self-declared snow day

I really don't want to go anywhere today after hearing yet again about how slick the roads are yet again thanks to a little extra snow. So it's a snow day for me.. even though technically I was already scheduled out at work.

I know that I'd probably be more bitter and jaded if I owned my own home and had to shovel massive amounts of snow off my roof and worry about my furnace working and plumbing freezing up (I still have to worry about those things, it's just not my responsibility to do them or my bill to pay). But I'm just so fricking happy when it snows. And okay, maybe there have been a few times where snow's made me really unhappy-- a postponed semi-formal dance in high school, ruined plans for what turned out to be the last Valentine's day with someone special, canceled opening where one of my pieces was on display.. And missing work/ class due to weather becomes more stressful as you age (missing 8th grade algebra is fun-- trying to reschedule an essay review in grad school is not). Plus driving long distances on bad highways is no picnic-- white knuckling it through the Somerset stretch of the Turnpike in near-white out conditions was something else. But on the balance I just love it when it snows. It's as if some part of my brain regresses to false memories of an idyllic childhood (the kind no one truly has) where real life stops for a while and you just enjoy the peaceful, lovely, wonderful feeling of being surrounded by a marshmallow covered landscape with sugar sprinkling from the sky.

Which is why I made pancakes for breakfast. Hey, I've got nowhere to be, just a list of things I should do like laundry. I didn't completely regress and make dinosaur foot pancakes like la mère used to (which is a true memory), and I gussied them up a little (cornmeal cakes with nutmeg), but still. If only I had hot chocolate mix to complete the illusion.

While I'm happy to be lazing around chez moi, there really is nothing like being in Pittsburgh in the time leading up to a Steelers Super Bowl, and I miss it terribly. I know that I'm horrifically spoiled as a fan because I can make that statement, but it's true. It's just amazing, and here I am in bitter Bawlmer.

This time of year is bittersweet for fans, though. Sure, I'm nervous about the game-- rarely have I been accused of overconfidence-- but I'm also thrilled with a Super Bowl appearance when the best I'd hoped for going into this season was a playoff appearance at all. But the clock is running out on the season-- no more Sundays full of glorious, glorious football until September. Plus, once the teams win the NFC & AFC championships they no longer belong to their fans. They belong to the hype and the media events and the publicity machine and advertising engine that surround the Super Bowl. I'm not sure how I feel about sharing "my" team. And like I've said before, relatively few actual fans of the teams get to make it to the game-- they're far outnumbered by those with tickets bought and paid for out of corporate patronage, the kind of "fans" that will essentially flip a coin to decide what team's jersey they should buy in the merchandise tents. That's so irritating. I mean, fandom involves standing by the team through thick and thin (read: the 70s and 80s), through the good (XLIII), the bad (XXX), and the ugly (a certain quarterback's off-field antics), and (especially for us and GB) regional identity. I certainly don't have a spare five grand burning a hole in my pocket, and I'm in better shape than a lot of people. Though ticket prices are dropping a bit because there aren't a lot of people from Chicago and New York in the hunt...

New year, new post.

Oh Baltimore, you funny little big city. With your pissing contest over a three letter word and painting yourself purple and dead fish. Wait, dead fish? Yep. Dead fish. Ew. Well, I guess that's one to remind me of home.

Being sick and all, I've spent an inordinate amount of time on my couch the past few days. The closest books within reach of said couch are Mandarin language instruction books and depressing Russian books (random history and Solzhenitsyn-- One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and The Gulag Archipelago). (I've mentioned before that I met a guy once who actually claimed Solzhenitsyn was his favorite author. That still cracks me up. I mean, come on. Could you try to make it a little less obvious that you're a pretentious pompous ass overeager to be perceived as a politically aware intellectual?). Anyway, nothing light and non-challenging for my poor addled brain, so I watched far more television than I'm used to. Which? Really adds to the feeling of unreality brought on by high quality decongestants and a few days off from work. But now I'm back to work and still trying to shake this annoyingly persistent bug. Damn reality. And my poor cube neighbors that get to hear me hacking away.

Speaking of work, I had one of those days yesterday. It was a matryoshka doll of badness kind of day. That would be the opposite of the Mary Tyler Moore Moment day (which inspired the MTMM tag on this a-here blog)-- you know, the times you're just so freaking chipper that you want to throw your hat in the air while a disembodied voice from above intones that you're going to make it after all. Yesterday: not one of those days. Just one bad thing inside another, like evil nesting dolls. I actually originally coined the term to describe a situation at work where there were so many nuances and layers of wrongness that contributed to a bad situation, so I think I'm entitled to strain that metaphor to the breaking point. Thankfully, things are looking a little better. For the time being.

If only I could stop coughing. Consumptive authoresses/ heroines are so 19th century.

happy(ish) new year

My New Year's has gone so far awry it's not funny. I appear to have caught bronchitis from my brother, and, of course, after getting so stir crazy that I just had to get off my couch, the normally reasonably reliable Jeepers' check engine light came on. When most places are already closed for the holidays and it looks like I'll be waiting until Monday to have anyone look at it. Of course. But aside from my confinement and boredom, it's traditional at the end of the year to reflect on the year that was and try to pretend that we can exert control over the year that will be. Except, well, I don't want to jinx myself or set myself up for disappointment. No pretending I can control things that much-- man proposes and God disposes, and all that. So. Just reflection on the year that was.

I think it's safe to say that 2010 has brought quite a few changes. Finally got the damn masters degree after years of procrastination (long term relationships will do that). I also bought a car, got lucky enough to entertain multiple job offers, got a job at my preferred agency, and moved a few hundred miles away to a place where I hardly know anyone. I learned how to sail small craft & got my little red book certification. I now have done enough long-ish haul drives by myself to be frustrated by those who are clearly not regular interstate drivers. The brats are adjusting, and I'm, well, perhaps not used to but resigned to being a Steelers/ Pens fan in Ravens/ Caps territory. I still find the "hon" thing funny, though. They're so possessive 'round these parts of that little word that I don't have the heart to mention that it's pretty common back home.

Of course, while I've reaped the benefits of moving hundreds of miles away from most people I care about and who care about me... and the disadvantages. I still hardly know anyone here all that well (trying to work on that...), which has been made all the more clear by my current situation. But. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? I mean, I guess I could have found a job back home, but it would have been harder to find one at all and whatever I found would have been a compromise that would have taken me further away from the ultimate direction I want my career to take. Neither was an appealing choice, but I need to make up for lost time. So here we are.

Home from the holidays

Merry belated Christmas, mes chers who celebrate. I only have to go two generations or so back to find ones that celebrated Orthodox (aka Russian) Christmas, so I'm not really that late. Les parents were overgenerous as usual, and I now have a TV less than 15 years old. I only asked for a giftcard toward one, so. Whoa. Hopefully my gifts were as well-received (among other things, I got tickets to the Baltimore Grand Prix for le père & frère, and le frère & I finally got my mom the Terrible Towel autographed by Jack Lambert).

The brats are happy to be home, the Steelers are playoff bound, I thoroughly enjoyed NHL 24/7 (I don't have HBO, so I took full advantage of my parents' cable) and am SO PUMPED for the Winter Classic now (if I only had a spare $500 burning a hole in my pocket for tickets). And I totally lucked out-- the predicted 6-10" of snow didn't materialize at all and the drive back was far, far smoother than the ride up. Alas, back to reality and work tomorrow. I think I'm going to make popcorn and watch some MNF on my new TV.

Home(ish) for the holidays

Facebook status posted late yesterday afternoon: It's 233 miles to Delmont, I got a full tank of gas, two cats the back, it's getting dark, and I'm wearing sunglasses. Hit it.

Damn typo ruined the effect. Bleh. Blame my haste to get on my way and minimize the feline trauma. They officially do not travel well-- poor FatCat yacked and (here's a first) peed in the carrier. Well, one doesn't. DamnCat screeched, but ultimately resigned herself to her fate. Mostly. It's probably because FatCat still associates long car rides with being dumped at a shelter on some level, even though it's been three years (roughly half his life). Poor baby.

On a happier note, Steelers singing carols!! Yeah, they really shouldn't quit their day jobs, but it's pretty funny watching them try to sing harmony on Silver Bells.

so let it be written...

• I know that a team with an excellent defense and mediocre-ish offense can still win Superbowls. Six words to summarize this radical notion: Trent. Dilfer. Has. A. Superbowl. Ring.
• I'm still laughing about the Metrodome collapsing after all the DRAHHHHHHHHMA over Favre starting and the Giants charter being diverted.
• Baltimoreans, scary drivers at the best of times, really need to accept that in temperate climes?  Precipitation happens.  Sometimes of the freezing/ frozen variety.  And it's okay.  People can make slight adjustments to their driving (perhaps not, say, average 55 in a 40 commercial zone as they do in clear weather) without overreacting (frantically slamming on the breaks) and thus avoid causing accidents.  Sheesh.  I thought Pittsburgh drivers were bad about freaking out over the weather.  Then again, Baltimore/ DC Drivers are about the worst in the country.
• While I draft this, I'm in the process of doing something drastic and/ or rash. When I do publish... le fait accompli. So let it be written, so let it be done.

Ugh.

I should know better than to watch Sunday morning news shows. Especially when I'm already disgruntled because it's in the 30s, I have the cold from hell, and no heat in a building that usually doubles as a sauna. I wondered why the brats were being so friendly last night. I've been delaying my shower in the hopes that my apartment would heat up (as have my neighbors-- old building means everyone hears everyone's water use and nobody's run a shower yet), but that strategy doesn't seem to be working.

Damn.

Saturday, and the living's easy

I believe that there is a sun in the sky once more and I am forcing myself to not dwell on things beyond my control. In honor of the reappearance of the sky fire ball, I was up at the crack of dawn (or more precisely, my approximation of the crack of dawn which involves neither cracking nor dawn) and down the strip to pick up staples.

I haven't been down in a while thanks to the weather and the jeep's bad behavior, so I almost forgot that there's little like a visit down the strip on a day when everyone is in a generally good mood to cultivate affection for this city. Even the pretentious woman who wanted everyone behind her to know she needed the perfect cheese for her "cab tasting" was bearable (though mostly because the cheese runners are awesome). The people stopping to stare at these amazing things we call honeydews were also moderately annoying instead of inspiring fantasies of smashing their heads into the melons (it's not that I'm a violent person, I just can't tolerate acting like a idiot over common produce). The gentleman at the counter at Reyna? He remembers me from buying salsa and guac for my family every time I'm down and making fun of Ohioans with him (no offense to Ohioans-- they just need their own day to go down and to stop getting their panties in a bunch over the prevalence of Pittsburgh Steelers merchandise in Pittsburgh). I had an amazing lemon-polenta-almond bar for breakfast, got everything I needed plus a few things for la famille, spent some time contemplating a pasta roller and other fine kitchen gadgets that I can't live without (but must), got Primanti's to go for lunch, and was gone by 11. And I even managed to get a parking space within two blocks of my apartment.

Now some cleaning, some feline attention, some writing, some sewing, and then some Alice in Wonderland.

That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French

I think that That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French is one of the best short stories I've ever read, even though (or perhaps because) it's written by Stephen King. The point of the story (and the point of several of his stories, he likes that theme) is that hell is repetition. Sure, it's played to great comedic effect in Groundhog Day, and a large number of people claim that they like predictability, but let's be honest: repetition is it's own special version of hell.

Day in, day out, it's the same around these parts. The stagnation, it is exquisite.

Part of it, for me, is the weather. I adore snow, but the fact remains that it's so damned difficult to do anything or go anywhere. Part of it is the job hunt, which is going nowhere fast. Part of it is the sheer mass of unknown looming ahead. Part of it is senioritis-- or can I call it masteritis? The desire to just be done and over with, the lack of will to do what needs to be done to get everything done and over with. Part of it is the feeling that yet again, I care about something that nobody else cares about (my small consolation is that had I gotten an MLIS, even fewer people would care even less that the token amount of interest shown now). None of my friends or relatives has asked what my essay topic is or when graduation is going to happen. While I live most of my life regardless of other people's thoughts, utter apathy about something that's really kind of important still drags me down. If it were a wedding, they'd be (or would probably be) all over that. That kind of irks, because half of all marriages fail while my degree will be forever. But my priorities are obviously not the norm.

Oh well. Speaking of ruts, let's see if I can get jeepzilla moving again before we get yet another snow deposit. And if I can't, then I guess I'll go work in the library, see if I can get some essay inspiration. If not, then I can brainstorm about Klari's question. I could respond with the seven page critique of the Senate and House bills I wrote last semester-- it's written in a more casual style, meant to be an opinion piece rather than a policy brief-- but that would be copping out.

Yeah. I need divine intervention levels of inspiration. Where's Jude when you need him?

cabinet fever

I'm beginning to think I should document my Fiestaware collection. For someone who didn't inherit it or collect it via wedding registry, it's really pretty impressive. And bright. And very happy and cheerful.

The morning after the snowpacalypse brought a semi-cleared street (note that the cars are about 2/3 of a space away from the curb).



But less busy streets are still a little... snowy.



The buses are only sort of running at the moment, not all routes, not the actual or complete route, and not to any type of schedule. Tomorrow's commutes are going to be FUN. And now there this business about a potential six more inches of snow Tuesday...

out and about in Squirrel Hill and a tea party hangover

I would call this brilliant timing.



And here is the street where I park Jeepzilla.



And poor Jeepzilla looks pretty much settled in for a long winter's nap. Not moving anytime soon.



So we're about as snowed in as you can get around these parts with this once-in-15-years storm. Good times, as I really needed to get to the library this weekend and... not happening. No vehicle, no/ extremely limited public transportation, and, right, libraries all closed. So here I am, indulging in something that I know isn't good for me: Sunday morning news programs. And of course, they're giving a disproportionate share of attention to the tea party types.

I picked on the left last time, so it's time for the right. Why do conservatives prefer to listen to idiots like Sarah Palin? I hate the rampant anti-intellectualism she represents. She wanted to create foreign policy without a basic grasp of geography, to remold the Supreme Court without the ability to name a single court decision when asked (didn't we ALL learn about Brown v. Board of Education, Miranda v. Arizona, hell, Roe v. Wade?). Her hypocritical faux-folksy shtick pits straw man "professors" against "real Americans," as if intelligence and education precludes one from being a real American-- and are unfit to have any input into policymaking. Glad to know that I'm not a real American. But studying at an elite institution, possessing advanced degrees doesn't magically exempt anyone from paying mortgages, arranging childcare, or buying groceries and gasoline. Either that or they forgot to show me the free grocery secret handshake at graduation.

On top of the ridiculous presupposition that intelligent Americans aren't real Americans, where does this leave intelligent, articulate, educated conservatives? Take George Will, for example. Is he not a real American, or do his political leanings allow him to be grandfathered into the club? Why can't conservatives embrace this kind of figurehead instead?

I see the Republicans falling into the same trap that the Democrats did about 6 years ago-- attacking, but not offering tangible, reasonable alternatives. I'm still waiting to see a reasonable Republican health plan rather than abstract suggestions like "allow people to buy insurance across state lines." Minor adjustments to the health insurance market are not going to fix a fundamentally flawed delivery and payment system. Anyway, I'll be truly shocked if any kind of health care reform is passed. I wonder where that's going to leave us in about 15-20 years, when the boomers are in long term care and swelling Medicaid and Medicare.

Snowpocalypse, Pt. 2: Repent, for the kingdom of snow is at hand

There's still no reason to panic, but doesn't this put those days of an inch or two or three into perspective?







We've got emergency declarations at the local, county, and state levels, but there are still plenty of special snowflakes that insist that they have to drive despite not being essential personnel, having the skills, or the proper vehicle to do so. Only a single bus is running a partial route on the busway, the rest are shut down. 150,000 without power, including water treatment plants (meaning low/ no water in many parts) and Jefferson Hospital has apparently essentially shut down because both power sources failed and they're on generator power.

It's really like the Blizzard of '93 all over again. All I need is to hear that Dad has to go up and make sure that the chains are on the fire truck, then go out & close Dravosburg hill before some idiot kills themselves. Well, you know, except for the part where my dad effectively retired from volunteer firefighting when my family moved away from there in 1997. And my parents are down in Florida and mocking us. And I'm 17 years older. But, otherwise, totally like it.

Where did you go? Where have you been?

Where did January go? At least I'm down to one more month of waiting to hear if I'm a finalist for the fellowship I really want. Also, totally missed mentioning two years since officially adopting FatCat. DamnCat still looks at me as if asking when I'm going to return the interloper.

Paul Krugman and Arianna Huffington on the round table on This Week: could there be two less effective "defenders" of the proposed health care reform? With all due respect to Mr. Economic Nobel Prize, Krugman's a great writer but terrible speaker/ debater. Arianna Huffington.. oy.

I am a redhead again. I missed it. Very few blondes (whether natural or "blonde") look their best with that color. I include myself in that category-- it was pretty on its own, but made me look washed out). And I'm just not a brunette in either personality or color (no offense to the brunettes out there). Which leaves black and red. Black might actually work... but it's a commitment (and probably the one color that would actually shock my mother). Red is fun, it makes my eyes stand out even more, and random strangers ask me if it's my natural color when I'm not burgundy (obvi, no) and if I'm Irish (not a drop). And while it might be pushing the envelope a bit with job interviews in which I'm supposed to be extremely serious and reliable... well, I hope that the extra confidence makes up for whatever seriousness I lose.

Speaking of which, I found a fabulous Calvin Klein suit with an inseam that might actually work for me... but it's a little pricey. Of course. Because the one freaking suit at Macy's that wouldn't look completely ridiculous on me is also about the most expensive. Just try to find 36" inseams in women's sizes-- talls are hard enough to come by, but almost all clothing manufactures assume that tall people are just stretched out normal people with proportionately narrower hips and all. And shorties can kiss my ass on that matter. At least they can hem things. I can't add fabric to make the legs and arms longer.

My jewelry making skills are improving. I will have to take pictures. But showering, laundry, library, and such should take priority at the moment.

turnpike sights

a question of class

This week featured a whirlwind visit to our nation's capital for my fellowship assessment. It was... tricky. Not difficult per se, but after a while it felt like a never-ending parade of trick questions. Of course, now I'm a wreck. Well over 8,700 people made it to this stage-- compared to about 5,000 last year. And placements aren't predicted to keep pace with application growth, making this the most incredibly competitive year yet for this program. G r e a t. But, well, whatever will be will be. Hopefully I will have scored high enough to make it into a pool to be considered, and hopefully my more varied interests and actual working experience will differentiate me from the other applicants. Hopefully. At the moment, that's the best I can do while I wait out the next month and a half. That and to keep applying to other positions. I really don't like writing cover letters.

Okay, back to something I've been ruminating on since Wednesday.

cinnamon toast

I love snow. Always have. It's the consolation for cold, remaking the landscape into a gingerbread wonderland spread with meringue and topped with a sparkling sprinkle of sugar crystals in exchange for numbing the fingers and toes and forehead and nose.

And with yet another SNOWPACALYPSE (in slow-mo this time.. or is that snow-mo?) on top of the near-constant freezing and snowing that we've had since New Year's, the instinct to nest-- no, to HIBERNATE-- is so very strong. The most I accomplished tonight was to start assembling my research binder and make cinnamon toast. I haven't had cinnamon toast since... well, honestly, I can't recall. Not since I've been living on my own, that's for sure. I take my toast medium, with butter (the type of bread doesn't matter, but rye is nice) (I am SO my grandmother's granddaughter). A little honey if I'm feeling decadent. But apparently the extended SNOWPACALYPSE is causing me to regress to the point where cinnamon toast in my jammies is about the highlight of my day. Actually, having cocoa would have put it over the top, but there isn't any cocoa in the apartment. I did consider going out into the SNOWPACALYPSE, but comfort (and laziness, let's be honest) won out. The brats are just fine with this development. Their coats are plush and sleek (well, except for Pete's self-induced feline pattern baldness) with winter down, making their slightly rotund figures look even fuller.

The inevitable parade of tomorrow's school delays is marching across the evening news. Looks like I'll be hiking it to school tomorrow. I tromped around (well, through) Schenley to campus Tuesday. It's about two and a half miles, mostly downhill on the way there and mostly uphill on the way back, taking me through the golf course and past Phipps. It's a pleasant walk, usually punctuated by a motley crew of joggers, golfers, students, and residents. As soon as I reached Wightman, the light snow turned into an almost white-out that lasted until I reached the Westinghouse pond. It was so pretty, so hushed and private-- but I lost feeling from my feet to my knees and my hands burned for the better part of a half an hour after I entered the library. I think I'll wear two pairs of socks tomorrow.

cold comfort

Insomnia strikes again, despite not having any caffeine after 5. Grr.

I'm so glad that the bitter cold is accompanied by gorgeous snow. It was so pretty tonight, the flakes drifting exactly as if it were a slow-motion pillow fight scattering down everywhere. Pretty enough to distract me from my painful fingertips turning numb despite my mittens.

Unfortunately, I suspect that the Boy Mayor is scheming to save the city budget by scrimping on snow treatment. I ventured out to visit my grandmother (who remains in the hospital). Our very busy roads were greasy with snow and freezing slush, making for a most irritating trip down Murray. But the south hills? The roads were fine! A little wet, but that's all. Coming home, the roads in town had actually worsened, to the point where I was having trouble gaining traction to climb back up Murray. Good times!

geronimo!

Happy new year to my tiny cabal of readers!

It's officially really. freaking. cold. now. As with all older buildings, the heating is out of sync-- instead of being too hot as ususal, it's chilly now. I'm reluctant to leave my bed (It's nice and toasty, with jersey sheets and one down and one synthetic comforter). Some butter I left out to soften overnight was still hard on the counter this morning.

Everyone and everything is returning to the mundane. I hate the post-holiday let down so much. I can only imagine how the brats will feel, after becoming accustomed to having the human around so much. You'd think that having one another and being, well, cats, they'd be blase about my comings and goings. But instead of being inter-dependent, they're both apparently independently co-dependent on me. I'm oddly not looking forward to returning to school. There's so much stupid red tape from the school not removing certain holds, so I'm not officially registered yet. Which means I have to hurry up and try to get everything fixed and in place before Wednesday (because unlike CMU, where you had up to the third week of classes for add/ drop, it's only the first day here-- which sucks, because you're trapped). Good times.

Given the uptick in email from my abandoned dating account, I guess that the New Year (and possibly poor New Year's Eve celebrations? or those really annoying eharmony commercials?) has instilled a desperate need to attach. Hilarity ensues. As usual, I despair in the lack of basic reading comprehension and familiarity with the rules of standard written English. I explicitly state "I really don't care for anime." Of course, I receive the following message (in its entirety) "I see your into anime- me too We should chat" Le sigh.

My cacti continue to shrink into dormancy. It's still freaking me out. Speaking of things that elicit strong emotional responses, I've had the Dr. Who marathon on for most of the time that I've been in for the past two days, catching up on everything I've missed (which is practically everything, given that I watched my first full episode just three weeks ago), up to Ten's departure last night. Nothing like going from love at first sight to a completely heart-wrenching regeneration in three weeks. Jeebus.

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man.

Or woman. What is it about New Year's that sets up so much in the way of expectations? We have to measure up our progress over the past arbitrarily defined period of time and compare ourselves to the unrealistic expectations we set up for ourselves 365 (and a quarter) days ago. As if that weren't enough, we have to compare how others have changed over the past year, and our own progress (or regress) compared to theirs. I realize that it's almost ironic that someone who is so very interested in evaluation and measurement (of policy, people!) is resistant to evaluation and measurement at New Year's, but maybe it's because New Year's is a hell of a terrible time to do such things. Seasonal affective is at its peak (in the Northern hemisphere, but still). The "fun" holidays are over (at least until March, when some commemorate a saint's feast day with alcohol poisoning). The debt from Christmas is about to be realized. The novelty of snow is wearing off, and patience with cold has expired. You feel out of shape from being cooped up inside, a pale and dried out mess. You get the picture.

Nevertheless, traditions die hard. As for myself, I'm an essay (aka thesis) and elective away from a master's. The future is somewhere between exhilarating and frightening, but wholly unknown despite being just five months away. Friendships wax and wane. Romance has been a waste of time between being used to cheat on another, being yelled at on a first date, and having my Halloween "date" punched by my friend. My family remains mostly constant. I think that all families are. This blog came into existence, I lost the cat I'd had for twelve years, I acquired new practical skills and interests. I got my hands dirty and kept my nails usually somewhat manicured. I flirted with going back to my natural hair color then took a turn toward dark brown instead (and started growing it out for the first time in six or seven years-- still only shoulder-length, though). I donated blood four times. I came down with the dread pig flu, or so I suspect. I didn't travel much beyond visiting family and politicians. I acquired JeepZilla after Nick got a new car. I've read 96 (or will, when I finish the ones I just picked up) books since I turned on the reading history tracking on my library account in April. I worked in three places. I... am mostly satisfied with my year. Hardly perfect, but it worked. And that's just fine.

Holidays and health care reform perspectives

I hope that the handful of you that read my little journal had a lovely holiday, or if you don't celebrate, a lovely day. Christmas remains my favorite holiday, even though it doesn't really "feel" like Christmas when you're so busy in the time leading up that you're ready to drop from exhaustion. My all too brief winter break consisted of a lot of cooking and last minute baking/ confection making, DVD watching (while baking/ cooking), and napping. The cats, they do so like the toasty apartment and the bounty of treats, catnip, and toys from their admirers... not to mention the human-sized hot water bottle for their own napping.

It's sad that this was in all likelihood my last Christmas season here, and yet there was no visit to Oglebay or other light displays, no visits to the various holiday attractions, and little time with friends or family. Given that I'll be the low man on the totem pole wherever I am next season, I'll probably just be in and out for Christmas. Which means that there really isn't a "next year" anymore. It's weird to think about. I've tried to arrange time with others, but I think that there's a significant amount of denial and the insistence that I'm not going anywhere... making everything that much harder on me.

So... I made the first cut of the Presidential Management Fellowship. The next step is a really, really long test down in DC. So I'll be down January 13th, in downtown (the site's near the Farragut West metro stop), exact arrangements to be determined. I'm applying for a federal positions as they arise, but there's a state-level fellowship that looks intriguing. That one could place me in Virginia, NC, Maine (my top choices).

Anyway. Speaking of my future career and such, how about that health care reform? It's... something, but it's not real reform. It's an attempt to broaden access, but it's so bogged down with trying to keep various interests happy and it's lacking guiding principles like "nobody will go without health care" or "we will revamp our system to make it at least efficient enough to not spend one-fifth of our GDP on care that's not making our country particularly healthy". Or how about actually reducing the 5,000+ monthly deaths from preventable medical errors. It's also a testament to how far the country has shifted to the right in the past 40 years or so. The bills in the conference committee now are actually not so terribly different from health care reform legislation proposed by Richard Nixon, of all folks. Unfortunately, Watergate came along soon after, and that was pretty much the end of that. But it's a sad state of affairs when ideas that came from a fairly conservative president are now being blasted as "socialist." And it's an even sorrier state of affiars when this is, you know, only my field of study in which I'm a thesis away from a masters, and yet certain friends and family seem to think that I still know nothing about the subject. Huzzah for personal politics getting in the way of actual thought.

It pisses me off endlessly how people are in denial on both sides of the political spectrum. No, we DON'T have the best health care in the world. We're on par with countries like Costa Rica in terms of infant mortality, despite spending twice as much per capita as the next biggest spender. Yes, we have cutting-edge technology- but only a small fraction of the population can actually access it even with insurance thanks to arcane agreements between hospitals and insurers, cost-sharing and rules about "experimental" treatment. So what good is that technology if only the ultra-rich have access? On the other hand, stop comparing the US to Canada-- Canada has one-tenth of our population, is far less diverse, and has a completely different national character. And like it or not, we can't just destabilize such a huge chunk of the economy. Health care in the US has become a particularly large brain tumor at this point-- it's quietly grown into a major problem while we were all focused on more immediately pressing issues. But going in all helter-skelter is just as dangerous as completely ignoring the problem. But as we've sadly learned and seen, over and over again, nobody is willing to actually listen to the people who study this issue (ahem... like myself...). Almost everyone has their own political axe to grind, and very few are willing to let something like facts get in the way.