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And Then We'll Do It Again... 8 Days A Week

I'm on Day 4 of an 8 day Starbucks run, and they're all opening shifts, a real overload of a reasonably good thing. I'm putting this up so that hopefully some people will understand the light, erratic posting.

Almost any worker, certainly almost every Starbuckian, will tell you 8 days with no break is too much. Life as a Starbucks server, never mind a Shift Supervisor,is a real energy drain, and most people need thge time to rest and recover. Hence the reason why so many like Starbucks work as a part time option - even when the economic result isn't necessarily all you'd want it to be.

These "be grateful you have a job" times really do put the remaining workers to the test - what we can put up with, what we're willing to endure, and what's beyond our limits. I'm working in two stores, both with generous, sensitive managers who are willing to be especially creative and flexible in solving staffing challenges. As with so much, I'm pretty lucky... and I can't imagine having to put up with the impossible trade-offs others have to make, choices that - for a woman with children, for instance - can seem pretty bad, all the way around.

I've been surprised, over and over, to discover that I realy do like what I'm doing, that I'm enjoying life at the moment, and that, at times, the balancing act really does work properly and I can write as I like, while fulfilling my basic earning needs at a job that satisfies me. I like (most of) my customers, and I've learned a lot about good coffee. At 4:30 in the morning on the fourth day, though, all of that can be hard to see. And mostly... I'd like a chance to nap. And hopefully, some time this afternoon... I'll get that, and a chance to write some more.

When Autumn Leaves Start To Fall...

I'd love to say I got tons of work done, but my days off were pretty much what I thought they'd be - a lot of resting relaxing and recuperating away from the online grind (and I have the 900 backed up e-mails to show for it).

I also raked a lot of leaves.

Leaf raking is a chore, no doubt about it; but after a (dull) morning of political talk and catching up on my new obssession (USA's White Collar), I was ready for manual labor and a new project: clearing a plot to expand our garden and plant bulbs.

I'm no plant person... but gardens of colorful flowers... I can do. And I want to do. And that makes the leaves a necessary, not altogether unpleasant, step along the way.

Making the piles turned out to be surprisingly speedy and easy... it's the bagging, I realized that's the headache. When you get to bag 4, and still everything seems chaotic and undone... it's hard to see the endpoint. But I just kept bagging away, and reducing the piles one by one.

In the end, six bags total, it was worth it: the spot is identified, and the trip to get the bulbs, and the dirt, is next on my list. And without the ground cover, the beauty of our wild, untamed, fading garden as it moves from fall to winter is actually kind of striking. Fall's colors - the riches of gold and bronze and red - look especially nice against the expanse of uncovered lawn, itself dying away.

I don't love fall - or the fading light now that we've fallen back in time - because it symbolizes that moment when leaves fade, and fall and the cycle of death to rebirth moves to... well, death. I believe in love and life and light... and that's why "endless summer", or maybe "eternal spring,"  I think, may be the season I want most. But I like seasons, and the change of seasons... living in the Sun Belt, always warm, never a cold day or enough rain or the thrill of first snow... that just feels wrong. Always has.

Six bags, and a lovely back yard later, the autumn leaves continue to fall, the light fades, the days grow shorter and colder and the year moves to its conclusion. And as I resume my writer's journey, and plan a garden for next spring... it's nice to have the distractions of the rest of life, for a moment, to remind me - remind you and all of us - that we are more than our politics, our disputes, our national and world problems. And what we can do, when it seems like too much, is rest, recover... and rake. It's not the worst way to pass the time.

Love Is A Wonderful Thing

It was one of those parties no one really wanted to see end, the one where you don't notice that your feet hurt, or your bra is digging in, or you're running on exhaustion... at least until you get back to your room.

I don't think I've seen Red quite so glowing, floating through the scene armed with the widest smile ever. There's nothing like my redheaded pal when she's happy, but this was waves of happiness emanating outward in all directions, eliminating everything in its path. And that, I realized, was a room filled with love.

Even the usual wedding stresses seemed to vanish - in part because Red, as she does, found a bunch of professionals and simply expected everyone to be on their game - and there was nothing, no cross moment, no moment of high stress, no fainting in the middle of the vows. Planning, clearly is key... as is a vision of what one has in mind.

It was a wedding in the best sense - a real reflection of the couple getting married, all the things they wanted, and pretty much nothing they didn't. It was a big sprawling blended family, traditional in some respects, and completely unbound by tradition in others. I'm not sure I've seen a wedding where the bride dirty danced to Usher one moment, or used Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get It On" for a chaste, romantic slow dance. But that's my Red... and she's unstoppable. And undeniable.

In the end, for me, the whole experience will always be slightly bittersweet; there was too much personal drama in my own life for me to really relax until the festivities began, and the world of bridesmaids - a chance to see the theater of wedding from behind the curtain - wasn't as seamless and fun as I would have liked. Expectations, of course, are everything, and I probably started from a position of dreaming too big. But nothing, really, can overcome the force of a love so strong, the moment when love is all around... and I'm happy to let love rule. Love is a wonderful thing, indeed. Here's to the happy couple, and may they keep spreading joy.

The Good, The Bad... And The Awful.

It's Red's wedding weekend... and while I had hoped to find some time to blog, stress and various travel plans have intervened. Sorry for the two day break. Posting will be light, I think, through the weekend.

Last night was the rehearsal dinner... and I missed the rehearsal itself - but rehearsals are for actors, and our friend Joey got to stand in as the Justice of the Peace... so I think it all worked out just fine.

The good - as I titled this post - is seeing Red and her MAS so happy and to be a part of what is, really, such a joyous event, one that, more than many weddings I've seen, really does reflect the two people going through with it. And the supportive friends and family around them, too.

The bad, aside from not blogging is that the whole process was kind of fraught with more emotional landmines than I expected... but much of that is passed, and we are all focused on making today - tonight's the ceremony - the best it can be.

Still, the awful part is that all of this has happened at the same moment as my own personal complete financial meltdown. I have been scrambling to change banks, keep my finances and order, and deal with the headaches that come when direct deposits are in limbo, cash machines aren't an option and credit cards won't solve the problem. It's basically a nightmare, and I'm afraid my memories of these days will really be more about the financial disaster than the joyous event.

If I can leave you one piece of advice, I can only warn you never to use TD Bank. But even the satisfaction of sharing that bit of discouragement can't change my overall sense, right now, that the bad outweighs the good, the awful is winning over everything else, and I am little more than a flower crushed under the wheel of life. This will pass... but not soon enough.

The Tragic Mulatto Goes To Louisiana

One of the most eye opening moments for me about race was the discovery that I was not alone; yes, I've had a sister and cousins of mixed race heritage, but it wasn't until college that I discovered that we, really, were not oputside of America's historical narrative.

I forget that a lot of people have not been exposed to "the tragic mulatto," a literary device going back to colonial times, used as an argument against miscegenation. Basically as implied, the stories revolve around the idea that a child of mixed race faces a sad, tragic existence, never accepted in any community, forced to lie and pretend, always in fear of being found out. It's tragedy... so things really never end well.

Perhaps the best known - and indeed, archetypal - presentation of the Tragic Mulatto (who, BTW is almost always a woman) is in the Broadway show that is considered the first real musical: Showboat, which is the tale of one tragic mulatto woman who gives birth to another, with tragedy all around. And singing! And dancing!

This archetype has really never died, and it has colored our societal perceptions of race mixing and children of mixed race parentage. Often, without thinking (or with), people will say "I'm sure it can't be easy with your heritage" suggesting endless tears, shame, and rejection. I ignored a lot of this for years... and then I found it kind of silly.

It's not necessarily easy, and I wouldn't minimize the difficulties many faced, especially prior to the Civil Rights Era (when the "one drop" rules of race meant there wasn't a "mixed race," just another shade of black). Shelby Steele, as I always like to remember, is a good barometer of that transition, and continues, really, to struggle with notions formed in that period. But life is not "tragic" even when it's hard; as much as children of mixed racial heritages may face unique dilemmas in a society that sees, often, only black and white, it's also a life that's very normal, very ordinary... and not really difficult for many. It is not Imitation of Life - and it wasn't, even then.

I hadn't planned to mention any of this, but I've been struck by a news story that came up, and stuck with me, as it did for others. A Justice of the Peace in Louisiana is denying mixed race couples who ask him to perform their weddings, and part of his reason for it is this:

Keith Bardwell, justice of the peace in Tangipahoa Parish, says it is his experience that most interracial marriages do not last long.

"I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," Bardwell told the Associated Press on Thursday. "I have piles and piles of black friends. They come to my home, I marry them, they use my bathroom. I treat them just like everyone else."

Bardwell said he asks everyone who calls about marriage if they are a mixed race couple. If they are, he does not marry them, he said. Bardwell said he has discussed the topic with blacks and whites, along with witnessing some interracial marriages. He came to the conclusion that most of black society does not readily accept offspring of such relationships, and neither does white society, he said.

Bardwell's action, it can be pointed out, is illegal; as it has been since Loving vs. Virginia. And it's worth noting that his rationale - the sad plight of mixed race children - is a rationale also advanced by the State of Virginia in Loving, and also smacked down then. And what it is, yet again, is what we live with: the Tragic Mulatto, shunned once more, accepted by none, pariah to all. Which is especially hilarious in Louisiana of all states, where they have an entire group of people with a word, Creole, to describe their mixed race population.

It's well past the time to let this shit go.

You Deserve A Break Today

On a cold and rainy Sunday, I find myself needing - not in a bad way - to rest and recharge a bit; could be that fabulous bridal shower last night up in Boston (sadly, no strippers or vodka were harmed in the pursuit of my evening with the girls...at least for me), or a raft of financial challenges... but mostly, I jsut need a minute to myself.

Sorry I missed a singalong for Saturday. Normal operations will resume tomorrow.

The Fight For Our PJs

When I first saw the kerfuffle developing around John Harwood's report of a White House Advisor saying "they [bloggers] should get out of their PJ's and put on some clothes and get out in the world," I pretty much planned to avoid it. There was a certain "oh no, not again" quality to the whole thing and a "why bother" aspect to responding that seemed paramount.

But a sense of impending deadline, the choice of not posting anything at all yesterday, and a slightly off-kilter sense of humor combined yesterday to push me to toss off what I figured was a cute, idiosyncratic point of taking the comment apart not for the politics, but for the fashion - a defense of pajamas, and the more relaxed life they imply as compared to an uptight, bound up life in the corporate world of suits and "seriousness."

And two unexpected things happened - one is that my dear J in B got on me for being unserious, and the other is that I got angrier as the whole thing didn't go away.

So now - a little pissed and a little more serious - I'd like to make the point again, more vigorously: there's nothing wrong with "blogging in PJs" and we (the blogger nation) need to stop feeling down and defensive when it's brought up. In every sense - from our relaxed lifestyles to our passionate writings to our political impact - we are winning. And we should act like it. Defend the pajamas! Embrace the pajamas! Pajama people rule!

Underneath Your Clothes... There's My Territory

You know, when I worked in retail, I owned a lot of suits. Department stores did - and still do - put forth the notion that men should be wearing "business attire," even as clothing designers and businesses moved to "casual Friday" looks, and more dressed down styles. It was often absurd - there we were, in our good suits, selling jeans to people in track pants.

I like suits. I like the finished look of a jacket, the creativity you can use in picking a shirt and tie, I liked looking polished and "done." But it was also hot, stifling, and kind of confining. Climbing around a storeroom in suit and tie... not fun. Our only casual moments were for nights of inventory, and they were long and tiring... but it was nice to see your coworkers actually be casual, and relaxed.

When I switched to corporate work in advertising, I was thrown into the world of "corporate casual", a nebulous, not always well defined approach to ork dressing that the gay men eventually took hold of and defined, mostly, as a sweater and slacks. Maybe a jacket. Over time, people found ways to make "dress jeans" work - when you pay $249 for a pair of Diesel, that's hardly meant to be used only on weekends. And sure, some people made mistakes - too short skirts, shorts in summer, casual workout wear... but peer pressure, usually, gradually had its effect.

I mention all of this, unnamed White House advisor, because that comment about "take off your PJs, and put on some clothes" is, to be sure, an insult to us who blog and how we do it. But it's also revealing; government work, especially in an institution like the White House, is really the last bastion of full on suited dressing. The world has moved on, corporations have, largely, moved on (the only glaring exception is, say, banking... and that's not the kind of uptight fuck you want to be associated with, now is it?)... and there you are, stuck with being serious. In your suit.

Yes, sometimes I get up in the morning and blog in my jammies. Some days I even post the thoughts that come to me while stark bollocks naked. But you know what? Then I put on some clothes... and go to work. I have the life I want - a life free of suits required for work - and there's a price to be paid: I make half of what I made in department stores, a quarter of what I made in corporate.

But I'm happy. And casual. And I have the ability to write, every day, with passion and enthusiasm, and to turn my energy towards the causes I love and care about most. That commoent about "get out of your PJs", White House Advisor, doesn't bother me with it's "grow up" undertones and childish snark. No, I think it reveals just how annoying it is to have to play at dress-up in those boring DC suits. Take off the suit. Trust me. It's better out here with the PJ people. Underneath your clothes... is a better story.

If I'm Not The One...

A couple weeks back, I got stopped by the police in one of those all-encompassing drunk driving sweeps - this never happens to me, so I was really very bewildered - and being not drunk, it all went very smoothly, though I nearly blew it because I thought the officer was just waving me through when he wanted me to stop.

There's this moment, I think most people get, when stopped by police and asked some question out of the blue - like "have you been drinking?" - where the combination of confusion and defensiveness sends up the wrong signals. And I was reminded of something that I think is still worth keeping in mind, in this post-terrorist age... that the balance of having security and giving up some of our freedom is a dance many people don't want to do.

And the reason, primarily is "not me."

The Future Is Now. And Really Far Away.

I haven't written politics for a while... indeed, a lot of my writing struggles have been to find something, anything, else to write about instead. Bring on the movie reviews!

Sure, some things have happened... but it's striking to me how little robust political discourse there is, just now, and few issues to really debate. My barometer in these things is dinner conversation with my Mom: if we can find  have a lively back and forth to wind up basically agreeing, things are okay. If we actually find a contentious point of serious disagreement, things are really good.

Lately, we're lucky if there's even one topic to discuss from an op-ed in the Times. And that's pretending that there's something even worth debating.

When I started thinking about this the other night, and trying to explain my political thinking just now, I realized... I said my peace about six months ago; and almost nothing has changed since then... except that things have gotten worse.

Back in April I said:

I think we may miss the biggest accomplishment the Obama Administration's first three months have wrought: that we now live in an exciting time... the future.

Yes, the biggest change, I'm starting to notice, is that we no longer live or speak politics in the present tense, but in a fascinating, conditional future tense - "If healthcare reform happens" or "when this economic crisis is over...."

If a picture paints a thousand words... we can't seem to paint one about how things actually are; or actually admit that... well, not much has actually happened. And herein lies a critique of The Obama Administration that hasn't quite taken hold yet: for all the talk about bold plans and brave ideas... we have very little to show in the way of actual change, actual reform, or any real action on all those multiple "key issues" that we're told are so crucial.

And mostly, I find the observation still holds: whether we continue to debate a healthcare reform plan - best described, at this late date, still, as "sketchy" - or the illusory elements of an economic recovery that is really not happening, our way of talking about politics continues to be in the conditional tense... how we will live if various developments take place... and much less consideration for things as they actually are.