"Compassion, in fact, is the overriding theme of these holidays... [the meaning of sin] is not that human beings are flawed or essentially evil; rather, the Hebrew word for sin, cheyt, means 'missing the mark.' We are like arrows that have been off course, and we can help one another get back on course, knowing that we will need another High Holy Day period next year for more fine-tuning and corrective action. By asking for compassion, we assert that this compassion is one of the most holy aspects of the universe, and that we will help bring more of it into the world."

-- Michael Lerner, Jewish Renewal

I also wrote a journal entry along these lines. A bit more serious than I usually get around here, but why not.

I made a joyous discovery in the library yesterday: books on CD! Meaning I can now listen in my car. What a timely entrance... the time for escapism from news has never been more ripe. I always used to gaze jealously at the massive wall of books on tape, because poor little me only has a CD player in her car. A few months ago, there weren't any at the library at all -- interstingly enough, out of the 20 books they now have, 5 or 6 were Toni Morrison and 4 or 5 were Patrick O'Brien novels -- but there wasn't a lot to choose from if you eliminated those two, neither of whom I was in the mood for at the time. So now I have this lovely British man reading "Animal Farm" to me in the car on the way to and from work.

The most striking thing about the book, at this point in my life, is how perfectly parallel, how glaringly obvious, the allegory is. When I first read it, I remember thinking "Cool! It's about Communism! I get it!". This demonstrates that I was either a) a total moron at the time or b) pretty gosh darn young, because Orwell is not too big on the subtlety. I mean, there's a scene where an old leader's skull is put on display and all the animals parade past it. They call each other "comrade." I'm not entirely educated enough to know if each animal leader in the book corresponds to a specific leader in real life, although I don't suppose it really matters all that much. Hey, guess what? Orwell didn't like communism all that much. I fear Animal Farm is taking a turn for the worse -- the horse that was hiding lumps of sugar and pretty ribbons for her mane just disappeared from the farm. That can't be good.

An online magazine that I freelance for occasionally put together a collection of essays that caught my attention, especially this one, entitled "My Generation," about twenty-somethings' reactions. Interesting.

I’ve written and erased a million things here over the last few days – I guess I just don’t have anything to say. All the words are simple ones: I’m anxious and angry and scared of the future, I’m trying to understand, I’m waiting to hear. Just like everyone else. After the initial check of everyone I know directly saying they’re okay, and the incredibly thankful deep breath afterward, now I just feel this waiting. And then I think about the people who are doing an entirely worse kind of waiting.

In the elevator in my apartment buildling, everyone makes eye contact now. Most of them say hello, and some of them ask how your day was or what the weather’s like or who the postcard you're reading is from. There’s an unspoken-but-clearly-communicated subtext, about living in DC and about things that are affecting all of us no matter where we live. Everything seems to be right up at the surface — people are being kind to each other, careful with each other, in a way they weren’t before. And the Jewish New Year starts tomorrow night... this has always been my favorite holiday, my favorite time of year. Maybe this year it will mark a time of people who share a single roof over their heads talking to each other more, and a year that’s better than the one that’s ending.

In case there's anyone I haven't talked to today, I'm okay and so is everyone else I know in DC. I live and work the whole way across the city from the Pentagon and the Capitol building, and the people I know who work on the hill or downtown had a long walk home but are all fine. I haven't talked to all the New York people yet -- Annie or Mollie, I'm assuming everything's okay, but give a shout if you're reading this.

Allright, I am a really negligent blogging-type person. I am also a negligent friend (although I did manage to throw an excellent surprise party for someone tonight, if I do say so myself) because I have been terrible at e-mailing and calling and things. Speaking of, go say happy birthday to Nick so he stops being all pathetic. Although I do love that song he sings when he wants me to call him.

Anyway. There has been some not-so-good stuff going on lately. I find myself calling H. during the day and whining "I don't want to be in my life right now." It's okay, though. I think it's mostly over. Don't worry. We will soon return to our regularly scheduled program, I promise. Go read a banned book. Seriously.

Some laugh-out-loud highlights from some old friends' new blogs:
Nick: "Life is hard for me. Life is hard for me... Technology, heralded always as assisting humanity in its continuing journey of self-exploration and greater social interaction, has let us down once more."
Too funny... "Life is hard for me. Life is hard for me." Nick is honestly the last person on this planet I would have expected to have a web site -- the guy denounced e-mail, for heaven's sake, until like 20 minutes ago when he realized (gasp!) it was a good way to keep in touch. Heh. And I would be happy to let you play Kato to my OJ, just tell me what the idea is for the play... I'm still working on the story...

Shauna: "Anyhoo, the point is that being an Adult is hard. Very Hard. But I'm fine. Really, I'm okay. I'm going to go back to work now. No, I'm going to take my lunch. Wait, I have to make a phone call. Should I really be working here? Maybe I should move. Who's computer is this?? Who's BLOG IS THIS??????"
How can you not love her unbelievably after reading that? The woman is adorable.

Angie: "Also, all the monkey puppets have to be brushed at the end of the day with a special monkey brush. I
wish my job at the York Daily Record required me to use a monkey brush."
That just needs no explanation or context whatsoever... ah, funny funny friends...

Thanks to Scotto for providing a fancy-schmancy way to tab. The outline is so much more coherent. Now get back to work, you... Bill knows you're slacking... :)

And we're back! So much to report. But here is a shorthand version of our vacation, in handy-dandy outline form. Except not all THAT handy-dandy, because I realized after I typed the whole thing that I can't tab, so it's hard to read. I apologize. When formatting is easier, I'll be more accommodating, I promise. :)

I. San Fransisco.
 A. Really good.
 B. Really fun.
 C. Yeah.

II. Driving up California coast into Oregon.
 A. Beautiful.
 B. Actually had amazingly fun time on back-to-back 11-hour car rides with H.
  1. To recreate conversation, point out nearest window and say: "Woh. Look at that." "Oh my God." "That is so beautiful."
  2. Repeat for 11 hours.
 C. Babe: Our sporty little red car who unfortunately retired due to check engine light come-on-age on way to ferry.

III. Portland.
 A. Powell's, a Portland bookstore that covers a full city block: So unbelievably amazing it sent me and H. into howling fits of happiness and forced us to spend about seven hours there over the course of a single day.
 B. Rest of Portland. Just kidding. :) Even without Powell's, Portland actually voted Most Desireable City for Potential Future Residence by me.
 C. Columbia River Gorge.
  1. Fish ladder.
  2. Waterfalls.
  3. Also very cool.

IV. Seattle.
 A. Microsoft: Everything you've heard about Microsoft is true.
 B. The Experience Music Project, a giant music-y museum in Seattle. Oh so fun.
  1. Let me tell you, I would give my left arm to hire myself out to take people around and have fun there.
  2. H. and I have psychotic break after having a ridiculously good time in the jam studio or whatever it was called.
 C. Dinner in Space Needle.
  1. Revolving restaurant.
  2. Pretty view.
  3. Really awesome.
 D. Pike's Place Market.
  1. Fish being thrown. Sierra!
  2. Jelly Sellers Galore. Ask Scott if he likes garlic. :)

V. Orcas Island.
 A. Ferry ride.
 B. Kayaking in Puget Sound.
  1. Seals
   a. Lots of seals!
   b. Seals are cute.
  2. TWO bald eagles.
  3. Porpoises.
  4. Great Blue Herons.
 C. Dome stay. Fun.

VI. More general topics of discussion.
 A. Friends' lives in all three cities: Variable. In general, San Fransisco people seemed the happiest, but that's probably due to the fact that they've been there for a few years longer than the Portland and Seattle people and are correspondingly way, way, way more settled.
 B. Several alternative personalities invented/released/discovered along the way.
 C. How wonderful it all was, really.

The time has come for me to bid you a fond farewell for the next couple weeks re: impending vacation. Hurrah! Seeing as I intend to run in the opposite direction whenever I get within 500 feet of a computer, I think it's safe to say that there won't be any updates until the beginning of September. Not that I won't miss it a little... I was just telling someone today that the prospect of a relatively long vacation (the longest I'll have had since I started working here 2+ years ago) conversely makes me realize that I really do like my regular life. That is not to say, however, that I am not REALLY looking forward to being away from it. So goodbye, fair glowing box! Goodbye, most distinctly un-fair east coast at the end of August! Until September 4.

FYI: Stupid Dental Situation Updates are heretofore suspended due to apparant resolution of Stupid Dental Situation. Had final visit to Good New Dentist this morning, more cavities filled, look once again like unfortunate stroke victim with half of mouth drooping down but am all finished. Stay tuned until January, when our fair heroine will return for a regularly scheduled cleaning.

I can't believe any of you put up with me talking about this, for the record. You're all saints. :)

I've been doing a little research about Banned Books Week, Sept. 22 through 29. Basically it's a nationwide movement put together by the American Library Association and a bunch of other pro-reading, anti-idiocy organizations to protest how freaking ridiculous it is that this country is banning books like Bridge to Terabithia (I think my fifth-grade teacher actually read that TO us) and The Lord of the Flies and Harry Potter. If you'd like to go read a more coherent mission statement than that one, afireinside.8m.com put together a nice comprehensive explanation. She also has a bunch of logos you can stick on your webpage, such as the one you'll notice if you'll kindly look to your left.

In case you're interested, according to the ALA, the list of most challenged books between 1990 and 2000 is:

Most Frequently Challenged Books for Children (1990-2000)


1. Scary Stories series by Alvin Schwartz

2. Daddy's Roommate by Michael Willhoite

3. Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling

4. Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson

5. Heather Has Two Mommies by Leslea Newman

6. It's Perfectly Normal by Robie Harris

7. Alice series by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

8. Goosebumps series by R. L. Stine

9. The Great Gilly Hopkins by Katherine Paterson

10. In the Night Kitchen by Maurice Sendak



Most Frequently Challenged Books for Young Adults


1. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier

2. Forever by Judy Blume

3. The Giver by Lois Lowry

4. My Brother Sam is Dead by James Lincoln Collier and Christopher Collier

5. A Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Newton Peck

6. Go Ask Alice by Anonymous

7. The Goats by Brock Cole

8. Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers

9. The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

10. The Pigman by Paul Zindel




Most Frequently Challenged Classics


1. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

2. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

3. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

4. The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

5. The Color Purple by Alice Walker

6. The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

7. To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

8. Beloved by Toni Morrison

9. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

10. Lord of the Flies by William Goldberg

Bah. Book banning: bad. People trying to do something about it: good.

Look, Angie has a website now! What excitement. Harlan is cooking up quite a harem here, hosting all these beautiful women... :)

When's the last time someone gave you a compliment so wonderful it almost made you cry? Or asked an obviously rhetorical question as an unnecessary introduction to something you're going to talk about? :) Completely without realizing that what he was saying would be so meaningful, someone (who is not a reader of this weblog as far as I know) wrote something to me in an email today, about a subject I am periodically very insecure about, that just about did me in. I don't think I'm quite vain enough to repeat it, but yeah. I just want to remember it happened.

Anyway. Am once again being very neglectful of Take It Easy, but there will hopefully be an update -- featuring the fascinating subject of cheese! -- tomorrow, so stay tuned...

In the car this morning, I was listening to the journalists Diane Rehm has on her weekly news roundup discuss, among other things, W.'s vacation. (Here's the link to the Real Audio file if you want to listen yourself. I recommend it, it's the best part of one of my favorite NPR programs.) As I was listening, I was promising myself I wouldn't write any more about W. because I know my snarky W. comments get out of hand (pun alert!) sometimes. So I'm not talking about it -- I just want to mention quickly that he is taking the longest vacation any president has had in the past 32 years. Forty-two percent of the time he's spent "in office" has been at his Texas ranch, Kennebunkport or Camp David. FORTY-TWO PERCENT. That's all, just a perfectly innocent comment. Draw your own conclusions. I'm not saying a word. :)

I wound up at a Bela Fleck concert last night, due to some quirk of fate involving a friend of H. and an extra ticket. And it was a great concert even beyond the mere fact that it was at Wolftrap, which is always a good experience... it was just really fun music from extremely talented musicians -- I'm sure a true fan would find that an offensively shallow assessment, but I'm a newbie. Despite the insanely hot and humid weather, we generally had a lovely time. Blankets on the sloping hill and bare feet and nice people and H.'s lemony pasta salad and a sort of heavy, damp, charcoal-colored sky that managed to let through the light of a few dozen stars.

Our Commander in Chief, on his big day* with Habitat for Humanity: "The only thing I have in my mind today is to ask the American people to volunteer in their neighborhoods." I BET that's the only thing he has in his mind today... I'm really glad he's hammering nails into boards instead of making policy changes to help low-income families find housing that would help them a hell of a lot more than him slicing his hand open on a Habitat build. "I spilled some blood for volunteerism!" he says. Oh, W. Even when you're doing something bleeding-heart-ish (or bleeding-hand-ish, as the case may be), in my eyes you can do no right...

*I use the word "day" loosely, since he only managed to take 15 minutes out of his busy schedule of golfing at his country club and wandering around his zillion-acre ranch to actually show up at the build. Go read the article in the Post, really, it's worth it.

Alissa's cat Tyler is sick... I'm not overly fond of the realization that comes when something is suddenly wrong in the lives of your friends: That no matter what you do or say or think, there's just not a lot you or anyone else can do. It's one of those things people say over and over, but you never really feel what it means until something happens. I think it's one of those memories forgotten out of necessity -- everything is fine fine fine and you're great and your friends are great and then suddenly you're up against the Nothing You Can Do Brick Wall again. And if we thought about the wall all the time, we'd just hide under the covers and never interact with anyone because we're powerless to help them when they need us to. (And yes, I know, listening and understanding IS helping them, but that's just what we say to make ourselves feel better because we know that we can't DO anything.) You know? I want some active verbs. Anyway. Send Lisser comforting vibes.

I swear to God, Starbucks has implanted a chip in my brain. The first time I had a Frappucino this summer (and it was the first time I'd had one in a long, long while), there must have been a microscopic probe in it that swam through my bloodstream, located my brain, and made a comfy home for itself there. Damn you, ridiculously expensive, horrendous-for-you, monopolistic frozen coffee treats! I can't stop thinking about Frappucinos, in all their mochaespressobrowniecookiecaramelmintwhitechocolateraspberry glory. Grr. Double grr.

So I saw The Reduced Shakespeare Company -- "37 Plays in 97 Minutes!" -- at the Kennedy Center this weekend, as part of what my cousin and I were affectionately referring to as Gramfest 2001. Our 80-plus-year-old grandmother came to DC for the weekend... she is an amazing, fun, awesome lady, who thought this Reduced Shakespeare thing was the best thing she'd ever seen. And it was indeed pretty funny, although I was a little sad the three actors playing all the roles condensed all the comedies into a single two-minute gag (playing on the idea that all of Shakespeare's comedies follow the same formulaic conventions). I'm the most familiar with "The Tempest," probably, because in a puppetry class my senior year -- insert liberal arts education joke here -- we had to perform the first act with puppets, memorizing lines and everything. Luckily I got Caliban: relatively few lines, extremely cool puppet-making possibilities. Ironically enough, puppetry was one of the only college classes for which I received a grade, due to my literature/philosophy/history major's colloquium-style format that substituted feedback and criticism and conversation for meaningless letters and numbers. A noble goal, a sometimes-successful experiment.

Wait, there once was a point around here. If nothing else, I've learned the value of tangential extrapolation, no? And acquired a good vocabulary of meaningless words. :) Ah. Reduced Shakespeare. Was amusing. Here's my favorite quip -- it's really not going to ruin anything, but in case you think you'll see the show and are uptight about stuff like this, I'll write it in blue. Highlight it if you want to see it. Take It Easy is nothing if not accomodating, right?

After the first half of the show, one of the three guys announces, very pleased with himself, that they've been through all the plays and the show's over and everyone should go home. He runs out into the audience and grabs someone's program to look at the complete list of plays and make sure they did each one. When they reach "Hamlet," (most of the audience realized they had skipped that one, I think), the guy is all disappointed that they have to keep working, and protests by saying, "Wait, Shakespeare didn't come up with 'Hamlet,' Mel Gibson did!" Heh. It was great.

Stupid Dental Situation update #3 (and you thought I'd forgotten): Went to new, local dentist this morning. Explained situation. He paid attention (very piercing blue, blue eyes, New Dentist has). Looked at x-rays. Saw about half the number of cavities Evil Dentist saw, same number as Old Dentist saw. Showed ME what he saw on x-rays, which was very thoughtful and made me feel like a person rather than a walking mouth (a somewhat troubling image, but let's move on). Confirmed I do not have gum disease, soft teeth, cavities requiring a $900 inlay. Drilled 2 cavities on the left side of my mouth and used some sort of miniature-crane-like device with a blue light afterward -- actually the whole thing hurt very little, even the novocaine shot. The most painful part of my visit was having to listen to an excruciating "smooth jazz" version of a Bob Marley standard on the awful radio station the guy had on.

So I have another appointment in a couple weeks, two days before I go on vacation, to get a third cavity filled, and then that's it. IT, I say -- he sees a couple other potential cavities that haven't pierced the enamel yet, and with careful brushing, flossing, etc., they might never develop into anything. That guy should give doctor lessons... he was just perfect: businesslike, sort of stoic, not chatty, good listener, good explainer. We've got a keeper, here.

In non-teeth-related news, go check out the Belief-O-Matic. Alissa beat me to posting it, but it's so great it deserves double coverage -- basically it's a quiz that tells you what religion you should be if all your beliefs could be quantified and written down on paper. I sent it to about 20 people yesterday with the request that they report back their results (I'm supposed to be a Unitarian Universalist, my mother and her matzah ball soup would have a heart attack). So you tell me your results, if you take it. And yes, this would be better if I had comments. But I'm stuck... everything looks right to me, but it -- obviously -- doesn't work. Talk to Harlan. :)