Caterwauling

Susan had her baby on Monday, March 17, at 5:18 p.m. Chloe Renee came into the world at 8 pounds, 4 ounces and is 20 inches long. Expect a boatload of photos when I finally get my ass up to Pittsburgh next week! Congrats Mom and Dad!

Courtney, their 3-year-old, is revelling in her new role. Her dad Bryan said Courtney likes to pet Chloe’s head like she’s a puppy (they have two dogs and two cats, so this is to be expected), and Susan said that in the hospital room, Courtney approached Chloe and said, “Big Sister is here” and “Baby Sister is so precious!”

Susan and the new precious one get to leave the hospital tomorrow. Here’s to hoping that the little one sleeps through the night and that both mom and baby continue to be happy and healthy for a long time to come!

I was reading Bigwig’s extensive documentation on the death of Rachel Corrie, who was killed by army bulldozer in Rafah, and I got to thinking … and not just about how f*ing stupidly she allowed herself to die.

Just a note, I’m not a warblogger and never will be, and I’m certainly not eulogizing this woman who chose to devote her life to her own definition of peace activism. I do, however, wonder what drove her to believe that she alone could make a difference in the world … and what drove her to jump on the bulldozer that unquestionably would drag her to her fatal injuries.

It’s hard to become a hero these days. Everyone wants to be known for something, and I suffer from the same illusion (and some days it feels like a delusion) of wanting to put myself on the world map in some remarkable way. I guess I wonder if Rachel truly was passionate about her cause or if she were overwhelmingly motivated by martyrdom. We don’t have any real martyrs anymore these days — in America, we’re surrounded by people becoming heroes simply by making it to the final rounds of “American Idol”. And then you have existing “rock stars” trying to make political statements when they should seriously limit what comes out of their mouths to nothing but lyrics written for them by Diane Warren. Really, I hate to say it, but Ryan Seacrest will be remembered for a lot longer than she will ever be, and all he does is wear mousse in his hair and read bad lines off the TelePrompter.

One wonders, on a more global level, if our political leaders are chasing the same dream of wanting to be known for something, anything. My mom is a very impatient type (like me), and she always says, “Do something, even if it’s wrong.” Meaning, don’t just sit on your ass and be useless — move your fucking feet and accomplish something, whether it’s making a decision or just sucking up your courage and tackling a task at hand. Perhaps Dubya is suffering from the same syndrome — I don’t think the war on Iraq is really a multi-billion-dollar ego trip on his part, but hell, wouldn’t it be cool for him if he rid the world of Middle Eastern terrorism? Talk about heroism — getting revenge for the tragic events of Sept. 11, 2001, will certainly ensure that future history textbook authors don’t spend one paragraph on his presidency and sum up his term of office as unremarkable compared to his father’s legacy.

And Rachel — and billions of other average world citizens like the rest of us — will probably never truly have a chance to be anything more than a footnote in a college student’s dissertation, if that. I mean, really, I will never be known for doing anything to change the world, and I’m okay with that. But what was in her mind when she jumped on that bulldozer blade, especially when that driver refused to stop? Was she begging for her life, was she begging for him to consider the children in the refugee camp, or was she hoping that she will have given up her life in such a violent manner as the last act of travesty before the terrorists of the world said, “Well, damn, because she cared so much about our people, we should really call off the hounds and go have a tea party with Dubya and his friends”?

I admire her passion — I’ll give her that. No matter what was running through her head (if anything), she went with that voice and died for her cause. And she died believing that she was doing the right thing. But when ti all comes down to it, it wasn’t her war to win. She was well within her rights to stand up for what she believed in, but at what cost? The irony of her peaceful activism was that she suffered as gruesome a fate as the citizens of third world countries who aren’t able to enjoy the rights of the people of the rest of the free world. But she chose that destiny — she didn’t have to die as she did. A true martyr is the Mother Theresa type — she accepted that the world was fucked up, and she made it her mission to ease the suffering of those she could reach. And my best guess was that Mother Theresa never once knew or cared that she was known worldwide for her compassion and her own activism. And that, to me, is a hero worth remembering.

***We now return you to your regularly scheduled navelgazing.***

Tooth still hurts, worked till midnight last night, still no word from Susan about Miss Chloe’s debut into the world, tire fixed, J-Ho labeled “frigid” by Demure because she’s upset that she didn’t get my job, paper’s at press and I’m trying to get my office in order before I leave town.

Several of our attendees as well as our presenters at our upcoming convention are canceling left and right, due to the threat of war and expected terrorism. It’s sad, really, because everyone’s on hyper alert, waiting for the worst to happen. I was wondering, if I were to fake a nervous breakdown, could I stay behind and not leave D.C. (although this ain’t really the greatest place to be these days).

I awoke this morning when the Percocet wore off, around 5:45 a.m., to see a B-rate soft porn airing on Showtime. The most interesting part was when an alert began flashing across the screen. “This is a test of the Fairfax County system. There is an emergency situation in Fairfax City/Falls Church. Tune to Fairfax cable channel 16 for updates.”

I started to panic but my head was too heavy for me to shoot out of bed. I turned on channel 16, but it was an infomercial. I turned on the news and heard nothing more of it, although there was some joker in a tractor, armed with explosives, parked in the reflecting pool at the National Mall. So I took another Percocet and went back to my happy land — I can’t deal with this shit right now. Although, I think we’ll arrive in Anaheim unharmed, but coming back to D.C. will be the problem. Oh well. At any rate, can’t wait to drive to Reagan National Airport through morning rush hour traffic! (I feel that anxiety-induced seizure coming on. …)

Shan called one of her FBI buddies and told him ’bout the car. He sent someone over to dust it for fingerprints. I was worried that the rain might wash them off, but he said the oil from someone’s skin will withstand a rainfall. I’m simmering now but anxiously awaiting what I might hear. I shudder to think that Samantha has to fall victim to a childish prank.

Needed to get to work early today, so I rushed outside at 7 a.m., backed out of my spot, and stopped ’cause something wasn’t right. And it wasn’t — I had a flat tire.

Here I am at work, two hours after trying to leave the house. There was a huge hunk of metal driven into my tire. Looks like foul play, quite honestly. Samantha is devastated to have to have a tiny, temporary shoe that doesn’t match her other three big-girl shoes. I’m devastated because I was waiting till I got to work to take my Percocet, so I am in pain and, as luck should have it, I forgot the meds anyway. (shit!) The good news about having to wait for the repairman was that I got to go make a pot of coffee and feed the cat, which I had forgotten to do. No wonder she was having a hissy fit at me all morning!

PLEASE let this day get better! I am ready to crawl back into bed and stay there!

Beautiful day. Loaded up on painkillers, grabbed hotcakes and coffee from Mickey D’s and went to a playground this morning for breakfast in the sun. Jumped on the swingset awhile later and swung till I got dizzy and tired. Called Mom and finished my coffee while we talked. Drove around for awhile — ended up store-hopping on Richmond Highway and finally landed here at the Veggie Patch to knock out some major work before tomorrow (which I expect to be pure chaos, at best).

I am torn about having to move into the office next door, which comes with the promotion. I love what I’ve done with my existing sacred lil space and will stay here as long as I can. I have too much else to worry about right now.

My friend Susan is giving birth tomorrow! Everyone wait patiently till Chloe Renee comes kicking and screaming into the world, our new little St. Patrick’s princess!!! I will get photos and post them as soon as humanly possible. 🙂

Update

Drug date! Susan’s set for noon tomorrow for the delivery. I shall take a Percocet in her honor, as she will be taking one at the same time. 🙂 I can’t be there, but I will be high for her. Hey, what are friends for? *wink*

… but Bob and Tom‘s musical ode to tight pants with the Camel Toe Song had me in hysterics! You MUST check this one out!

Can’t get enough? Then visit the official Camel Toe site!

Yesterday, Mom tried to tell me that I have to realize that I am not invincible, but damn it, she’s wrong. 🙂 Amid yesterday’s bloodletting at the dentist (god damn! I could fill the Blood Bank by myself!), I got my nails done, went to four fucking pharmacies till I could get my Percocet prescription filled (and then, it was only a generic), got my car washed, vacuumed it and went shopping. 🙂

Just found out that my bank balance is a negative $150. Woops. Why can’t I balance a checkbook to save my life? Too bad payday isn’t for another week! Perhaps I will see what the credit card balances are so that I can make sure Maddie has enough to eat till I get back into town on the 26th.

Got a nice congratulatory call from Shan’s dad whilst I was under the knife yesterday. A promotion’s a promotion, I guess, even if it doesn’t change the fact that I work for the cruise directors at Club Medicated. But that doesn’t mean I have to stay there forever … just till I get back on my feet financially (which could very well take an eternity, but still it beats moving back to Pittsburgh, where life is more afforable — I’m just not done getting my adventures outta my system yet). I have a lot of things I want/need to do this summer, so I might as well be lost among the vegetation at work while I’m having a chaotic existence outside of work.

Damn it, my meds wore off, only I want to go out and enjoy this beautiful afternoon — the car’s sparkling clean and wants to show herself off!

1. Negotiated the salary up $2k — still way below industry standards, though. Am able, however, to hire immediately and have been budgeted for additional training, so that’s a plus. Asked for shortened workweeks or at least one Friday off a month, but no. Good news is, I showed that I am a force to be reckoned with, and that I play hardball when it matters to me. The salary negotiation ensures that I keep receiving the same paycheck that I’ve been getting since January. And it will look good on a resume to make, ultimately, a $12K jump within six months.

2. Got a new cell phone plan so I can have more minutes of flappin’ my yapper.

3. Scheduling a trip to the homeland in the very near future — my vacation time was just approved. w00t!

4. About to have two wisdom teeth yanked. Hope I’ll feel well enough to keep my nail appointment!

5. Need to go eat my last supper until my damn mouth heals from tonight’s dental drama. Later gators!

1. Must interview with Demure to tell her why I can’t work for her proposed salary.

2. Must deal with whatever happens next, which could be that she rescinds the offer, but that’s a chance I am going to take.

3. Have dental appointment — two wisdom tooth extractions and a crown on a neighboring tooth.

4. Nail appointment following dental disaster — at least I get to sit in a chair and be doted on, after having my mouth held open and cattle prodded for two hours.

5. Oh, yeah — the paper’s due, too!