Should I move to Wall Street?

What is Occupy Wall Street?
What do the Wall St. protesters stand for or want?
Is it a worthy cause?
Are the things they are protesting economically sound?
What do economists think of the Occupiers?


Talk to your local historians. They will tell you we are now in the same place we were just before the depth of the Great Depression, or at least almost there. Many of the conservatives hated what the progressive president proposed to do and fought tooth and nail against many of the President's proposed programs. However, if they had been instituted sooner, there is a real possibility that they would have worked better than they already were. Yes, its true. It was World War II that actually sprang us from our poverty. However, the plans and proposals for job creation, as I understand history, may have succeeded and definitely would have done so if instituted sooner.


So where does that leave us now? What do we do now? As a political moderate, whose eyes start to roll back in her head when you talk about economics, I still want to hear from both sides of this debate.
Is there a debate? Should there be one? I asked the other day on Facebook what the Wall St. Protesters were protesting and I got one response. It was from someone who is angry at the world and this is his most recent cause to wrangle his death-metal fed post adolescent male rage. I want facts, I want figures. I do not want anything that Michael Moore or Rush Limbaugh have to say. Additionally, I do not care what Michelle Bachman or Cornell West have to say on the matter. Give me some intelligent, well thought out, economically based (theoretically) information.


Before you call me a communist pig, tool of the socialist liberals,  pawn of the right-wing religious extremists, or a Tea-bagger (yes I know the dirty implications of that title), please be aware that I did not vote for our current President Obama. I did not vote for the Republican candidate either. I voted for the man that held closest to what I believe a President should be and stand for - he was an independent candidate.


Here is my thoughts on corporate greed at the moment.
Quit buying from Wal-mart! Pay an extra 30-cents and support your local groceries and hardware stores. The more you support them, the better you are on the environment, the better quality your produce will be. the most money will go back into your local economy, and the more people they can employ. Fine - you can work at Wal-mart. Fine. Take your paycheck from them; but for heaven's sakes, put that money in a place that benefits you.

Most Fantastic Lentil Soup Evah!

Sick. fall Allergies. Hot tea with lemon. Benedryl. Kleenex. You get the gist of my week now.


However, this morning, I am feeling better (Benedryl induced, most likely); and decided to actually cook something. Initially I was craving potato soup. However, upon realizing that all good sounding potato recipes called for cream or half-n-half, I decided against those. I may be feeling better, but not well enough to put on a bra and go the store. Instead, we went for lentils.


If you are like me, my memories of childhood lentil soup are not pleasant. A gray greenish mysteriously thick gruel with the random tiny bean looking thing in it. Strangely enough, it's exactly the same as my impression of split pea soup; but that trauma is for another day. Today, however, I have triumphed. The most fantastic soup, with colors and textures and flavor - sooo sooo good. And No, it is not good just 'cause I'm sick.


This is one of those recipes that will go in the comfort food, veg-out day, meal plans. You know the ones where its dreary from raining for 3 days straight and you are watching some marathon on the Sci-fi channel or been sucked into a Lifetime Movie. The day where you plan to clean the house, but after washing the dishes, you sit down to rest and never get back up again.

Best Lentil Soup Evah.

1 cup dried brown lentils
4 cups chicken broth*
1 can (10oz) tomatoes w/ green chilies
1 can diced tomatoes**
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 garlic cloves, diced
1 medium onion, diced
2 large carrots, peeled and sliced
2 celery stalks (including leaves,)chopped
1/2lb Beef Kielbasa
1 bay leaf
Tbsp Thyme
Tsp oregano
(optional) carrot puree/pulp***
Balsamic vinegar

1. Over medium heat, cook onions in olive oil in a large soup pan. Add garlic and celery. Once celery begins to soften, add carrots, tomatoes, stock and spices.


2. Pour in lentils.

3. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and allow the soup to simmer for 20 minutes.***

4. In skillet brown the sausage and then deglaze pan with a little of the simmering stock. Dump entirety of skillet back into pot.

5. Simmer for 10 more min.

6. Remove from heat, discard bay leaf and add dash of vinegar.


*use as many low sodium ingredients a possible

**no salt added

***I keep the leftover pulp from juicing my carrots in the freezer.
After bringing the soup to a boil, add about 1/4 cup to stock for flavor, and additional thickening.
Putting a carrot in the food processor would give you similar effect.

Catharsis in Humiliation?

I have been researching the produced screenplays written by Erin Cressida Wilson because she is supposed to have had a hand in the screenplay of "Stoker" according to the NY Times. Wilson's movies all have similar themes, exploring the fringes of human sexuality - I was not wholly unfamiliar with her work, having seen "Fur: an Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus." and I think being the only one that liked it. However, her first movie, "Secretary" was supposed to have been a big hit in the indie world - and apparently I missed it when it debuted in 2002. All that being said, I watched it today and DO NOT get it.
       Here's what I don't get... the reveling in humiliation. Not wholly unfamiliar with the BDSM lifestyle although I don't really subscribe to it myself, I understand the psychology of relinquishing control and the need to be in control and the currency of trust in a loving relationship and to a degree I understand, though do no prefer, the concept of stretching the bodies limits and boundaries of pain and pleasure. However, I do NOT understand what catharsis a stable, emotionally healthy individual would get from real humiliation, either giving or receiving. As a matter of fact, I don't see what catharsis is achieved for an unhealthy individual.

Trust? um... where and why? And Trust is supposed to be the point of BDSM relationships... so again, WHAT? As a dominate person in such a relationship, if your job is to see to the welfare of the submissive, I am going to assume that means their mental and emotional well being as well - Where does humiliation play a part? What is achieved or gained? I wish someone would explain this to me.

Book Review - Naamah's Curse

Naamah's Curse by Jacqueline Carey

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Of all of the books in this series - This is the one I liked least.
Still well written, but a bit more predictable than all the others. Also, this one seemed to get a bit "preachy". I've always enjoyed Carey's incorporation of Elua's pantheon with the others, but this one was just too much.

The problem is that Moirin is not as interesting a character as Phedre. She seems a bit shallow and the idea of her "falling in love" with everyone she comes in contact, while a nice idea makes for less conflict - the heart of the first few books of the series. Its still a good read - but I am hoping that if we continue to hear about Moirin, as it looks like we may, that her character deepens or at least the conflict she is facing seems dire enough that I too struggle to find the answer with her.


SPOILER!!
With the discovery of the black diamond there was a hint that it was possible for Moirin to explore the darker side of desire. I would like to see more of that in the next book. Carey has a way of making things that I myself had not ever though appealing a bit more so and making me curious. When a book makes you think - that is when it is a worthy read.

Book Review - Naamah's Kiss

Naamah's Kiss by Jacqueline Carey


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Jacqueline Carey is one of the few author's who not only can entertain but inspires me to be a better writer. The skill with which she weilds words is rare. In the world of Fantasy books even moreso. For those that found the previous books too hard to read or hold inside, they will find this much lighter-hearted tale wholly to their liking.


Having waded through all through all of Kushiel's Legacy thus far, tracing the lives of Phedre and Imriel, I was expecting more of the same. When I first opened the book, I feared that she, as many others had done before, had managed to mire herself in the tales of the druid Morgain and Arthurian legends - not that I mind those, but I loved Careys book for their wholly unique take on God, gods, goddesses and magic. However, after reading for one full chapter, I was thrilled to see that Ms. Carey had again managed to spin a tale uniquely hers and of characters wholly her own, untainted my legends written over and over again by so many others. It was not another authors attempt at the arthurian legend again. Thank Elua.


Where the world of Phedre and Imriel was dense, teeming with darknesses of both horror and pleasure, the tale of Moirin is the opposite. There is ancient history, intrigue and dire circumstances, but there is a lightness to this book that the other did not have. While I hoped to revel in the violent grips of desire as I had in her earlier books, I find myself not necessarily disappointed that this one is bright and sunlit and joyous throughout. In the past, I felt the almost trapped as the characters were in their circumstances, dug in beyond rescue and exquisitly so; however this book brought an energy of untainted love, fleeting ephemeral beauty and magic all lit in the bright jade eyes of a half-breed young woman in search of her destiny and followed by the light hand of gods that gave with equanamity.

Book Review - Eleanor and Abel

Eleanor and Abel by Anette Sanford


My rating: 2.5 of 5 stars


While a cute read, easy to finish in a sitting and uncomplicated - this is not one of my favorite books. Its apparent that the writer's traditional genre is short stories. The concept of the book - finding love even at an old age is a good one. However the writing is mediocre. The wry wit does not make up for the lack of character development. The storyline felt like a short story that had outgrown its bounds and at one point there is a desperate attempt to create conflict by adding an additional character, which only served to water the plot down further.


I actually read this for a book club formed by Wentworth Miller fans. He had mentioned the book in an interview. I don't remember the exact wording, but the gist was that it would make a good movie. I do not disagree, the concept is there and the basic characters all exist in such a way that someone could option this book and make a fantastic heartwarming romance of it. It would make a better movie than book. I wonder how someone goes about optioning it...?


Anyway......
Some of my friends really enjoyed the book for the pure pleasure of reading. It is not that I did not enjoy it at all. Its is that I could never get past the 70 year old heroine seemingly having the emotional maturity of a 14 year old.

Broken - word vomit.

Broken. Ruined from adolescence. The shame having raw emotions poured out for public consumption through a sieve of ridicule. Tears. Internal ruts from the many rivulets. Words writ with quiet patience and hope burning to ashes in the fires of public humiliation. That’s what its like to have your the diary that holds the secrets of your 14 year old heart read in front of the family as a lesson. To have the very idea of your dreams reduced to puppy love. A concept that does not entail the carefree happiness the rest of the world understands it to be, but instead an indication of how pathetic the possibility is. Tender shoots straining for light under a shroud of legalism are crushed for reasons that are still inexplicable 20 years later, and you wonder why I’m single.


I was taught from my first crush on Joseph at 10 yrs old that with enough effort, I could suppress those urges. Urges - a word of said with the sneer of derision. A word that should imply desire and the possibility of euphoria within the scope of our lowly human bodies, .instead gives me an internal shudder. Much like the words puppy love make me immediately and irrationally angry, still, 20 years later.

When the average adolescent was learning to traverse the high and lows, joys and heartbreaks of interacting with their object of affection, I was learning to bury those feelings deep deep inside. Now that cavern is so deep I couldn’t find them even with trying at the very bottom. Its just too deep. The lessons you learn of flirting and talking and communicating with the opposite sex were lost to me, unrecoverable in the past where they were supposed to be learned. And you wonder Why I’m single.

The men willing to know me are patient because they understand the concept of internal struggle. It’s no wonder they have all been homosexuals. Thus, the men I fall in love with have been just that. When finally I risk all my hopes on someone that you might call less than perfect, what happens? He turns out to be gay. Ten years later, when I was able to dredge up all those buried treasures of my personality and psyche it was a on someone who made it safe to do so, then fell in love with someone else. So what does this teach. that there is no point in taking the risk. The risk of humiliation. The risk of pain again. The sacrifice is only going to be thrown back in my face, a punishment for succumbing to my primal and romantic instinct instead of ruling it as I’d been taught to do as a teenager.

Another ten years, a career later, a hundred pounds more, a lifetime past the happiness of my peers, its all gone. The hope of possibility. To make matters worse, I can feel the pity from friends, acquaintances, and family. Poor thing should have gotten married before she got fat. Now she’ll never get a man. My mom’s obvious attempts to teach me now what she failed to at 15. “You have to seize whats available to you,” she says with condescension simmering in her voice. “Bake the UPS man brownies or talk to the mailman when he comes by.” Gee, mom, thanks for the idea. I hadn’t realized I was quite that pathetic, but thanks for the reminder of perspective.

So again, tears trickle from an adult broken in adolescence. An adolescent buried under the humiliations of a pathetic woman. Humiliation in the sideways glances from those that pity you in the grocery store, at church and on the sidewalk. The slow death of seemingly undying hope every time a box needs checked on a survey - single, never married. The quiet crush of a wounded soul trying again to rise from the grave of social banishment as people stop inviting you because you cannot find a date. It would be easier if I were the feared lesbian. At least then I could use society or religion as a reason for my dreaded singleness. Instead I bear the contagion that is pure and unrelenting loneliness wrought from a heart that cannot be broken because it may not ever have grown up whole.