Okay, it just occurred to me that my list of unfinished drafts is getting out of control. And so I decided that I’d post all six of the unfinished drafts exactly as I left them, so that when I’m posthumously famous, you can read this crap and find some unintended hidden genius in them.
So, yeah. These are all as is, including the draft titles. Enjoy. Or not. Whatever.
- Eat Me, Adelphia from 6/27/05
In the course of moving a mere 50 miles, I have had to make literally dozens of phone calls for all kinds of reasons. I needed to change addresses. I needed to set up utilities. I needed to make financial arrangements. I needed to meet with my landlord. I needed to hammer down the moving date with the previous tenant. No, I really did need utilities. I needed to double-check on whether I’d have utilities. Triple-check. Repeat. This kind of sucked, because while I have no problem actually speaking on the phone once I’m on it, I have a tremendous and bizarre aversion to actually making phone calls. But the process was made somewhat easier by the fact that, as I think I’ve mentioned before, every single CSR I spoke with, without exception, was so pleasant and friendly and patient that it shocked me.
It shocked me so much that I found myself chatting with these people, talking about the weather forcryingoutloud, saying I didn’t mind being put on hold for fifteen minutes and meaning it – even secretly making wedding plans with one of them until his weird verbal tics broke the secret deal.
And then today I called Adelphia.
- together we can be one from 6/29/05
The cops/movies story won in a landslide, and that story will be coming. Soon. I hope I haven’t built it up so much that it totally deflates in the telling – that happens sometimes.
I spent most of yesterday in a miserable feverish ball on my couch. That pretty much sucked. I’m feeling better today but still keep getting that TOO HOT! ohmygodtoocold thing. Okay. Onward.
I’m skipping the cops/movies story for the moment because I’ve been wanting to write about the ONE Campaign, and I feel like right now is the time to do it.
Sammi and I first learned about the ONE Campaign during the U2 concert we attended in Philadelphia in May. It definitely sounded intriguing, and of course in the rush of joy and wonder of being at that concert, it sounded like the greatest idea in the world. As a professional fundraiser, though, I don’t tend to throw myself behind causes without learning all I can about them first – so we came home and I gave it a few days and I proceeded to do a lot of reading about the campaign.
The ONE Declaration sums up the goals of the campaign nicely:
â€œWE BELIEVE that in the best American tradition of helping others help themselves, now is the time to join with other countries in a historic pact for compassion and justice to help the poorest people of the world overcome AIDS and extreme poverty. WE RECOGNIZE that a pact including such measures as fair trade, debt relief, fighting corruption and directing additional resources for basic needs â€“ education, health, clean water, food, and care for orphans â€“ would transform the futures and hopes of an entire generation in the poorest countries, at a cost equal to just one percent more of the US budget. WE COMMIT ourselves – one person, one voice, one vote at a time – to make a better, safer world for all.â€
- Consider This from a really pissed-off 7/13/05
If you took “conservative” and “liberal” or “Republican” and “Democrat” and replaced them with “Christian” and “Jew” or “Jew” and “Muslim” or “Muslim” and “Christian” or whatever warring faiths you choose and reread some of these PAC emails and op-ed articles and talking points and blog posts with those words in place of the originals, would that be okay?
Most likely it wouldn’t. You might even find yourself
- Dog Days from a sad 8/12/05
There’s been a lot going on lately, but I haven’t found myself with very much to say.
Ginny is moving to Harrisonburg as we speak. In fact, just a while ago, she sent me a cameraphone picture of the cars stopped for miles and miles on the interstate. She and the rest of my family had been sitting in dead stopped traffic for more than a half an hour when I spoke to them at lunch time. Everyone else is helping her move this afternoon, and then tonight, Dad and Jamie and Sammi are coming back to Roanoke, and Mom and Ginny are staying in Harrisonburg. Originally, my plan was to go home tonight, go with Dad and Jay and Sam to Jamie’s tournament tomorrow, and then Sammi and I would go to Harrisonburg tomorrow or Sunday to help out. It’s a busy enough weekend on its own, but now, I have something else planned as well.
Two of my favorite friends ever are the owners of quite possibly the coolest dog on the planet. Seriously, everyone who knows Jackson loves him and thinks he’s just the greatest dog ever. He looks like Petey from Little Rascals and he’s smart and dumb at the same time and he has the hardest head in the universe and he has major separation anxiety and he’s a perpetual puppy and we just love him.
This week, my friends noticed that Jackson was acting strangely, and he began to have some sudden, frightening symptoms that led to an emergency vet visit, and to the eventual conclusion that he has a brain tumor. In the meantime, his health has deteriorated very quickly, and my friends made the difficult decision
- Post #473 from 8/15/05
Brief memory: during my senior year of college, my erratic orbit around the English department brought me into contact for a short while with Lawrence Evans, one of the best professors and most understanding people I’ve ever known. Sadly, Professor Evans suffered a stroke near the end of the quarter, and another professor in the department had to pick up his work while he was hospitalized. I had a meeting with the interim professor in which I explained that I had been diagnosed with depression and had missed a lot of classes and work while I was ill, but that I had been working closely with Professor Evans and my doctors to make up the coursework I had missed. This new professor, whose name I don’t remember, asked me if I’d considered exercise therapy to treat the depression. I remember being kind of offended, for some reason, as I explained that I worked out regularly in addition to journalling, taking medication, talk therapy, and every single other thing my doctors had recommended. I remember walking out of his office thinking that despite all the degrees on his wall, this man was an idiot — because on bad days, I could barely get out of bed, much less go for a fucking run. Many people find themselves unmotivated to exercise. Most people living with depression find themselves unmotivated to do anything at all.
- These Are The Eyes of Disarray from 8/25/05
I finally went to the doctor, and now I’m sitting here with a higher dosage of Wellbutrin zipping around in my veins. We’ll see how that goes.
We talked about my headaches and sleepiness, and he began to come to the conclusion that I might have sleep apnea. It’s something I’ve honestly never considered before, although others in my family have it.
And there you have it. Now I’m going to go dry my hair and get dressed and head to the family headquarters for a while.