shut up, universe

this morning, the universe gave me an unequivocal sign that i was supposed to get back and bed and hide under the covers.

i'm standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, doing my make-up, and my ceiling light fixture falls down, hits me in two different places in the head, hits my shoulder, and shatters on the floor. luckily, i didn't black out or pass out, and after some ice i'm doing okay (but with two goose eggs and a sore shoulder).

it was one of those ceiling fixtures that is a half circle that has a screw coming down from the ceiling that goes through a hole in the middle of the fixture, and you "secure" it by screwing a decorative bolt onto the bottom of the screw, outside the fixture. it was pretty heavy, too, the glass being about 1 1/2 inches thick. The funny thing is, i last changed the bulbs months ago. i have no idea why this morning, out of nowhere, it suddenly dropped on me. i didn't hit the wall or do anything to shake it. it could have just as easily fallen while i was in the shower or not at home.

but whatever the omen, i ignored it and got dressed and came to work. i figured if i had a concussion and was going to pass out at some point, it'd be better to do it at work where there'd be people to see me. fuck off, universe.

in happy news, i recently got a "body wave" in my hair (read - a perm without the poodle curls) that looks pretty awesome. i feel very sassy.

i also spent an awesome saturday with my friend H., wandering around Graceland Cemetery, a historic cemetery on the northside. There are some amazing old masoleums (including one shaped like a 20+ foot high pyramid, with an angel on one side of the door, a sphinx on the other, and a stained glass window of Jesus). There's a mausoleum designed by Louis Sullivan (who is buried nearby with a monument erected later by friends, complete with an embarrassingly glowing description of Sullivan's life), and burial sites for people like George Pullman (has his own stage with a single giant Roman column) and Cyrus McCormick. My favorite is the area for Daniel Burnham (leader of the Greco-Roman architectural style so popular in Chicago) and his wife and children. Graceland has a small lake at the northeast end of the cemetary (the area where all the barons of turn-of-the-century Chicago are buried) and Burnham has his own small island in the lake, with a bridge, and large bolders with plaques in place of regular carved tombstones. It's a beautiful, peaceful resting place. I found myself wanting to spread a blanket and have a picnic.

In fact, that is what cemeteries used to be - public green spaces. On that blustery Saturday, hardly anyone was in the cemetery. Only a few history gawkers, looking over the stones of family groups and trying to figure out who was related to who and how. But one recent grave, a double stone for a 39 year old man who died two years ago, with his mother's information already carved, save the death date, had a huge bunch of fresh tulips on the stone. So not all the dead are resigned to history and forgotten.

randoms

It seems I'm finally on the tail end of the Head Cold that Ate Detroit. It's been two weeks, and finally today I DON'T feel like I'm going to keel over at any minute.

Whenever I could wrangle it, I spent a lot of time on the couch, watching TV and resting, which means I got a lot of knitting done. I finished a mile-long scarf for Sparks, and at current, am working on a sweater for my friend H.'s chihuahua. He's one of those tiny dogs that thinks he is very fierce, so he is getting a black sweater with a gray skull-n-crossbones on the back. It's super-macho, and will keep his tiny little body warm!

I wish I had lot of super interesting things to talk about, but my life the last few weeks has been homework, TV and sleep. I did watch a really interesting documentary on the History Channel last night about the Dark Ages, called, of course, "The Dark Ages" - check it out if you get a chance. Also one called "The Plague" on the black death of the 1450s. Last night was a very upbeat evening.

I'm still trying to figure out this whole body-image thing. Maybe I need to set some easy, but strict, goals for myself and set about meeting those first. Maybe I try to do too much at the start and freak myself out and give up. First goal, to lose ten pounds. That alone will get me to a weight I haven't been in years.

are you a good citizen?

this is so cool. It's like a getting a little time capsule in the mail.

Man's wallet returned after 62 years.

yes, i am in fact a geek

I just ordered this for myself. I was going to post here that if anyone wanted to get me a Christmas present, they could get this. But then I decided I couldn't wait that long.

those who do not remember history

as a person who had a cardboard cutout of JFK in her room all through college, it seemed like a forgone conclusion that on a trip to Dallas, I'd squeeze in a visit to the Sixth Floor Museum.

so, I'm in Dallas for work, and this morning had a few free hours to spare. I've barely left the hotel since I got here on Wednesday, but with my free time, I hopped the local light rail three stops down the street to Dealey Plaza and the former Texas School Book Depository (Now the Dallas County Administration Building).

The sixth and seventh floors of the Book Depository have been transformed into the Sixth Floor Museum, which is home to a good museum chronicling the Kennedy administration and the assassination. The best artifact is the scale model of Dealey Plaza created by the FBI for use in the Warren Commission investigation. The museum was fairly crowded, but almost everyone was following the audio tour and as a result the place was nearly silent, except for the audio of the various film clips. The corner where the "gunnest" was located is surrounded in clear glass and is set up to look like it did when found (though not exactly, as the officers who found it disturbed the boxes in the site, so no one is exactly sure how it looked).

The disturbing part is the street outside. Two Xs are painted in the middle of Elm Street to indicate the two places where Kennedy was shot. By the further X, over on the grass (not far from the infamous grassy knoll) is a small plaque.



It says Dealy Plaza "has been designated a National Historic Landmark. This site possesses national signifiance in commemorating the history of the United States of America."

that's it. There's no mention of Kennedy or the assassination, save the two Xs painted in the streets. Men with posterboards about the assassination stand on the street corners in the plaza, eagerly pointing out the various sites to wandering visitors, while selling books detailing the conspiracy. Groups of smiling tourists stand in the fire line between Kennedy and Oswald to have their picture taken with tbe book despository in the background, or the grassy knoll, or the spot where the final bullet struck behind them. A few stop to read the plaque, but none seem to puzzle over it, and none seemed to stop to contemplate what happened on this spot.

The street is a busy one, leading to a highway, and I wonder at the people who drive over those Xs daily on the commute to work. Do they think about the significance, or is it such a part of their daily routine that it no longer interests them?

I tried to sit in front of that second X, next to the spot where that final shot struck, and think about what was and what might have been, how things might have been different if the car had swerved or Kennedy had ducked. I couldn't really think. I was distracted by giggling tourists and flash photography and traffic. By the people who visit these sites, without understanding the reality, the importance.

I went through similar feelings when visiting the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in D.C. These sites represent something grave and tragic in our shared history, yet they're treated by most visitors like a required stop or a carnival, with no interest in or emphasis placed on the sad historical memories these places hold. The plaque that marks the location of Kennedy's assassination cannot even be put into words - it must be described in vague euphamisms. It's hard for me to describe what I felt. Just a vague sense of unreality, and a bit of disgust. Like there should be something MORE. That the visitors to this site should have some sort of emotional connection, some sense of interest or outrage, rather than treating it like a souviner store.

But history, in all it's weirdness, survives, even when it's rarely noticed. At the corner of the book depository, at street level below the sixth floor window of the sniper's nest, is a plaque that states that the "building gained national notoriety when Lee Harvey Oswald allegedly shot and killed President John F. Kennedy from a sixth floor window as the presidential motorcade passed the site." And I discovered that some still pay attention, are still interested in or outraged by, our shared history. They remember history and how things can be changed in an instant. They care about the past. On the plaque, the word "allegedly" has had a line carved underneath it.

those who do not learn their history...

Lawmaker: Marines killed Iraqis ‘in cold blood’

A Pentagon probe into the death of Iraqi civilians last November in the Iraqi city of Haditha will show that U.S. Marines "killed innocent civilians in cold blood," a U.S. lawmaker said Wednesday.

Jesus christ.

Several years ago, as we headed into Iraq for the second time, a few people kept saying "this is going to be another Vietnam" and despite the fact that I was completely against going into Iraq from day one, I thought, "No way, we learned our lesson last time."

But another Vietnam is exactly what this is. Exactly. Not just in political terms, but in terms of the emotional and psychological drain on the men and women fighting in it.

We didn't learn a damn thing. Or at least the guys in power (who mostly weren't involved in Vietnam), didn't. We continue to send underfunded troops into a hostile area to try to rebuild a country that wants to be left alone.

Just like in Vietnam, We went in with no clear objective and no clear exit strategy, and are pussy-footing around, putting in some troops, but not enough to accomplish the most recent stated goal, making the situation a volatile stalemate that cannot be solved.

I'm sure incidents like this are more common than we are told (seeing as the Captain issued a false report about what actually occured, and it took months for the truth to come out).

My Lai was well publicized after it occured, but the incident was not unique to soldiers in Vietnam.

After training them to kill and indoctrinating them against their "enemy," these young men are sent into a country where many of the civilians don't want them there, where insurgents hide among the civilian population; and overstress them with insecurity and fear and lack of proper supplies, weapons and armor. Men have a breaking point, and when they reach it, incidents like these are what you see.

The young men who pulled the trigger will be the ones court martialed, but it is the politicians who created this situation who should be punished.

It is like a dog that is constantly abused. That dog eventually bites an innocent person, and is put to sleep. But is the dog to blame? Or the person who abused him?

ok, really...

Being a Suduko addict who occasionaly forgets a book for the train, I'm compelled to pick up the RedEye now and then. And while searching for the Suduko, I can't help but read some headlines.
Why is it that every Thursday, the "cover" story of the RedEye is the news of who got booted off American Idol?

Call me crazy, but wouldn't anyone who cared have already watched American Idol, and thus been informed? And if they happened to miss it (horror of horrors!), i'm sure they'll get the updated over the water cooler.

Yesterday's issue featured a sidebar going over the guests of the Conan O'Brien show, and how Conan will be making jokes relating the show to Chicago. They actually printed that Conan will be doing jokes about Mayor Daly and other Chicago-related politics. Gee, you think? Why are you telling me this? If I cared, I'd watch. And if I don't care, why do I need you to tell me?

I mean, yes, I get that the RedEye is "an edition of the Chicago Tribune; designed for quick reading with shorter stories and additional entertainment content." But come on. Do we need recaps of last night's primetime lineup? Just because the information is shrunk into bite-size bits, does that mean it can't be anything but regurgitation of other mass media? Can there be nothing intelligent or thought-provoking or even anything above the lowest-common denomenator?

Thank god I got a new book this morning - Letters from Vietnam.