Warning: I'm not quite sure if the way that I came about the following information is completely legal. Still, it seemed unfair not to share.
One of the prior occupants of my apartment (not even the previous one, but long, long before) received a letter from the Republican National Committee. On the envelope, it said: REPUBLICAN CENSUS DOCUMENT ENCLOSED.
Fortunately, they didn't seal the envelope, and I didn't have to feel completely guilty in taking a peek.
Here are the contents of the survey. I presume that these will be of interest to Republicans, Democrats, and those members of neither party, who are at all wondering what the Republicans are thinking about these days. It should be noted that the results of this survey will help to steer the Republican platform for the next ten years.
I'm hoping that by typing this out, it will stop me from filling it out and sending it in.
Also, you should be very grateful that I am typing this for you. It costs eleven dollars to tabulate each survey! I am saving the RNC a lot of money. (And, I'm not even asking you for a donation. You're welcome.)
Please answer honestly. For each question, we should reply: Yes, No, or Undecided.
Domestic and International Security
1. Do you support President Bush's initiatives to promote the safety and security of all Americans?
2. Do you support the use of air strikes against any country that offers safe harbor or aid to individuals or organizations committed to further attack on America?
3. Do you continue to support increasing the amount of security at airports, train stations, and all government buildings, including monuments and museums?
Economic Issues
4. Should the inheritance or "Death Tax" be permanently repealed?
5. Do you support President Bush's pro-growth policies to create more jobs and improve the economy?
6. Do you think Congress should focus on cutting the federal budget deficit by reducing wasteful government spending? Blogger's note: Wasteful? Like what? One wonders.
Education Issues
7. Do you support President Bush's plan to make our schools more accountable to parents and to stores local control of education?
8. Should students, teachers, principals and administrators be held to higher standards?
9. Do you agree that teaching our children to read and increasing literacy rates should be a national priority?
Social Issues
10. Do you support President Bush's initiative to allow private religious and charitable groups to do more to help those in need?
11. Do you support the law, passed by the Republican Congress and signed by President Bush, that bans partial-birth abortions?
12. Do you support the President's efforts to save Social Security for future generations?
13. Do you think Congress should pass legislation on the Federal Marriage Amendment?
Defense Issues
14. Do you think U.S. troops should have to serve under United Nations' commanders?
15. Do you agree that our top military priority should be fighting terrorists?
16. Should the U.S. continue work on building a defense shield against nuclear missile attack?
I look forward to hearing your responses on any of these issues.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Dear Trent Lott,
I understand that you don't read blogs, and never will. I read this in Time magazine. I wanted to commend you on your open-mindedness, and your acute understanding that there are no blogs whose main topic isn't exposing your misdeeds.
Obviously, all blogs are about you. You, and only you.
I admit it. You're the only thing I think about, day and night. Night and day. You are a smoldering tower of masculinity and political prowess and I carry you around inside me like an extra organ.
I need you, Trent.
Please, I beg of you.
Read my blog. If you did, I'd update it more than once a month like I do now.
Love always,
Sanuvia
Obviously, all blogs are about you. You, and only you.
I admit it. You're the only thing I think about, day and night. Night and day. You are a smoldering tower of masculinity and political prowess and I carry you around inside me like an extra organ.
I need you, Trent.
Please, I beg of you.
Read my blog. If you did, I'd update it more than once a month like I do now.
Love always,
Sanuvia
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Dear Elle, or, Why I Became a Muslim
I keep forgetting that when I write in my blog, technically anyone can read it.
So, to Elle, who wanted to know why I became a Muslim (and because I think even the people who know me probably don't know), I present the following. I apologize that it took me five bazillion years to write it, but I was in the midst of reading a bunch of ridiculous SOL (Standards of Learning) writing prompts about how my students would have their family from a runaway tiger in a zoo, and I was walking around with a little storm cloud of self-pity over my head, and I just couldn't do it yet.
I'm feeling better today.
This probably has something to do with the massive stack of pancakes that I consumed this morning.
Regardless, I probably started becoming a Muslim when I quit being a Catholic, at the age of sixteen. (In an unlikely turn of events, when I told my mother of my decision, she replied, "That's all right. I never liked it, either.") I had many complaints about Catholicism, largely stemming from the inferiority I felt as a female member of the congregation, and because there were some questions that I had about the logic of Christianity.
Although I stated this before, I will say it again. I have no problem whatsoever with Christianity. If that's the path to God that works best for you, and you find it helpful, that's wonderful. It's just not something that worked for me.
The main complaint that I formed went something like this:
If Jesus (and consequently, God) had to die for our sins and be resurrected, doesn't that necessarily mean that God is not omnipotent?
In other words, it made no sense to me that the creator of the world, who should know all that will happen, would knowingly allow Adam and Eve to bring original sin upon us all, and then later realize, "Oh, wait. I guess it's time to undo original sin." God should have just been able to make that happen without all of the rigmarole of becoming human, dying, and ascending into heaven.
Really, this is the story of how I became agnostic, too, because I had no idea what Islam was until I met this very lovely man in graduate school. He never really talked much about his faith, but I kept doing embarrassing things, like calling during prayer, and trying to feed him during fasting, and so I started to read about Islam to stop making a fool of myself.
The more I read, the more I found I agreed with.
The more questions that I had, the more it seemed that Islam was providing answers.
And I admit that there are some things that I am still adjusting to, and some things that I'm not sure I'll ever really like. I'm still figuring out exactly the position of women; I know that there is a great deal of respect given to women and motherhood, and women have far more rights than Westerners tend to realize. Because right now I still feel a little more outside of Islam than inside, because I'm still learning, it's hard for me to judge.
If anyone is interested in hearing more about that topic, let me know and I'll see what I can put together.
I'm open to any questions or discussions, which I will presume in advance will be kind-hearted. I'm not the best person to explain Islam, but I can explain more about my decision if need be.
So, to Elle, who wanted to know why I became a Muslim (and because I think even the people who know me probably don't know), I present the following. I apologize that it took me five bazillion years to write it, but I was in the midst of reading a bunch of ridiculous SOL (Standards of Learning) writing prompts about how my students would have their family from a runaway tiger in a zoo, and I was walking around with a little storm cloud of self-pity over my head, and I just couldn't do it yet.
I'm feeling better today.
This probably has something to do with the massive stack of pancakes that I consumed this morning.
Regardless, I probably started becoming a Muslim when I quit being a Catholic, at the age of sixteen. (In an unlikely turn of events, when I told my mother of my decision, she replied, "That's all right. I never liked it, either.") I had many complaints about Catholicism, largely stemming from the inferiority I felt as a female member of the congregation, and because there were some questions that I had about the logic of Christianity.
Although I stated this before, I will say it again. I have no problem whatsoever with Christianity. If that's the path to God that works best for you, and you find it helpful, that's wonderful. It's just not something that worked for me.
The main complaint that I formed went something like this:
If Jesus (and consequently, God) had to die for our sins and be resurrected, doesn't that necessarily mean that God is not omnipotent?
In other words, it made no sense to me that the creator of the world, who should know all that will happen, would knowingly allow Adam and Eve to bring original sin upon us all, and then later realize, "Oh, wait. I guess it's time to undo original sin." God should have just been able to make that happen without all of the rigmarole of becoming human, dying, and ascending into heaven.
Really, this is the story of how I became agnostic, too, because I had no idea what Islam was until I met this very lovely man in graduate school. He never really talked much about his faith, but I kept doing embarrassing things, like calling during prayer, and trying to feed him during fasting, and so I started to read about Islam to stop making a fool of myself.
The more I read, the more I found I agreed with.
The more questions that I had, the more it seemed that Islam was providing answers.
And I admit that there are some things that I am still adjusting to, and some things that I'm not sure I'll ever really like. I'm still figuring out exactly the position of women; I know that there is a great deal of respect given to women and motherhood, and women have far more rights than Westerners tend to realize. Because right now I still feel a little more outside of Islam than inside, because I'm still learning, it's hard for me to judge.
If anyone is interested in hearing more about that topic, let me know and I'll see what I can put together.
I'm open to any questions or discussions, which I will presume in advance will be kind-hearted. I'm not the best person to explain Islam, but I can explain more about my decision if need be.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Cleansing Ritual
Often, I need to drown in my sadnesses a little before I get back to the air.
At least I have a quiet place in the country to live.
And at least I have a stove to heat it.
And the closest neighbors are quiet.
At least I have a sweet little dog to play fetch with every hour of every day.
I have a family who loves me. A long future ahead of me with a man who even continents away makes me glad to be alive (if not every hour of the day, most of them). I have the ability to choose the shape of my life, even if I'm not always sure what shape I'd like for that to be.
I feel better. Sorry for the sorrow-fest earlier.
And now, to throw a tennis ball for the aforementioned canine.
At least I have a quiet place in the country to live.
And at least I have a stove to heat it. And the closest neighbors are quiet.
At least I have a sweet little dog to play fetch with every hour of every day.
I have a family who loves me. A long future ahead of me with a man who even continents away makes me glad to be alive (if not every hour of the day, most of them). I have the ability to choose the shape of my life, even if I'm not always sure what shape I'd like for that to be.
I feel better. Sorry for the sorrow-fest earlier.
And now, to throw a tennis ball for the aforementioned canine.
Visitations
Fall has come quietly to Virginia, touching first one leaf, then the next. The red has held off until the last minute, erupting rarely amid the flat browns and yellows, the dull orange. Fall in Virginia is a yawn, a breath of chilled air.
My parents breezed through yesterday on their way home from visiting my sister in North Carolina. While here, we dismantled my broken dryer (now still in pieces, awaiting the repair-person), added coolant to the radiator, finally got the Pennsylvania license plate off my car where it had been rusted on.
We cooked dinner, watched The Royal Tenenbaums, told stories. My mother thinks that the fasting of Ramadan is cruel because she can't see how someone can go twelve hours without water, but seems supportive of my decision.
It's cold enough now to need heat, but my propane isn't attached to my heater yet. "Use the stove," said the landlord. And so I am.
Some days my own panic alarms me. I nearly convinced myself yesterday that my dearest associate was dead when he failed to write to me by his usual scheduled time. I always risk the danger of falling into fiction: creating stories to fill in what is unknown at any moment. Fiction is easy these days, although reality is not so difficult, either. Most days I'm content. (I tend to exaggerate.)
Unfortunately, I enjoy teaching probably 55% of the time. I hate to yell. I hate discipline. I hate that many of my students have already given up on themselves, and there seems to be nothing I can do. I hate that my kindness is like an arrow shot through a cloud, for all the effect it has.
Sometimes loneliness comes in, sits down, pours itself a glass of water and goes to sit in the other room.
I find most of the inhabitants here bore me. I'm starting to consider going back to graduate school, picking up a PhD, pursuing the professorship I didn't think I wanted. Two months into school and my brain is already itching for a challenge, someone to talk to about subjects beyond "Why is this a verb?" and "What is plot?"
I wish I had my best friend here to talk this out with me, to determine what decisions are best for us both. But until then, it's just me, loneliness, and my dog. And the blanket of Virginia fall gathering around my knees. And one cup of orange and jasmine tea, thick with honey.
My parents breezed through yesterday on their way home from visiting my sister in North Carolina. While here, we dismantled my broken dryer (now still in pieces, awaiting the repair-person), added coolant to the radiator, finally got the Pennsylvania license plate off my car where it had been rusted on.
We cooked dinner, watched The Royal Tenenbaums, told stories. My mother thinks that the fasting of Ramadan is cruel because she can't see how someone can go twelve hours without water, but seems supportive of my decision.
It's cold enough now to need heat, but my propane isn't attached to my heater yet. "Use the stove," said the landlord. And so I am.
Some days my own panic alarms me. I nearly convinced myself yesterday that my dearest associate was dead when he failed to write to me by his usual scheduled time. I always risk the danger of falling into fiction: creating stories to fill in what is unknown at any moment. Fiction is easy these days, although reality is not so difficult, either. Most days I'm content. (I tend to exaggerate.)
Unfortunately, I enjoy teaching probably 55% of the time. I hate to yell. I hate discipline. I hate that many of my students have already given up on themselves, and there seems to be nothing I can do. I hate that my kindness is like an arrow shot through a cloud, for all the effect it has.
Sometimes loneliness comes in, sits down, pours itself a glass of water and goes to sit in the other room.
I find most of the inhabitants here bore me. I'm starting to consider going back to graduate school, picking up a PhD, pursuing the professorship I didn't think I wanted. Two months into school and my brain is already itching for a challenge, someone to talk to about subjects beyond "Why is this a verb?" and "What is plot?"
I wish I had my best friend here to talk this out with me, to determine what decisions are best for us both. But until then, it's just me, loneliness, and my dog. And the blanket of Virginia fall gathering around my knees. And one cup of orange and jasmine tea, thick with honey.
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