feminist blogs

This is Twyla:

I rescued Twyla from the pound almost exactly 8 years ago. My pit/hound dog mix (Yes, that was quite an interesting combination...all the charm of a pitbull, all the laziness and stink of a hound dog...and I loved her to death) Cash had just died of cancer while I was pregnant, and I had to fill the emptiness with another difficult damn dog.

I found Twyla on my first trip to the pound. She was curled up in a silent little ball in the corner of her pen. The sign on the door said "I'm deaf." She didn't look up when I walked by. She just went right on sleeping. On my way out, though, she was standing at the door of her pen, wagging her stump of a tail and displaying what I came to recognize as her usual sort of hyperactive, yet vaguely confused expression. I fell in love with her, of course, as I do with all difficult things.

Twyla's arrival in our household marked the demise of my marriage. My ex was none too pleased at the prospect of bringing a hyperactive, deaf dog into the household. He marveled at the fact that I always did things the most difficult way possible. It kind of amazes me that the people who are most annoyed at my flaws are the ones who most benefit from them.

She behaved herself, at first. She was a sweet, demure little lady. The dog trainer I spoke to about her had told me that she would be extra super sweet the first 10 days after I brought her home, but then her bad habits would come to light. It was for that reason she wouldn't even make an appointment with me before she had been with me for 2 weeks.

When I did bring her to the dog trainer, she was still on her best behavior. The trainer was impressed with her elegance and grace, but told me that she didn't know how to posture or communicate with other dogs...most likely due to the fact that she was deaf. The dog trainer taught me a few hand signals to work on, and sent me on my way to enjoy life with my new deaf dog.

Shortly after that, the demure sweetness broke down. Twyla became anxious. She had separation anxiety, and would crap and pee all over my bed if left alone in the house. I had to buy a crate to put her in while I was away. This cured the problem, but the whole ordeal and being pregnant, separated from my husband, and working two jobs made it difficult for me to bond with Twyla. I was resentful of the fact that I had to deal with this other animal's needs. Maybe it was a mistake for me to have gotten a new dog so quickly. I wasn't really feeling the love for this dog that I had felt for my dear departed Cashy.

When the baby arrived, I went to Chicago to stay with relatives for 3 months, and Twyla went to live with a kind and generous co-worker who fostered greyhounds. I never even checked in on her, and I'm sure my co-worker thought I would never return to claim her...but I did. Life resumed upon my return, but I still did not bond with the dog. There was new motherhood and new singlehood, and new jobhood to deal with, and I just didn't have time to connect with another demanding, needy creature. I thought I might never bond with her. I'm not really sure I cared.

I won't describe the ensuing years. There were other dogs who came and went. Strays and castoffs, housemates' dogs. It seemed the days of me even caring about an animal in my home were long gone. Pets served a function. A dog was there to take on walks, and to provide a degree of protection from home invasion. Twyla was a challenge to walk, because she was so strong and so unwilling to leave other dogs alone. And, although she looked intimidating, it's difficult to say whether or not she would provide much protection against home invasion, because in addition to being deaf, she's about the sweetest animal you would ever meet. I find it hard to imagine she would defend the house against someone who might scratch her itchy spot.

Still, she stuck with us. And, I guess, I stuck with her. Over the years, she started to grow on me. In spite of all of the stolen sticks of butter and loaves of bread that she would swipe off of the high counter and eat off of the floor, I kind of developed an appreciation for her sweet, simple personality. And even though it annoyed me that she always "followed me in front of me" throughout the house, and would lay on my bed and pull down my windowshade to watch for me if I left the door open in my room...I appreciated that she did seem to be attached to me, ever so subtly more than any other ass scratcher.

But I never realized how much I loved that damn dog until we discovered a bleeding lump of something in her chest. Some mysterious thing. Something yucky that, as the vet said "had to come out." One day, she was running around joyfully in the back yard...the next she was doing her best to act like she wasn't wincing in pain. But she *was* wincing in pain. So it had to come out.

The vet had to make "relief incisions" because the tumor was so large and Twyla's skin is so taught that he couldn't sew her up properly. He told me not to worry about them. He also told me that when he opened her up to remove the larger-than-a-fist-sized tumor...he found another one, which he also removed...but which might mean the problem was not an infection, as we had hoped. That, he told me, we might have to worry about.

When I first got Twyla, I had read a lot about boxers. How they stay puppified throughout their entire lives, but how their lives are usually short (9-11 years). Twyla is now 9, and even though she acts like a puppy, she is not a puppy. She's an old girl.

But she's a tough old girl. She made it through the surgery and we had to FORCE her to lay down in the little bed we made for her when she came home. Within a day she was romping around like her old self, frankenstein stitches and all. Within 2 days, she was swiping butter off the counter like old times.

On the 4th day, she slipped out of an open gate and took herself for a romp around the neighborhood, which is something she hasn't done in quite awhile. I spent that entire day scouring the neighborhood, crying, anxietying, FREAKING OUT...until I found her listed on the web page of the animal shelter. FOUND. Fifteen minutes after the animal shelter had closed.

Of course, I drove down there, with her meds in hand, to see if there was anything I could do. I was worried she would be scared. I was worried she would be in pain. In tears and panic, I implored the ladies who were just getting off work to please just let me give her her pain medication. They were nice enough to let me in to talk to the vet who had attended to her. They knew exactly which dog I was talking about. I have a feeling they would have known even if she DIDN'T have stitches all up and down her chest. Twyla is just that kind of dog. She's memorable. She's a character.

The vet was glad to see me. I guess they were worried that someone had spent a sizable amount of money to have a dog stitched up and then just abandoned her? hahaha. (and believe me when I tell you that the way my luck has been lately, I was totally worried that she had been run over by a car to add to the tragic irony.) Since it was after closing, and everything was locked up, they could not let me take her home (I think the vet would have just released her to me, but the cashier who was on his way home said it was too much trouble to open the cash box or turn on the credit card machine. I told him I didn't want to get him in trouble, I just wanted to make sure Twyla was comfortable and not in pain...but secretly I thought he was a real prick, and I think the vet did, too.) but they did take me back to see her. The vet did, anyway. She told me she wouldn't let them put her in an outdoor pen, and I thanked her for that. She flipped the light on in the exam room, and Twyla looked up at us. She had knocked over her food dish, and spilled kibble all over the inside of her pen. The vet told me they gave her an antibiotic, but she was so amped up and happy, they didn't think she needed any pain medication. We both looked at her, looking up at us amidst the spilled kibble with that "uh-oh...I'm in trouble" look on her face, then looked at each other.

"She's such a brat!" I exclaimed, lovingly, through my tears.

"Yes. She certainly is." The vet responded. She rubbed my back, assured me that she was going to be ok, and that I could come back in the morning to pick her up.

We turned out the lights, and closed the door...I drove home.

(Sorry if that was disjointed. It was a rough, rough week over here. I really hope this week is better.)

p.s. Read more about white boxers here. I totally recommend the breed, and absolutely recommend that if you are looking for a fun-loving, playful, good-natured companion animal, you should rescue a white boxer.

I had to show this video to all of my friends, and now I am sharing it with you. I can't remember the last time I have seen a politician addressing not only poverty with such absolute understanding of the issue, but also the interconnectedness of people and all of the issues we face as a nation and a world.

This quote made me cry:

"One of the greatest responsibilities of the next president is to convince americans that we are completely linked to one another, both as americans, AND we're completely linked to the people in the rest of the world. In fact, we are all ENTIRELY connected." -John Edwards

Here's the link. Watch it all. It's amazing.

Brancaccio: What is it about now...that gives you any hope?
Edwards: That we're faced with great challenges that can not be dealt with, except together.

Here's some stuff I've been reading latelyish...

Crazy Aunt Purl is so sassy! I hadn't thought of how annoying it is for veteran bus driver to be inundated with all of the noobs trying to save a gas dollar:

There are a lot of new people taking the bus and they're very needy, holding open the doors while asking the bus driver convoluted questions, "Do I get off here and transfer to get to X or do I go to there and ride another bus to get to X or will I get lost?" As if the bus driver can answer them and let them know if they'll get lost. I personally can get lost on the way to the breakroom at work, so "lost" is a relative state of being, doubtful a random bus driver can analyze it for every strange passenger. I'm impressed with the drivers, though, they're far more patient than the seasoned riders who are pushing these needy newbies out of the way in a huff and rolling their eyes and making comments.

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Those silly bus riders! If they were REALLY concerned about the environment, they would invest in a fully electric car from Tesla Motors. Right? Or use all of the gas money they save in...like...I don't know...a gazillion years of bus riding.

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Maybe someone ought to start researching how to make a vehicle that runs on cow poop!

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Meanwhile, Treehugger.org has provided me with my New Year's Resolutions for the next 10 years. Probably I should start on them a bit sooner than that...

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This is intriguing....

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After spending a weekend with a bunch of teachers and school administrators last week, this article was a good read. I'm happy to say the new principal at the high school I am involved with seems to meet these standards, in theory...let's see how she does in practice.

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I like this plan, but I think people who DON'T own cars ought to be rewarded, too.

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Stefanie Nagorka makes Andy Goldsworthy look positively classical! (here's more)

My mind is abuzz.

There is work stuff and life stuff and love stuff and art stuff all floating around up there. Crowding and clamoring for attention. Maybe I can attempt to tackle this whole update thing one issue at a time. I keep vowing to make it a practice to create a personal blog post every day, whether it's one sentence or many paragraphs, to just recap my day for anyone who might be interested...but the days keep getting away from me, and then I end up with this whole jumble of updates.

First, I guess, is work stuff. I am teaching a blogging and social media class next week, and I am THRILLED about it. Writing the curriculum (in blog format, of course) is so exciting to me, because so much has changed since the last time I taught a blogging class. Everything is so much less linear now. There's more texture and nuance in social media, more things to hook people with. Every time I think I have made a complete list of all of the special interest social networking sites I can have my class explore, 3-4 new ones pop into my head. I sat in on one of our beginner classes yesterday. They were learning about the internet and people were asking those kind of "what's in it for me, and why should I care about this stuff" questions, and I got totally arm-wavey about exactly why they should care. I love it when our clients look at me like I am Nerd From Outer Space. hahaha. But I play the part so well, you would hardly guess I am just ACTING. :P

So, there is that. And even though there's a lot of stress at work, I feel like I am getting opportunities to grow and experiment, and I'm delighted by it. Along with this blogging class, I am supposed to write a media literacy curriculum of some sort. Just a 3 hour class that introduces the main things everyone needs to know about using the media for participation in social, professional, and political networks...WISELY. This is all very exciting to me.

So, we will see. This next semester at work is going to be rough. I'm glad I am getting to do the fun stuff now...it keeps me from focusing so much on the scary stuff that always comes from working for a non-profit. But, you know, my philosophy of late is "enjoy it while you have it, you will miss it when it's gone." And that's what I try to come back to whenever I'm knocked off balance by something or someone.

Which reminds me that I had another appointment with the kids' therapist yesterday. You know...thankfully I have a good friend who is not afraid to be a total ass to me and let me know with no uncertain terms when I am being avoidant and/or selfish. Between him and the therapist, I can't really hide from my problems...and even though it PISSES ME OFF (hahaha) I'm thankful for it. So I think I actually am going to work on these achievable goals and steps that I worked out yesterday.

My main problem is that I have a difficult time letting people in only part way. I guess I always thought people wanted all or nothing from ME all of the time, but it turns out that I think I generally choose to give all or nothing. I'm going to try this new thing called discretion (as evidenced by the fact that I'm blogging about it in a public space)...but I mean, with specific people in my life (mostly a specific person) I am going to attempt to have a very very casual relationship in which there is no engagement beyond what I am comfortable engaging in. This will make other people who have expectations of me happy, and it will keep me at a safe distance from this person who has been given multiple chances to participate in my life and has failed multiple times at doing so without causing significant damage. I have the next step to take, and I'm biding my time before I take it...but it feels good to have a step. And even though I am LOATHE to thank him for it, I am glad my pesky best friend pushed the issue with me. Fucker! hahaha.

Regarding love and life and art (which, in reality, is kind of all the same thing) I have been compelled to look back at some Kerouac. I need to read _Desolation Angels_ again. It's amazing to me how a book I read when I was 19 can illuminate some of the answers to issues I am facing now. And I HIGHLIGHTED passages. You see, when I was 19-20, a couple of friends of mine and I started a little long-distance book club. It was me and my friend John, who lived with me in chicago, and our mutual friend Christopher from Wichita. We would read a book, highlight the important passages, then pass it on to the next person. I think I still have all of the books. I'm pretty sure we did Birdy, Harold and Maude, The Bell Jar, and I had totally forgotten that we did Desolation Angels...but I think it was just two of us who did that one (we each used a different color highlighter). The passages I highlighted then...mean so much more to me now. I love it when I find those bread crumbs, and I love that who I essentially am has changed so little, even though I think I have evolved much in the ensuing years. At some point, I will post the passages, but suffice to say they are about letting go of things, and not trying to control that which can't ever be controlled. And how love is one of those things. And how much better it feels when I give up control of that...even though it's scary.

So I have been creating and feeling and experiencing with that in mind. And it's good. And even the sadness I sometimes feel...that's love, too, and therefore beyond my control. All I can do is feel it and sit with it and let it go.

I guess I am saying that all in all things are good. I probably could complain. I most likely DO complain...but right now, I see no reason to indulge in complainingness. hood. itude.

I hope you are well.

I am thinking about contentment. About how sometimes contentment keeps us in situations that we should not be in...and how sometimes contentment keeps us out of situations we should be in. I am thinking about the relativity of contentment, and how contentment can be a good thing, but can also be indicative of a fear of change. An unhealthy fear.

There is just such a fine line. It can be difficult to know when it's best to grin and bear it, and when it's better to make changes. And of course, I started thinking about this as it related to other people I know. You know...those OTHER people who are all walking around blindly screwing each other up and doing stupid shit that *I* would *never* (!) do! hahahaha.

But, you know how that goes. You can only sit on that limb for so long before you realize there's nothing holding it up, and before you know it, you have fallen down among the grit and dirt of *those* people because (you knew all along) you are doing the exact same thing you are criticizing from above.

Ha. Ah, well. As Maude (from Harold and Maude) would say about people "They're my species."

So I am thinking about this...safety. Safety in life. Safety in love. And contentment, which is a kin to safety, but perhaps not always.

It's funny how one trip to the therapist can reveal so much. She's a tricky one! She only had to ask one question, and I don't even think I answered it out loud. I don't have to reveal to her what I am working on in order for the work to bear fruit. She asked one question (which probably wasn't even a question) made one observation...and provided me with one, simple validation.

What I came away with was this: All of my life, almost every effort I have made to set boundaries with the people close to me has been nullified. The boundaries and barriers are bulldozed. It happened with my siblings, it happened with my parents, it happened with my lovers, with my husband...and it would have continued but for one thing...well, two things:

* I stopped trying to set boundaries
* I had children who force me to set boundaries and usually respect them

I am still working on figuring out what all of this means. I find it funny that though I am tempted to parent without limits and only deal in natural consequences, at least one of my children is constantly telling me he needs limits and consequences. So, I do step out of my comfort zone to provide him with those as necessary, although probably not as much as they would like. Perhaps there is some middle way.

And I'm not sure if I actually think it's necessarily bad to not set boundaries with the people I love. I find that it forces me to look at things from a wide variety of perspectives, and to really consider why people do the things they do. Of course, it also forces me to but up huge walls so I don't risk allowing too many people in at once. Because without barriers, it's kind of difficult to host a crowd. So, sometimes it feels lonely. And sometimes I don't get what I want because asking is a form of coercion in my world.

Most of the time, I am content with the way I am...but I am not sure if that is a contentment that keeps me from doing something better, or if it's a contentment that keeps me from doing something worse.

Babies born by Caesarean Sections more prone to asthma.

I loved reading this article about modular homes in all of their flavors...

Encyclopedia Brittanica gets wiki with it.

Looking for a reusable water bottle that won't give you cancer?

I am totally getting this game. hahaha.

I don't think I ever linked this article about the winter soldier testimony on the west coast, but it's amazing to me that this hasn't been more widely reported on. It was especially troubling to see the video footage of the hearings...

Here's a fun site - convert any unit measurement into something more tangible. [via lifehacker]

I recently had to wipe a hard drive due to a crash. This little app would have come in handy...

This book looks interesting...

Hey...sorry I have been silent, in case anyone is waiting for revealing entries about my emotional topography. I'm just not up to the task. Maybe I'm too old for it? I don't know. I am thinking about lots, but not wanting to share anything. The older I get, the more obvious it seems that my thoughts are sacred and very few people will really be able to apply them to their life anyway.

Onward to the linkies!

I found this in-depth analysis of right wing editorial cartoons fascinating....

This seems like a good idea, but how about we forgo the advertisement and just create ubiquitous billboard gardens?

I guess Austin made the top ten in yahoo's "Best Cities to live, work, and play in." I'm interested in the measurement of "creative class," as I find it to be a very nebulous description, and I kind of wonder how cities are measuring it.

5 ways to keep your car running at peak efficiency (Or, time to convince the ecologically minded 11 year old to start washing the car on a regular basis!)

This article gets a bit overly precious in parts, but I personally can never be reminded too much to find things to enjoy in the everyday moments and not worry so much about epic experiences. Especially when so many of us have so little control over external stimulus...best to nurture a solid appreciation for internal experience.

The previous link is especially going to be important as we begin this whopper of an election cycle. Brace yourselves...if you haven't already done so. Sigh.

I thought my friend John might appreciate this one, since he is a bike riding boy in Chicago. God, if they made dedicated bike lanes somewhere in Austin...like a bike boulevard? I would so have to go buy a bike and not drive anymore. Most of what keeps me off of the road on a bike is absolute abject fear of getting creamed by a car.

Environmental defense fund has some good videos that explain different methods of energy in layperson's terms.

Maybe my housemate is rubbing off on me, but I really love this fixture. My only thing is...really if it's not broken or unusable, there's no need to recycle something. So, yeah...not really green, but still nifty.

A no-dig garden sounds totally my speed! Yay! [link via re-nest]

Hm...I'm not so sure I enjoy the fact that some apes are better than me when it comes to avoiding procrastination...

...and on that note, I should probably get back to work here. :)

Here's what I've been favoriting these days:

Top 10 Muppet Show clips. via

Michael Pollan comments on the recently-passed farm bill.

Watching this McCain speech made my inner speech critic declare that it will move to Canada at least until this election cycle is over with. If McCain wins, it will be looking to wed a hunky Canuck's inner speech writer to gain citizenship. I hear that's legal there. Any takers?

Word Count Analyzer, analyzes word frequency. :)

This is kind of old news, but I always love Mr. Rowland's perspective.

“Our galaxy isn't as messy as many thought,” says Dame, of the Harvard-Smithsonian Center for Astrophysics. “What we have found is evidence of some balance and order, like the yin and yang of Chinese philosophy.” (source)

The coverage of these hearings was absolutely chilling.

Top 10 Computing energy savers.

Just a bit of a link dump post, because I'm not feeling hyper mega creative right now...and my life is kind of too weird to share much lately.

Via tiffany brown on Twitter, Garfield Minus Garfield. Hahahaha.

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Twisty is still calling it like she sees it:

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: because of Dude Nation’s successful propaganda campaign, most women wouldn’t be feminists with a 10 foot pole, and the few who buck this trend are required to spend 83.7% of their time begging the citizenry to believe that they don’t hate men and aren’t crazy.

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On a different note, tittyshakers is the home of the sleazy sound. (via Miss Martini, who copped it off of the ubiquitous Tiffany Brown!)

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I pretty much disagree with everything she says, but I thought this was an interesting post nonetheless. I just can't wrap my head around the whole "elitist" argument when it comes to Obama. And to somehow make the claim that the Obama camp is nurturing the racial divide intentionally to cover up the fact that he's not in touch with working class voters kind of makes my head want to explode.

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I guess that's it for today. :)

It was the summer of 1988. Probably the turning point of my life...or one of them. I was 18 and sitting in the back seat of someone's car. It was probably my car, and I was probably being driven around Chicago by one of my friends, while the rest of the passengers joked and laughed and talked about various things. I had my nose in a book I had just bought at Powell's. I had pulled it at random from the shelves, saw illustrations by Sue Coe, and decided I had to read it. That book was _Narcissism and Death_ by Mariarosa Sclauzero, which is an experimental prose book about the human psyche, love, ethics, beauty, narcissism...and death. ha. It was fascinating to me, because it was written in a sort of ADD skipping from one topic to the next style that seemed to be a salvation in terms of setting an example for a type of novel I could actually write. I have never been very linear...and I am not good at envisioning and bringing to life meticulously accurate story lines from beginning to end with any amount of cohesion.

At any rate, I had my nose in that book when we turned on to Kenmore street. I remember the name of the street because people were talking about Kenmore appliances or something. Maybe the topic of washing machines came up. Maybe someone was talking about duds and suds, the new bar/laundromat that we always talked about going to, but always ended up dragging bags and bags of dirty clothes to my moms house in the suburbs, anyway...on those weekends we would go back for shows at Dirty Nellies and, later, mcGregor's.

So we parked somewhere on Kenmore to visit with my roommates boyfriend Erich "Fish" Blocher, and his roommate Warren "Fish" Fisher. They were two men who shared an apartment and a nickname. Warren was fish for obvious reason, and I believe he played bass for screeching weasel for awhile and was in a band called Ozzfish or The Ozzfish Experience...although I recently chatted with my other old roommate and we can't for the life of us figure out who the Ozz in Ozzfish was. Erich was nicknamed fish for reasons unknown. He was a tall, goofy, John Denvery looking guy with round glasses and a sort of hippie, laid back demeanor. He was living in the other Fish's closet at the time. I remember laying on the pillows on the floor and looking up at the chain that hung from the bare lightbulb in the closet. there was a long string tied to the end of the chain as a means of extension "Because I am too lazy to stand up to turn it off at night." said fish.

And as I lay there, with my nose still in Narcissism and Death, one of the fishes made me a tape of the Chumbawamba lp _Pictures of Starving Children Sell Records_ because I just HAD to listen to it over and over again. And I have. And I still do. It is kind of a masterpiece.

And when I hear Chumbawamba now, I think of that day. I think of being driven, nose in book, refrigerators, washing machines, lightbulbs and fish and fish and fish's closet. And I think of black and white ink drawings and songs about anarchy and I think about Pictures of Starving Children and Narcissism and Death. And the richness and clarity of these memories amazes me always.