18 October 2014

Ebola fury

I slept for 9.5 hours last night, and I momentarily feel human again (momentarily because on Monday I am going to jump right back into the second half of a two week long Major Work Event and then I will be exhausted again).

I am so busy with this Major Work Event that I can't even stop for more than a second to lose my shit about the fact that so many people are dying in Liberia and rather than give one single fuck (swearing absolutely necessary here), the entire United States is up in arms that one single hospital in Dallas didn't take enough precautions with one single Ebola patient. 

How the hospital was allowing staff to treat an Ebola patient without coverings for their shoes is a legitimate question - had no one even googled Ebola? I am not a health professional, and I know better.

But I know! (Here comes massive sarcasm:) Let's freak out and waste our time blaming the Obama administration and try to get them to close our borders to people coming from that part of the world (really? really? when most of the people arriving in the US from West Africa are US CITIZENS, how are you going to enforce that one?), when what we should be doing is STOPPING PEOPLE FROM DYING IN WEST AFRICA, starting with basic things like oral rehydration salts and gloves and clean water and doctors.

Sometimes it truly drives me to fury how lives in Africa don't seem to matter.

Let me put it this way: if your child got sick, and you took care of her for days while she vomited and had diarrhea because there was no hospital to take her to, and then she died in your arms, would you be sad?

Why do we think of it any differently when the child dying is in Africa? Do we somehow think that the mother who just watched her child die in Liberia cares less than we would?

Yeah, let's think about that for a while, while we ignore the thousands of real people who are dying in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea. 

15 October 2014


For various reasons, I drive all the way to a far suburb of Gone West every day right now, and the days are long.

On the way, I see the changing colors of the leaves, and again on the way home, but I am stuck in traffic and mostly they just fly by. Today, though, I left in time for the last of the daylight, so I pulled into a little cul-de-sac off the main road, right by the row of beautiful reddening trees. For four or five minutes, I took a break from the crazy day and the crazy drive to take pictures of leaves and trees. 

And then I jumped back into my car and drove back into the busy.

(The reason this matters is because I have developed an addiction to Instagram. Yes, yes I have. I try to post one pretty picture per day. No selfies allowed.)

10 October 2014


I unpacked two boxes of kitchen stuff today.

Unfortunately, the stuff is now sitting on the counter waiting to be washed and put away, somewhere, I'm not sure where, since the girl who moved out left most of her stuff. All those cups? I have no idea where they are going to go. There is a whole shelf of cups, but they are not as pretty or interesting as my cups. 

They are a lot more uniform, though. If one wanted matching cups, the ones already in the cabinets are the ones to keep.

(Who wants uniformity, anyway?)

29 September 2014


I thought I was going to sleep on the air mattress. I was ready to sleep on the air mattress. I laid down on the air mattress and attempted to sleep.

The air mattress was seeping air. 

I could hear it. 

Do you know how distracting it is to hear and feel the mattress beneath you losing air as you try to fall asleep?

I will give you a hint: I, for one, cannot sleep while that is happening. 

I tried anyway, and I managed to achieve that half-asleep stage where you cannot fully deal with the problem, but you are also not fully asleep.

Then the air mattress pretty much fully deflated. 

I don't know what time that was. I do know that I was really glad that I had already moved my sleeping pad for camping. 

I stumbled into the closet, grabbed the sleeping pad, stumbled back to the deflated air mattress, and sat on it, with my eyes closed, blowing into the valve.

I then slept approximately like one does while camping: badly.

Fortunately, my new roommate has been sleeping on one mattress atop another on the floor and was willing to loan me one of them, so I will be sleeping tonight on a blissful layer of coils and polyester.

28 September 2014

one place

Moving is the worst. The worst ever.

I have moved, this year, ten times. I have gotten better at the logistics but there is no improving the emotions. The emotions only get stronger with too many transitions in too short a time. The human psyche was not intended to survive so many changes and so much uncertainty.

Although some people thrive on it. I don't get those people. I don't even like backpacking around Europe. I'm happy to travel, sure, but give me a place to leave my stuff. It works like this: get a hotel. Leave your stuff there. Go see the town. Come back to your stuff.

Similarly with travel in general: leave your stuff at home. Travel. Come back to your stuff. It's lovely that way.

I am sleeping on an air mattress tonight, but there is this: I have a year-long lease on this apartment. I signed a lease. 

That means that I have to come up with the rent every month. It also means that I don't have to move for a year. 

I've never been so happy to be tied to one place.

14 September 2014


People complain when the days are so hot, but I love the hot days, if only for the evenings, when the air is still warm and heat still radiates from concrete and the air smells like distant smoke. Even better if I can walk in the warmth, in the dark; still better on gravel that crunches under my feet. 

It feels like home. 

13 September 2014

feets, pain

It hurts to walk right now, and it's my own fault. I neglected the necessary upkeep on my heels. You know, keeping them from getting dry and cracked? I have had an amazing foot scraper, but I haven't replaced it in years, and it needs to be replaced every now and then or it loses its texture, which it seems to have done. Thus, limping. 

Two days ago I broke down and bought one of those little grater things that they use on your feet when you get a pedicure, and I took that to my feet, to no avail.

Last night I asked if the K.s had any epsom salts, because my feet hurt more than ever. They did not, but D. offered me something called Bag Balm. Bag Balm was apparently developed for the udders of milk cows, to keep them from getting chapped. I am now drenching my heels in udder ointment multiple times a day. 

I am also wearing closed shoes in the 88 degree heat, which is fine. As I used to annoy people by saying, "It's cooler than South Sudan!" (It's always cooler here than South Sudan at its hottest.) I just cannot stand to think of all the filth that would get into the cracks in my foot if I were wearing sandals.

Is it just me, or does wearing rubber sandals make your feet extra dry? 

Walking hurts. 

I walk anyway. 

I happened upon a street fair today, just at random, so I meandered up and down the street, running into two sets of people I know (Gone West is smaller than you'd think). At one intersection, the organizers of the street fair had imported a large circle of grass, with benches, and people were lounging about. Above them, the traffic signal continued its cycle through green - amber - red - green - amber, signaling to no vehicles.