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  • The other day I was thinking about UUs, class and race, and all of the sudden I felt so trapped. Helplessly, hopelessly stuck in this world I’ve constructed for myself (or fallen into?) of people who are so. much. like. me. People I love, yes, people who teach me things, share my values, provide emotional support, challenge (some of) my assumptions, and make me feel grateful for humanity. But still, they are people very much like me.

    On the one hand I think of myself as one of “the people” (the masses, the hoi polloi, the common folk), and yet when I talk about politics, race, gender, or economics, it doesn’t feel as though I’m talking about myself or my friends half the time. There seems to be a growing distance between me and “the people,”which doesn’t seem sensible because I am still them - life is just really good for me right now.

    I feel more and more as though I’m being drawn away by some line of success - not personal, but circumstantial. I went from being a single, working woman living alone to being in a two income household; now I’m a student at a private university ($1000 per class!) and we can afford for me to not work at all. It’s very possible that I won’t have to get a “real job” for the next several years, even if we have children. That’s not normal, is it?

    How do I become less distanced from financial struggle? Do I have an obligation to do so? Because I co-lead anti oppression workshops, I need to be mindful of how I relate to the material I’m introducing people to. A lot of the folks who do workshops with me are organizers, and are involved in a lot of grassroots work. I’m not so much; the only thing I’m doing to that end right now is The Real Wealth of Portland stuff, and we are still figuring out what we want to do - we’ve been focusing for the last six months on understanding economics and alternative systems, and looking at the work others are doing in Portland.

    When I was working, I knew people who were single moms, heads of families struggling with four kids to make ends meet, people of diverse racial backgrounds. But now I’m at home, interacting mostly with the self-employed and active retirees. I’m turning into one of those people you see at church during coffee hour who amazingly has time to be on a crapload of committees! When I turn on the tv, I’m the target audience now for all of those HGTV, Travel channel, and Food Network shows. I have to veer away from displays of the Real Simple magazine - which once struck me as RIDICULOUS and indulgent, but now seems reasonable and even a tad helpful.

    I like who I am, but should I be different? Is it possible for me to be anything other than who I am, given my current situation? What kind of connections will I need to build in order to feel more grounded -  more invested - in the well-being of all? How do I make my way back to the margins? I’ve got to do some deep thinking about this.

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    Today I:

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    My thoughts today are scattered four ways to the wind … as I prepare for class in a few hours.

    In ancient Greece
    it was custom to send a girl child -
    when she was six years old -
    into the wilderness that
    began on the outskirts of the city
    not naked, but draped in the skins of dead animals
    the girl would live there
    foraging for food
    and living as any young beast
    without a parent
    to protect it
    after one year she would be found again
    brought home,
    prepared for marriage
    and by the age of twelve, she would
    meet her next great test -
    surviving childbirth.

    Feeling Overwhelmed - Some days I want a thick iron door, twenty feet high, to slam shut on all new ideas and “thoughts to ponder.” But then, I go and open all the windows in the house.

    Other People - When people tell me I’m going to turn into a mean bitch, that makes me feel mean and bitchy.

    Weight - Vanity must be tied to regret; I fuss more about my waistline now than ever because, I suppose, it was never as small as I wanted it to be.

    And Lastly - Artemis was the lady of wild things.

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    And is it any wonder the sea horse is my animal of choice? I do not need this kind of drama in my life!

    Here’s a 22 second video of the orange cat, “Burger and Fries,” showing off his stuff at the adoption center (good luck, Burger!). The LH and I both have cat allergies, so it’s unlikely we’d ever get one. My mom described her former cat (a neurotic creature given away after seven years) as a “child that will never grow up and leave home.”

    The LH says he’ll get a dog “when it can do my taxes.”

    Burger & Fries

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    One would think, that after dropping a laptop down the house stairs several times, dropping it onto the floor at airport security, and maybe once or twice in a parking lot, that the laptop would be pretty indestructible. Instead, the thing fails me. It slides - not falls - off the sofa onto the carpeted floor of the family room, and suddenly it looks like the fax machine in Office Space.

    So unfair.

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