Shock and Awe

Came home from dinner to complete shock and awe.

Shock

Awe

You Gotta Have Heart

I got an echo-cardiogram today. That means I saw my heart on TV. I could feel it AND I could see it.
And I thought...that's it. It all boils down to that. Everybody has one of those. Everybody needs one of those to live.

What does it take to get oxygen, nutrition, life to every part of your body? Heart. What do you need to give someone a ride even though it's completely out of your way? Heart. How do you know if you've met the person you're supposed to spend your life with? Heart.

And I got to see mine.

Progress, or lack thereof

Interview yesterday, interviews scheduled for next week, interview with a dog on Saturday.

When I drove home last night from my interview, I felt so charged. It was a moment of feeling important, feeling smart. I felt like I owned the city for a few minutes. I looked out over the water as I crossed the bridge and thought, "I gotta find a place here, 'cuz I could kick some real ass if I find a place."

Interviews.

OctoMom

OK, I've tried avoiding it. I stopped watching the news but it was on every website. I stopped reading the websites but it's on the radio. I turn off the radio but the women in line at the supermarket are talking about it. I turn my head away from the women but it's on the front of every magazine in line. It's OctoMom, and it's not going away.
The thing that bothers me about this situation is not that a woman who has 14 children with no income, partner, or education is on food stamps and asking for handouts. What bothers me is everyone else. "Leave that poor woman alone," they say. Leave her alone? Do anything but leave her alone. Help her.
If she were married with 2 children and holding an excellent job, but could not foresee that 14 shots of vodka would get her drunk and cause her to be sick and out of control, we'd send her to rehab. If she were a single woman who slept with 14 men all at once because she needed to feel "loved," we'd get her into counseling. If she were a widow living in a house by herself with 14 cats, at the very least we'd call the Department of Animal Control. Why would we not help her now?

Nadya Suleman needs an evaluation, a diagnosis, and the tools to heal herself. In the mean time, everyone in that community should be at that door helping those poor, sweet children. They should be arriving with diapers, formula, paper towels, and dinner. They should open their arms and form connections with the children who must now inherit 8 brothers and sisters on top of a donor for a father and a sick mother.
For the past 8 years we lived with a government who seemed to say, "Every man for himself. If you're rich, get richer. If you're strong, get stronger. And leave those behind who hold you down or hold you back." Now, I'm not saying I'd like to be a socialist society; but would it hurt if we started looking at each other with compassion and love instead of judgement and fear? If we all put our egos and judgements away and took into consideration a human being needs help, then maybe the Nadya Sulemans of the world wouldn't feel the need to have 14 children "to love" in the first place. So please, don't leave her alone.

Oscar Night Summed up in Bullet Points

• Hugh Jackman, fun and funny and sings and dances and should stop wearing shirts.
  
• The presenters were all, for the most part, fun and entertaining.
• Heath Ledger? Sobbed.
• Penelope Cruz: No idea what she said.
• Steve Martin and Tina Fey should reproduce even if they're not attracted to each other.
• Excuse me, Brangelina? Wipe that smirk off your face.
• Meryl Streep is my idol in every way and always will be.
• Kate Winslett is gloriously British.
• Hey Sean Penn, way to admit you're an asshole.
• Slumdog Millionaire...we get it.

And finally...

• Beyonce, once again, ruined EVERYTHING.

Ikea

How to put together an Ikea bed

Step 1: Sort all of the hardware and put it in like categories.










Step 2: Kindly ask Charlie to find another place to
sleep so as not to ruin the piles it took you 25 minutes to make and count.











Step 3: Completely lose your mind building, taking apart, and rebuilding parts of the bed.












Step 4: Decide it is time for a beer, a martini (in a spill-resistant glass), and some fresh eyes, focused and ready for a re-read of the directions.



Step 5: Find an amazing sense of determination and craftsmanship after getting loaded and decide building an Ikea bed is way fun and even sexy at times.









Step 6: Viola. Pass out in your new bed only to wake up with no idea where you are or why there are so many screws on the ground.

New Desk, New Independence

David and I got an entire new office set now that we have a place that is actually meant for an office. He got a big hutch, office desk and return. It's huge and suits him well. I, on the other hand, just got a desk with some drawers. I don't use my desk all too often and when I do, I don't need one that is very big. It's the first desk I've owned since I was in high school that wasn't bought from a garage sale or handed down from a friend who didn't need it anymore.

Over the past few years, David has worked from home. He has therefore made the office a place suited for him: files things wherever he files them, pays bills in his own special way, keeps notes on 9 different notepads all over the office. The office has been his room. And subsequently, all of my files have been mixed in with his. My bills became filed collectively with his. So when I realized that the bottom drawer of my new desk doubled as a small filing cabinet, I felt a huge sense of excitement bubble up from within me. I immediately began sifting through the files in "our" filing cabinet and pulling out things that just belonged to me. My bills, my doctors' records, my birth certificate. It occurred to me that these little things were something that I had always taken care of and slowly, over the course of 5 years, they became less mine. Now, do I mind that David takes care of paying all the bills on time? Not at all. But having these files in my desk suddenly makes me feel a little more independent, a little more important, a little stronger. And after a move across the country to a city you've never lived in with no real friends and with in-laws expecting you to feel at home and get a job, every little bit of "stronger" helps.