A little Hamas reading in the interim

Okay, my DSL is gone at the moment while I shift from the evil Qwest to free WiFi here in downtown, so I won't have my own internet access until Wednesday. And it's an annoying time to be without as I watch in shock the shock that everybody else has about Hamas' win this last week. I mean, I'm absolutely amazed that people are so surprised. Yes, the fact that Hamas won an absolute majority (basically a veto-proof majority if this were the US Senate) is a surprise. But it's no surprise that they were going to win a basic majority. And you know what? It's not the end of the world. Indeed, it's probably about the best thing that can happen right now.

So, until I get my dial-up on Wednesday (just until I get a wireless adapter card), I urge you to check out Churches for Middle East Peace, ei (electronic intifada), Miftah, and this brilliant blog post over at Ha'aretz. And when I'm back, boy oh boy do I have some ranting to do.

Democracy for all

Sollicitudo Rei Socialis: Living with democracy

Since part of my academic specialization is in the Israel/Palestine conflict, I decided to put it to some use over at SRS after Hamas' sweeping victory yesterday in the Israeli elections.

If only they'd have had WiFi in Afghanistan...

AlterNet: The Real Story of John Walker Lindh

Not that fighting with the Taliban would really ever be a good idea even if they were our allies when he hooked up with them, but...wow. Talk about becoming the proverbial scapegoat.

Also makes you see what can happen if you're say, traveling in Afghanistan and not keeping up with the news.

One small step for privacy

As mentioned in this post, my sister, M., gave me a gift Visa to get those slippers I've been wanting. Silly me, I thought there was an actual card in the packaging and when I went to use it a few weeks ago, I couldn't find it. It made me seriously question just how screwed up my brain has gotten. But, as it turns out, it's the kind where you call in and they send it to you. So, I called yesterday and gave them my name and address and then my birthday and my phone number and finally they asked for my Social Security number.

I understood the first two or three, but that last one was just a bit too troublesome for me.

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel comfortable giving all that information over the phone to a total stranger," I told the man. "I mean, how do I know for certain you're not somebody trying to use this information for identity theft?"

"I totally understand," the guy said. "But, I'm afraid it's something we're required to do for Homeland Security."

Homeland Security?

Yep, apparently the Patriot Act requires them to take down Social Security numbers for national security purposes.

An older friend of mine from Europe used to rant about all the ways Americans give away their personal information. When our local Safeway started handing out cards to customers for them to use each time they shop to get the sale prices, she rightly saw it for what it was: a way to track what we purchased as well as punish those who refused to comply by charging them more. At the time I thought she was being a bit eccentric (and well, she is and it's what I love about her), but more and more I'm beginning to appreciate her outrage. My boyfriend, who is also a European, has had a similar disbelief at the amount of information about themselves Americans casually give away. And I have to say, it's starting to rub off on me.

Is giving away all the details needed to steal my identity to total strangers really making me safe? Is it truly securing the "homeland" or leaving us open to a massive level of intrusion into our personal lives and worse by those who might have more nefarious purposes in mind? Why are we Americans so trusting of our government when we are a nation founded upon rebellion?

With all these questions in mind, I insisted to the gift Visa guy that I did not want to share my Social Security number with him.

"Well, unfortunately I can't activate the card without it," he said apologetically. "But I can give you a refund if you like -- of the $40 and the $9.95 activation fee."

Even better. With the card, I only had $40. Now I'm also getting the $10 my sister spent to buy the card in the first place (yep, those fees are truly outrageous) along with it.

Sometimes it really pays to take a stand.

Update: LOL -- funny how blogs and papers work rather synergistically at times. In today's Washington Post is a story with the headline "Patriot Act Talks Hit Roadblock on Privacy Issue." I knew there were members of Congress who shared my discomfort. Just didn't expect a headline about it the day after my post.

What to do with that angry significant other

Falafel Sex, and Other Things Best Left Unsaid: We're Mad as Heck, and We're Not Going To Take It Anymore !!

I have been a very naughty girl in failing to visit Falafel Sex for awhile. Indeed, I was stricken with holy guilt when I read the above linked post and laughed until the tears welled up in my eyes. ::happy sigh::

With all the talk of how angry God is by such luminaries as Pat Robertson and Ray Nagin, Abby at Falafel Sex decided it was time to talk to those who would know. You know, those who've been married to him all their lives.

Yep, nuns ::said in a Father Jack sort of way::.

Sister Barbara: (laughing) Well, when you've been in a relationship as long as we have, some things you just KNOW.

But, apparently Sister Barbara and her fellow sisters have decided that perhaps a little couples therapy is in order. And who better to go to than Dr. Phil.

You'll have to pop over to Falafel Sex to get the whole story.

Skiing in the desert

Dubai, one of the seven sheikdoms of the United Arab Emirates tucked between the desert and the Persian Gulf Coast, is known for its ports and beaches, banking and business developments and...skiing! Yep, at Ski Dubai you can enjoy skiing, snowboarding and tobogganing just steps from the desert.

It used to be everybody in the Middle East went to Lebanon to ski, but apparently that's sooooo early 1970s now.

Those subtle historical facts people forget

Spent a cozy afternoon watching episodes of "Knowing Me, Knowing You," a British comedy that's a spoof chat show hosted by the most awful chat host ever, Alan Partridge. I'd watched his later show, "I'm Alan Partridge" when I was in England a few years ago and found it funny as hell. This earlier show did not disappoint. One of my favorite lines comes after one of his guests points out that his show is going down like the Titanic.

"Let me tell you something," Alan Partridge sneers. "People forget that on its maiden voyage there were over 1000 miles of uneventful, very pleasurable cruising before it hit the iceberg."

"Blame anyone who is not 'us'"

Independent Online Edition > Robert Fisk

The Indy rarely puts Robert Fisk's articles in their free section so head on over as soon as you can before they put it in the "portfolio" section. I figure you got about two days or so.

Robert Fisk is a journalist who has focused on the Middle East for a good 30+ years or so. His Arabic is superb and his analysis first rate. He's also one of the few westerners to have ever interviewed Osama Bin Laden.

Something to keep an elephant warm

Independent Online Edition > Europe

It's cold in Russia right now -- even by Russian standards. Like, 32 degrees below zero celsius. So, what's a circus to do to keep their elephants warm? Do what any good Russian would do: drink a lot of vodka.

In the ancient town of Yaroslavl, 100 miles north of Moscow, a travelling circus said it had been forced to start giving its trio of Indian elephants vodka mixed with water in buckets as the mercury dipped.

In Lipetsk, where meteorologists recorded temperatures of minus 32C, the zoo's contingent of macaques was being fortified with cheap French table wine three times a day and in other zoos camels, wild boars and reindeer were being given regular shots of vodka to stave off the chill.

However, I thought reindeer were used to the cold. But, I dunno. Maybe that's why Rudolph's always got that red nose...

Blasts from the past

A. has been helping me finish the last little bit of unpacking from my move at the end of October. Most of it is stuff that needs to be sorted through to figure out what needs to be thrown out and what can be condensed into other boxes.

Among all that stuff were some artifacts of my adolescence: my high school and junior high year books, my old AWANA trophies, my graduation memory book, lots and lots of old photos. Granted most of the photos I took so I'm not in them, saving me potential embarrassment. But those yearbooks and memory book had plenty of evidence of my "Jesus nerd" days, as A. calls it (though he was a chess and Latin nerd - so there!). Not to mention the large, gold-painted plastic and wood trophies, which he's put up on the bookshelves for the admiration of anyone who should come to visit until I put the rest of the books in their places.

Ya gotta love those 1991 hairdos. You know, back when it was the popular kids who had mullets and big bangs. I never really had the energy for big hair, but did manage a few large bows.

I've decided yearbooks are simply something we get for our future humiliation. The truly remarkable thing is we actually pay for the privilege.

Some of my favorite comments from the memory book:

• What car will I own in five years? Ford Escort

It took about seven years or so before I got a yellow 1983 Ford Escort (which I think I only drove three or four times before it died). Well, you can't say I was dreaming big there.

• What was my most mischievous moment? I'm not very mischievous

Well, yeah, my mom was going through her second adolescence by that point so I was too busy being an adult to be mischievous. Now that I actually am adult, well, I find my ways. ;)

• What are you most proud of? My little sister Tammy

Ah, after almost 15 years, some things don't change. I still beam when I talk about her. How she's been offered jobs by several elite inner city teaching programs. How she's been working with kids in the projects of Washington D.C. for the last three summers. How she's been placing in speech competitions and was asked to give a homecoming presidential address at her university.

Totally makes up for not having many mischievous moments to write about in a silly Josten's memory book.

SRS post

Sollicitudo Rei Socialis: It's called genocide

Just a little plug for my post over at Sollicitudo Rei Socialis. We've added a couple of new contributors, so if you haven't been by there in awhile, I invite you to stop by.

Don't eat your brussel sprouts

Proceeds from ebay sale of brussel sprout go to Christian charity - news from ekklesia

For all those times your mother told you to eat up because starving kids in Africa don't have food, you now have an answer back: ebay.

Andrew Henderson of the UK put his unwanted brussel sprouts from Christmas dinner on ebay and fetched almost a hundred quid -- around $175 -- which he then donated to Tearfund, a UK relief and development fund.

Now you can send starving kids your leftovers and more.

Opps, he did it again!

Israel pulls plug on televangelist's bible theme park - news from ekklesia

Poor Pat Robertson just doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut in public. His comment about God striking Ariel Sharon with a stroke because he "divided the Land" has Israel nixing plans for Robertson to build a Bible theme park in the Galilee. Ido Hartuv, Israel's tourist minister, said

"We, as the State of Israel, cannot accept what he said and we will not do any business with him or with anyone else who agrees with his view."

Now if we can just get Israel to reconsider some of their other business dealings with right-wing Christians.

The perfumed, perpetual patient

I got all dressed up Friday night. Took a hot bubble bath with some sea salt and baking soda. Sprinkled in some essential oils of ylang-ylang and tea rose. Shaved my legs even though I'm not really in the mood for much action. I just needed to feel beautiful. Silky and scented. After the bath I unwound the cord which has been wrapped tightly around my curling iron for ages and produced several strands of thin chocolate ringlets around my scalp. Once I had played with my hair until my arms and feet were aching from fatigue, I perused my closet for something dressy but comfortable. Chose a short-sleeved red knit top and a black pleated skirt that I think I've only worn once before. I was quite happy with how well the two went together and decided that this whole exercise had been a good way to experiment with dressing up when I had plenty of time rather than when I'm in a rush to meet someone somewhere, which is usually the case.

At any rate, A. was quite pleased with the results. My curvy top lured him from his laptop to kneeling in front of me as I sat in the recliner where he kissed my neck and gave me a foot massage.

Perhaps it was the description of one of the main characters in the book I'm reading, The Map of Love, in which she is lavishly dressed that made me want to dress up. A craving for just a piece of her world. Maybe it's just that I'm tired of wearing pajamas all the time. Tired of being the perpetual patient.

The result of the cystoscopy was the second worse possible -- the worse being cancer of some sort, which I really hadn't been giving much thought to given my age and gender. The next worse after that was to find nothing. Yup. And that's just what the urologist found. My urinary tract is completely, absolutely, freekin' normal. No structural problems. No obstruction. Not even any Interstitial Cystitis (I knew that diagnosis had been dubious). Through my anesthesia haze I asked the urologist why, then, do I keep getting these UTIs. "Because you're a young, sexually active woman." I then pointed out that I haven't been particularly sexually active. "Oh. Well, then I don't know." And it's no longer my problem he seemed to be thinking. He did his job -- made sure my urinary tract was mechanically sound -- and since it was he could wash his hands of me.

Am I that annoying of a patient? I don't mean to be. I try so hard to be pleasant and affable, despite the fact that I'm exhausted and in pain.

Gawd I just want it to all be over already. I so wanted something they could just fix and be done with so I can go back to doing yoga and pilates. Getting a decent night's sleep. Cuddling without discomfort.

And believe it or not, the very next day when I went to see my doctor at my clinic to follow up, there were the results of the urine sample that had been cultured from the Friday before. The earlier proteus bacteria from the UTI back in early December was still there. I still had a UTI. The scary thing about this was that the urine analysis had been completely normal and so we thought it was gone. The nurse practioner simply had it cultured as a sort of formality to demonstrate that it was gone -- something the urologist hadn't bothered to do the week before. Lord only knows now how long I've had a UTI as we haven't been culturing the UAs that have been normal.

Needless to say my doctor was shocked that nothing was found and then baffled as to what is causing this to be so persistent (when they culture the urine they also check to see which antibiotics the bacteria is resistant to). He's put me back on another antibiotic among those that the proteus isn't resistant to and this time for a long time. I'll see him in a month to see if it's gone. If it is, he'll probably keep me on a low dose of antibiotics for awhile as a prophylactic.

And that, possibly, is the one good thing out of all this. The doctor and I are starting to suspect my Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome may indeed be caused by some sort of subclinical bacterial infection, and several months on antibiotics may end up providing us with some very interesting information. If nothing else, the fact that my immune system isn't mounting the traditional response to an infection -- to increase white blood cells -- is already indicating that something is wrong with it.

In the meantime I'm in so much damn pain. I never get normal UTI symptoms -- burning with urination, having to pee a lot, etc. Just back and pelvic pain so that it feels like someone is driving a nail through the base of my spine. During my periods the pain is unbearable, despite a lot of narcotics and muscle relaxants. I can say that today -- about 72 hours after starting the Septra -- the pain isn't quite so bad. My back is still killing me but that pressure sensation that starts in my pelvis and runs down my legs is almost gone. Maybe a month's worth of Septra will eliminate more of the pain.

As I was doing some googling today regarding Septra and Lyme disease (the possible sub-clinical bacteria culprit?), I came across a post on an online forum about a disease I'd never heard of: Morgellons. The predominate manifestation is skin lesions that produce "fibers" similar to fibrous material, as well as insect-like sensations. Those with Morgellons also have most of the same sort of symptoms that those with CFIDS/FMS have. However, they have traditionally been diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder, Delusional Parasitosis, in which patients supposedly "mistakenly" believe they are infested with a parasite.

The way psychiatry is used to marginalize the sick absolutely fascinates me. There's got to be some research on it. If my brain wasn't so loopy from all the narcotics and muscle relaxants, I'd totally be reading some Foucault right now. Actually, I don't have Madness and Civilization, which would probably be the more relevant work, though I do have Discipline and Punish and Birth of the Clinic, which are probably also fairly relevant. However, as I barely have the mental faculties for reading a novel at this point, Monsieur Foucault shall have to wait.

I'm also interested in the importance of validation of an illness from the medical community. Obviously this becomes vital when social security benefits or insurance coverage are at stake, but there's also some sort of emotional need for it. For whatever a person has to be a "real" disease as opposed to being "all in your head." The whole dualistic aspect is intriguing, particularly when compared to, say, Chinese medicine. This need to put illness in one box or the other. I mean, I really think this is a significant issue in the way conventional medicine is practiced, both for the doctor and the patient. It's clearly not a problem with the scientific method -- well, or is it? What if there are multiple affirmations to the proverbial hypothesis?

Hmm...not sure I'm able to articulate whatever it is floating around in my head -- Thomas Kuhn and paradigm shifts and all that. Think it's time to head back to novel reading. Though maybe I'll play with my hair and spray on some of my homemade perfume first (most purchased perfumes make me ill). It's a kickass fragrance actually -- my own blend of ylang ylang, Egyptian musk, tea rose, jasmine and geranium in a vodka base. Ode de Michelle...

As 2006 begins...

...thought I'd take a wander and see how some blog pals were ushering in the New Year.

There is Sylvia, who is looking forward to a year of narrative delights.

Tubbs, who has resolved to eschew inebriation -- at least that of the Jose Cuervo sort.

Fellow editors at SRS, Nathan and Susan, who wish us all a happy World Peace Day.

And Hebrew scholar, Talmida, who ended the year in true scholarly fashion with an explication of the Priestly Benediction and began it with another explanation of prayer in Hebrew.

My own New Year's Eve had less vomit than last year, but was much more boring. Sitting in bed flipping between Godfather I & II on WGN and the Kevin Costner Robin Hood on NBC (well, we didn't stay there for long but it was fun to mock him for a few minutes), as well as watching Borat videos and the top videos at google videos (if you're drunk and have a video camera, you can have your 15 minutes there). I made Turkey Pot Pie and Oatmeal Cookies and introduced A. to Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years Eve. Oh, and listened to my sister's drunken updates via cell phone. We even took shots together -- her with proper tequila and me with a bit of reisling.

Yep, pretty sad.

Frankly I didn't have much energy for anything else. And as A. is becoming a crochety old man as he nears 40, and we're both broke, it seemed like the best we could expect. Though we did decide as we drifted off to sleep that we want to be in Greece or Oman next New Year's Eve. You know, somewhere you can see blue sky and that bright thing I think people call the "sun."

Reading that old post of mine makes last year seem like a long time ago. I was so optimistic then. Starting this year off with a cystoscopy does temper my optimism. Yet, I think this year I really mean it when I say I've reached some sort of peace and acceptance. My motto has become life is what it is.

Though, if they find cancer or something on Tuesday, I can't promise I'll be quite that Zen-ish.

Razing the middle ground

A Line in the Sand - New York Times

Great article on how the Apartheid Wall in Israel/Palestine works on an architectural level. Includes some remarkable photos.

If some of the new cities of Israel reflect the successes of Modernism, the barrier represents the worst aspects of it - the rationalist tendency to reduce the world to a system of abstract relationships, a faith in tabula rasa planning, a distrust of urban chaos - without its idealism.

The consequences extend beyond the ghettoization of Palestinians and Israelis. The wall destroys the space for those who once occupied the middle ground: those who refuse to divide the world into good and bad, civilization and barbarity. It threatens to sever the threads, already fragile, that might one day be woven into a more tolerant image of coexistence.