As Good a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy as Any
If November 10th is your birthday...
From Jennifer Angel at the NY Daily News:
Happy birthday, Scorpio! As someone who loves to be actively involved, you're truly a person who loves life, has things to do and people to see. This is a year where you can express yourself creatively to the world at large. Get used to the limelight because it's only normal that you're the center of attraction. This is your year to shine like the brightest star.
From Holiday Mathis at the Chicago Sun Times:
You have major mojo this year -- charisma enough to share. A romantic proposition, if accepted, could change everything. Invest in February and you can double your money. May features the learning of new skills and perfection of old ones. This paves the way for increased income in years to come. Libra and Sagittarius adore you. Your lucky numbers are 5, 17, 44, 9 and 20.
From Georgia Nicols at the Chicago Sun Times:
To others, you appear confident, attractive and self-assured (despite how you feel inside.) You have dash and style. Privately, your life can undergo dramatic changes that are hidden to others. You frequently need time by yourself to cogitate and ponder life. Influential people often benefit you. Grab every opportunity to work, build and construct something in the next year because your rewards will soon follow.
All kidding aside, I think it's going to be a great year. I can feel it.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
And I Decided to Apply to Grad School Because...
It's quarter past midnight here, three days from the deadline for my grad school application. Even though I am extremely excited to get back to school, and I can't think of a better program for me, I am so tired and my head is absolutely swimming with information. I'm trying to complete a personal statement, two essay questions, and a case study. I feel like it's finals week in college, but the main difference is, I have a husband, a kid, and a dog. I am clearly very crazy.
Fingers crossed this will all get done. I am seriously pushing my limits, that's for sure. If only I hadn't been chronically under-rested and over-tired this year, I might have had a little bit more stamina this week. Sigh...
It's quarter past midnight here, three days from the deadline for my grad school application. Even though I am extremely excited to get back to school, and I can't think of a better program for me, I am so tired and my head is absolutely swimming with information. I'm trying to complete a personal statement, two essay questions, and a case study. I feel like it's finals week in college, but the main difference is, I have a husband, a kid, and a dog. I am clearly very crazy.
Fingers crossed this will all get done. I am seriously pushing my limits, that's for sure. If only I hadn't been chronically under-rested and over-tired this year, I might have had a little bit more stamina this week. Sigh...
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Thanks, NBC, Now I Have to Move
Tonight, as I watched Shani Davis win the gold in the Olympics, my newly-minted "south side Chicago pride" swelled. Sure, I live in Hyde Park, which is a pretty darn fancy neighborhood, by all accounts, but it's south side, and a stone's throw from the home of the White Sox.
Then I heard that Shani grew up in a "south side Chicago neighborhood, riddled with gangs." Wow. I guess I shouldn't feel that kind of pride, right? I'm not living on the mean streets.
Moments ago, the local Chicago news came on, and they announced that Shani grew up in Hyde Park. That's right! I live in Hyde Park!
Thanks a lot, Bob Costas and company, for telling me that I live in a scary place. Looking around our lovely condo, in our safe neighborhood, with our schmancy university a short walk away, I never would have known it.
But way to go, Shani. Wherever you come from, you're awesome.
Tonight, as I watched Shani Davis win the gold in the Olympics, my newly-minted "south side Chicago pride" swelled. Sure, I live in Hyde Park, which is a pretty darn fancy neighborhood, by all accounts, but it's south side, and a stone's throw from the home of the White Sox.
Then I heard that Shani grew up in a "south side Chicago neighborhood, riddled with gangs." Wow. I guess I shouldn't feel that kind of pride, right? I'm not living on the mean streets.
Moments ago, the local Chicago news came on, and they announced that Shani grew up in Hyde Park. That's right! I live in Hyde Park!
Thanks a lot, Bob Costas and company, for telling me that I live in a scary place. Looking around our lovely condo, in our safe neighborhood, with our schmancy university a short walk away, I never would have known it.
But way to go, Shani. Wherever you come from, you're awesome.
Monday, December 19, 2005
The War on "You Are an Idiot'
Okay, in all my time blogging, I haven't spent much time writing about political stuff. That's not to say that I'm shy about my political views in one-on-one conversation, I just never felt a pressing need to exercise my political demons in this format. But today, while watching our president's press conference, after watching our president's address last night, I just can't help but ask this:
Can we please stop talking about winning "The War on Terror"?
Saying that we are waging a war on terror is all fine and good, right up until the point that you think it's an actual war, not a metaphor. Because a war demands a winner and a loser, and let's face it, people---terrorism is not something that you can beat down completely this side of paradise. Terrorism was here before September 11th, and as horrific as that day was, it will not be the last terrorist act. Terrorism isn't a country we can invade, it's not a government we can overthrow, and it's not a border we can move or dissassemble. What a horrible understanding to perpetuate. Saying that we can win a war on terror is like saying we can win a war on the color green. You can rip all the trees and grass up that you want, but let me make you a promise---as long as blue (human nature) and yellow (discontent and/or zealotism) are hanging around, it's going to pop up somewhere.
We are at war, there's no doubt about it. I'm not even going to get into the argument for the war on Iraq as a response to 9/11---it's just too difficult for me to even try to break down that kind of lunacy. I see the lists of soldiers dying in Iraq, and I can't believe the numbers. I've spent several weekends at my folks' house as of late, and every Sunday morning, as we watch the news programs and see the names of the fallen soldiers scroll by on our screen, my dad jumps in and says, "We should all have these men and women on our minds---we should be a country that flies it's flag, that sacrifices, that knows it's at war." Now my dad is a hardcore liberal, so there's anger in his voice---anger that we're in this war to begin with. But I've realized in recent weeks that there is a reason that we aren't acting, as individual citizens, in the sacrificially patriotic way that Americans have stepped up to war in the past. Sure, it's in part because we can be self-absorbed---more interested in spicy Hollywood divorces than in military planning. Moreover, though, I think it all goes back to the line about "winning the war on terror." Fundamentally, we all know that it can't be won. If, at your core, there is something in you that questions, "this is hopeless, isn't it?" one of two things can happen to you that will make you apathetic. You might cling more tightly to the rhetoric that claims that the best defense is an offense, and therefore, the real war is far away, and you don't really have to do anything. On the other hand, you might pull back and feel that there is no point to your sacrifice---you understand something that the government fails to see, and there seems to be no stopping them, so what can you do? Either way, you ache for the soldiers, you cry for the poor and the hurt in the countries being torn apart, and you question what this world is coming to.
Can we change the world? Yes! Can we eliminate suffering, torture, poverty, and disease? Yes! Can we help to bring stability to nations working toward peace? Yes! I believe that the American people, as well as the people of the world, can do tremendous things to change our world. But can we stop individual, secretive, extremist groups for attacking us randomnly and tragically? We can do a lot to curb them. We can do a lot to remove the incentive to attack. But we can't eliminate everyone out there who will do something like this. We can't. And if we can't eliminate them all, we can't win.
So please, I ask those of you in power in our government, please reframe this argument. Because terrorists are focused on fear and death. And I, for one, would like us to at least not give in to their request for our fear. They don't deserve it. And as long as we're all told repeatedly that if we didn't attack them on their turf they would be attacking us on ours, we're just perpetuating that fear. Be afraid, be very afraid...this message brought you by the government of the United States of America. Sorry, Charlie, but that's not the nation I grew up in.
Mr. President, do you want to win "The War on Terror"? Really? Because if you do, here's a great first step: please stop reminding your people that they need to be terrorized. I'm sick of hearing how my generation and those of my younger brothers need to be fighting and dying in a war far away so that I don't have to be afraid of something bad that has been around as long as men have walked the earth. Please, please stop.
Finally, let me just say that I am so thrilled that I lived in Wisconsin long enough last year to help reelect Sen. Russ Feingold. What a national treasure he is. Keep speaking the truth, Senator. We need you.
Okay, in all my time blogging, I haven't spent much time writing about political stuff. That's not to say that I'm shy about my political views in one-on-one conversation, I just never felt a pressing need to exercise my political demons in this format. But today, while watching our president's press conference, after watching our president's address last night, I just can't help but ask this:
Can we please stop talking about winning "The War on Terror"?
Saying that we are waging a war on terror is all fine and good, right up until the point that you think it's an actual war, not a metaphor. Because a war demands a winner and a loser, and let's face it, people---terrorism is not something that you can beat down completely this side of paradise. Terrorism was here before September 11th, and as horrific as that day was, it will not be the last terrorist act. Terrorism isn't a country we can invade, it's not a government we can overthrow, and it's not a border we can move or dissassemble. What a horrible understanding to perpetuate. Saying that we can win a war on terror is like saying we can win a war on the color green. You can rip all the trees and grass up that you want, but let me make you a promise---as long as blue (human nature) and yellow (discontent and/or zealotism) are hanging around, it's going to pop up somewhere.
We are at war, there's no doubt about it. I'm not even going to get into the argument for the war on Iraq as a response to 9/11---it's just too difficult for me to even try to break down that kind of lunacy. I see the lists of soldiers dying in Iraq, and I can't believe the numbers. I've spent several weekends at my folks' house as of late, and every Sunday morning, as we watch the news programs and see the names of the fallen soldiers scroll by on our screen, my dad jumps in and says, "We should all have these men and women on our minds---we should be a country that flies it's flag, that sacrifices, that knows it's at war." Now my dad is a hardcore liberal, so there's anger in his voice---anger that we're in this war to begin with. But I've realized in recent weeks that there is a reason that we aren't acting, as individual citizens, in the sacrificially patriotic way that Americans have stepped up to war in the past. Sure, it's in part because we can be self-absorbed---more interested in spicy Hollywood divorces than in military planning. Moreover, though, I think it all goes back to the line about "winning the war on terror." Fundamentally, we all know that it can't be won. If, at your core, there is something in you that questions, "this is hopeless, isn't it?" one of two things can happen to you that will make you apathetic. You might cling more tightly to the rhetoric that claims that the best defense is an offense, and therefore, the real war is far away, and you don't really have to do anything. On the other hand, you might pull back and feel that there is no point to your sacrifice---you understand something that the government fails to see, and there seems to be no stopping them, so what can you do? Either way, you ache for the soldiers, you cry for the poor and the hurt in the countries being torn apart, and you question what this world is coming to.
Can we change the world? Yes! Can we eliminate suffering, torture, poverty, and disease? Yes! Can we help to bring stability to nations working toward peace? Yes! I believe that the American people, as well as the people of the world, can do tremendous things to change our world. But can we stop individual, secretive, extremist groups for attacking us randomnly and tragically? We can do a lot to curb them. We can do a lot to remove the incentive to attack. But we can't eliminate everyone out there who will do something like this. We can't. And if we can't eliminate them all, we can't win.
So please, I ask those of you in power in our government, please reframe this argument. Because terrorists are focused on fear and death. And I, for one, would like us to at least not give in to their request for our fear. They don't deserve it. And as long as we're all told repeatedly that if we didn't attack them on their turf they would be attacking us on ours, we're just perpetuating that fear. Be afraid, be very afraid...this message brought you by the government of the United States of America. Sorry, Charlie, but that's not the nation I grew up in.
Mr. President, do you want to win "The War on Terror"? Really? Because if you do, here's a great first step: please stop reminding your people that they need to be terrorized. I'm sick of hearing how my generation and those of my younger brothers need to be fighting and dying in a war far away so that I don't have to be afraid of something bad that has been around as long as men have walked the earth. Please, please stop.
Finally, let me just say that I am so thrilled that I lived in Wisconsin long enough last year to help reelect Sen. Russ Feingold. What a national treasure he is. Keep speaking the truth, Senator. We need you.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
The New South Park Me
Several years ago, one of my coworkers stumbled on a cool website that allowed you to create a South Park likeness of yourself. In short order, the entire office had gone cartoon. It was kind of weird how accurate the images looked.
Well, the site has some great new features, and a friend of mine found the new, fancy version. When I made my new likeness, I looked a little worse for wear. Introducing, the 2006 Mommy Kori. She's ready for coffee.
Several years ago, one of my coworkers stumbled on a cool website that allowed you to create a South Park likeness of yourself. In short order, the entire office had gone cartoon. It was kind of weird how accurate the images looked.
Well, the site has some great new features, and a friend of mine found the new, fancy version. When I made my new likeness, I looked a little worse for wear. Introducing, the 2006 Mommy Kori. She's ready for coffee.
Friday, November 25, 2005
Clockwork Fat
It's been awhile since I've blogged on this forum---the world of Mommylu has been all consuming. But since my daughter's pediatrician called me fat this week, I have finally found it necessary to return to my old, beloved, non-mommy-related blog topic----weight.
I have been feeling absolutely crummy about my weight since I gave birth, primarily because I was so good about not gaining in an out-of-control fashion while I was pregnant, but now I seem to be ballooning. I left the birth five pounds lighter than I started, and I have now gained almost 30 lbs back. That's right, kiddos. Thirty pounds in four months. It's some kind of crazy record, I'm sure. All this while I've been gaining this weight, I've been feeling that I never get an actual meal in anymore---I am constantly throwing food in my face whenever I have a free hand or a free moment, as I never know when that occasion will happen again.
Being told how grossly overweight you are by a 70-pound, 4' 8" sprite posing as a doctor has sent me spiraling. I feel so heavy all the time, and almost nothing I own fits me, not even my winter coats. I'm the biggest I've ever been, and it's completely freaking me out. I can't believe it---I'm so angry at myself after all the hard work I did the year before I got pregnant to reform my lifestyle. I had lost 40+ pounds when I got pregnant, was a regular gym attendee, was staying away from trouble foods without being a maniac, and most important, truly believed for the first time in my life that a healthy body and a balanced lifestyle were within my grasp. I could make it happen, after a life of feeling that I would always, always be the one out of breath. As soon as I had grasped this, I stopped caring about how I looked, about how others perceived me, and focused on doing things that made me feel healthy and whole.
Tonight, while talking, and crying, about how truly awful I feel, my husband and I laid the whole ugly mess out on the table. The truth is, I've been down since the birth. The birth was so truly horrific that I have been experiencing post-traumatic stress symptoms. I am falling more in love with my daughter every day, but oh, man, do I feel sad and alone often. Sad because this dream that I had for so long---the dream of having a child---came to me with these painful, frightening memories of my hospital stay. Alone from the new lifestyle of mommyhood, but more alone because I left my home of 9 years, got pregnant, and have had the opportunity to make only a few new friends and reconnect with a few old friends since the relocation.
Add to this the 6-week ban on exercise, the 10-week ban on doing "anything significant with [my] abdominal muscles" (as if I know which exercises those are, specifically) the healing from surgery, the nightmare of a nursing experience, the fatigue from sleeplessness, the horrible cold I keep fighting (and fighting, and fighting)---well, let's just say I'm not maintaining a healthy exercise regime. I'm just trying to survive.
In other words, given my history, how could I not gain an obscene amount of weight across the past few months? Seriously?!? I wish I could say I was that tough, but I'm not. I feel at my most vulnerable right now, and I'm not afraid to admit it.
Tonight, I went into the archives of this blog to find some inspiration, because both my hubby and I think we need to set things in motion to turn this ship around. At roughly the same time a couple of years ago, I posted this to kick off my new commitment to myself. I am now reinstating the manifesto. I am not going to live in this shell any longer. I don't care that I have a baby and it's hard to make it out (especially going up and down 3 flights of stairs to our condo), I don't care that it's hard to have time to make healthy food or get to the gym. It will happen. It will happen because today I reminded myself that I am an extraordinary person, and four months is long enough to feel weak and tired and frightened. If that idiot of a doctor did anything for me, she did this---she said to me what I always say to myself. The moment I heard it come out of someone else's mouth, I was reminded how ugly it is. And that ugliness isn't going to live here anymore.
It's been awhile since I've blogged on this forum---the world of Mommylu has been all consuming. But since my daughter's pediatrician called me fat this week, I have finally found it necessary to return to my old, beloved, non-mommy-related blog topic----weight.
I have been feeling absolutely crummy about my weight since I gave birth, primarily because I was so good about not gaining in an out-of-control fashion while I was pregnant, but now I seem to be ballooning. I left the birth five pounds lighter than I started, and I have now gained almost 30 lbs back. That's right, kiddos. Thirty pounds in four months. It's some kind of crazy record, I'm sure. All this while I've been gaining this weight, I've been feeling that I never get an actual meal in anymore---I am constantly throwing food in my face whenever I have a free hand or a free moment, as I never know when that occasion will happen again.
Being told how grossly overweight you are by a 70-pound, 4' 8" sprite posing as a doctor has sent me spiraling. I feel so heavy all the time, and almost nothing I own fits me, not even my winter coats. I'm the biggest I've ever been, and it's completely freaking me out. I can't believe it---I'm so angry at myself after all the hard work I did the year before I got pregnant to reform my lifestyle. I had lost 40+ pounds when I got pregnant, was a regular gym attendee, was staying away from trouble foods without being a maniac, and most important, truly believed for the first time in my life that a healthy body and a balanced lifestyle were within my grasp. I could make it happen, after a life of feeling that I would always, always be the one out of breath. As soon as I had grasped this, I stopped caring about how I looked, about how others perceived me, and focused on doing things that made me feel healthy and whole.
Tonight, while talking, and crying, about how truly awful I feel, my husband and I laid the whole ugly mess out on the table. The truth is, I've been down since the birth. The birth was so truly horrific that I have been experiencing post-traumatic stress symptoms. I am falling more in love with my daughter every day, but oh, man, do I feel sad and alone often. Sad because this dream that I had for so long---the dream of having a child---came to me with these painful, frightening memories of my hospital stay. Alone from the new lifestyle of mommyhood, but more alone because I left my home of 9 years, got pregnant, and have had the opportunity to make only a few new friends and reconnect with a few old friends since the relocation.
Add to this the 6-week ban on exercise, the 10-week ban on doing "anything significant with [my] abdominal muscles" (as if I know which exercises those are, specifically) the healing from surgery, the nightmare of a nursing experience, the fatigue from sleeplessness, the horrible cold I keep fighting (and fighting, and fighting)---well, let's just say I'm not maintaining a healthy exercise regime. I'm just trying to survive.
In other words, given my history, how could I not gain an obscene amount of weight across the past few months? Seriously?!? I wish I could say I was that tough, but I'm not. I feel at my most vulnerable right now, and I'm not afraid to admit it.
Tonight, I went into the archives of this blog to find some inspiration, because both my hubby and I think we need to set things in motion to turn this ship around. At roughly the same time a couple of years ago, I posted this to kick off my new commitment to myself. I am now reinstating the manifesto. I am not going to live in this shell any longer. I don't care that I have a baby and it's hard to make it out (especially going up and down 3 flights of stairs to our condo), I don't care that it's hard to have time to make healthy food or get to the gym. It will happen. It will happen because today I reminded myself that I am an extraordinary person, and four months is long enough to feel weak and tired and frightened. If that idiot of a doctor did anything for me, she did this---she said to me what I always say to myself. The moment I heard it come out of someone else's mouth, I was reminded how ugly it is. And that ugliness isn't going to live here anymore.
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