressure and I'm not sure which is worse or if they work as a tandem team, crushing their opposition by paralyzing them with pressure and stress. I suppose I write to exercise these emotions from my both my gut and shoulders but for the most part, it's not working these days. I need a vacation from my life, a break, a something. I'm swimming in a sea of nervousness and fear with a little guilt thrown in there to finish me off.

I know what the cause of all of this is and I just can't fix it right now. I'm desperately trying although I'm bound by duty and responsibility to this maddening issue and feel like I'm in the boiling pot all by my lonesome. Nobody can kiss my boo-boo and make it all go away. The problem is what it is and until it's fixed, my stress level will not dissipate.

I even bought this $300 breathing machine on the Internet that promises to lower blood pressure within a few weeks. It's holistic and I've done research on this particular machine so I'm not dealing with quackology, charlatans or chicanery. I just need some help. I can't bear this load alone, just like no one can. I'm the first to say I'm no "Superwoman." I feel like things are caving in around me like some sort of sand pit that has an insatiable appetite. I'm lost and cannot be found. I'm sad and cannot be cheered up. I need peace and quiet to write and capture that light that was just starting to flicker inside me...people were noticing it...and now I fear it's doused forever. I've just got to remember to breathe and breathe deep, so my lungs are filled to capacity with oxygen, giving me that natural high I so evidently need. Breathe in for four seconds, hold it six and exhale for eight. That's the correct ratio for proper meditative breathing to de-stress the body, therefore lowering the blood pressure.

Now that I've spewed, dumped and vomited my confusion and frustration into this little silver and black box, I feel slightly better but not fixed. I just need to remember to breathe, it's the only thing that's going to save me right now.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Friday's In My Mind

When I was a undergraduate, living in a dorm, I often looked forward to quiet Friday afternoons, when the local-yocal students bailed and flocked home for the weekend, leaving the residential students to their own devices. There was an air about Friday's that was less about partying and more about centering your spirit. After a long day of classes and working on the college newspaper, returning to your room finding that peace and quiet were your only companions for the early evening hours seemed more than appealing, it was downright fabulous. Privacy was rare when you bunked with others so it was important to seize the moment and create an atmosphere of relaxation but more importantly, spiritual.

I'm not necessarily talking about religious spirituality but learning to delve deep inside yourself, allowing the silence to slowly creep in and learning to enjoy a sweetly lonesome feeling that only comes around in the quiet of a mid-Friday afternoon. My routine was nothing stellar. I usually returned to my room around 3pm, just when the sunlight began to fade into a dark copper hue across the graying sky. I'd change my clothes into something more home appropriate, throwing on a pair of sweat pants and a tie dye, pulling my hair back into a high pony tail and sliding into a nice, cushy pair of boiled wool clogs. Depending on my mood, I'd either throw a record on the turntable or turn the dial to WNEW and listen to Dennis Elsas crank out classic rock favorites that ranged from Blue Oyster Cult to Tom Petty with a little Grateful Dead thrown in there as a check and balance gage. I think I was smoking Salem Slim Lights during that period of my life, switching to Marlboro Lights only when Tequila shot was in hand and my little green box of stogies was empty. I'd light up some of this and that, make a huge pot of coffee, head for the big blue tin of Danish butter cookies in the food cabinet and allow myself to marinate in the hushed bliss of a stolen, peaceful moment that has stayed with me for almost 20 years.

I often venture back those secret sessions of zen when my current world is engulfed in frenzied chaos and embroiled in self made bubbles of stress that never seem to burst. Dr. Weil calls this visualization, a technique used by psychologists, helping patients travel to a safe, comfortable part of their lives but I like to think of it as a way to escape and travel back in time to a place that no longer exists, except in the deep hallows of my mind.

I still enjoy to spend time alone, with myself, enjoying the silence of life and taking a few moments to reflect on the joy that I inherently experience everyday but often take for granted. Mindfulness is an important yet ignored facet in our lives that we must learn to experience, living in harmony with our natural world, as well as learning to love ourselves in a healthy light, while building our self-esteem. Getting to know yourself well and understanding your wants and needs is probably one of the most important, profound exercises that we experience but because of time restraints, stressful jobs and unreasonable expectations we naturally put on ourselves, this vital step in self discovery can be missed, leaving many clueless about the very soul that inhabits their earthly bodies.

If I don't take care of my mind, body and spirit, my world will suffer and relationships will become strained. Without being selfish, I know when I need to revisit that old dorm room in Brookville Hall, spin a few records, take a couple of gulps of freshly brewed java, and sit in the silence of my mind, trying to recapture a sparkling Friday afternoon, when the air of responsibility lived in a far off land and I was truly free. I relish that small moment in time and hope that you can find one that recalls a pure and genuine instance when you felt at ease in your own skin.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Night Swimming

I'm completely stressed out to the point of no return and honestly didn't want to start thinking about a failed friendship from my college days, but I did and now that its kept me up for almost 24 hours, I feel nothing less than manic. It was the most important friendship of my life, yet one of the biggest failures and when I begin to dismantle the layers of dysfunction that encompassed our friendship, I think about how I could have fixed it, could have ended it earlier, spoke my mind and been more honest, but most of all, mourn the loss. I suppose time does heal all wounds or at least that's lies we tell ourselves, comforting us when we bottom out and feel not only depressed about our misgivings but downright regretful that we did nothing to salvage a friendship that could have helped shape our lives in ways we'll now never experience.

In my outpouring of the soul, I also caution that I can be a tyrant of sorts, with a heart wrapped in rusty barbed wire if I believe or even suspect that someone has crossed me. It takes me decades to forget such blatant smacks in the face but after unmentionable bouts with pop psychology theories, endless games of Chinese Fortune Telling Stix and rock therapy, I may have inadvertently healed the wounds that bled me dry.

After an old college friend contacted me yesterday via an online social utility, it caused an onslaught of memories, both good and bad, to flood my mind full of inescapable escapades, laughter and funny stories told only to those who downed an old fashioned pint of "Broken Glass Punch" whipped up by myself in the lab that was once housed in Brookville Hall. I try to only think about the wonderful talks we had and how we really were a pair of lunatics from completely different backgrounds that somehow came together like a marriage of mint and chocolate. I should have told her how I really felt all those years ago instead of simply brushing off my hurt feelings and pretending that I rose above it all. When it comes to friendships, I'm not a risk taker nor am I a suitor. For all my ballsy behavior, I am tentative with female friendships and often worry that I'm not holding up my end of the bargain. To compensate, I put too much of myself into the friendship hoping someday to get all that love back. When it doesn't materialize, I bail...a pattern I have repeated more than once in my life. I've learned from it and have moved forward but the failure is still apparent, burrowing deep in the mind till one waft of "six degrees of separation" blows past like a hit and run, beating me down silly.

I tried to make it right once but I knew it was too late. I'm not saying I was a saint nor was she but we both had too much pride to say we were sorry. I'm sure she still harbors a deep hatred towards me but I have to say, I never hated her. My anger was a mask for the all important hurt and disappointment I had when I knew our friendship was headed for the crapper. We both did things to each other that were mean, thoughtless and overtly disgusting, trying to out do the other with vehement and vile cruel behavior. I miss her and wish that our friendship was one for life but as we edged closer to the end, I realized that the general nature of our pairing was at apposing ends of the spectrum. Difference is great but when it becomes a divisive force in a friendship, it can only end badly...which it did and I must freely admit, I wanted to end it, to cut her loose and end the pain. I committed the first sin, jumped off the cliff and waited for the fall-out. When I clawed my way back up the mountain, I found skepticism and hesitance. The end came soon after. It was quick and cold much like the end of other profound friendships that have touched my life. I'll always regret it and wish things could have been different. I wish only wonderful things for her and wonder if she feels the same way about me, but I fear I'm being too optimistic.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

And the Wise Thomas Jefferson Once Said.....

Amy Goodman used a great Thomas Jefferson quote the other day which made me do a little research (everyone knows how much I love to research!) and found some other gems I'd like to disseminate to the masses, reminding all of you your role in the very government you elect. Here are a few that Goodman used during her speech which rattled me to the bones. Remember that our press is currently compromised and according to her, has hit a new low. Disney = ABC and GE = NBC/MSNBC. Try NPR or Democracy Now! for the real truths of the day. Read on to see how history unmistakably repeats itself, under the guise of the great and the downright poor in spirit.


"The basis of our governments being the opinion of the people, the very first object should be to keep that right; and were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter. But I should mean that every man should receive those papers and be capable of reading them." --Thomas Jefferson to Edward Carrington, 1787. ME 6:57

"The press [is] the only tocsin of a nation. [When it] is completely silenced... all means of a general effort [are] taken away." --Thomas Jefferson to Thomas Cooper, Nov 29, 1802. (*) ME 10:341

"The only security of all is in a free press. The force of public opinion cannot be resisted when permitted freely to be expressed. The agitation it produces must be submitted to. It is necessary, to keep the waters pure." --Thomas Jefferson to Lafayette, 1823. ME 15:491


**"Every government degenerates when trusted to the rulers of the people alone. The people themselves are its only safe depositories."

**"Educate and inform the whole mass of the people... They are the only sure reliance for the preservation of our liberty."

**"Experience hath shewn, that even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny."

**"I am mortified to be told that, in the United States of America, the sale of a book can become a subject of inquiry, and of criminal inquiry too.

**"Liberty is to the collective body, what health is to every individual body. Without health no pleasure can be tasted by man; without liberty, no happiness can be enjoyed by society."


**"I hope we shall crush in its birth the aristocracy of our monied corporations which dare already to challenge our government to a trial by strength, and bid defiance to the laws of our country."

**"I sincerely believe that banking establishments are more dangerous than standing armies, and that the principle of spending money to be paid by posterity, under the name of funding, is but swindling futurity on a large scale."

Friday, September 19, 2008

More to Come on Amy Goodman's Speech @ Hofstra

I'm a bit strapped for time today since my mother is in town, but after yesterday's speech by Amy Goodman of Democracy Now! fame, I feel more than compelled to let my readers know exactly what is going on behind the scenes at many of these partisan sanctioned events. Later this evening, I'll be blogging about her experiences both in Minneapolis/St. Paul earlier this month at the RNC as well as various tid-bits of dumbfounding news that was not reported by mainstream media. Goodman also discussed the need for a free press in the United State, one without corporate influence or control. Stop by later for coffee and politics....this season is really heating up!

Amy Goodman Arrest @ RNC and Interview Following Arrest on Free Speech Television

Wednesday, September 17, 2008


This week has turned out to be a monster but I'm getting through it, taking deep breaths along the way, following Dr. Weils meditation, de-stresser directions. I hate when work gets a little stressful, especially when it's not the kind of work I want to be doing but just like every other Joe, I've got to pay my bills or I'll end up on the dole. I do have a pension for Lucky bags and foreign shoes so I've got to keep this gig till I get something better. I finally snagged a free-lance writing job slated to be published in the January issue of BoHo (on the stands in December) and I'm really over the moon. I haven't been paid to write diddly squat since the mid-90's so this is an auspicious occasion for me, making me finally believe I can do this. I have to keep plugging along, moving ahead, looking out for my own best interests while loving those that always have my back. The rest can step off.

Tomorrow I'm going to hear Amy Goodman of Democracy Now! fame, speak at another stellar Hofstra Educate 08' program. I'm sure this is going to be controversial and I'm already loving it. She will NOT be silenced...remember don't try and keep a good woman will always come back and bite you in the bum, like bad karma or rancid Kimchi that's festered too long. Watch out!

The other day, Vic and I went to get fingerprinted at the local station house for our adoption portfolio and somehow I ended up getting into a political spat with a veteran cop. I think I really put lipstick on that one if you know what I mean! He made a sexist remark regarding my maiden name which is of course, is part of my married name. I'm firm on that's my God given name and I flatly refuse to give it up. This is a personal choice for women but I'm big on the hyphen even though my very Italian last name got even more ethnic when I finally got hitched and stopped living in sin. LOL!

I told him that those good ol' boy days would soon be over when Hillary takes office in 2012. He went right for a personal attack on HC, calling her "thunder thighs." What a bloody tool! The argument further escalated when I said I am a peacenick and was against war as a solution to world problems. I am now an Obama supporter and honestly feel he is the lesser evil. My candidate is out of the race and although I didn't support Obama earlier in the election season, I'm a firm believer that he is the best candidate to lead our country into the new world order. This Archie Bunker wannabe was all over me like peanut butter glopped on jelly. I held my own while Vic attempted crowd control as onlookers began to notice our public politically charged rampage. After failing to support his political agenda (does he even know what that is) least to this liberal, he asked me a loaded question. "How do you feel about the American flag?" UGH..are you kidding me? If I answered the question on either side of the fence he was going to try and crucify me so I opted for the answer is better than one that may prevent me from gettting locked up in a federal hoosegow or put me on some leftist blacklist.

Just for the record Archie, I support the American flag. I am an American and my father (of the greatest generation) spent five and half years of his young life fighting the Nazi's in Europe and North Africa during World War II. I'm proud that he helped bring down that evil regime and know that the very sight of the flag during his war years gave hope and security to those that needed it most. I am also realistic and know that those events forever changed his life, mostly in bad ways. Seeing your friends blown to bits before your eyes and watching as train cars passed in night behind enemy lines filled to the brim with dead Jews, Poles and Gypsy's can in no way positively affect your psyche. I'm sure he silently suffered and told only the funny stories to his family and friends. War is hell no matter if it's justified or not.

I'm no flag burner Archie but I enjoy to exercise my rights under the constitution and realize that people like you will never change your mind about people who aren't just like you....Anglo-Saxon and ignorant. Stop being blinded by partisanship and open your eyes. The market crashing, the economy is horrible, we are in a war.....should I really go on? Let's give Obama a try...he's no Hillary Clinton but he's all the man that I the White House that is!

Annoying Sarah Palin Fact of the Day: She refuses to cooperate with investigators on Alaska's Troopergate scandal involving her ex, estranged brother-in-law

Monday, September 15, 2008

George Stephanapoulos @ Hofstra Or How I Won My Own War

I couldn't have been more in awe than this afternoon, while I watched, listened and absorbed the infinite wisdom of political strategist, turned political pundit, George Stephanapoulos. I must be honest with my readers, I was quite prejudiced to this modern day mover and shaker even before he hit the stage at the Adams Playhouse.

In 1992, when I was a dirt poor, struggling writer supporting the candidacy of Bill Clinton, I saw a young Greek ingenue on television speaking about his boss, soon to be President William Jefferson Clinton. I was excited to see someone young out there with politics on their minds, at least liberal politics, since I had just suffered through a discouraging three years at CW Post listening to the mantra of Republican students born with silver spoons up their asses speaking about ridiculous ideologies in all my Political Science classes They were so graciously hosted by mentor, friend and professor, Stanley Kline, a conservative quagmire, open to any and all ideas, left and right. He only once balked at me when I was hell-bent on confronting my then teacher and standing US Senator Al D'Amato (Senator Pothole to you!) during the Lithuanian crisis of 1990. I think I may have used my last Community Chest card when I flashed the cover of Newsday with Al's mug gleaming brightly on the front page of the tabloid. My professor scowled at me, slicing his finger across his neck, yet, he still allowed me, and I use that word sparingly since it sounds sexist and he wasn't, to spew my own view the world and the state of our country in class, live and uncensored, knowing it would spark controversy and heated debates. I had supporter's in there but for the most part, I liked to fly solo, exhausting my war chest of information, taken directly from liberal publications, journals and periodicals I had researched in the college library. I knew my song well before I sang it! Doing research was a lot tougher before Al Gore discovered the Internet. All my librarian friends can attest to that fact and those of you who attended undergrad with me know my primal fear of libraries. It still exist today so if anyone wonders why I never visit The Bryant, there you have it! The strange twist of fate is that I married someone who works in a library and is on his way as we speak to his second masters..this one in Library Science. What can I say? I like to keep the enemy's close and even sleep with them on occassion!

I was always ready to fight the fight for my party but I suppose I would never describe myself as a party soldier. I am a loyalist in doctrine only. I must support the candidates platform, not simply the candidate, another reason why I have such a flagrant distaste for our old pal from the north, Sarah Palin. Grant it, she's a woman, just not the kind of woman I would want representing me in our government. I will not vote for a woman simply because of her sex. I can't state that enough and hope that I get through to any angry Hillary supporters who still cling to her fast fading star. Vote for the lesser evil my friends. Our time will come!

George Stephanopoulos spoke for about 45 minutes on the state of our nation, the election and the tumultuous economy rocked today by the collapse of Lehman Brothers, the buy-out of Merrill Lynch and the shaky nature of both JP Morgan and AIG. He explained why the Democrats seem to be losing momentum and how the Palin affect caught the Obama/Biden ticket off-guard and blind-sided them with both surprise and fear. Stephanapoulos claimed that McCain needed to pick a VP candidate that not only rocked the party but united them. Her following comes directly from the religious right, the foundation and base of the Republican party. He also added that Obama made a dire mistake in not asking Hillary Clinton to be his running mate because of the clout and pour she wields throughout the country with both liberal men and especially women. It would have been a dream ticket...a winning ticket, but the opportunity is gone and so may be the chance to get a Democrat back in the White House.

One thing I found very interesting, especially from someone who worked on the first Clinton campaign, was the comment on why the Clinton's were stunned by Obama and his ability to fund-raise millions of dollars, making him a power player during this election season. Stephanapoulos added that he felt that both Bill and Hillary were jealous of Obama's wave riding rise to fame, much like their historical and unprecedented rise in 92'. Hillary Clinton was unable to capture that magic in her own campaign due to poor advice from strategist, including her hand-picked campaign manager, Patti Solis Doyle.

I was underwhelmed at many of the questions posed but I was struck by one older gentleman's comments on McCain's VP choice. He said he was a political junky, in his late 60's and a math professor at the University. After he finished a five minute monologue on his love for George, he claimed the John McCain had made a mockery out of the presidential election since he picked someone who was inexperienced and unworthy of the job. McCain has insulted the American people by choosing someone who is incapable of leading our nation. This is not a beauty pageant nor is it a high school basketball game. Move over Palin, Ms. Giminiani-Caputo is in the HOUSE! If someone like her can play the game, just think what a ballsy woman of the new millennium can do. Oh Hillary where for thou art!

The afternoon was well worth the wait. Kudos to Hofstra for putting on a great show with their Educate 08' program. It's well balanced and smart. Although most of the audience was of the older generation (average age about 75) the interaction was exciting and fulfilling. I wasn't that happy about the student population, mostly brought by their professors, who seemed apathetic at best. Where are all the fire-in-the-belly Obama-files the media brags about. I only know one and he's my nephew.

ANNOYING PALIN FACT OF THE DAY: She installed a tanning bed in the governor's mansion for her own private use. How vain can this person get?

Funny Sarah Palin Comic Strip

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Where Was I When the World Came Crashing Down

I always try and have a quiet, contemplative day on September 11th to reflect on the corrupt world that killed so many of our brothers and sisters. Today, in memoriam to all those innocent, unsuspecting victims that were lost just seven years ago when The World Trade Center collapsed, I remembered the pain, anguish and helplessness that I felt, succumbing to the numbness that set in quickly thereafter.

As I recall, I was running late that morning and came barreling down the front stairs to find my shoes and pack a lunch, when I happened to see News Channel 4 reporting that a small aircraft had flown into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Alarmed, I took a moment to call my mother in upstate New York, alerting her that something strange had happened in Manhattan. I'm not sure why I made that call, but I did and then I proceeded to get ready for work. On the drive to work, I put 1010 Wins on to catch the news, trying to gather more information on that small aircraft.

By this point, I was within five minutes of Hofstra and on upper Henry Street, I heard the words echo through my ears, "A second plane has hit the South Tower. It appears to be a terrorist attack," said the stunned radio broadcaster. There were moments of silence and gaps of dead air. I could feel the tears welling up inside me. I had no visuals at the moment, so my imagination went wild. I was hot and cold at the same time that morning, felt unbalanced, short of breath and exhausted from what I knew would be the longest day of my life.

When I arrived at Roosevelt Hall, it was just after nine in the morning and everyone I saw was either shell shocked or crying in the hallways. Some kids were hysterical because their parents were working in or near the Trade Center, while others were hastily trying to contact their loved ones from their cell phones. It was bedlam and while I tried to keep the peace, I was slowly falling apart myself. I wondered if this was how people felt when Pearl Harbor was bombed or when our soldiers fought so bravely on the bloody beaches of Normandy, France. I tried to cry and felt a few drops slide down my face, but I was so afraid and traumatized, that I couldn't force the tears out. I wanted to be with loved ones, say some prayers in church and hide away in my house.

Soon after, more of the story began to emerge, only to find that other planes had been hijacked, creating more chaos, death and devastation. Our country was under attack and things were unravelling at a rapid pace, leaving many of us vulnerable and riddled with a fear that we'd never experienced.

Fellow colleagues and I watched on a small five inch television screen as the South Tower collapsed, with large plumes of toxic smoke billowing through the air and the narrow streets that inhabit the area. It was the Armageddon I thought...the end of the world....far worse than the nuclear disasters I was taught to fear in the 1970's and 80's. People were jumping over 1000 feet to their deaths as photographers dared to document this fatal act of unwarranted terrorism on the great City of New York, the place where many of my dreams have come true. Feeling powerless, we all stood in disbelief as we watched the North Tower pummel down, destroying everything in its path. It looked like some sort of frightening, violent movie but it was real and happened just 20 miles from my home.

After trying to comfort some of the students, I had a great desire to leave and go home but I soon found out that all the major highways in the greater New York area were being shut down by the state police and National Guard. The United States was on high alert that day and for many days thereafter. Once I spoke to Vic and we decided on a plan, I hopped in the car and took the long way home, stopping at St. Christopher's Roman Catholic Church to say a few prayers for the many families who would suffer great loss's that day. As I was in the last pew of church, a mother, held up by two young men, presumably her sons, sobbed on the alter uncontrollably. Her moans echoed throughout the church. My heart ached for her because she obviously lost someone in her family that morning. It was the first of many families to agonize over missing or dead parents, husbands, wives, children, brothers, sisters or friends.

That night, my husband and I sat in the living room paralyzed with pain, trying to make sense of this violent, insane act. We watched the Towers get hit and collapse at least 100 times that evening, almost desensitizing ourselves to the devastation in lower Manhattan. I remember trying to fall asleep that night and hearing M-16's flying directly over my house, patrolling the beach borders. What was happening to our country and although I've never been very nationalistic, I found myself wanting to behave like a real flag-waver in the weeks ahead. Scary territory for someone like me who questions everything.

I love America but I love Americans more, if that makes sense. I think we should all reflect on where we were when the world came crashing down even if it's only once a year, in honor of all those lost. We can never forget. God Bless.

Keith Oberman's Special Comments on 9/11

Upcoming Blogs & Previews

There has been so much going on in not only THE WORLD, but my world, so it's hard to decide what to write about. I have a million stories in the bag but I'm not in a very reflective mood this morning. I'm still home, taking good care of my fickle back, working another coveted half-day, much to the dismay of the powers that be but I have a hectic, all-important week ahead for a career I don't give a hoot about.

I must be prepared to look unprepared, a useful skill I've acquired recently after getting the big shaft. I was an eyewitness to a royal shafting years ago when I worked at IBM. It happened to a close college friend of mine and although I had an idea it was going to happen, when the actual event took place, it was not only bloody and catty, but a vicious sacrificial ceremony to the underworld God's of back-biting career climbers. Unfortunately, next week, I'll have to sit across the table from my arch enemy, pretending all the while that I am professional and upright young career woman. Inside, the molten lava will be churning, ready to spew at any moment. I must confess, I am not a poker player, so holding my emotions in will be a hard won task. My face is often a map of my emotions and if no one else in the room sees it except for her, I'll have won. If not, well then I suppose I'm in for a bit of a soupy mess. Bring it on! I've been waiting for this for years.

When I was in the city a few weeks ago, I visited an epic Halloween horror store, filled with gory ghouls, freakish costumes and interesting, inappropriate nick-knacks. I picked up something that looked like the "Love Glove" from Yellow Submarine, finding out that it had nothing to do with love or affection. The glove highlighted the middle finger (THE FINGER) and when you pressed the button, the hand extended several inches, screeching out, "FUCK YOU," over and over again. I was stunned, appalled and pleasantly surprised all at once. I think this gadget could prove useful for discontented postal workers and unhappy inhabitants of professional offices worldwide.

I'm not really sure what angered my spine the other day but it could have been the behavior of one particular sociopath I encountered but I'd rather not give credit to another useless entity that calls themselves a human being. I do know one thing, my phone number is not 1-900-Porn. Some people are so pathetic, sad and pitiful. I have zero sympathy and even less patience so the next time you get turned on, make sure it isn't on the other end of my phone. Heads will roll.

OK. Now, I'd like to preview some upcoming blog topics. I know that things are getting a little heated and political right now but it's election season and although we thankfully don't face another four years of "W" this is a pivotal tour de force which must be addressed and nurtured.
Here are the topics for discussion:

==George Stephanpoulos @ Hofstra
==Amy Goodman, Democracy Now
==The Walton's Affect on My Life
==Shopping for Veggies at Farmers Markets
==Dust Balls in My Brain
==Late Night Love Songs
==Little Hands in Yours
==Lunch with Friends @ The Peddler (pictures and mugs will be taken)

I look forward to any comments you have and encourage you to post! I love the feed-back and hope you are enjoying what I hope will turn into a column or book someday.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Misty Mornings

A few weeks ago I met my sister and nephew in Union Square for a day of book shopping at The Strand and good vegan food. Over lunch, my nephew said his perfect day would be to write all morning and read all afternoon. I was floored by his admission, not because I thought it was wrong but because I thought how right it would be...for me. I've always said the morning is the best, most creative part of my day, when I'm feeling frisky, a little misty and spot-on with my writing. I tend to wane over the course of a day and end up a pile of mush by dinner time, unless I supplement my diet with a concoction of cinnamon, ginger, curry and hot pepper. I know it sounds somewhat bizarre but I've been diagnosed with a sluggish EVERYTHING, so these spices were prescribed to rev up my engines so I can hit my stride at almost any given point of the day. I still say that morning is best and my nephews recipe for success is just what I have always desired.

The reality of the situation is that I desperately need to bankroll my dream so I am forced to go to a job that I can perform well but have absolutely zero passion for, although there was a time, years ago, when I rushed to work each day because I felt like I was making a difference. I was helping people find their lives but those days are long gone and now I'm restricted to the mundane corporate nonsense that most Americans are subjected to on a daily basis. My spirit is barren unless I'm writing or expressing myself in some creative forum. I enjoy the solace of my home without the static of office gossip, politics and overall nasty competition that I've been exposed to for many years. It sucks the life blood from my very veins and numbs my brain, cutting off oxygen to vital organs, leaving me a total wreck. When I write, I'm free. What more can I add?

I haven't begun writing my screenplay just yet due to an internal fight that I'm experiencing with my Yin and Yang, trying to decide on a topic. I think I'm close to making a decision on the piece, but first I may try writing a script for a soap (General Hospital) to get the kinks out of my writing and maybe snag an agent in the process. It all sounds so foreign yet so familiar. I should have made the jump years ago and left academia and now that I find myself a seasoned woman in her early 40's, I'm slowly realizing that I needed the time and experience to find my voice. How can you write without varied life experiences? I've always felt like I've had a tiny voice in my head narrating each and every event in my life, not just the wet and wild of it. It's now time for that teeny weeny voice to emerge into the grand ballroom of my writing, catapulting me into the fast-forward mode of living without borders or fears.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Reflections of the A&P and Other Candy Fantasies

I'm not sure why the thought of the A&P popped into my head while my chiropractor was crunching my spine and needling me up today but it did and now I must address all those remote memories of safe, warm places in my heart and mind.

When I was a child in Albany, our local neighborhood A&P was the focus of my daily routine, whether I was buying luscious Mallow Cups, store brand pecan swirls or stealing the plastic cap protectors off the 409 bottles, I visited that store everyday till it closed when I was in the eighth grade.

The dirty, outdated grocery store that billed itself as a "Super Saver" was directly across the street from my Catholic grade school, Blessed Sacrament, a place of higher learning or at least that's what the powers that be called it. I called it my own personal hell hole but I'll save that for future flashbacks into my wild, rebellious years at BSS. A time I'd like to forget, along with most of my classmates, give or take a few. Being chubby in Catholic school was torture, although it made me strong and steadfast. I often wonder if those horrible days spent in that jail has something to do with my inability to trust people. I wear my earned armor well. Maybe one day, someone else can break through it other than my wonderful husband... a completely trustworthy human being.

The A&P represented a sense of neighborhood and community to me and my friends, a group of shady misfits from the mean streets of Albany. There was Sue Sue, the bullying Brut who lived a few houses down and enjoyed tripping me while I was running full-force during a competitive game of Run the Bases, laughing uncontrollably when the wind got knocked out of me, as I fell hard on my chest. That worked only until I figured out how to flip the bitch flat on her back. I heard she's living in a ramshackle house in Rensselaer, divorced with two boys. And God says revenge isn't worth the wait! Then there were a few others who will appear in later tales from the crypt but I'd rather not reveal all my characters so soon. She was the bane of my existence and I thanked heaven everyday that she didn't attend my school. Her parents were fed up with BSS and pulled all their children out, making them attend PS #16 several blocks away. I was more than elated, I was ecstatic.

During the school year, I'd pop in the store, say hello to my Aunt Jeanne, the jolly customer service manager, and scout out the detergent aisle for store workers. My pals and I would snap off the plastic discs on any cleaner we could locate, but the 409 bottles had the best protectors. Using them as slugs in Jawbreaker machines at Chucks Bun N' Burger lasted for an entire summer till we got caught by Chuck himself, banning us from greasy spoon forever. My friends and I were devastated for a time and then realized the chocolate shakes were far better at Jack's Diner across the street and the shoe string french fries at Mike's Luncheonette weren't soaking in lard but were crisp and fresh unlike anything we ever tasted outside of McDonald's, the go-to restaurant of the 1970's.

I had a mouthful of fillings after that summer of Jawbreaker's and had my mother wondering why I was getting so many cavities, until she discovered the bowl full of stash under my bed. That was an ugly late August morning as my mother screamed at me for what seemed like an eternity but probably only lasted 10 minutes. I watched as she flushed my gum collection down the toilet and wondered if I'd ever mass another large medley of confections again.

My mother dragged me off to the local dentist/butcher later that day for a six month cleaning and x-rays. The news wasn't good and I ended up getting drilled in three separate locations. I never got Novocaine till I was in high school, listening to my mother who scared the be-Jesus out of me in regards to "the needle." When I finally did take the plunge and got shot up, I was pleasantly surprised at how it barely hurt but then I quickly grew angry at my mother for prejudicing me to the easy, slightly painful procedure. No pain could be worse than having your dental root exposed, while a drill sliced through tough tartar and enamel, leaving me breathless and blinded from that all-annoying dental spot-light. And let's not discuss the dentist's breath, which could turn my stomach in one exhale, hitting me like bag of burning dog shit. I couldn't decide which was worse, the lack of drugs, the drilling or the doc's foul breath of life that smelled like death, with an extra shot of rigor mortis rot thrown in there for good measure. I was paralyzed with nausea and fear while I lay there in that Naugahyde chair contraption, finally realizing that brushing and flossing were as important as noshing on layers of candy, chocolate and Hubba Bubba bubble gum. I figured if I brushed twice a day, I'd have little to worry about in years to come. I was miserably wrong since I now set off metal detectors in airports with all the amalgam in my candied puss.

As long as my smile looks good from a distance, I'm satisfied. I suppose if I had missing teeth, graying caps and stinky breath, I'd feel more guilty about my flavorful, sweet treats that I enjoyed back then but I luckily don't suffer from "Yuck Mouth" syndrome, a disease known to many inhabitants of the Appalachian region as a result of boozing it up on Moonshine.

Now, let me smile pretty for the camera and I'll be on my way.

132 Days till Destruction or Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful

Sitting in my dining room, thinking about the months to come and reflecting on a relaxing yet uneventful summer, I dream of finer days ahead. Just think about it, George Bush has only 132 days left in his abysmal run as the leader of the free world, Hillary Clinton announced that she will run for Senate Majority leader in 2009 and people are discovering just what a yahoo Sarah Palin really is or are they.

I decided to wait a few days till the Republican National Convention commenced before I began slowly dismantling the pathetic political career of John McCain's vice presidential candidate, Sarah Palin, a ballsy super Christian who appears she's sipped just a tad too much St. John's Wart tea. Smiling and grinning till her cheek muscles appear to have Bells Palsy, Palin salivates openly at her chance to sell her "pro-life, anti birth control, abstinence-loving, outlandish platform" to the scary base of the Republican Party. Who are these people and how does someone of her nature rise to national fame? With just an undergraduate degree in Communications under her lapel and ridiculous comments such as, "I've spent more time thinking about my state's problems and haven't kept up on the status of the Iraq war," I firmly believe she not qualified to be part of the Executive Branch of government. I cannot stress enough how profoundly offended I am by her. She is living a June Cleaver lifestyle of the 1950's, sad as it may seem, and although she is running for VP, her personal views on lifestyle promise to take women from the CEO seat to the toilet seat in one fell swoop. Frankly, I'm afraid of her and the Palinofiles who somehow feel empowered by her screwy speeches and flair for mediocrity.

I refuse to get into the cat fight mode, criticizing her lack of fashionista style but what I will comment on is her inability to reach educated, career women who realize they are not superwomen and can't quite have it all. Working moms across America, who must rely on dirty day care centers and entrust their love bundles to workers who make minimum wage cannot identify with her privileged lifestyle. This is a woman who has five children, one pregnant at 17 and one special needs infant, who flies all over the continental US to speak on behalf of her state, while her commercial fishing husband is out on ship for weeks. Who is caring for her children? I'm sure it's a well paid foreign nanny, something unattainable for many working families. Maybe if she stayed home more, her daughter wouldn't be pregnant and forced into marrying her high school lover, a marriage that will surely end badly.

I think she's the worst mother in America for sacrificing her eldest daughter in order to further her pitiful career aspirations. I saw one headline that read, "JUNO Alaska." This is a young girl who had no access to birth control (something the righties consider just as bad as abortion...NUTS!!!!) and gave in to her sexual curiosity and desires. Unfortunately, she became pregnant, something that could have been prevented. If her parents were so proud of her, why was she withdrawn from school for having mononucleosis five months ago? The hypocrisy is at an all-time high. I'm sure if my daughter ever becomes pregnant I won't be jumping for joy either, but I will never make her feel ashamed and will defend her till the end. I would never put my child in harms way to advance my own dreams, something Ms. Palin actively did and made no excuses for her own bad behavior.

I'm puzzled at her positive buzz right now and anticipate her house of cards collapsing once people wake up from their helium haze and see her for what she really is, an inexperienced hack. If the Democrats can't beat her, we're really in for a whopping four years of religious-right insanity.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Skippy Catches A Wave and Then Some

Today was magnificent! After all the lallapalooza about dreaded tropical storm Hannah, the only thing we got in Long Island was a deep soaking rain. No wind, tornado's, water funnels...just rain. Honestly, I was glad since we were looking forward to another amazing day at the beach. Let's face it, fall is not far off so it's best to take advantage of the sun and fun before we start shovelling of snow.

We decided to get an early start of things, enjoying a flavorful smorgasbord of breakfast yummies over strong coffee and the Sunday newspaper. I can't decide which I like better, the weekly advertisements or the succulent fold-outs like the Travel Section or better yet, Fan-Fare, listing all entertainment here and in the city during the forthcoming week. I just found out today that White Christmas is actually coming to Broadway this holiday season. As some of you already know, I'm fluent in everything Christmas, so you can expect me to be in the orchestra pit for this little ditty. From Thanksgiving to New Years, you can expect to hear any of the many Irving Berlin tunes sung in the movie to pop out of my mouth. I'm more inclined to sing the Rosemary Clooney portions since we share the same key and pitch, although I'm a bit tone deaf, so says the man of the house, wincing every time I belt out another chorus of, "County Sheep."

Now, enough talk of the stressful holiday season and back to the beach. After arriving at Lincoln Beach, we discovered a totally rad surfing and boogie board tournament in full swing. We opted for the boogie board side of the beach since it was less crowded and had better tunes pumping. The MC was straight out of California with his sunny talk and laid back demeanor as he carefully monitored the comings and goings of his beach real estate that was part of a live feed web cast.

The waves were enormous, reaching heights of 15 feet at high tide, giving East Coast surfers the ride of their lives. Boogie boarders were skimming, flipping and spinning their way across the rabid waves, not only earning valuable tournament points but street credibility with fellow surf mates from as far away as Hawaii. As the roar of the wild surf echoed across the beach, white foam filled the shoreline. Surfer's were hard to see once they got in the pipeline and ripped the curl but when they emerged from a sick wave, all bets were off for small-time wannabees like myself. I dabbled in surfing back in the late 1980's, 1960's California style. I was fascinated with the The Beach Boys, Jams, Surf Magazine and catching waves, even though I was in landlocked Albany New York, far from the Malibu scene I coveted and honestly didn't exist any longer. I used to call myself Skippy back then, thinking someday I be able to hit sick waves with the best of them.

When I lived in Cape May, I took an old long board out a few times but I wasn't confident in my ability to control it, much less stand up on it. If I had extra money, I would have taken lessons but I didn't and that issue seems to be an ongoing factor in many of my failed dreams. I guess I was just another "ho daddy" that would rather watch from the shore than get in there and hit a few sick rides to wow the crowds.

Yesterday's unbelievable event captured my attention all day long, with a national long board event, and something called "Expression Session" where about 12 surfers hit the water and let it rip for about 20 minutes, riding wave after wave, doing amazing tricks in waves that were double their height. To me, it was the ultimate afternoon. It allowed me to reach deep into my past and satisfy my insatiable appetite for surfing. Cowabunga dude! I'm ready for a marathon of Gidget tomorrow so I can wallow in the mystique of surfer days gone by.

Catch a wave!

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Are You Kidding Me Joe?

The audacity of Senator Joe Lieberman to speak at the Republican National Convention is unbelievable and outrageous. He is nothing more than a lousy turncoat, hiding behind his current independent status, mugging for the camera while a nation stands at the brink of disaster. After weathering through the icky 2000 election as Al Gore's running mate, I find it difficult to digest that Lieberman could turn to those who stripped him of his very Vice Presidency, partnering up with the Republicans to further his blind ambition as a second tier politician. His behavior is not only disgraceful but fundamentally wrong. I'm stunned at his ignorance because every liberal and centrist is watching, listening, observing and forming opinions. I'm so sorry that I voted for him in 2000 because he has now failed every Democrat who rallied behind his ticket to overtake the forthcoming Bush regime.

Mixed Salad

Tonight I am free. I dropped my graduate class, finished a tiring day at the grind and solved at least 20 problems that I didn't own. If I was an egomaniac, I would coin myself as the Enjoli Woman of the New Millennium, with the innate ability to "bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan" never letting my lover forget he's a man! But, I am far from egocentric and feel as sexy as shit on a shingle right now.

To date, I've lost 30 pounds, wore a low-cut linen dress today I haven't fit into since 2000 and have still retained a nice full bosom complete with a little cleavage. I never had that little extra umph when I was in my 20's, always wishing for more than a slight bump from my expensive miracle bra, a tease in the whole scheme of things. Push-up bras are equally as bad as stuffing your brassiere full of Puffs, the illusion is there but when it's time to reveal what's behind window number one, you don't want your guy to feel like he literally got the "boobie prize" instead finding a manifestation of haughty, naughty Victoria's Secret or worse, a Grannie Playtex elastic rocket launcher lacking the appropriate atomic bombs.

I have fleeting moments of self love and don't feel ashamed at admitting that fact. If not for me, then who? There are more instances of self loathing, so I relish those special moments of pride and happiness, knowing full well that once I take off that mischievous dress, with just a tad too much boobage showing, I will go to default and see myself with fat eyes.

I was a confident woman today, not the child I left behind a few months ago. It must be all those self help books or simply my bi-weekly appointments with a local shrink. With all this talk of evolution vs. creationism, I'd like to believe that I have emerged as a take-charge, self evolved feminist, constantly moving forward, looking back only to learn from my past mistakes, taking no prisoners. I'm a steamroller when I have to be and a fun loving, intelligent academic at other times, but I'd really just like to be me all the time. I'm not quite sure how to define who I am but my question to you is, "Can you handle it?"