I Guess I Have to Get to Bed Now

I was the first to arrive at the YAG meeting tonight, explained that I had just come from the gym, people trickled in, pleasantries were exchanged, foody items brought, and Facebook etiquette discussed. Then we started up the movie where we had left off, with all of the non-Rwandan people leaving The Mille Colines. Hotel Rwanda is one of those movies, like Schindler's List that could never be MST'ed. It is suspenseful and horrifying and real. Had I been alone, I would have started crying at the end.

We discussed the movie afterwards, with questions from a book. They were questions asking people to draw parallels in our lives to what had happened on the screen. When I heard the first question, I said that nothing in my life has any possible comparison to what those people went through. I mean, I've stood up for myself a number of times, but nothing in my life - nothing in the lives of anyone I actually know - compares to what happened in Rwanda back then. And we decided not to compare, just discuss the movie.

As I watched the movie, I thought about how the settings looked familiar. I remembered late nights in restaurants, those plaid bags, walking through that town after dark to the hostel. I also remembered hearing gun shots in my hostel in Paraguay during the failed coup in 2000, but it was nothing compared to this. It was easy to see myself in those white and Asian people that left - relieved that they were leaving, but horrified to leave people to die. I don't know if could have left - I would have, but I don't know if I could have left. How do you cope with that? How do you cope with a world that didn't care after what you saw? How do I cope with the memory of this as a non-event - just more Africans killing themselves - in my own lifetime? How do we stop this? At least it is over, right? Is it over? What about Iraq? What about Sudan?

And after the white people left, after the UN left, there was just the corrupt General to be fed bribes. Bribes handed out with supplies obtained by a visit to hell. Bribes fed with a visit to the diplomat's office while the hotel was left unguarded. Bribes to keep 1200 people alive, to keep them from the machetes, to keep them from the frenzy of the men whipped into a rage by a radio announcer, calling them to kill all of the Tutsi's and eventually any Hutu that helped them. Bribes and calls to family outside of Rwanda, a refugee camp with the appearance of a 4-star hotel all to keep a few people from lying dead on the road with everyone else.

Watch this movie.

Oh, the People You'll Meet

The telecom supervisor that told me about how much more he used to make as a contractor, the 22-year-old that never turns off cruise control so driving is more like a video game, the male feminist and agnostic Columbia law student living in Chinatown, raised by Southern Baptists in Utah, the street vendor who lengthened that necklace for me, on the spot, the airplane repair project controller from Carson City, participating in the AIDS Walk with Team Gap with her teenage daughter that works there and her daughter's boyfriend, the NOLA native that danced in several Mardi Gras parades along with another co-worker from Baton Rouge, the former crack addict whose life was saved by the gay southerner who had lived everywhere, tried everything, and now does fundraising drag shows all over the bay area, and culminating with the homeless hippie kids who hitchhike to new places every few weeks [separately, they had just met up a few days ago themselves], find food, shelter, and showers wherever they might be, and live just to live.

This world is so full of people, experiences, and incredible wonderment.

Just a Farm Girl from the Middle of Nowhere

I spent the day analyzing information, then I stopped by a local bar and had a shot of Patrón, an early birthday gift from the co-worker that invited me out. After some socializing, I set out for home to get ready to go dancing in the city. I missed the 9:20 train by just a few moments, but I wasn't very late to the club. After running across the street, I waited in the short line, then showed the bouncers my ID. The normal $20 cover was waived because I was on the guest list, and I made my way inside.

The video isn't that great, but I wanted to show one outing option for visitors :D

There were three dance floors, one electronic, one hip hop, and the other kind of a mix. I liked them all, because I just like to move, but my friend was partial to the electronic floor. That floor was a little more friendly and fun, and I had a great time. My friend told me this was the most upscale club he'd been to, and it was pretty nice, but I knew it was hot when I saw the guy with the mullet. If you don't know, much to my chagrin, mullets are all OVER Europe right now. I thought for sure this was a group of kids from Europe - Italy, Spain, maybe southern France, but when I asked the guy where he was from, he said "Texas"! I was shocked, the told him that the mullet, essentially (I gestured to his hair), was all over Europe and that he looked omg so hip.

I love clubbing - I may not be the best dancer, the drinks might be overpriced, I may get slightly skeevy guys trying to dance up on me (and sometimes slightly cute guys too), and I might get really sweaty by the end of the night, but I love it all. I think my favorite part is when I think about where I'm from and where I am right now, and then how much more awesome life will get. The SATC girls taught me that life definitely does not end at 30 or even beyond, so I look forward to years of good times, laughter, and dance. The past 5 weeks of New Urs have been the best of my life, and I'm glad I get to share the experience with you, dear readers. You're very welcome to partake in the fun.

Where Have I Been?

Where have I been? Why here, in California, the entire time. Last weekend, a good friend came in to town suddenly. Sadly, she was able to stay with me and sleep through the night since there was no baby to wake her with its cries. Being the bitter, aging hags that we are, we decided to go to San Francisco for the 4th of July. Having no strollers to push or husbands to accompany us, we ate where we wanted and found ourselves at Coit Tower, which offered a great view of the city. Later, we spent money that we could have used to buy formula on some delicious wines and seafood at Scoma's. Neither of us being pregnant, we finished the meal with some tiramisu and irish coffee.

The next day, we awoke in a house painfully free of children around noon. No children whined as I got lost in San Francisco and none screamed as we strolled through Cathedral Grove in Muir Woods. Our empty wombs ached as we ate a lovely dinner overlooking the ocean at Sutro's in the Cliff House that evening. On Sunday, we awoke early, not because we had to get the children ready, or even to set a good example, but to drive up to Sonoma. We wasted a day of our prime childbearing years tasting splendid wines and idly flirting with the guys at the wineries. Eventually, we blew the $500 we could have spent on diapers on fine wines.

[pictures and links coming soon, I just wanted to get this post published]

Wisconsin Dialect

For far too long, I've been using the far more popular contraction "y'all" to refer to the second person plural. This is a vague representation of my mother's heritage in the Middle South [or the northern edge of "The South"]. But I don't really think they say "y'all" in Cincinnati. No, I think I used that contraction because I was lazy and it was easy. I also never noticed that my own dialect had a similar contraction, probably due to its underrepresentation in the general American dialect. But now, instead of "y'all", I will proudly be saying "you's" to refer to the second person plural.

Happy Fiscal New Year!

Hooray! Millions of people and thousands of organizations will begin a new year today! Accountants rejoice!