Sunday September 24, 2006
The last few weeks, or months perhaps (years if I'm really being honest) my blog has been itching to further evolve. And possibly move to a Cheney-esque secure location. I'm working on it.
My brother called me up today and demanded to know what on Earth I've been teaching my niece. Apparently kiddo recently discovered the joys of making fart noises by blowing into her hands. She's pretty good at it too, I heard some fierce rips in the background during my brother's phone call.
Sadly, I can't claim credit for this one. I'm still trying to teach her to stick her tongue out at people while they're not looking. She doesn't seem fazed when they catch her doing it. I am very proud of her new faux farting skills though. It's going to seriously impress her future boss one day.
This is quite possibly the most excited I'll ever be over the launch of a new blog. Especially when you consider that the web is overrun with blogs of every kind, this project from Sojourners is long overdue. Sojourners has long been a champion of social justice and peace, and it now has its own corner of blogosphere to plant some netroots. From its creators:
Godspolitics.com, Sojourner's New Blog: It's time for the monologue of the Religious Right to end and for a real dialogue to begin.
Announcing the God's Politics Blog with Jim Wallis and friends.
The New York Times bestseller God's Politics by Jim Wallis has been characterized as the "book that changed the conversation" on faith and politics in the U.S.
Now read daily posts by Jim and a host of other noted commentators on progressive faith and politics, including Amy Sullivan, Brian McLaren, Obery Hendricks, and Tony Campolo.
It's finally here!
Actually, I lied in the last post. I did send a postcard to PostSecret a few weeks ago, but I have no idea if it was published because I was in Croatia for two weeks after I sent it. I'm not telling what it said.
I've often thought about sending a postcard to PostSecret. The idea of creating an art piece to bare your soul sounds cathartic. The only problem is that I don't have a lot of juicy secrets to tell, and my postcard would probably be thrown out.
So what are my biggest secrets?
I tell people I don't watch TV, but I've recently become addicted to Veronica Mars
I usually eat the last ice cream sandwich and play dumb when asked about it
Mechanics make me nervous
I never get farther than thumbing through the cookbooks I buy
I want to like Condoleeza Rice for being a successful woman, but I don't
I'm afraid to learn new things because I worry I'll suck at them
I'm also now addicted to Project Runway
When I do my sister's yoga videos, I spend half the time just watching
I want to kill one of my rats because he bullies the other one
I always play photographer because I don't want my picture taken
I like the song Ice Ice Baby
I don't forward religious emails and I don't feel guilty about it
I spend extra hours at work because I don't know what to do with myself at home
The reason I've been working on the same painting for the last six years is because I'm afraid it will look like crap when I'm done
I cheated on a test in 11th grade
I spend more money on library fines than jewelry
I get more excited than a 20-something should when someone leaves me a Myspace comment
Would PostSecret bite on any of these?
A few weeks ago I signed up to be a part of 2,996, a blogging project aimed to memorialize the victims of the 9/11 attacks. I was given the name of a man I never met, and an assignment to write something about him on the five year anniversary of his death. The intention of the project, I believe, was to put politics aside for a day and remind everyone that each name on the list was a person who meant something to somebody.
I was given the name Michael R. Canty.
Since I've never met Michael, I googled his name and searched some websites devoted to the victims of 9/11. Most sites included the same snippets about his life. He was 30 years old, lived in Schenectady, had a degree from Loyola, and worked on the 92nd floor of the World Trade Center as a broker for Carr Futures. He had eigth brothers and sisters, 16 neices and nephews, and was in love with a woman named Erin. There was a ring on deposit for her when Michael died. He was just looking for the right time and place to propose.
On one of the websites I visited, people who knew Michael posted some of their own memories and prayers. Several of his nieces and nephews even posted comments, one calling him the best uncle ever. The others were old friends and classmates reminiscing about his kindness and mourning the loss of such a friendly face. Even though I don't know Michael, I can say with certainty that he truly loved his family and friends, all of whom miss him terribly today. I feel honored to memorialize him here.
My sister has had the privelage of doing it twice (in two weeks). But for me, yesterday was my very first time. While pulling the Cavalier up to the curb by my house, I hit a sharp edge on the sewer drain and busted my front tire. So I'm out fifty bucks and have to be the butt of my dad's jokes for a few days.
By the way, this blog is in the process of being reinvented. It's just slow going. I mean, really s-l-o-w. That's because I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, but it's time to do something. I've been neglecting it a little too much, and in all honesty I miss the glory days of compulsively redesigning and posting inflammatory political diatribes.
And speaking of reinvention, I'm really excited that my longtime hostee and friend, Raddy, has her blog up and running again.
A friend just invited me to watch OSU pummel Penn State into the ground Sept. 23rd since she has an extra ticket. I've never been to the horseshoe, so this should be cool. My sister, an OSU senior, is tres jealous. Ha.
I helped my sister move into her new on-campus house today, which she's sharing this year with five other girls (good luck with that, sis). It was a lot of huffing and puffing (for my brother anyway, I was happy to watch the heavy stuff go by without me) and rearranging lots of big things in a very small space. When everything was hauled up to her new second floor bedroom, it was one of those rare moments when I was really, really glad that my college days are over. I mean, I still sleep on mattresses that sit on the floor, but I don't own a single Yaffa crate. Thank god for graduation.
This is really silly. From BBC:
An architect of Iraqi descent has said he was forced to remove a T-shirt that bore the words "We will not be silent" before boarding a flight at New York.
Raed Jarrar said security officials warned him his clothing was offensive after he checked in for a JetBlue flight to California on 12 August.
I realize that terrorist threats can make people feel vulnerable and scared, but we really have a problem when an innocent t-shirt makes people do such irrational things. The man did nothing wrong... he passed through security and was on his way to board when he was forced to remove his offensive shirt. This paranoia isn't normal or healthy. It's just sad.
I know that it's late for my birthday and too early for Christmas, but I really want this book (for free). There aren't any copies in the Cleveland Library system. Anyone?
I might as well make this a regular feature. My niece is incapable of doing anything, be it eating or sleeping or hopping from person to person without looking insanely cute. Here, the joy of Oreo cookies.
I had read on Jen's blog that she signed up to take part in the 2,996 project, and I thought it was such a wonderful idea that I decided to sign up myself. Bloggers who volunteer are assigned a name of someone who died in the 9/11 attacks and post tributes to them on their blogs.
I was the 2851th blogger to sign up, which means some of the victims haven't been assigned. If you have a blog, consider joining. I have the name already, but I don't know what I'm going to say yet.
I can't believe it's been five years.