Posted 7:23 PM by Michelle

I have no time to write, as I have just begun my ugly work week. And all I would want to do is rant and rave with disgust for the people in charge of my country. But I have to quote one of the smartest people I know: my mother. In a rant today, referring to Hussein and his supposed stores of weapons, she actually said, "but I think he doesn't have all that stuff they have been talking about, and I think Bush is going to have egg all over his stupid monkey face when this is over."

Oh my god, I'm still laughing.

And you crazy people monitoring the internet, looking for terrorists in our very own country, know three things: I was born in Iowa, I am a certified NYS EMT, and I love the West WIng... I have to say that if I am not proud to be an American, I am definitely proud to be a New Yorker. If you want to see what the feelings are here, sit in Union Square for an hour and just look at the t-shirts. There is hate, but it is NOT directed towards Iraq. One t-shirt had a picture of our president and beneath the image it said "FOREIGN TERROIST". I would love to know who they are polling to get this ridiculous 70% approval rate. I'll tell you who: NO ONE I KNOW. And that is a lot of people.

When Bush was running for president, I scoffed at him, thinking there was no way he would ever win. I thought EVERYONE in my country was at least smart enough to recognize him for what he was. And then when he didn't win, but took over the office anyway, I was baffled. But, I figured he'd just be a puppet, and we could work hard to correct his mistakes as soon as we got him out of office. And now... how many years, how many decades will it take for us to repair our ties with the ENTIRE WORLD? I am so ashamed of him. I want him in the front lines, dropping the bombs, breathing the sandstorms, risking his pathetic life rather than the lives of our young troops over there. I don't think he's so smart that we need him making decisions in Washington. I think he should personally observe the blood he is spilling.

Ugh. I need one day when I don't obsess over this. Or one day when I can actually do something about it, actually help someone my government has hurt.

Posted 8:38 PM by Michelle

There are so many parts to my day that it seems as though today could have been a week.

First and foremost, there is a raging party, beneath me this time rather than above me, and so somehow less intrusive. Particularly since my downstairs neighbor was kind enough to drop me a note warning me about it a week ago. Secondly, my cat just tore open my palm in four places. I am bleeding and it hurts. And my palm keeps brushing the keyboard. Which hurts more.

I started this day by opening a package my mom sent me from California. It contained Pete's Organic Gaia coffee, a few other treats, and the clothing I left in Mountainview after my trek this summer. It was strange to see these clothes that I lived in for over two months, strange to think about living in the woods for months. I can't say that I miss being on the trek, but there are moments from the past summer that, when I think of them, stop me in my tracks. More than anything, I lived in beauty, wasted nothing, consumed only food.

In search of Brooklyn beauty, I took my bike out for a spin at the park. Somehow my bike felt heavier today, both when I rode it and when I lifted it, but maybe it was me that was heavy. I've been listening to NPR again, streaming through my computer the whole time I am home, and it just seems so strange to be flying through the park on my bike that cost more than most Iraqis will make in a year. Life, other than fear, is business as usual here in New York, and it is hard to negotiate the differences between my life and that of women both in our army and in the cities of Iraq.

Wow. The party is really starting to hop. As I think about bedtime.

As I was riding today, I flew down a particularly beautiful hill and came up behind a small little girl on a bike of her own. She must have been about six, and her bike had sweet tassels dangling from her handlebars. She was wearing a black dress but also a helmet, and she stood up in her pedals and weaved a bit in the road. I watched her skirt billow around but mysteriously avoid her chain, and I thought about my first bike. It was called the Desert Rose and had a banana seat. Nothing infuriated me more than my brother Sean stealing it- I have memories of him riding away, his knees splayed out because the bike was so small, and me screaming and crying and laughing all at the same time, begging him to come back.

After my ride, I took my adult bike, my Casati of the Dark Elves, into the city to get the grown-up clipless pedals installed. I'd also managed to buy two Casati bottle cages on ebay, so I asked Emey to throw those on, too. My next ride will be my first clipless one; I intend to stay in the park for a while. I then headed over to Chelsea to get fitted for my EMT uniform. They were out of women's everything, so I ended up buying men's pants, a men's shirt, and when they sewed on my patch they did so crooked. I was making cracks about this being a man's business, and the two who helped me didn't think I was very funny. The only women's EMT shirt they had was an XL. Ugh. But in the end, I bought what I needed to buy (except boots... that will have to happen after the next paycheck) and I am ready to go to work.

I joined the Central Park Medical Unit last night, after an almost three hour orientation. I'm really excited about it, for several reasons. The park sees mostly trauma, so it is a great place to learn about bleeding control, splinting, traction, and everything else that comes with physical injury. It is also a great place to get used to the sight of pain and blood. They are also heavily into continuing education, and drill and teach their medics when not on a job. They also seem to be very thorough, and don't want anyone joining them who is into cutting corners. The downfall is that they only operate on weekend days and for special nighttime events. I work both weekend days, and it is really difficult to get them off. But I know I could get one or two Saturdays covered a month, and I've already told them to put me on the bus the next time they have a Saturday opening. I'm excited and a little nervous. I can't wait.

And now I'm home, listening to the party below, longing for bedtime. I think I might go have a sleepover at Ian and Tessa's.

Posted 7:25 PM by Michelle

As I write this, NPR is streaming live on my computer. I'm almost thankful that I don't have a TV because I would be wrapped around it, hungry for news of the war. I just heard that 16 soldiers died in a helicopter- the first major loss, on "our" side. Who knows what has happened on "their" side. I can't help but wonder if this is going to be just like the war in Afghanistan, if a year from now we will have forgotten about the fact that we haven't caught Hussein, just like we never caught Bin Laden. Huh. Apparently we are still not in "all out war". Kudos to the demonstrators around the world- even though you are preaching to the choir, and even though our president turns a deaf ear- I applaud you.

Tonight was my orientation for the Central Park EMS. But I will have to write about it later. Too distracted.

Posted 10:12 AM by Michelle

It's over 60 degrees, I'm walking down the street with an iced (iced!) latte in one hand and a whole wheat bagel, in a crushed brown paper bag, in the other. I'm wearing a tank top and cutoff jeans, my hoodie wrapped around my waist for want of the warm sun on my skin. Spring seems possible, life seems possible, joy seems just around the bend. And then a thunderous sound fills the air, so loud I could feel it in my chest, and I look up to see ten helicopters flying in formation directly over my head. They are not flying fast. They are not media. They are circling my city. They are here to watch. They are here to defend against hatred coming my way because of the decisions of one small, foolish man. I am paralyzed with revultion and anger and fear. I am quite sure that life as we know it shall soon be altered again, and I am desperately looking forwards toward the day when this small man can be ousted and we can try to repair his mistakes. But... maybe this is what we need. Maybe we needed to hit this bottom, this ugly, short-sighted, greedy bottom, before we could become a compassionate country. Maybe these terrible times will give birth to a terrible time that the entire country can feel. Maybe all of the people out of the big cities who put this small man in office could be affected in a way- even if it means no gas for their cars, or perhaps just true images on their televisions of the blood and death that we as a country will inflict- that could possilby open their eyes to the reality our our country. I certainly wish no more ill on us, of course not, but I wouldn't mind some of our conveniences taken away, long enough to create change and understanding.

And I feel it. I feel the other shoe dangling on a dirty, undernourished foot.

Posted 10:39 PM by Michelle

On the train tonight, coming home from work, a man was sitting across from me wearing infuriating pants. They had a design running down each leg, and I honestly did a double take when I realized what it was. You know that awful cut-out of a woman that haunts mud flaps on Mac trucks? Well, it was her, but in a double mirror image, so you got not just one unrealistic skinny-but-huge-hooter body but two, connected, for your watching pleasure. And this on an enourmous, chubby guy who sighed audibly when a sweet young black woman asked for one of the two seats filled with his shopping bags. Whe he finally moved the bags, he started pulling out the contents. What was in the bags? Chocolate bars. Several of them.

I wrote a blog a few days ago that was eaten by my web browser when it froze. I kick myself every time I don't save them before I post, but I can't seem to save them consistently. I'm not sad it's gone, though; the whole blog was about the different kinds of wine I had drunk the night before and that stuff is only interesting if you are a wine geek. However, I had my first bar shift Sunday morning and it went really well. Too well. So well that the GM who was managing the shift sent an email to all of the other managers telling them how well I did. My mom asked me last night how it went and it was depressing to tell her. I want to be a great many things, but being a great server is not in my top five. But- it was fun, and a change, and the money was terrific. My sister-in-law-to-be Tessa stopped in for some oysters and garlic chips and I realized how easily my friends can now visit me at work. I'm hoping that more of my family shows in the coming weeks.

My brother Ian is on the front page of Salon.com. Pretty freaking amazing, and such a terrific piece. But more on my mind is the threat of war, and the threat of retalliation. I can't stop thinking that somewhere in Iraq, a woman my age with several small children is learning that Americans will most likely start dropping bombs on her in less than two days. And whoever that woman is, she is thinking that I am aligned with my administration, that I support it, that I am the true evil. I am not proud to be an American right now. I feel lucky and blessed to live where I do, and baffled and terrified by Bush and all who cater to him. For the first time in my life, I am seriously thinking about choosing a different country as my home. I feel like there is little hope as long as Bush is in office, and the work it will take to undo his damage is almost insurmountable. He was not elected by the American people, and he is not listening to them (or anyone else) and I am sickened as the shock waves of his awful choices resonate around the world. In short, I do not know what to do.

I know a few things. It seems like a good couple of weeks to avoid the trains. I'll be biking to work as much as I can. It's also a good time to avoid that glass of wine after my shift- I want to be completely sober if something happens and I need to help somebody. And perhaps the perfect time to get a really good first aid kit and some maps to keep in my backpack. This is all precautionary, but these steps can be a hell of a lot more helpful than duct tape on windows, three days of rations, and an orange-hued brand of fear. I said to a friend tonight that I was not so much scared as ready. I feel like we are takings steps, making choices that invite and encourage another attack on my city.

I am awake, aware, and prepared. And perhaps the answer for me will be a summer in Iraq, to prove that some proud Americans aren't interested only in oil- that maybe some of us care more about cleaning up the mess we've made. Right now all I really want to do is stick my head back in the sand. But I think that twenty-eight years of living with my eyes sealed shut is long enough.