Can I say in as non-sexist a way as possible that being female sometimes = being crazy?

I am having one of those weird, annoying, low self-esteem days that I think must happen to women more than to men. It's very frustrating, because I'm torn between yelling "just tell me I'm PRETTY, damn it!" and whacking my self upside the head and telling myself to get a grip. I'm more likely to go with the latter, sans the whacking, but then I am again torn: do I go with the "clearly, I AM pretty and don't need people to tell me so to feel good about myself" approach, or the "clearly, I am not that big of a deal and should just accept that I'm not that hot and be well adjusted and secure anyway" approach.

And now I'll join everyone who just read that blather and say "my GOD I want to shoot that woman for being such an insecure adolescent girl."

AUUGHHHHH. Christmas tree shopping and cookie baking are on the agenda today, and tomorrow is shopping and gay-date and general fun. The sooner I get over myself the better.

Thankful for my family

I think a lot of people list family up there in the list of things they're thankful for this time of year (though how many really mean it?). This morning reminded me of just exactly how thankful I am, which is very.

I hauled my lazy ass out of bed sometime after 10am, and found my parents in the living room, watching the parade and as far as I can tell, bickering. They're champion bickerers, and are only really annoyed with each other maybe half the time. I mentioned that I had looked through the envelope of pictures and articles and stuff about my dad from my grandparent's house. It was full of his old report cards and prom pictures and wedding pictures and newspaper clippings. They brought it out and my sister came out and we spent some time making fun of my dad for his bad grades and horrible hair in high school, and oohing over how gorgeous my mom was in the pictures. Then they bickered a little more before my dad decided we needed to walk out on the deck to show me the woodpile and tell about the tree-cutting fiasco (which reminded me so much of something my boyfriend would have wanted to tell me if he had done it that it was scary). My mom locked us on the deck, but let us back in once he appeared repentant enough for picking on her. Overall, it was a pleasantly goofy, comfortably, good morning with my family, and I loved it. I really think people learn something about how to have relationships from their families, and I am very thankful I have such a good, though odd, family to serve as my model.

Also, yesterday I shopped for seven hours with my sister and it was lovely. I love that girl more than anyone else in the world, I think.

I caved

Putting down roots?

I'm going home (parent's home? That state where I grew up in?) for Thanksgiving in less than a week. Just today I finally started to get excited about that. In undergrad, I used to get seriously antsy about going home, so much so that the last week before I got to go I was a little spazzy. I was especially ready to go home after being in Spain. This time, it's the longest I've been away, and other than missing my sister constantly, I haven't really needed to go home.

Now I am actually looking forward to it, which is good, and I know I'll have a good time. But, I have the same problem I keep having because I keep moving: I miss there while I'm here, and am going to miss here while I'm there. I mean, no, I do not like this city. But I know I'll miss my boyfriend, and my apartment, and my cat, and my normal routine here. It was like that after Spain. I finally got really attached to the place, and then I left, and no matter where I was I missed Spain and either school or home. I can't maintain that level of missing, so I don't miss everything - Spain, school, and home, all at once, but there is definitely some amount of missage for each one. I suppose this is normal for anyone who lives different places. But, I wonder if I will eventually have so many connections I will stop feeling connected to some places.

For one thing, it is definitely interesting how I'm comfortable-ish here now, instead of constantly wanting to leave. It's definitely not my ideal, and if I can do something about it I would prefer not to stay too long. But, it is "home" enough now that saying I'm going home for Thanksgiving is a little confusing. Where is home?

A rant

I hate gingko trees. I am sorry trees, I hate to discriminate, but I do. 10 or 11 months out of the year the things are just fine with me. They're even pretty, and tall, and must be collegiate since my experience with them has been exclusively on college campuses. The other one or two months? They stink. Literally. Like something dead. Well, more like something rotting. See, when gingko trees drop their pretty yellow, uniquely-shaped leaves in the fall they also drop odd little seed blobs. Said blobs/balls/technical-term-for-the-thing-that-falls-off-gingko-trees stink. They also smash easily underfoot, until the entire sidewalk around the tree is covered in smelly yellow scum that is slippery to walk on and, if I haven't already mentioned it, smells like something particularly cloying is rotting. There is one I walk past regularly on campus here. My first experience with the things was in undergrad, where I honestly began to wonder if the House of Thought had a dead body hidden under the floorboards until I realized it was the tree next to it that stank. They are pretty trees. But like pretty people, pretty trees are far less appealing if you can't stand to breathe while around them.

Uh oh

Ephemera:

In a statement that would provoke hilarity and innuendo among many of my friends...I appear to have bruises on both my knees. It is entirely possible that I just walked into things and didn't notice...right? I cannot think of any other possible reason besides forgotten clumsiness. Honestly, I do that type of thing all the time. AM CLUMSY, I mean.

From overheardinnewyork.com:
Girl to friend, discussing a boy: So how nerdy is he? I mean, there's a nice nerdy, a cute nerdy...
Friend: You know that Jewish nerdy?

Quantum of Solace = pretty good. Honestly, it was mostly mindless action, which was apparently exactly what I wanted. Contrary to most reviews I thought Bond actually showed some depth of character. The main female and the random British chick were both gorgeous, the British girl especially, but not really gorgeous in that way that makes you hate them. More the way that makes you want to be them or sleep with them or both, depending on your personal inclinations.

Current song in my head: Old school Shakira, "Pienso en ti." The simple line "Cada día pienso en tí, pienso un poco mas en tí." keeps running through my brain.

Sexy self medication

Part of me thinks that what I'm about to say is a little anti-feminist. The rest of me doesn't care.

Sometimes, it feels really nice to be sexy. I am currently semi-sick, fighting off what might be a cold, and am not feeling my best. I am fighting it with medicine and rest, but I am also fighting it with sexy! In one of my favorite comic strips, 9 Chickweed Lane, one of the characters is a professor who deals with difficult situations by wearing leopard-print underwear under her suits. When she has to face the board of trustees the secret knowledge of her sexy undies brings her ferocious (leopard-esque) confidence.

I don't own any leopard print undies; actually, I think animal prints are usually tacky. But I am wearing my favorite sexy librarian outfit (oh, yeah, this post also perpetrates librarian stereotypes), which isn't that sexy, but it is nice. And what I have on under is also pleasantly sexy. I did my hair and makeup this morning in nothing but the underthings because it made me feel like a Soviet spy in a movie (the haircut helps).

I know, I probably shouldn't be talking about my underthings on my blog. My point is not exactly the underthings (no pics, clearly, and no descriptions!). My point is that, even if it's probably not the best thing to use to make me feel better, the sexy helps. Whether this is a sign that my self-esteem is too tied to my looks, I don't know. I think it's partially the idea that if you want to feel a certain way, act like you already are feeling that way, like pretending you're awake can help wake you up. I might be sick and gross, but damn it, I'm going to be sexy today, and it's making me feel better.

Oh cologne...

I have a sample card with Armani Mania for men spritzed on it in my desk drawer. Now it smells like there is a man living in my desk. A sexy-smelling man.

Why do I have a cologne sample in my desk drawer? Well, I happen to be unhealthily obsessed with Armani Mania. The version for men, specifically, although I wear the women's version and it's quite nice. I love Armani fragrances, and I think Armani Mania is quite possibly the sexiest scent a man can wear. So, sometimes, if I'm shopping and go past a display in a department store, I spritz some on a card and stick it in my pocket. If that sounds creepy um...I don't have a good excuse, except that I have a very sensitive sense of smell, and I really enjoy good smells. It's like sticking a postcard of someplace beautiful on my cork board. Well, in this case it's probably more like sticking a picture of a hot actor on my cork board, but what I mean is, it's an appreciation of something that pleases the senses. So what if normal people use an air freshener or candles.

I had the card on my desk for a day before I could figure out why on earth my computer smelled like a man, and found the card under some books. I guess I had tossed it there and forgotten. Oops!

My "I might be going to Hell" moment for today

I just spent a little while cleaning up my desk. While doing that, I realized I should figure out where I put my birth control pills, since I need to start those this Sunday. The weren't where they left them when I was reading the package information, and they weren't in my basket-o-junk on my desk. They also weren't in my "inbox," aka basket-o-junk number two. They weren't in my purse, they weren't in my drawer. They hadn't fallen behind my desk, and they weren't under a book. Then I remembered.

They were in between the pages of my Bible, where I had been using them to mark my place last week while doing an assignment. Good thing I have a liberal theology, or I might think I was pretty much damned.

Who the heck is Rebeka?

Yesterday a friend and I had a librarian-conference adventure at NYLA. After driving nearly three hours to get there, our day can best be described with the word "surreal." This isn't an exhaustive list, but here are some of the things that we experienced yesterday:

• We got waylaid by an odd man at the trade show who pressed very bad poetry printed on flowery paper into our hands, along with Hershey's Special Dark chocolates.
• We tried to go to a conference presentation called "Intellectual Power to the Librarian" only to find it was canceled (the speaker said she had a "breakdown") and we got talked into watching its replacement - a one-woman theatrical performance about, well, the PATRIOT Act, intellectual freedom, libraries, stereotypes, and a dead body in a laundromat.
  
• After the above weirdness we got stuck on the shuttle bus between conference hotels for half an hour - when we could have walked back in ten minutes.
• Twice I got mistaken for someone named Rebeka. Not just a little mistaken either. The first woman excitedly exclaimed "Rebeka!" and was about to grab my arm when she realized I was looking at her with complete confusion. The second woman was actually convinced that she had met me that morning at breakfast, when this morning at breakfast I was in a car. Once she realized I was not Rebeka she told us that not only did I look just like this elusive woman, we were wearing practically the same thing. I wish I had seen her - I think she's my doppleganger.
  
• Saratoga is an adorable city. The parts we saw were charming, and there are tons of cute restaurants. We had lunch in a coffee shop called Uncommon Grounds, which I highly recommend. We had delicious bagel sandwiches and then gelato. My friend says the coffee was great, and whatever brand of chips I ate nicely suggested on the bag a few charities I might consider donating too. My kind of place.
  
• Swag was so-so. We both got kinda snazzy transformer pens, though I seem to have since lost mine, staple-less staplers, shirts from some database company, and several pens. Oh, and the poetry and chocolate.
  

Overall, I'm still not sure the conference wasn't a waste of time, but it was an interesting experience, and I had a lot of fun spending all day with my friend, who I don't get to see often enough. I got to end the day by hanging out with said hot boyfriend (see below), so the day was overall an excellent day.

Stalker ;-)

Don't think I don't know you're there. Now I need to find a new place to gossip about my hot boyfriend.

Big emotions

I am so happy that I almost can't be happy, there isn't space for it.

I just read a friend's blog that suggested this election was our generation's form of protest - we stood up and spoke out for what we believe in, for what we wanted to see changed - and we did it, ironically enough, through an established political process. The way the Obama campaign has been run, has gathered together people, has inspired young voters and first time voters and disenfranchised voters and people of all sorts of races, backgrounds, socioeconomic statuses, ages, and beliefs is inspiring. I know some of my friends can't understand it, but I will remember where I was last night when I heard the news for the rest of my life. All along I'm not sure I believed it would happen. It did. Maybe this country really is changing. The future looks interesting.

I am an election junkie

I keep hearing people say how much they're tired of the election, how much they can't wait for it to be over, how they can't stand to hear about the candidates anymore. Now. my mother in Ohio is getting a campaign call every half hour, and I can see how that's annoying. But, I must confess. I love this.

I really love the election, and the whole long awful process (although I do have some issues with the process itself - the jury's still out on whether the electoral college is a stupid idea or not). I have been following it since the early days of the primaries, probably because I was on a college campus in Ohio, and that's the type of thing you talk about on college campuses in swing states. I don't think my personal opinions are hard to see - I've supported Obama from the first. But, I've still loved the process, even when it had made me anxious and angry, and it's done that a lot.

I think Americans are more interesting during an election year. We show our true colors. Sometimes those true colors are really, really ugly, and incredibly stupid. There have been some very hateful things done and said in this election. Sometimes they're wonderful, like when we demand real results from our candidates, and when we provide real results in return, like the hundreds of thousands of people who have volunteered and campaigned and donated money because they really believe in something. Isn't that awesome? That people, including young people who haven't even cared about voting before, get so excited about this that they throw themselves into volunteering?

I've been stalking Facebook all morning, because it is covered in the election today. People's statuses reflect their voting, their concerns, their excitement. One status asks if we "considered the least of these" while voting. Another gripes about the long lines. A great many, mine included, are trying to "get out the vote" for Obama. A friend just IMed me to say she voted. I'm wearing my Obama/Biden shirt, and I already voted by absentee ballot (Ohio needs me!) I wish I could be voting in a booth today, even with the lines, because I think I'm just an election junkie. But how can you not be excited? Everywhere today, people are thinking about one thing - the future of our country. Maybe our country would be in a better place if people thought about its future more than just on election day. And gosh, VOTE if you can. It's really a thrill ;)