Phillip Glass

Just a really brief observation. Beyond listening and watching Koyaanisqatsi, I've also been listening to his second symphony for the past hour. Only when I got up to look at my XM radio did I truly know it was his composition. I just thought it was from listening to it and its style. Either he's that good and has a very noticable style or he's that bad and has a very noticable style. Its like funeral music geeks.

Um... like where the hell did I go?

I completely stopped posting here but no matter, I will be posting here much more often.

Starting next week (after Labor Day) I will officially begin my studies at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities. I am pursuing a double major in Global Studies (specializing in India) and Political Science (which really isn't a science). Hopefully, this will take me onlt three more years to complete. Hopefully.

In the meantime I will post more about my life and my struggles as a non-traditional and oft-neglected student. It should be an interesting time.

in addition to this, I also started quite recently, a blog on current events and commentary. Its not to be particularly revealing. I only started it as a way to hone my own skills asa writer and with any luck, as a Journalist. Its a trifle really but I like to do it and it keeps me out of trouble.

That is all.

Harry Potter is coming soon....Yay!!!!!

I'm so fired up to see this movie. Gah.....must wait till Thursday night!!!!

I ordered the soundtrack and can't wait till it arrives.


I'll post more later....but I'm actually tired. I had to switch rooms with my brother and it took all weekend. I got kind of stabbed in the foot. So I'm tired.

A link in case you people are weird: Mugglenet.com My favorite HP site. Go there or listen to their podcast on iTunes or download ipodder to get it. It's one of the best.

Tata for now.

Pierzynski is my God

AJ Pierzynski is awesome! I'm still not even sure what he did but he enabled the White Sox to win and that is too cool.

I've loved him since he played for our local team, the Minnesota Twins. We traded him to the Giants after the 2003 season (our most recent best season. Last year's sucked, but at least Santana got the Cy Young last year) and brought the Great Pinko up, Joe Mauer. He was apparently good friends with another Floridan on our team who also had a name hard to spell: 1st Baseman Doug Mienkiewiecz. It says something about my fandom that I can spell that without looking.

Last season, Dougie got sent to the Red Sox, while we were hosting them here, in the Nomar Garciaparra trade. Whatever happened to Nomar anyways? So, Dougie then went on to play in the playoffs and even was the guy that caught the last out in the World Series against the Cardinals. (Hell, the Red Sox rolled over the Redbirds last season... The BoSox couldn't even beat the ChiSox... What the Fuck is happening there?!?!?)

So, now The White Sox won tonight. It was the second game in their best of seven series to get into the World Series. They lost last night in undramatic fashion to the Angels. Apparently, after the 3-2 pitch was a strike, AJ thought the ball touched the ground. He started to walk away and the Angels catcher, John Paul, started for the dugout since that was the third out of the ninth innning. AJ then reconsidered and ran to first base.

Everyone in the infield looked stunned and confused. Since AJ was unaware of the umpire's call and other umpires weren't sure. Then 3rd Baseman Joe Crede came up and hit a double to left field. So Pablo Ozuna scored.

Still....

WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!?!?!?!??!

ESPN is already referring to this as the Contorversial Pierzynski Call. And it will be. This will likely be talked about for at least the next week or two. Ad Nauseum!!! And anyone (listen up Bay Area people) who has lived in a market he's played for knows that Pierzynski is controversial. The man can't help but piss people off. Oakland despised him after the 2003 playoffs (where they thoguht they'd roll over the Minnie Team), It didn't help that he was the reason we won the winning game. (Alas, poor Denny Hocking...)

In spite of his habit of wrankilng feathers, I love him and wished he'd never been traded away. Some part of me wishes that he'd be able to return to Minnesota one day. I suppose I'll be happy with the notion that he lives close by in Chicago and plays in the same league again. Hell, he's in the same division!

BTW, props to Mark Buerhle for pitching the entire game.

Oh and there was another series being played. The Cardinals won the National League series.

Does it strike anyone, ANYONE AT ALL, that White Sox + playoffs = controversial?

HELLO!!!! Black Sox anyone!?!?! I swear its a curse!

One more thing: Stop bitching Mike Scioscia!!! Get over it. The play happend.

Also, it sucks that oue umpires can't just admit they made a mistake. Instead they stand by each other and act like everything was just fine.

Whatever!

So..... ah........

GO SOX!!!!!!!!!!

and

GO AJ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nine Parts of Desire

In my quest to learn about the Middle East, I picked up a book called "The Nine Parts of Desire" by Australian Journalist Geraldine Brooks.

First off, I have to devulge my compulsion to indulge myself on Journalistic works about foreign nations, particularly in book form. I cherish the style they use and the frankness employed. Its highly enjoyable. Another book of similar quality is Sarah McDonald's "Holy Cow". It's a reverent and also irreverent look at India, her many faiths and her people, for good or bad. Ironically, McDonald is also Australian and a journalist.

But I must return to the more recent selection. Brooks writes about the different women she meets during her time as a Foreign Correspondent in the Middle East. She spent roughly six years there, from 1987, when the First Intifada was beginning, till 1993. The work bounces from year to year and back and is organized by subject rather than geographical or temporal concerns.

One chapter discusses the harmful consequences of Female Genital Mutilation. My Anthropology Professor deigns to call this Female operation. This label is too sterile. Mutilation implies harm to the body whether self or not, purposefully or not. She recounts the trauma exacted on young girls and what may come of it: horrible infections, painful intercourse and deathly childbirth.

Another chapter deals with Saudi women in 1990 choosing to drive instead of being driven by one of the nation's 300,000 chauffeurs. These women never violated and Sharia, Hadith or Sura of the Qur'an but a week after their demonstration, they were thrown in jail.

Another chapter recoounts the threats and violence against female artists in Egypt. These artists are belly dancers. Belly Dancing is one of Egypt's most well-known and mysterious exports as well as beautiful and ancient artform. However, with women abstaining from performance and adoption of the Saudi preferred veil, dancers are becoming fewer. Brooks talks to a muslim man about the dissapearance of these dancers and he bemoans this. He doesn't want to see them leave either. He does note how once they were banned and later brought back. Then he says they will be back.

This gives me hope as does other chapters and episodes in the book. The first Islamic Women's Games in Iran where a father weeps proudly upon seeing his daughter enter the stadium as the torchbearer at the opening ceremonies. The Palestinian woman still sleeping with her mattress right next to Brooks' even after finding out the journalist was Jewish. The husband who watches the children while his wife goes to school and studies.

There was a time when I actually teared up while reading this book. There is a section that deals with King Hussein and his marriage to Syrian-American Lisa Halaby, aka Queen Noor. I have a soft spot in my heart that few leaders, foreign or domestic, will ever have. He came to Minnesota several times to visit our Mayo Clinic. In fact, he was here for a year and ran the kingdom from a suite at the clinic.

He said he liked it here. We liked him. I do not know if it had anything to do with the supposed Arab money coming in since I do not live very close to Rochester. I do know there was a genuine fondness for him. He was a lively man who despite his age and illness, still seemed vigorous. So I paid special attention to that portion of the book.

After reading this book, I had the uncontrollable urge to never go near the Middle East. I feel scared, claustrophobic and intimidated. Could I ever live there as a Western woman trying to some good? Could I be safe and accepted? Who knows?

On the path of knowledge, one must drink tea among the barbarians.

I have returned from my sojourn among the oblivious and the vacant.

Of course I had some lovely tea along the way. I drank a tall cup of Jasmine Green Tea whilst I sat at Caribou Coffee and read chapters on Middle Eastern history and World War II. There were these little girls (only little girls, no boys.). There were usually only a couple at any given time and since I was there three hours, I saw a few sets of them. The first pair were incredibly rampunctuous and spent the large part of their time running up and down the shop making themselves a vague nuisance. Another set was merely loud and obnoxious. The third reminded me a set of children I'd like to damn to hell. But I don't do that. They were beyond hellish however, as they skitted about in identicatl brown, glittery, peasant skirt with matching Bohemian tops. I wanted nothing to do with them.

After I left the Coffeeshop, I ventured to the library despite my rancor towards it. I had looked at some books beforehand on Amazon and had decided on books like "The Nine Parts of Desire" by Geraldine Brooks and "Princess" by Jean Sasson. There were others but that slip of paper escapes my grasp at the moment. I found "Princess" and that was it. I was incredibly dissapointed.

You see, for my Middle East Politics course, I need to write a term paper. Now this paper need be no longer than 4 pages excluding bibliography, footnotes and title pages. Brevity is the soul of wit and though I am witty, I am not brief at least, not in academic papers. I will no doubt, fill many more pages with anecdotes about honor killings and clitoridectomies (shudder...). To do this, even the four pages, I need information. I especially need information about the Sharia and the Hadith.

After my trip to the library, I drove to the Barnes and Noble half a block away. There I found "Nine Parts of Desire" and another book by Karen Armstrong, a reformed nun, called "A Short History of Islam". I'm sure none of these are absolute page turners but Geraldine Brooks is proving highly readible.

I've returned home to my humble domicile and now try to digest the information I've absorbed today. There is a movie to watch but I'm going to wait on that. I've other things to do.

The Library Blows and Screw Starbucks

I hate it when I wake up in the morning with one ear buzzing. And then my hearing ability is completely changed. It's very disorienting.

Well, on to the business at hand. I have heaps of homework to do. I wanted ot go to the library because I need someplace nice and quiet to do homework and not be distracted. Trying to do homework in your room is just impossible. There are too many things staring at me saying "read me" or "play with me". It's pathetic.

But what's more pathetic: My local library's hours! They're atrocious!! It's Sunday and the bloody place is open only 1 to 5. Yes, 1 to 5. I lived in a podunk town in Illinois where the library was open to 7 on a Sunday. They opened at 9. So, now I live in the Minneapolis-St. paul metropolitan area. We have like puritan's hours. It's insulting!

If you happen to work for the Dakota County Library System: For Gods' sake's , I'm going to Caribou Coffee to do my homework and research. This is depressing. Please fix this!

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy some tea at Caribou. Screw Starbucks. Keep your money local by supporting local businesses. Caribou is a Minneapolis company and I'd rather support them.

Ack! My ear is draining!!! This sucks!

Just when I thought I'd never see you again

Kamran.... I saw him again. I was leaving the Writing Center on Thursday evening with Pawel (pronounced Pavew). Kamran was sitting there at one of the tables in the library. It was like serendipity. He noticed me first and said hello. I was so enthusiastic when I said hi back. I can't help it... He has a smile that makes me think of a sunrise or maybe a 100 happy events all at once. Or maybe thats just how he makes my heart feel.

How is it that someone I barely know can turn my life into the most surreal experience? Its almost as if my life could be divided into Before Kamran and After Kamran. And I don't even know how old he is, how he feels about me, Christianity... Yet, I smile and feel good just thinking about him. And there are so many issues I wish I didn't have: smoking, my liberal feelings, my sexual history. Would these be hurdles to overcome? I do not know how old he is?!?!? He could be 19 and I'm this older woman that is unacceptable...

I suppose as long as I know nothing of him and can only dream about him and what could be thne I can be happy. I'd be happy before. But this is After Kamran and I'm not satisfied with not knowing.

There's a song that I heard on the radio that seems to sum up how I feel at this moment. It's a little old(der than me!) but it just fits. It does mention the years I had with you....but eh...

Bread - Everything I Own

You sheltered me from harm.
Kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me
Set me free, Set me free
The finest years I ever knew
were all the years I had with you

I would give anything I own,
Give up my life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own,
just to have you back again.

You taught me how to love,
What its of, what its of.
You never said too much,
but still you showed the way,
and I knew from watching you.
Nobody else could ever know
the part of me that can't let go.

I would give anything I own,
Give up my life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again.

Is there someone you know,
you're loving them so,
but taking them all for granted.
You may lose them one day,
someone takes them away,
and they don't hear the words you long to say

I would give anything I own,
Give up my life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own
Just to have you back again.
Just to touch you once again.

BTW, I would've posted this last night but my heart had been racing since I saw him. I laid down for a little bit and woke up 10 hours later with lots of dreaming. Boy, I felt great today!

Misha? Oh wait! That's you...

Ok...So I dropped the ball today. I was supposed to post things on the College Democrats board and I forgot. I was supposed to study for a test on Thursday but I forgot. Good thing its on Thursday! At least I remembered the fucking tea!

Life will return to its unnaturally organized self once I stop working like a madwoman. Currently, I have no time to myself and some would be nice. Its a good thing!

In the meantime, I listened to this woman speak about life on the other side of the fence in Palestine. It was cool listening to her. We so rarely get that side's persperctive. There were a lot of really well thought out questions. Unfortunately, none of them were mine. I never asked but I'm glad I didn't. All of mine dealt with Israel and apparently she did not spend much time in Israel.

On to funner things. Brad up in the Writing Center wanted to get a copy of this Russian Zombie movie called Night Watch. As it turns out, Pawel our resident Pollock, had ordered a copy and it came yesterday. So, Brad and I will not have to order it.

Speaking of Brad, we've been having fun when it comes to our former Eastern and Soviet friends i.e. Pawel and Mike. Mike is from the Ukraine and both have very hard to hear accents. Pawel's been here since he was 5 or so, Mike, since he was 12 which isn't saying much since he's only 18. Anyways, Brad became obsessed with looking for Soviet era propoganda posters. We found quite a bit and printed them up. We put one next to Mike's photo and the other two ex-Soviets: Anna, a Belarussian and Olga, a Lithuanian. Today, they'd been taken down.

I made a sign for Mike's tea "Crime and Punishment" in Cyrillic and put it on the wall by the coffee maker. Brad and I also decided to call him Мистэр Чай. Well, we thought it was funny.

I'm going to try and learn Russian again. Next year, I'll concentrate on Arabic.

Позднее

Now there is a lot I do not know...

I will be the first oadmit this. I know relatively little about the world. But I do know that it is changing rapidly. Faster than it has at any point in human history. When I decided that I would learn Arabic it was with the idea that I'd be competitive in the new world order. Let's face it: Being fluent in German is not as important as the emerging economies of Asia!

I never thought it would lead a co-worker to call me a "Dune-coon lover". I was a little flabergasted to hear this monicker as it is racist and outdated. Dune-coon was a term used in the Gulf War to my dismay but fell to disuse rather quickly after. To be a Dune-coon lover is something I'd never heard.

I suppose I could be. I am drawn to the Middle East because it is so rich in history and steeped in mystery. I also seem to be attracted to Middle Eastern men. Call it a fetish or a strange yen... but I do.

Still, I refuse to think I'm a "Dune-Coon lover" merely because I have chosen to learn about people that I wish were not my sworn enemy. I'd say I've yet to meet a muslim I didn't like. Those I have are warm, happy people who'd be happy for you to learn about their land, their customs and their language. I don't think terrorism is as rampent as some would have you believe.

So, wherever you are Steve, you can bite me.

Life in the Bottom of the Barrel

I think of myself as a halfway decent person. Wait... Who am I kidding? you should all be like me!

I have a weird acidic wit that should get me killed one of these days, but until that fateful day, I will do my best to piss everyone off.

That is, except for one particular Persian man named Kamran. I met him tonight. He is not my first brush with an Iranian male and likely won't be my last. I really hope its not my last. He is a very sweet man. He has a nice smile, a good outlook and shy way about him. We met because we have surnames that begin with a "T". So, tonight we had to sit next to each other for a ceremony inducting us, two of the most unlikeliest of people to spend time together, in the International Honor Society, Phi Theta Kappa. Oh, the irony...

Originally, I'd merely asked him what his nationality was. I always feel ignorant... maybe down right stupid, being unaware of a person's origin merely by their appearance. On the other hand, it can be misleading and its best to make sure instead of arrogantly assuming. Kamran answered that he was Persian. I'm aware that the word for Persians in the Farsi tongue is in fact Iran but he still said Persian. Intersting... He is about my height. Probably an inch or two taller making him a short man. I'm only 5'1.5" so he might be 5'4". He has black hair, black eyes and the sweetest smile this side of Willy Wonka's chocolate room. I was hooked. I had to learn a little more about this man but alas, our time was not our own.

My only hope is that I see him again. That should happen since we're in the same organization. One thing I always do with anyone I meet is touch them. I find it makes them remember me more. So upon parting I shook his hand and told him it was a pleasure to meet him. And wherever you are Kamran, it truly was.

I hope we do meet again...

As for the rest of the evening, well, it was colored by my wanting to be near Kamran and my desire to not fall down. I wore a long Black Watch skirt that is lovely. I also had on Mary Janes that need polishing. But my fear of burning myself with wax was not nearly as prominant as my fear of falling flat on my face. I did not fall but nearly pricked myself on a thorny rose!

So tomorrow is another day. I work to lose more weight (come on pounds!), try to learn more Somali among other languages of choice and work for cash.

Until then, I remain Misha, the world's most clumsiest romantic.