bad metaphor

Thanks to advance voting, I fulfilled my citizenship duty yesterday. It took no more than ten minutes. Why didn’t I know this before? Why doesn’t everyone do this so they can have more time to get sopping drunk on Election Night? (As I plan on doing, so that I’m prepared for the result, whether good or bad.)

The race is getting really, really close now – Rasmussen, a pollster website that generally leans conservative, but seems pretty fair in polling analysis, shows Bush at 47.9% and Kerry at 47.1%. The gap was like 2 or 3 percentage points two days ago. I am getting even more paranoid and jumpy these days. After I voted, I checked my ballot at least three times, just to make sure that I didn’t accidentally mark the “Bush/Cheney” circle by mistake. Despite the fact that there’s no danger of ‘hanging chads’ with a paper ballot!

There’s some talk about the possibility of Kerry winning the electoral vote but not the popular vote. Although it’d be preferable that he wins both, it might actually turn out to be a positive thing. Republicans are not going to want to reform the outdated electoral system if it works in their favor (*cough* Bush 2000 *cough*), but if it works against them this time, there might be more support on both sides to get rid of the electoral college altogether. Now hopefully Kerry, if this happened, wouldn’t get ousted from office in the process!

I’m glad I took the time to research the local elections here, though, because voting on party lines would definitely be a mistake! I wonder if, because Lawrence is so liberal, conservatives don’t just join the Democratic party and run with the label, even though their platforms are pretty sketchy – for instance, Tom Holland, who’s running for the State House, 10th District, supports amending the constitution to ban gay marriage. ! Also, I ended up voting for the Republican incumbent in the District Attorney race, largely because of the whole stink about one of the local judges.

In Lawrence, there’s been a huge campaign to remove Judge Paula Martin from the bench. I even got a memo about it at work. I think I had vaguely remembered hearing about Judge Martin before, so I scanned the memo instead of throwing it away. Basically it read something like this:

“Judge Martin supports RAPE, she has intervened to reduce sentences for convicted RAPISTS, is this the kind of person you want in charge of YOUR CHILDREN’S SAFETY? Paid for and supported with YOUR TAXES? When you vote on November 2, remember to vote NO for Judge MARTIN!”

Now I thought this sounded a smidge ridiculous, so I researched it a little bit more on the LJ world. It looks like the case in question was an issue of statutory rape, which is consentual sex between an adult and a person under 14 years old. I guess under KS law, statutory rape is treated the same as forced rape. Judge Martin felt that there should be a distinction between statutory rape and forced rape, and rightly so.

Here’s my take on the whole thing. While it’s not right for adults to have sex with minors, it’s definitely not the same thing as being attacked and physically violated; anyone who has been through that experience would testify to that! Especially since it was -consentual-, and the girl was -thirteen-, not like seven or eight or something. The girl even went to get condoms from the health department – hey, she’s mature enough to practice safe sex! That’s great; she ought to be rewarded for her awareness in a state that’s pushing more ‘abstinence-only’ “education” to replace comprehensive sex ed. Anyways, most thirteen year olds I’ve met nowadays seem more sexually developed and mature than when I was thirteen. I don’t know if I like this trend, since it doesn’t seem like intellectual development hasn’t really kept up with this biological maturity (judging from those same thirteen year olds I have met). Yet regardless, does the guy need to be thrown in jail for thirteen years?

Back to the District Attorney race – it looks like the incumbent, Christine McKenney, has done a pretty good job handling the situation and supporting Judge Martin, potentially compromising her own position. Her opponent, the Democrat, has aligned himself with the anti-Martin group. Maybe I just haven’t gotten enough information from the anti-Martin side, but it seems like the campaign to remove her from the bench is motivated by hysteria and emotion-manipulating, instead of, say, reason? I’ve not read or heard of any of the anti-Martin people addressing the issue of statutory vs. forced rape; instead, it’s “Martin supports rape! Off with her head!” It’s a little scary, the more I read about it. Sadly, the local campaigns tend to be no better or more civil than the national ones. Ugh. The more I get into politics, the more I’m absolutely disgusted by it.

Those that have real majors, when I tell them I have to write a story for class, inform me that I’m lucky I don’t have to do any work! Then I promptly kick them in the face and write a story about it. If only I had the nerve to wear steel-toed boots in public.

For those who don’t know, workshop is stressful for someone serious about being a writer. You’re basically exposing your talent to your peers, who are also serious about being writers for the most part, and who will be critical and mean and nitpicky and doodle on your story or feed it to the goldfish if they get bored with it. Now I wouldn’t have it any other way – I hate the intro peer editing classes in which everyone writes rosy comments like “That’s great how you used the word “buttmonkey” as an adverb” and “Gosh, you sure made that girl-dumps-boy story really fresh and entertaining to read!” All I’m saying is that it’s cause for anxiety, especially in the middle of a week of exams and papers galore. Midterms are such a good idea.

Anyway, my story was workshopped yesterday. I walked in convinced that this would end my writing career; the story, which I had constructed by bashing my head on the keyboard for seven pages, was not my greatest. I don’t know. I’ve just been having such a hard time writing lately – I can’t even keep up with a stupid blog, let alone write something that people will actually look at. In fact, it didn’t turn out as badly as I thought, though when the professor asked the class if there were any parts of the writing they particularly enjoyed, awkward silence followed. Woo hoo!

The problem is I just don’t write that much. I think I’ve even written less since changing over to creative writing. I think I went through eight different ideas for stories for this last workshop, attempted and aborted. So I’m going to make some affirmations, which I will stick to this time, if I have to hire someone to make me:

1. I will edit both of the (crap) stories written for class this semester. Well, I guess I’m doing this already for a grade, but still.
2. I will write one story every two weeks. They will be posted in this blog. They may be pure, unadulterated crap, but I’d better write ‘em or else.
3. I will start, and finish, NaNoWriMo this year.
4. I will balance my checkbook.

If I talk about doing this often enough, maybe I will magically get around to doing it! Right?

Another thing that happened this last week, which I hadn’t had time to blog about – I learned from Belle that Jodie wants to fire me. Yeah, that’s kind of a big thing to neglect, but it’s been a stressful week and I wanted to dwell on the good things. But maybe it will turn out to be a good thing after all. Anyway, according to Belle, “she had a meeting with Ned (the director) and complained that you didn’t do any of the work she wanted you to do last week. So they’re gonna write up a review of you over winter break and then try to fire you.”

Ha. Not terribly surprised, considering that I haven’t bothered to pretend to care about her temper tantrums at work for the past three weeks. The thing that pissed me off, though, was not that she wanted to fire me – I’ve decided already that I’m quitting at semester, anyways – but that she brought the director into the whole mess too. Now why the hell does she need to bring him into this, if she is my supervisor? She hired me, she can fire me. She just doesn’t want to take any damn responsibility for anything and wants to make it look like I’m the bad guy.

Also, she’s accusing me of not doing any work? Half the time she’s at work she’s yelling on the phone at someone for a non-work related issue, such as the loan she’s wanting to take out for a house, or some other shit that she wants to buy and thus add to the hoard she’s accumulated in her house. The other half of the time she’s not even here! Whenever she says she’ll be back in an hour, she’ll really be back in three. It’s not just sometimes, either – it happens every single time. So for her to call me lazy is, um, the crayon labelled “effing pitch black” in the frickin’ Crayola box calling the kettle black! It’s also been irritating because she keeps telling me things like “I hope you’ll decide to put up with us next semester,” as if she’s going to keep me around. Uh huh. Why is she even bothering to suck up to a lowly work-study hireling?

Anyway, about her getting served. So far Belle and I have been dubious of the new director, Ned, since he’s never here – it has seemed as though he just takes what she says and doesn’t investigate any further. But today it looks like things will be different, in a totally delicious and karma-riffic way. Apparently Jodie had ordered a new monitor for Ned’s office. Said monitor was 23″ and cost $2000(!). How many normal people working in a dinky office on a university campus would want, or need, a 23″, ridiculously expensive monitor? Not very many. So Ned, when he saw the monstrous thing on his desk, immediately said, “I don’t want it; take it back.”
Jodie, miffed, attempted to take it back to the bookstore, from whence she purchased said monstrosity – and learned that, surprise, you can’t return electronics! Now Jodie is on the rampage; I think she might be threatening to sue the university bookstore for not taking it back (??) It wouldn’t surprise me at all; her usual tendency is to completely overreact in situations that are largely her fault. And Ned is now pissed – I overheard him say to one of the faculty how embarrassing the whole situation was.

Mwahahaha. Oh, Jodie. Please, please, please get fired.

The concert (last week; goddamn have I been busy) was deliciously awesome, even though PJ Harvey had to cancel – she apparently got stuck in Canada or something? Perhaps she was on the “terrist list.” The Dresden Dolls, after about an hour setup time, came on stage and kicked ass; I’d never heard their music before, but now I’m a fan. I especially liked “The Port of Amsterdam,” which Amanda sung in her lovely low grumble, holding aloft a bottle of beer.

As for Sonic Youth…well, I’d been pretty hyped up for SY ever since I found out they were coming. A stream of young high schoolers departed after the Dolls were done. One older guy was saying to another, “God. I can’t believe people are leaving. It’s Sonic Youth!” The other guy shrugged and said, “That’s young people for you.” So I was little worried initially that SY wouldn’t get a good and proper audience in KC. They’re getting old, I know…but still, they can crank out records from their retirement homes and I will still listen. They are just that cool.

My fears that they would not draw a good showing were unfounded. As soon as the dumb high schoolers left, the boy and I were shoved forward by the sheer force of people trying to shove themselves forward. A girl in front of us, who kinda reminded me of that girl Daisy from my Spanish class that I didn’t like, pulled me in front of her. “I always try to help the short people out, cause, you know, we need to see too!” Sweet. She was really nice, and had great musical taste to boot.

I started biting my fingers while waiting for them to come on stage; if they were going to take as long as the Dolls did to set up, riots would be definitely in order. Being penned in by bodies on every possible side didn’t help. I couldn’t breathe and other people were getting pissed. Daisy-clone asked for a lighter; I silently hoped that she wouldn’t set my hair on fire. Then I was shoved forward again. The thing about crowds that packed is that if people move, even if they’re wanting to leave, you end up being shoved forward because of the chaotic struggle of others to replace the empty space. Empty space is wasteful, you see. I admit I was guilty of this too. Even when we would end up in a spot in which my view was worse than before, I would still want to move forward at the earliest opportunity. Everyone did, including Bee Guy.

Bee Guy was a nasty, smelly middle aged man in a bee outfit. You might think that a bee costume would be more appropriate for a Blind Melon concert or something (though the guy is dead and the band are no more, I think). But Bee Guy had no taste or shame. He shoved on through, yelling “I HAVE A LARGE PENIS” to reaffirm his ego and scare off any ladies. What sucks is that you have to let that kind of guy through, if you’re a girl. Otherwise he starts trying to poke you with his stinger. Did I mention that he was smelly?

In addition to Bee Guy, there was Stupid Bitch (eh, she wasn’t really distinctive enough otherwise for a clever moniker). She was really obnoxious about trying to throw herself forward. People started just actively shoving her back and I would stick out my elbows when she came my way. She started crowd surfing to the front early during SY’s set, got kicked out by the security guard, and came back for more. At one point Thurston mentioned seeing one dude rampaging around the entire crowd; she had short hair, so I think he might have been talking about her. Ha, bitch; you look like a rampage-y man. She stepped on my nice ballet shoes too! She got so bad that the boy asked if he could take her out. Worried that he would get in trouble with Stupid Bitch’s friends, and secretly hoping for her to get owned, I said okay. While she was busy stomping on my shoes and swaying around like a dumbass, the boy grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her back into the crowd. Score one for us!

In spite of all this…there was Sonic Youth. Steve Shelley, Lee, Kim and Thurston walked on, looking a little older maybe than when I first discovered them (right around the time “Dirty” was released). Well, actually, only Lee and Kim really looked that much older. Thurston could still pass for an eighteen year old; it’s kind of bizarre to see Thurston and Kim together. Though I do think that Kim Gordon is still pretty hot for a 50 yr. old, and regardless, she still has that amazing growl. Rock on, baby! Anyhow, they’re not sore about their age; Thurston walked on and asked the audience “hey, is anyone taping ‘Desperate Housewives’?” Musically, though, they definitely showed no signs that they were losing their edge. Lee and Thurston are still the gods of feedback – as evinced by a twenty-five minute long feedback session as an encore. Hehe. That sure weeded out the non-hardcore SY “fans,” if they can call themselves that!

The best part happened in the first half of the set. The music was set to 5,000 decibels too loud for our ears; the roar of the music more something physically felt than a noise that could be heard. Pot smoke clouded the air (the nice girl was using me as a shield so she wouldn’t get caught by the security guards), giving the scene a nice tinge of unreality. Lee’s fingers battered his guitar; Kim jumped up and down in time to Steve Shelley’s steady drumming. Thurston stepped forward, on the edge of the stage – maybe three feet away from me. Then he stretched his arms out to the audience, offering himself to his fans, his guitar in one hand. Immediately everyone in that area started pushing forward to touch him. I almost decided against trying; I didn’t want to be crushed, there was no way I would reach – but suddenly I got pushed forward, and was an arm’s length away. So close! Somehow I managed to grab hold of his fingers, which were resting on the fretboard. I had enough time to think, hey, holy shit, this is Thurston Moore I am touching! before I got shoved back. I was in mild shock for the rest of the night.

Now, looking back and typing all that, it sounds kind of goofy, like Thurston was trying to be a Jesus-figure or something. I know it’s silly that I should turn into a ridiculous school girl because of a rock star, who’s just another human being after all. But by golly, I am a school girl, and I can be ridiculous when I damn well please. And holy sufferin’ succotash was that unbelievably, awesomely amazing. This is the guy that made me want to pick up the guitar! I could have absorbed some of his wicked guitar skills in that two seconds! Well, maybe not, but it’s possible, surely…