Screw You, Palin

This Republican mouthpiece who advocates teaching creationism in public schools and an "abstinence-only" sex-education program (because that CLEARLY works), had the audacity to denegrate my fine home city. Since when did San Francisco become an insult? We allow everyone to share the same rights to marry. Per capita, San Franciscans purchase more books than residents of any other city. Sorry to be educated, Sarah. Sorry that we all work so hard so that our region can be at the forefront of technological breakthroughs. Meanwhile, you've spent a number of years presiding over Wasilla, a town of about 8,000 that is known as the methamphetamine capitol of Alaska. Good job, hockey mom.

I pray (yes, we do that here, too, though we are allowed to do it in many forms and languages) that you are never elevated beyond your pathetic role as a smarmy, catty candidate. I could go on about your dangerous, backward views, but I'll simply share a lovely little line that I heard today in light of your mocking of Barack Obama's experience (which, yes dear, is much more impressive than yours.)

Jesus was a Community Organizer, and Pontias Pilate was a Governor.

Pride is in the Air

I love this time of year. The air warms, rainbow flags appear along Market Street, and tourists flock into the city. Of course, this year is like no other. Now that California has granted equal marriage rights, there is something extra special to celebrate.

Gay pride is one of the best times of year in San Francisco. The whole month of June is full of events culminating in Pride Weekend (only 8 days away), which consists of Pink Saturday, the Dyke March, the Pride Parade, and the gigantic party in front of City Hall.

I generally have trouble deciding what my favorite part of the parade is: the fierce drag queens, the families with the "I love my daddies" signs, random naked people, Gavin Newsom, or the flashy Smirnoff and Altoids floats with the hot muscular dancers. But this year, it's all about the newlyweds. Every time I see them at City Hall or on the news, I cry. Especially the octogenarians that have been together for 50+ years.

Surfing the Strip?

It's not breaking news, but I just read this on Pology.com, and thought it was worth a mention:

The gnarly road to Mideast peace is paved with…surfboards?
Dorian Paskowitz of Hawaii, a 75 year surfing veteran considered the “guru” of the Israeli waves, donated twelve surfboards to the Gaza Strip’s fledgling surfing community. The retired Jewish doctor, who first gained attention in Israel in 1956 when he took to the waves off of Tel Aviv — an unusual site at that time —, considered his mitzvah an expression of goodwill. “When a surfer sees another surfer with a board, he can’t help but say something that brings them together,” he noted.
Paskowitz’s gesture is part of a larger program called “Surfing for Peace,” which aims to to promote an end to hostilities between Israelis & Palestinians. Champ Kelly Slater, who is of Syrian decent, is also expected to participate.

On Creativity

I like who I am and what I do and the way that I think. Nonetheless, I'm occasionally overcome by the reality of being a creative at heart. As a writer, I have stories constantly in my head - sitting there, moving around, flowing through my synapses - and it colors my movement through the world On one hand, it can be distracting. The settings and characters and scene are with me as I go about my daily life, and often demand attention at any given time. On the other hand, I feel blessed to have these other worlds at my beck and call. I am never bored. A walk to the grocery store becomes an opportunity to explore a moment that is not yet captured on paper; a chance to try it out ten different ways in my head, and feel a slice of the characters' emotions.

However, I feel a bit guilty when I'm too preoccupied to converse with Asif as we drive home from the wine country. Winding through the breathtaking terrain of Napa County, I ought to be keeping him alert and entertained, but all that I can think of is a powerful scene that I'm building up to in the screenplay I've been working on.

I suppose it's all about balance. Suffice it to say that I do find it fascinating how differently everyone's minds work.

Taking the Plunge

My last day at Eleven is Friday, April 11. I'm going freelance (at least until the right next challenge comes along).

It's a huge move, but I'm ready to take a risk and do something that will stimulate me creatively and intellectually. It's time to advance!!!

Inspiration

Politics have always been an interest of mine, but this is the first election that truly offered me a candidate that made me feel like there's a possibility of major political change. I felt honored on Super Tuesday to cast my vote for Barack Obama. And it fills me with a sense of pride to see the country embrace him as a chance for a better future in this country.

Ask and ye shall receive

Interesting. The day after I complain about the weather, it heats up to the upper 60's. If only I'd known, I would have done it sooner.

I miss Paris

I'm stuck in San Francisco during a cold February. And by cold, I mean, thank heavens it is just nippy and not raining like it was last week.

I realize that Europe has got to be going through that temperature swing as well, but I can't help dreaming about last September, strolling down the Champs Elysees, shading my face from the sun.

Little Miss Marilyn Monroe

Back when I was a little girl (c. 1985), I used to stand over the heating vents in our house and let the air blow my dress up, just like Marilyn. I guess this was a year or two after I stopped wearing my panties on my head, and a couple of years before I spent my free time acting out Shakespeare plays with my stuffed animals.

as a 16-year-old poet

An old poem ran into my mind while getting ready for work this morning, a poem I wrote ten years ago. I still kind of like it.

The Burden of Dirty Linens

It all goes back to those stains
that you left on my bed
like a vulgar
tainted
constant reminder
of the games that you played with my head
purged at last
by grace
dressed in red
relieving me from any lasting attachment to you
other than
of course
the memories
haunting episodes I never should have condoned


two hearts
much too rapidly beating
as we found ourselves repeating
the same dreadful acts
that always pulled us toward
the sins of the past
I'm sorry
my dear
your eyes seemed to be saying
this time may be the last
or maybe not
it's hard to tell
looking through those eyes
to such an empty head

well, i'm off
to do the laundry
to remove those last
sordid remnants of you
but I know I'll sleep tonight
and tomorrow
on a bed of broken dreams
with soiled thread and seams.

Bonjour, blog

Better late than never, yes?

In these increasingly-constrained times, having yet another self-indulgent way to wax poetic on a variety of topics that may or may not be of interest to others seems appropriate. Because I don't do enough of that on Facebook.

But seriously. I like to share. So welcome to my blog. Because I like to chirp.