November 9, 1989 is the first historic event where I can tell you, I remember where I was when…
I was babysitting. The toddler and I were going through a seemingly endless cycle of
“Bato! Bato!”
“OK, I’ll fix you a bottle.” (Head for fridge, get out bottle)
“No! BATO! WAAAAAAH!” (runs for bedroom, hides under crib)
“There’s no bottle under there. Come on, I’ll fix you a bottle in the kitchen.”
“Bato?”
Eventually she forgot about her bato and went in the living room and showed me that she knew how to turn on the TV. On the TV, there were people sitting on the Berlin wall and hitting it with hammers. Then the little girl showed me she knew how to turn off the TV. The interval was short enough that I couldn’t really tell what was going on. Was it a movie? It wasn’t time for the regular news.
On. A big machine is taking a chunk out of the Wall. Off.
On. People are dancing. Off.
On. People are walking through gaps. Off.
On. A talking head: “…today’s historical e-” Off.
I still wasn’t sure it was real when I went home that evening, having learned that the toddler’s usual caregiver was her unilingual Spanish-speaking grandmother; “bato” meant “sabato” which is Spanish for “shoe”; and her shoes really were under the crib.
It was only the next morning when there was a big special in the newspaper that I was really sure what I’d seen.
I have a guest post rant up over at Dead Wild Roses.
Boy do they ever grow fast.
You can read this story two ways. First, you can read it as the story of just me and my partner and this one thing that we both were interested in doing, but only one of us did. Once you’ve done that, try reading it again, and doing a mental find/replace with various intersectionalities of sex/gender/class/culture and various professional/personal/political/etc. aspirations.
I had an audition the other night. I sang pretty well, though not as well as I know I can. Damn nerves. They said I’d hear back within 24 hours, so I’m constantly clicking “refresh” on my webmail and there’s nothing yet. I know they won’t choose me to be in the choir unless they think I’ll be an asset, so I suppose you could say that if I get in it will be on my own merit. But then consider the fact that my partner – who is every bit as talented, and as passionate about music, as I am – did not have an audition last night. Because he didn’t apply. And consider the reasons that I went for it, and he didn’t.
Some of it is just our different personalities. We’re both addicted to Beethoven, and we both found out about Beethoven’s 9th being on the menu for this year, on a Monday evening. I contacted the choir through their website Tuesday morning, and by Tuesday afternoon had a reply with an audition time (Wednesday evening). I decided, the worst thing that can happen is they won’t want me, and that’s not so bad, so damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. My partner, on the other hand, is someone who needs to think things through and plan them; there may be things that stress him more than flying by the seat of his pants, but I can’t think of many. So maybe I went for it and he didn’t because I’m just braver – or more impulsive, foolish, or cocky. And if he just wanted it enough, or believed in himself enough, or tried as hard as I did, he could take advantage of the same opportunity and it’s his own darned fault that he didn’t.
Or maybe my bootstraps were already attached to something fairly solid when I went to pull myself up by them. read more…
Plate reads: "Wife and Dog Missing. Reward for Dog."
Ionize and alkaline your water?!
I bet people paid to go to this and then bought crap afterwards too.
or something…
see more Lolcats and funny pictures
Totally looks and acts like my cat. Items on the desk behind are the sorts of things I have, and strewn about in the manner that I tend to strew things. Except that that’s not actually my desk, nor is that Lilith unless she’s going out visiting and not telling me about it.
Who are you, my compatriot in craft-obsession and feline servitude?
http://www.harpyness.com/2009/08/18/what-i-learned-on-my-summer-vacation/
Why feminism makes for better human beings.
Why do you have to take this stuff so personally? ask the intellectual, clever, and engaged men, who have never considered that the content of the abstract exercise that’s so much fun for them is the stuff of my life.
http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2009/08/terrible-bargain-we-have-regretfully.html
billboard
“Rule 97″ appears to reference the repellent Man Rules beer commercials. You can tell this is totally about the Edmonton Indy and how it’s sponsored by Bud, right, because the hott chix are wearing checkers?
