Day CXLIII: Pride

I've never been to Twin Cities Pride.

Do you even understand how much that hurts?

Stone Arch Bridge (thanks, Ashley!)

The last few years, I've been out of the area for work.

No parade down Hennepin. No queens in feathers. No dykes on bikes. No dogs in rainbow glasses. No same-sex couples displaying their love and affection for the world to see in a place that is both tolerant and welcoming.

And, for whatever reason, it really bothered me this year. It sucked to be so far away from something that I feel so fortunate to be a part of.

Day CXLII: Favorites

Do you think it's possible to avoid playing favorites?

It's something I've been wrestling with lately.

Too often I find myself in situations that require decisions to be made based on my feelings toward two (or more) separate entities. And when those things are too entirely similar, too equally rewarding-and-wonderful-and-lovely, it becomes almost impossible not to select between the two based solely on which is your personal favorite.

Today, at ALA, I fell victim to this all familiar situation.

Day CXLI: Saturday-L-A

The title is supposed to be a play on "ALA," the conference I've been attending this weekend, but, I dunno, dear reader, I am pretty tired and that just might be an awful, awful attempt at a clever phrase.

Do you get it at least? Satur-DAY-L-A? Like Saturd-ALA?

No, you're right. It's terrible.

Day CXL: Flashback (II)

Remember when I said Flashback Friday was going to be a thing and then I did it that one time and never again? Well, friends, bite your mother-effing tongues because Flashback Friday is BACK!

For today.

And, god, it's Monday. This is so late.

You'll have to forgive me: did you know Las Vegas doesn't grant internet access in their hotel rooms? What gives, Vegas?

Anyway.

Day CXXXIX: Suffer (I)

"We follow this figure into contradiction, into a confession that wounds are desired and despised; that they grant power and come at a price; that suffering yields virtue and selfishness; that victimhood is a mix of situation and agency; that pain is the object of representation and also its product; that culture transcribes genuine suffering while naturalizing its symptoms." -Leslie Jamieson

Briefly, I've mentioned Leslie Jamieson's The Empathy Exams in past posts. Perhaps the most unyielding book, let alone nonfiction collection I've ever read, Jamieson's work has been weighing heavily on my mind as of late.

And I'd like to tell you why.

In the above passage, there's this notion suggested that being a wounded spirit, hurt, or otherwise upset, is a desirable state, a fleeting and recurring phantom that we both seek to destroy and embrace. Initially, this is a hard concept to attach to. I don't think anyone wants to immediately acknowledge that suffering is something they look for. Rather, we want the world to be void of it, completely harmonious. Suffering? Why would we seek out pain?

What is suggested by this? That we wish to see hurt in the world? Do we believe that others deserve pain? Is it an attachment to justice? A twisted notion that suffering exists because it is necessary to punish? Is that even a twisted notion?

Day CXXXVIII: Pube

There are some gross things in the world, you guys. 

Poverty. War. Famine. 

Just to name a few. 

But there are a few nasty things that are gross on a very superficial level.

You know, like a dislodged pube in a public bathroom.

I had to do a double take, standing above, because I was pretty sure what I was seeing was a curly fry.

Nope.

Just the longest, most terrifying hair I've ever seen from a nether region.

And why blog about it, right? That's pretty gross.

But, honestly, I leave for ALA in 24 hours and I am mentally wiped. This icky moment seemed like just the right thing to share.

So, enjoy, and watch your step.

Day CXXXVI: Snow (Sorta)

For such a remarkably warm June, this morning's snow came as quite a shock!

But, seriously, what the eff is this stuff and why is it so bountiful! It's everywhere on Colfax Avenue South!

We were walking to Bogart's this morning, because doughnuts, and everything was covered in this polleny, fluffy, downy not-quite-feathery madness!

I suppose I was happy to find out it wasn't snow after all.

My initial reaction was somewhere between fear and surprise; I might go so far as to call it a mild, suppressed PTSD-like shriek. And then common sense kicked in: it's hard for snow to build up on the ground in 80 degree heat.

Which got me thinking: how lucky are we with this weather? I know, I know. It's a bit humid. A little sticky. Perhaps the air is a tad too thick. But isn't it so much easier to smile when the sun is showering us in warmth, rather than a bright escape from thirty-below?

We'll see how I am feeling in an hourish. My roommates and I are throwing a cleaning party for our less-than sparkling home. And in a home without AC...well, it might be a sweaty situation. Check back tomorrow to see just how damp we're talking.

My guess? We're all going turn into sad examples of Alex Mac. (hat not included)