Fatigue-Induced SCS

(self-confessional syndrome)

Since this blog is read by less than a dozen people and you are all loved ones, I thought I'd share a moment from a little more than a year ago that I still think about, often. [now that I’ve written this blog entry and am re-reading it, I don’t talk a lot about the actual moments of realization but more about what it is that I realized…sorry lol – just picture all the thoughts below occurring while I’m sitting in ancient Middle Eastern cities alone and thoughtful and happy]

I had just purchased Nelly Furtado's second CD (a TOTAL unexpected gem) and set-off for 'Eid in Jordan and Lebanon with my now-lost iPod mini. Traveling alone for two weeks, you have a lot of time to think, and feel, and be reflective almost the point of obsession -- in other words: do what I do best, lol.

There is a song on her album, which remains one of my favourite songs in the world, called "Try." I think of it, now, because after I posted, earlier, about staying in NYC, I saw, for the first time, her video for this song (sort of what I imagined it would be, but a bit disappointing in the execution...anyway that's not the point). It reminded me of how that song really brought clarity and some kind of peace to me about my relationship with the oft-mentioned NYC Pook, because we'd been broken up for about two months with almost no contact, and the song, which I listened to a lot over my trip in the Levant, made a lot of sense, both in terms of our relationship, and in terms of my life at the time. Here are the lyrics, and I'll gab on a bit more [edit: a LOT more] afterward:

All I know, is everything is not as it's sold
But the more I grow, the less I know.
And I have lived so many lives, though I'm not old.
And the more I see, the less I grow,
The fewer the seeds, the more I sow.

Then I see you standing there, wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
Then I see you standing there, wanting more from me
And all I can do is try.

I wish I hadn't seen all of the realness
And all the real people are really not real at all.
The more I learn, the more I love
The more I cry, the more I cry
As I say goodbye to a way of life I thought I had designed for me.

Then I see you standing there, wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
Then I see you standing there, I'm all I'll ever be
And all I can do is try.

All of the moments that already passed
Try to go back and make them last
All of the things we want each other to be
We never will be. We never will be.
And that's wonderful.
That's life.
That's you baby. This is me baby.
We are -- we are...free in our love.
We are free in our love.
Try

What was so immediately impactful to me, apart from the relevance I think this has to my romantic life, were her comments about this kind of aged quality to her life. I have lived so many lives, though I'm not old, and while there is so much to be learned in that, and it's such a dream in many ways, it's also very rough. This is not to be self-pitying, but rather to make an honest assessment of the fact that you don't cram all this in by the time you are 23 and not be as broken by some of your experiences as you are enriched by them. There have been times in NYC and in Cairo (as Desi has witnessed) I have been both the seed-sower and the disappointed idealist, thinking I was on the brink of real, deep, and lasting interactions with people (and I don’t mean romantically as much as I do just in terms of friends) and ended up being totally let-down by how empty things were underneath the surface.

This theme sort of returns, when she talks about saying goodbye to a way of life I thought I had designed for me, only now, of course, the romantic element is also introduced. I found myself in Cairo, silently in love, with velocity going somewhere within a large and vague universe of "post-ivy kids who are supposed to make something of themselves but don't know exactly how that is measured," and I realized, quite suddenly, that all of the things that made my life from late 2003 to late 2004 so wonderful I'd totally taken from myself, and left myself with none of the things that gave the existence that I'd come to appreciate its essence. I look back, now, and think: "I had everything, including happiness...why did I need to escape that?" As I have asked myself that question SO MANY TIMES the past two years, I think that the answer is two parts: 1. I had to sabotage something I wasn't ready to accept I had, because of all the things accepting it would stand for; 2. Something in me knew that there was still some growing up that needed to be done in order to really appreciate and make use of the things I had.

In another song that I really like, "That Particular Time," Alanis Morisette talks about (to take it out of context from the song): "My foundation was rocked. My tried and true way to deal was to vanish." I look back and think about the total (TOTAL) contrast between what I had been conditioned to understand was love from my first boyfriend and NYC scene life in general, and then what Pookie presented, and I think that I didn't even understand at the time how difficult it was for me to re-orient towards something that was actually healthy -- towards a person who was actually a really amazing guy. I remember times when I would go into prosecutor mode and drill him on where he was/what he was doing, trying to catch him in a betrayal (which is just so NOT him), and when he'd say to me: "Chunk, I am not on trial, here, and you are being ridiculous" (but not in a dismissive way, just in a clear and honest way), I would realize my insanity and immediately shift, feeling ashamed of my inability to function outside a destructive romantic framework: "I'm really sorry. God, how can I even think it's ok to be so suspicious? I'm really sorry...how can you be with someone as un-trusting as I am?" and he'd just say: "Yeah, there's no reason for you to feel the way you do, but it's not a fatal flaw, and it's something people work on," and put it to rest. Anyway, back to foundations --> as well as I thought I was dealing with someone who was remarkably complete and healthy, I realized when I came to Cairo (and saw the kinds of drama that I was tempted to seek out/manufacture in certain situations, here), that the terrain I was on with Pookie was unlike any I'd been on (or witnessed) before, and I didn't quite know how to navigate. Foundation rocked, I vanished, and his own relationship doubts and perceived limitations facilitated my exit, and even helped me not understand, for months afterward, my accountability in what happened (and what didn't).

I say that something in me knew that I needed to sort of get away and grow up, and that I 100% stand-by that; there is just too much evidence of that need, and I physically FEEL -- and see, to my despair at times -- myself more as a man than as a boy, now. I say that it was difficult to accept certain things about what I had in NYC if I were to really face the reality of it, and I think that (while it's too complex a discussion to have, here), a lot of that has to do with the categories we, particularly as urban gay men, allow ourselves to be put into. Accepting valuation NOT through being young, or cute, or charming on someone's arm at a party, which was more or less how I originally came to understand my place in NYC gay life pre-Pookie, and instead having to understand my worth as an equal in a relationship between two adult men was, I think, a difficult transition for me to make. Even in terms of the physical types we are encouraged to think of ourselves as, I had been (or have been, rather) undergoing what was, at moments, an ungraceful and mentally traumatic maturation that definitively casts me outside the space of "boi" and into the that of "man." Just a few days ago I was lamenting over email the fact that I keep getting more and more muscular, and part of that lamentation is that when I see myself in the mirror, I look, well, like a man lol. {I fully accept the problematization of the "normative body" that my discussions of manhood deserves from you critical thinkers out there} Realizing, then, my own inability, at that time, to assume my place as an equal partner (despite what I always believed was my own defiance, as a boy, to be kept or be in any other way less than someone's equal), it was important for me to remove myself from my location within NYC urban gay life, my relationship, etc. and exist outside the system, so to speak, for a time long enough that I could grow and re-enter more effectively upon my return.

Back to the song --> What I think is so important in the song, not from my perspective as the person who understands it as his voice (as I clearly do, in parts) but as the person who also understands himself as the audience, what I realized during my time in the Levant, traveling, thinking, and listening, was that what I needed to do (and what I believe I have begun to successfully do, over the past year) was communicate to a certain someone that we can look frankly at our limitations, and disappointments, and still try -- in a way that is neither risky, nor damaging, and that, in reality, is very freeing. I love it when she changes the chorus to say "Then I see you standing there, I'm all I'll ever be" but says that, even being that, she can still try. I also love it that she is able to say that what is freeing (and therefore "wonderful") about understanding you and me and what we are (and are not) is understanding that we will NEVER be everything that we want -- not for ourselves, and not for each other. I think that most people, myself included, are pretty good, in the post-Oprah age, at not forcing themselves to dwell over what they are not, and I think that people are similarly good at not expecting unrealistic things from their partners (I'm not perfect and I don't expect you to be); the critical part that is often missing, though, is the ability to not expect from yourself as you relate to your partner things that are unrealistic. In other words: saying "I'm not perfect and I don't expect you to be, either" is great, but we need to also be able to say: "I'm not perfect, and part of my peace with that is also knowing that you don't expect me to be, and I don't expect myself to be unlimited in my capacity to deal you, even though I am admittedly limited, as we all are, as an individual." Got it? :)

To recap: Wandering through the streets of Beirut with nothing but some ridiculously hot Lebanese guys to heal my pain (SO KIDDING!), I began my reflections, which I continue to this day, on the decisions that I made to come here, my relationship with Pookie, and what it means to be damaged, limited, growing, loving, etc. all within this crazy world of global capital and the disciplinary state (just kidding: I threw that last part in as a joking reference to the meeting I had today wherein we discussed Appadurai’s theory of the “promiscuous movement” of financial capital, lol).

The song is extremely powerful, and beautifully (if simply) sung, and if you don't have a copy, but are in the tristate area, then I volunteer Curie to make you a copy (lol I made her go buy the CD as soon as I heard this song!).

VC

Law School Update

No, no decisions have come through, yet, but the more I think about it, the more I think that I will stay in New York no matter the outcome of this admissions cycle. If there is one thing that I have learned after leaving New York then it's that I really do feel like NYC is my home, and it's where I need to be for the next few years. There is the smallest (SMALLEST) chance that I could go to Yale and live in NYC, like starting my second year (although the chances that I'll be admitted are even smaller, lol), but I think that in all likelihood I'll stay in NYC. There are a lot of push factors that make me not want Boston as much (the character of 99% of the student body that I've met, there, being one huge factor), and there are so many pull factors for New York. It would feel amazing to have Harvard on my resume, and I think that the academic/program opportunities there, if they compare at all to what I observed as an undergrad at Columbia, probably far surpass the other top five schools -- with the exception being in international law. I can't be pushed into this logic of "some people are top athletes, some are top models, some top actors, and you are none of these, so you are a top student and need to go to a top school," because I recognize how important it is to NOT function according to these measuring sticks in other spheres of my life (eg: the general peace that I've somehow managed to move towards with things like physical appearance) -- why allow myself to get tangled up in another directionless race? I am going to incur so much debt in law school that it is really almost unfathomable -- I might as well enjoy myself doing it (meaning: be with Hawk Barbie, Vanine, Curie, and Dr. Juicy -- AND POOKIE!) and assert as much agency as I can over my life circumstances. I think it's different if you're straight out of undergrad and have not spent THREE YEARS working as an independent adult (even if for only a year) and then doing grad school abroad, and at this point I can't let myself make the "only three more years of unhappiness for a much bigger goal" cost/benefit calculation, when the cost of unhappiness is so high, and the marginal gains to not going to *gasp* the #4 law school in the country (and #1 in international law) are just not that great. Not only that, but I'll probably incur less debt at an NYC school then I would elsewhere, because they are likely to offer me merit-based aid offers.

Don't need to decide now, I know, but this is just where my thinking is at.

Off to a late (after 11PM) dinner.






VC

8AM GI Infections

It's 8:00AM! ... somewhere over the Atlantic :*(

Syrian Embassy and Radio Shack cut-out. Moving on...

Wanted to send out a quick public service announcement, courtesy of Juicy, MD emailing me her thoughts on her med school subjet du jour -- parisitic infections of the gastrointestinal tract (and I quote):

my advice:
don't eat raw ANYTHING (not beef, pork, fish. even vegetables are not safe because a ton of these parasitic worms live in the soil!)
don't walk barefoot ANYWHERE
don't go in freshwater ponds or lakes
don't touch ANYTHING, EVER! (if you must, make sure you wash your hands frequently!)
and last but not least, don't ever scratch your butt and then touch your mouth! (i think that is a good rule in general, but especially in the prevention of spreading of parasitic infections)

No, I am not becoming germ-phobic. Bacteria and viruses don't scare me. Flatworms, roundworms, tapeworms, and flukes, they scare me enough that i am considering leaving medical school. i am only eating processed food from now on, {censored} the organic movement, bring on the pesticides! (but not canned food, because even though i am not afraid of bacteria, botulism is an exception)

Remind me to tell you sometime about Wong's father's colleague's daughter (wow!) who had to have an enormous work drawn out of her system through her mouth using some kind of attractive light (at least that's how I remember the story from when I was like 7).

Chunk wonders if Juicy, MD can give her opinion (re: the "touching butt" point, above) on the risks involved in letting your ADORABLE and extremely elegant (and now-deceased) cat eat from your JELLO pudding cup even though she (as Wong often reminds you) "licks her own butt." Thanks for any insight!

While I away studying, you can entertain yourselves with this: NAME THAT WORM! (I'll give you the answer in my next post. Hint: the worm in the photo, above, is found inside the body cavity of a dead rabbit :) ("wormy rabbit!")

VC

PS: I had to spell-check "juicy" -- guess I'm not Spelling Bee Chunk, afterall!

Schedule Update (Fun, right?)

Well I received a call from Pookie NYC in which he had the gaul to challenge the likelihood that I would ever wake up at 8AM (indeed I did not, but he has insider knowledge of my sleeping habits: weekdays he would wake up, get ready for the gym, workout, come home, eat breakfast, and often get to our office before I did, even though I should have been the one with the less flexible schedule -- being a peon and all, and on weekends he would often wake up 3 or 4 hours before me, vaulting over me [I slept on the side exposed to the room], get dressed for the gym, workout, go grocery shopping -- sometimes dodging Upper West Side power-walking mothers and their strollers -- come home, and start making lunch before I would even get up...and he NEVER complained or resented my habits...tell me he isn't an angel!).

Pookie parenthetical completed...the point is that it's 5AM Sunday and I'm ready to revise my schedule (in short-hand that will be meaningless, but you can still read it just for your own confusion and enjoyment):

Sunday, 11 December
*Wake up at 8AM (I AM SO GOING TO DO IT AND POST ON THIS BLOG WHEN I DO!)
*Go to Radio Shack (don't forget to leave money for housekeeper!) to return the $100 universal laptop power source that I bought this morning to replace the one that I lost and then re-gained in the Grand Hyatt Food Court yesterday
*Go to the Syrian embassy and apply for visa (if goes well, go to AUC travel office later for tickets/hotel bookings)
*Go to school to print Rieker articles; read Rieker articles; write Rieker response paper and prepare talking points for meeting
*Moot court meeting @ 2:30
*Rieker meeting @ 4-5
*Go home and nap until 6:30
*Work on comparative con law final from 6:30-8 (this thing is taking FOREVER, but I have to admit that I'm doing a really good job on it...although that makes me sound like an obnoxious chunk, rather than a veiled one!)
*8PM go to Grand Hyatt, have dinner, work more on comparative con law final; gym; finish comparative con law final
*Sleep not at 5AM (maybe like 2 or 3)

Monday, 12 December
*Wake up at 8AM and gloat about how it's the second day in a row on my blog
*Prepare final revisions to Ottoman Yemen paper presented last week; complete reaction paper for final Sedgwick reading
*Sedgwick class @ 4:30PM
*Pick-up loaned insurgency articles from library
*Go home and nap until 6:30
*Email comparative con law class for update on simulation constitution draft
*Go to Grand Hyatt for dinner and review insurgency materials (as late as I can stand it)

Tuesday, 13 December
*Guess what time I'm waking up!? :)
*Continue with insurgency analysis
*Print comparative con law papers/final for class @ 4:30
*Go home and nap until 6:30
*Go to Grand Hyatt for dinner and review insurgency materials (as late as I can stand it)

Wednesday, 14 December
*8AM Encore
*Finalize insurgency materials for presentation @ 4:30 clinical
*DO WHATEVER I WANT (but go to the gym at some point)

Thursday, 15 December - Saturday, 17 December
*Complete Rieker's importing democracy paper for presentation on Sunday

Sunday, 18 December
*Complete and present importing democracy paper @ 4:30
*Work-out, eat, and review theoretical framework for book-banning paper

Monday, 19 December - Thursday, 22 December
*Complete book-banning paper for submission on the 22nd
*Relax, email, maybe see Flightplan again :)

Friday, 23 December
*Leave for Christmas and New Year in Syria (insha'allah)

VC

PS: Wrote this at 5AM and the spell check only revealed 2 errors. Go spelling-bee chunk!

VC Apologies & Update

Sorry for not posting AT ALL, lately, but I'm in my last 2 weeks of coursework for my MA (after which point a period of miraculous Arabic study will begin, the academic stuff behind me).

This is not a real post, but just a "what I'm doing and why I'm not replying to anyone's emails or updating my blog" note. By the way, I know it's selfish, but PLEASE keep emailing me. I love reading your emails even though I haven't been replying. They keep me sane (or something close).

My tomorrow (I should say: "my 2.5 hours from now" since that's when I'm waking up...it's 5:30AM):

FRIDAY, 9 December 2005

8:00AM – 12noon = Complete Part One of Comparative Con Law/Human Rights final, and begin Part Two

12noon – 12:30PM = Relax

12:30PM – 4PM = Book-banning paper Part One of Three

4PM – 5PM = Relax

5PM – 6PM = Nap

6PM – 8PM = Gym

8PM – 12midnight = Complete Part Two of Comparative Con/Law Human Rights final

12midnight – 3AM = Book-banning paper Part Two of Three


Final Coursework
* Comparative Con Law/Human Rights Final (Tuesday, 13 DEC)
* Book-banning Paper (ASAP)
* Ottoman Yemen Paper (Monday, 12 DEC)
* Analysis of Insurgents under International Humanitarian Law (Wednesday, 14 DEC)
* Importing Democracy Paper (Sunday, 18 DEC)

Pre-Finals Coursework
* Seminar response paper (Sunday, 11 DEC)
* Ottoman response paper (Monday, 12 DEC)

Other Responsibilities
* Register for Winter Arabic
* Re-schedule Comprehensive Examinations for Spring
* Moot Court meeting (Sunday, 11 DEC @ 2:30PM)
* Fellow’s meeting (Sunday, 18 DEC)
* Conference update/email for students
* Followup on honours proposal
* Survey draft
* Apply for Syrian visa
* Register for Spring (get proof of payment, insurance card, visa update)

Life
* Email severely-neglected friends

VC

X-Box Ruins Lives

CNN just reported on the release of the new X-Box 360 video game console, which, as has been the case since the original, gold Legend of Zelda* game for Nintendo was released more than a decade ago, was accompanied by the usual shortage of supplies for gamers seeking the latest and greatest of new releases.

One interesting (and very symptomatic of US society/priorities) moment:

A man (obviously not of patrician origin) complaining to the CNN reporter that he'd called in sick for work and been docked a day's pay and now he's out of a day's pay and still doesn't have a new X-Box 360.

Yes -- if missing ONE DAY of pay has economic consequences for you, do we think it's the most intelligent (let alone ethical) thing for you to do to call in sick and LOSE that pay so that you can spend $400 on a video game system?

God help us.

VC

*I actually remember my occasional trips with Wong to Thrifty's drug store to buy Nintendo games, and every week I'd see the gold Zelda game staring at me through the class display case, but for weeks I avoided it (forcing myself to get other games), because I could always sense that there was this expectation that I would want the GOLD game because, as a child, I was expected to be attracted to whatever was flashy and cool. I was SO aware of the saleswoman anticipating that choice, and was myself so averse to buying into those things I knew were being played upon by colouring the game gold, that I forced myself to not get it. I still remember when I finally broke-down and got it (not wanting to get ANOTHER game that didn't interest me just to resist the golden choice), the sales woman immediately so delightedly confirming my choice: "The GOLD one?" Yes. The gold one. You got me -- you knew all along EXACTLY what I'd choose. It ended up being an awesome game that (as gamers know) moved to different systems and I even played (in later incarnations) during the summer in college one year. It's odd, though, that a seven year old can have that perception of what was going on, and that I could also remember to this day my desire to avoid the humiliation of all the complex aspects of that choice (not wanting to be predictable, not wanting to endorse the marketing practices that MADE us predictable, and not, at the same time, wanting to force myself to NOT do what I wanted out of skepticism about what my wanting it or my asking for it would mean).

Graham Redeems "Him"self

Well it was barely more than a week ago (11 November, to be exact) when Senator Graham again had me blog-bashing him and, as I often do (see 22 August for photos), doubting his chromosomal pairing. He has redeemed himself slightly with the work he's done on the torture provisions discussed in this NYTimes article. I'd call your attention, though, to the weird discussion of how these three "maverick" senators are all linked through McCain (sounds like a menage a trois to me), and I find the discussion of Graham's involvement in McCain's presidential runs to hint at his unrequited love for the chalky-faced ex-POW.

In any case, I think it is typical of the Bush administration that THREE leading Republicans on the Armed Services Committee (in other words: not liberals sitting on the board of PeTA) can univocally support a clarification of US policy on interrogation techniques, and Cheyney can try to strong-arm them into backing down.

I still think Graham is a woman (at the very least he is XXY), but I'll let the Egyptian journalist discussed in my post, below, be the judge of whether or not Graham is indeed "male."

VC

Gay Wedding in Cairo

Check out this blog, which describes the (probably false-) reporting on a gay wedding that supposedly occurred at one of the Hilton hotels in Cairo in August (incidentally: kind of a hole).

Then check out THIS article by an Egyptian journalist about the wedding. Seeing the way this article is written is much, much more important than discovering whether or not two Kuwaiti men got married in Cairo (I suspect they did not).*

It's past 6AM and I need to finally go to sleep, but I feel like this article brilliantly (I should say more accurately: "effectively") demonstrates a lot of the things that make it extremely difficult to live here, and I'm not talking just about homophobia. Look for the immensely problematic language -- the insistence, for example, upon putting "males" in quotes (the obvious implication being that gay men who have sex with men are not sex male), the need to call emphatically upon imagery of the "eternal" Nile, "simple" Egyptian "workers," and Cairo's Islamic character (it's walls INDEED vibrating with the call to prayer)...you don't need me to walk you through it -- the article is an obvious mess. The thing is: I can handle offensive beliefs, but what I cannot handle is erroneous logic...there is no platform for discussion, here, because this most fundamental tool for discussion (logical reasoning) is so severely lacking (note that I'm not trying to make some statement about the "oriental mind" or something, but rather point out the ways in which people allow themselves to so lazily employ terms and arguments that wouldn’t stand up to even the most simple logical interrogation).

*In addition to the ridiculous implications related to Cairo, Islam, homosexuality, and women, you should also note the distinctly anti-Gulfi tone of the article. I think this was just a chance to slam two of the favourite punching-bags of the Middle East: gays and the decadence of the Gulfis (both concepts being often inter-linked, and both, of course, very much related to piety).

VC

Emergency Anti-Plug

I am watching CNN's *only* decent show, Diplomatic Liscence, and this total ass (perhaps to be paired with frigid bitch from blog post, below?) named David Bossie, President of a conservative group that I won't link to called Citizens United, is on the show to discuss his new film, "Broken Promises," which appears to be nothing but simplistic conservative propaganda that misunderstands the UN as a malfunctioning corporation, rather than as an organization crippled by the politics of powerful member states like the US. David Shorr, from the Stanley Foundation (maybe the best thing in Iowa?), was on to speak against him, and TOTALLY creamed him. Bossie was cornered on his relentless search during the Clinton admin. to find Clinton's skeletons, and was further confronted on the limited validity of a film that purports to discuss the UN discussions on Rwanda but does not even mention Albright's blocking of military action (Bossie actually said that "Kofi Annan is clearly responsible for Rwanda"). It was almost unbearable.

VC

Doha Debates and Nawaf Obaid

Just a quick heads up that you should be checking out BBC's Doha Debates. They are really fascinating -- Middle East(ern) experts debating things from human rights, to oil, to Iraq. Not brilliantly-argued, but WAY beyond what we get on US television.

On a related note, I think that Nawaf Obaid is an idiot. He is this young (VERY young) Saudi Harvard grad (who I have googled and am shocked to see is apparenly not a prince -- meaning: how the heck did he get to where he's at without the House of Saud?) who is a consultant to the Saudi government. I have seen him on Hard Talk (another BBC program), the Doha Debates, and he's a common face who is apparently thought to be (by KSA, at least) the wilely young intellectual capable of fierce debate in favour of Saudi policy.

I have to say that every time I have seen him, he comes off as a smug idiot who SOUNDS like a good debater ("my esteemed colleague raises an excellent point...") but who doesn't rise much past the level of high school debate, and when it comes to making a persuasive, articulate, well-delivered argument, totally fails. I was just HORRIFIED to see all the fellowships he's had -- how CSIS could make him a chaired fellow is totally beyond me (and check out the part where his bio is like: "One-year meaningless MA program at Harvard that everyone does, then SOME doctoral classes, but I dropped out because the King offered me 1000 barrels a day), especially since he's not a prince -- and I am again totally disenchanted by what "whasta" ("connections," as Egyptians say) gets you in this world. I'm trying to think back to when I've ever needed or used (or had, lol) connections, and beyond my stepdad getting me a summer job at the country club, I really can't think of any.

I'm tempted to contact the Saudi government and say: "Listen, pay me HALF what you pay him and I will tear it up in the Doha Debates," but I'm not sure the Joe Lieberman and his Republican friends would consider that very patriotic, and lord knows I don't want to end up in a human pyramid in some secret detention center outside New York customs, or called a coward by a frigid bitch on the House floor (I wonder if Jean Schmidt could sell her trademark bows on e-bay and thereby help pay for defrigidity pills that she can't afford since Bush is against allowing affordable prescription drugs to come from Canada?).

VC

Do As I Say, Not As I Do

Gosh, wherever did the new Iraqi government get the idea that it was ok to torture people in secret prisons? I wonder...

VC

Shameless Cronyism

Well I know it's nearly two weeks since Halloween, but I decided to dress-up like a Republican, today, and engage in shameless cronyism and plugging of some favourite friends & family.*

I have long been meaning to link to Kim Gibson's design website: Misguided Designs. She and her husband are both good friends of my mother, and will probably visit her in her retirement home a lot more frequently than I will, so I definitely owe her a blog shout-out.

I want to make a quick (and non-Kim-approved) note about the website and Kim's work. I originally saw Kim's artistic ability demonstrated when my mother showed me a photo of a "Christmas Tree" designed by Kim (and her husband) related to the war in Iraq. Now, it might sound odd, but it was one of the best pieces of modern art that I remember seeing. I mean -- it was superb. Unfortunately, when you open up a home business and a lot of the people commissioning your art are soccer moms who don't want political Christmas Trees but want nice Martha Stewart-esque little thingies, then you might alter your market/production to meet that. That said, I think Kim can do anything, and really is a fantastic painter.

I've linked, above, directly to the boxes portion of her website, because one of the most interesting things that she does (in my opinion) is makes personalized wooden boxes that can go in any artistic direction you could want. You can see on the right-hand side of that page the pyramid box she did for my mother (which my mother LOVES -- also shown, here), and I really think that for those of you (even though I only have a readership of like 5) who want to give personalized, artistic, high-quality, and innovative gifts (for any purpose whatsoever), Kim is a good person to go to.

Just to rant for one more second about the Christmas Tree: it was so good that if she were a more well-known artist, she could have totally done one of those crazy public installation art projects, where she's given like a slope in Central Park to make a "forest" of Christmas Trees, and it would be one of the most popular public exhibitions in the world. THAT is how good her ideas are (so don't feel limited to feel-good winter scenes if you are considering ordering a piece).

VC

*Even Ann Coulter, on her blog that I won't link to, agrees with the cronyism critique of the Bush admin (you should also check out her scathing critiques of the Harriet Miers nomination, which were some of the best on the internet). To make one serious-ish comment about cronyism, the no-bid system that Republicans seem to favour really calls into question their devotion to free-market capitalism (which is what keeps so many "fiscal conservatives" on their side). From Iraq to New Orleans, it's all about who you know. I'm surprised that this NYTimes article doesn't mention the fact that part of the reconstruction funds were to be taken from Alaskan pork built-into the recent transportation bill -- Alaskan politicians were furious (John Stewart had a hilarious clip of one of the congressmen throwing a tantrum on the floor), but it looks like they worked out SOMETHING.

The Graham Amendment: Why I Hate Joe Lieberman

I have always thought that he was a conservative Republican, a disgusting choice for Vice-President, and a perpetual disaster for liberal American politics. His support of the Graham Amendment is the straw that broke this Chunk's back. The Opinio Juris blog (thanks Desi) has debate on both sides (needless to say I think that Klu's tentative non-analysis is totally off the mark and would encourage you to scroll down to Bobby Chesney's comments), and it's a fantastic blog in general.

I just want to point out that *again* Specter proved himself to be a thoughtful and balanced man (one of the few Republicans I can stand, in other words), and Lieberman again proved himself to be a "war on terror" junkie, living and legislating for his next hit -- I bet if you told him that he had to do a backflip because it would help with the war on terror (at least the Bush admin's conception of it) he'd whip out the acrobatic move unhesitatingly and unthinkingly. Continuing with my speculation back on August 22 (see: "Iraq's Constitution and Androgynous US Senators") I think that Lieberman might actually be in love with Graham, thinking, as I often do, that Ms. Lindsey Graham is in fact a woman.

While I'm engaging in half-hearted analysis of the US legislature, let's applaud McCain for refusing to compromise with the White House on his torture bill (Cheney et al. want the CIA exempted from prosecution). I find McCain extremely affable, even if I disagree with almost everything he has ever said about religion/family values/fetuses (and wonder why is skin is always so chalky looking), and I think that this bill, as well as the work he's done in the past on campaign finance, indicate a critical thinker who is not evil just because he is Republican (BUT MOST ARE!...j/k...kind of).

VC

PS: I know I joke about being extremely liberal and hating Republicans, but I guess it's worth noting that two of my closest friends come from that dastardly bunch, and I like having them (and their voodoo dolls) around. If it makes conservative readers feel better, I detest the unthinking political moves of a lot of Democrat's almost as much; it's just that I think idiot Democrats do a lot less harm to the world (both because they have a lot less power and because of their general worldview) than do unthinking Republicans. In any case, when I finally expatriate to the Netherlands, I promise to ONLY blog about hot boxers and never dabble in politiek (Dutch for "politics").

Sports Unveiled: Snatch-Jerky, Concussions, and Buff Asians

Sadly, I am a chunk with a cold. I am also a chunk who is trapped in front of the tv all night watching the women's tennis year-end championships broadcast live on Eurosport (an excellent event -- just the top 8 women, and EVERY match is good), which means I have been watching a LOT of tv.

A few quick observations before I get back to it.

Weightlifting: Snatch-Jerky & Blankets

I think that the dominance of the sport of weightlifting, particularly in the lighter weight classes, by Asian lifters (China, Taipei -- I still don't understand why they don't call it Taiwan...any help?, and Thailand) is evidence that Asians are often genetically pre-disposed to building lean muscle mass. In much the same way we can see how a lot of black athletes are just built differently to suit different sports, you see this with Asians in weight-lifting. Take my word for it (since I don't feel like pulling up stats). It's also a sport dominated by rising young stars, as today, for instance, I watched a Chinese woman and a Thai woman (I should call them "girls" since they are officially juniors) battle for the senior title and challenge world records. These girls were a shade under 53 kilos (almost 20 pounds LESS than I am...I think) and were lifting unbelievable amounts of weight (like more than twice their body weight). We're talking 3-4 times what I can lift (and they are SO much smaller). It's interesting, and I was thinking about blogging about this in the shower the other day at the gym, because you really see that a 100% increase in muscle strength is accompanied by only about a 20% increase in muscle size. My arms are a LITTLE bigger, now, than they were a month ago, but they are a LOT stronger. I like actually seeing the ability of a muscle to do work increase. Pretty cool.

About snatch...well...I really think the Eurosport commentators can get out of hand. First of all, the weightlifting commentators are hopeless idiots. The weightlifting competition has two phases: snatch (where they just kind of squat and snatch the bar up above their heads and stand immediately up), and clean-and-jerk (where they squat, swing the bar up to their necks so it's resting by their windpipe, rotate their grip, and then lunge, thrusting it above their heads, and recovering to stand straight up -- check out the official website for stick figures of ambiguous sex demonstrating the two...they have the woman doing snatch and the man doing the clean-and-jerk...no comment). Medals are awarded for both phases and the overall total. The commentators have had IMMENSE problems, the past two days, with the SIMPLE (A+B) math involved in ranking the competitors, and have been repeatedly baffled by the extremely difficult mental math required in adding two two-digit numbers together, particularly when you introduce breaking ties between lifters by body weight (ordinal numbers were also difficult for the commentators). Despite their pathetic math skills, they did manage to make me laugh with them and not at them, when one of them made a joke about the other one's sex-life (presumably) saying: "If I recall, you've always preferred snatch to clean-and-jerk" hahahaha. Kind of gratuitous, but not as bad as some of the tennis commentators I heard over the summer (Brits contracted for Indian tv) who made EXPLICIT gay jokes about each other (even about traveling together from tournament to tournament). Hilarious.

One character of note is Tunisia's Soumaya Fatnassi (VC *definitely* feels her pain as far as the family name goes). She it the SPITTING image of Punkie Brewster (I kid you not). I really have tried to find a photo, but I can't. A side-by-side would be striking...she even had a pony-tail on the side of her head. I felt really bad for her, though, because she ended up posting no results in the snatch portion of the event when her coaches totally screwed up the clock and didn't send her to the floor in time to lift (how much does that suck?). It was weird because she's sitting there wrapped in her blanket (see comment, below) and they're shoving all these sniffy things up her nose to make her peppy, and then suddenly she is like sprinting out of the locker room and up the stairs to the stage, throws herself into a squat, and tries to stand up, falls on her Fatnassi, and I'm sitting here wondering what the heck was in her sniffer, but then the luminescent commentators explain that she only had like 2 seconds to get to the stage and complete her lift because her coaches messed up the timing and the clock was about to run out on her turn. Poor Punkie.

The only other thing to take away from the weightlifting that I've watched is that I think it's a good sport for me for two reasons: 1. They all have big thighs, and so do I; 2. After you finish a lift, you run back to your chair and they cover you with blankets! Can you imagine some hulky lifter screaming: "I need my bankie!"? It's to keep their muscles warm between lifts (duh) but I think it's really tender and cute -- and I'm TOTALLY going to start bringing a blankie to the gym!

Boxing

No comments, here, except that I watched a TOTAL hottie named Omar Sheika (pictured, here) get destroyed by a German guy named Markus Beyer on Beyer's home turf. It was funny because Sheika competes for the US (out of Padderson, NJ or some place that sounds like that) and when he'd go to his corner all the coaches were trying to talk him up: "You f*cking b*tch! Hit him! F*cking hit him! You p*ssy! You are a f*cking p*ssy!" Meanwhile there is blood STREAMNING down his gorgeous face. Then Eurosport cuts to the German corner where the coach is like calmly smearing the guy's face with vaseline (which is like La Mer for boxers -- same petrolatum base...thanks Max Huber...work it NASA!) and saying in a conversational tone: "And so you should stick to his left and watch your breathing..." lol. Americans.

*SCORE!* I just killed the mosquito that has been secretly eating my foot while I sit on the couch. I was smart because I saw it near my computer and I fearlessly baited it with my forearm and then smashed it with a quickness that would make Muhammad Ali proud (see story about him calling Bush crazy at Medal of Congress ceremony to thunderous applause)

Shooto

For the last two hours I've been eating chocolate and admiring the tenacity and low BMI of Shooto fighters. Brazil's Vitor "Shaolin" Ribeiro has TOTALLY stolen my heart (even more than Omar Sheika). Shooto is a sport under the MMA ("mixed martial arts") umbrella, and I find it incredibly fascinating and brutal but technical in a way I really appreciate (VERY technical). It is also...what's the word...TOTALLY HOT, lol. If you can get past the "concussive" blows to the head (this is the commentator's description of the types of punches Shooto fighters throw), and the shin-kicking (ouch!), as well as some of the more disturbing mounts (pictured below), then you can focus on a really technical and artful sport, in which every athlete happens to have what VC considers to be the ideal male form (or at least what HE would want to look like). Check out this website for a bit of an explanation of some of the fighting -- it also gives a flavour for the internal debate amongst MMA sports as to which is the most hardcore (if we are using that as a pun then I *definitely* vote for Shooto). Speaking of, does ANYONE but me think it's noteworthy that Mr. Shaolin authored this article about how he likes to go for the "rear mount" because it's a "great position" in order to make the other guy (in this case, Todd) "submit"!?!? *VC fans himself* No comment necessary.

Enjoy! (especially you, mom lol)*















VC

*I would like to remind my mother that in reality she should not enjoy these fight photos TOO much, lest I reminder her what happened the last time she got overly-absorbed by the art of combat: after watching Kill Bill on DVD, she, at midnight (and 57 years of age) decided that she should go into the hall and start doing some of the martial arts moves, and proceeded to crash her elbow into the wall and injure herself. Careful, mommy!

Instablog: Kofi Annan Speaks at AUC

I've just rushed back from the inappropriately-named "Oriental Hall" on our palace campus (an old palace that is now home to the American University) where Kofi Annan was the speaker at the first annual Nadia Younes memorial lecture. Nadia Younes was one of the 22 UN employees (along with a dear friend of Pookie) killed in the 19 August 2003 bombing of the UN headquarters in Iraq, and her family (of obvious influence) endowed this lecture and an annual prize in humanitarian service to commemorate her.

I only have a few minutes before dashing off to class, but a few thoughts.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell.

Ok that's not a thought, and it's not even sensically-constructed, but it is the quote (in tacky block wood letters stylized to resemble Arabic Kufic script) that adorns the arch of the lecture hall. I feel like it nicely embodies AUC.

Back to Kofi...

Shorter than I expected, gorgeous suit as usual, and really warm with the AUC Model UN girl who introduced him (who gave an introduction that, if a bit sycophantic about the UN, was stunning in its articulation and delivery...probably the most impressed I've been with anything anyone has said since I moved to Egypt -- not bad for an AUC undergrad...maybe being the grand-daughter of a king helps with the upbringing?).

Anyway, onto substance: well, there wasn't much, because it was a simple memorial lecture, but some interesting implications.

• Odd reference to Nadia Younes as the "prototype of the modern Egyptian woman," who he defined as balancing multiple global identities with no sense of conflict. --> don't we think that there should always be conflict to the identities that we balance? Isn't that part of a healthy interrogation of our values? Ok I'll lay off...
• Strange pan-arabist references -- to the classic "arab intellectual" or arab sense of humour. I think that when he said it was appropriate to also commemorate the Egyptian ambassador to Iraq who was killed, as well as two Algerian diplomats, it was calling upon Cairo as the center of the Arab world in an interesting way (esp. with the Algerian reference).
• Made clear declaration related to humanitarian law about the targeting of civilians: "the deliberate targeting of people who cannot be identified with occupying military forces" he said was "not resistance, but murder, and terrorism" which he called "senseless criminal violence."
• Slam on Bush (in my opinion, although Shakira, who is a Bush-loving neo-con...excuse me while I swallow the little bit of vomit that just came up...disagreed) when he talked about the tendency of people to produce exclusionary and divisive categories that make you a "traitor" if you don't go with the cause -- the explicit reference being to Arabs who feel pressured to support the insurgency in order to be good Arabs/maintain solidarity with the broad Arab cause, but the implicit reference (made more explicit when he said that this tendency is not just in this part of the world, but it witnessed across the globe) to Bush's for us or against us/patriotism means hawkish messages. He said that we cannot reply to extremism with extremism, to violence with violence, and I have to think that part of that is directed at the US as much as it is at Iraqi insurgency (after all -- which group was sitting in the auditorium?).
• Expectedly spoke out in support of a "viable, contiguous Palestinian state" and referenced the "many UN resolutions" in support of that aim.
• Spoke out against collective punishment, religious persecution ("the problem is not the faith but the faithful"), destruction of the environment, proliferation, and in favour of international human rights law.
• Made interesting (and quite correct) argument that there is no such thing as national v. global interest in a globalized and integrated world, and that the collective interest of all humanity is in the national interest of individual states. There is no longer any such thing as a zero sum game, according to Kofi, as far as global politics are concerned.
• Final interesting thought: "There can be no development without security, and no security without development, and there cannot be either without respect for human rights."

Loved it that students were not allowed in the main auditorium, but had to sit upstairs and watch from below, were made to wait OUTSIDE THE UNIVERSITY on the street in a mob to get it, and, when the President of the university did his "distinguished guests" thankyou in his intro, did not even mention the fact that there were STUDENTS in attendance.

Gotta run!

VC

VC Mixed-Tape Humpy Preview

I have been promising for a while, now, to deliver a post discussing pressing issues of the day, or at the very least, my favourite songs and videos on the air right now.*

It's nearly 4AM and I'm not going to do that, now, but I do want to give my readers a preview of one of the songs to make the list: "My Humps," by the Black-Eyed Peas. Now, I have a lot to say about this group (read: I have some things to say about the singer-chick's rockin' bod), but I'll save it. For now, enjoy these HILARIOUS lyrics. To avoid certain readers' inevitable (and highly inappropriate!) questions, NO I do not identify with this song (so he says ;p).

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)

I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ice-ys.
Dolce & Gabbana,Fendi and then Donna
Karan, they be sharin’
All their money got me wearin’
Fly gearrr but I ain’t askin,
They say they love my ass ‘n,
Seven Jeans, True Religion's,
I say no, but they keep givin’
So I keep on takin’
And no I ain’t taken
We can keep on datin’
I keep on demonstrating.

What you gon’ do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I’ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon’ do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I’m a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
Cos of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.

They say I’m really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin’ a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin’ at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can’t touch it,
If u touch it I’ma start some drama,
You don’t want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don’t pull on my hand boy,
You ain’t my man, boy,
I’m just tryn’a dance boy,
And move my hump.

VC

*By "on the air" I mean the four channels on the Hotbird satellite that I turn to for music video entertainment: VIVA Polska (a Polish music video channel that's pretty good, since Polish rap is SO gangsta'), 102.5 RTL (Italian, very good), 123LiveSat/6 (this has the best videos, but plays them on rote repeat and has no live programming...which means that when they misalign the video and sound, as they often do, you have to wait for it to cycle around again [a couple hours] for the people's lips and lyrics to match!...it's an Arab station that also has at-times distracting ads for phone sex hotlines blocking the screen, but I guess it's the soft-porn quality of the station that makes it so good, because it has videos for dance/techno songs that are really creative and racey and not shown on other channels), and Gay TV (which is NOT a porn channel, but an Italian-run station that basically just plays music videos, has a few amusing talk shows, and once a week has a gay-themed but not-pornographic film).

SSL Update: From Guantanamo to One First Street

Devoted readers might remember brighter days, when the Chunk would faithfully and thoughtfully blog on a near-daily basis, and when he, on 1 August, devloped his theory of "Super Special Law" (SSL) as part of a discussion of the Roberts nomination and Guantanamo Bay.

Well I am happy to update that the issue has again come to the fore, and will be heading to the Supreme Court. Check out this NYTimes article (and refer back to my 1 August post!), form an opinion, and get back to me :)

VC

SECURITY BREACH!

Pookie is NOW READING THIS BLOG.

I repeat: the NYC super-hottie and adorable cuddle puppy commonly referred to on this blog as "Pookie" is now a VC reader.

Lots more blogging to do, but had to get out this early warning that some serious censorship (namley of my unabashed gushing when I thought he wasn't reading it) will be implemented ASAP.

VC

PS: It's totally wrong for me to hint at things I want him to send me in Cairo, now that I know he's reading, right? That's so not my style ;)

Woody, Michael, and The War

Did I say in my update, below, that I was going to get my haircut and go to the gym? I think what I meant was: get a chocolate chip muffin from Chocofolie (my FAVOURITE chocolaterie...actually the only one I know...conveniently located down the street from my house, but hidden away so almost no one else knows about it), and then spend 30minutes in traffic on my way to the haircutter's, only to freak out and leave.

To further describe my freaking out -->

When I arrived at the hairdresser's, there was a man getting his haircut who sort of epitomizes middle-aged disgusting male slime* (cf: my former step-father): self-contented chubby, resentful yet pompous, somewhere between greasy used car salesman and businessman, and, in this case, chainsmoking IN the barber's chair, tipping his ashes on the ground, and talking on his cell phone (to his credit, he was not shouting, which is normally standard operating procedure for these guys). I found him so physically revolting that when my hairdresser asked me if I wanted to sit down in the chair next to him and begin, I told him I'd prefer to wait until the other hairdresser was finished with Mr. Slime. After 20 minutes of Mr. Slime's increasingly revolting demeanor, and the hair dresser rightfully trying to convince him that having his hair naturally fall straight back looks better than a rigid side part, I went outside, told my hairdresser that I was in a bad mood, unhappy there, and didn't want to stay, and got him to agree to come to my house to cut my hair in the morning at 11AM. Guess my Moroccan Garden of Eden (post-Fall) roof patio will finally get put to use!

My concern is that (albeit after a very taxing day), I am just SO intolerant and SO indulgent of my own annoyance triggers, I might one day be some kind of Woody Allen neurotic, or worse, a Michael Jackson recluse -- has Cairo's insistent chaos forced me to be more rigid in my calls for perfection? [must think about that one more -- seriously]

I came home around 10:30PM to find construction rattling my walls, interrogated the people in the computer business (of dubious legitimacy) on the floor beneath me, who swore that they were not doing any construction, and finally, after telling myself to ignore it and then failing to obey my own orders, went to the bowaab and had the following conversation in Arabic and body language:

VC: Is there construction in the building?

B: Is there {arabic word that sounds like my pronunciation of "construction" with a Middle Eastern accent hoping that it is a cognate, but isn't} where?

VC: *banging on the wall in the driveway* Is there THIS in the house?

B: In your house there is that?

VC: No. Not in MY house.

B: Then where?

VC: I don't know!

B: What do you want?

VC: In THE house, not my house, but THE house there is this *continuing to bang on wall*.

B: Above or below?

VC: Below. Please come with me...but I know that you can't hear it [the bowaab is almost deaf...he is about 97, and is, I'm certain, dying of emphysema, but that's a different blog].

B: No! I am able!

{in elevator, where bowaab attempts to unlock already-unlocked elevator, as he cannot see the keyhole, because the poor man is actually deaf AND blind}

B: It's in your house?

VC: No. Not MY house. Not the 4th floor, either. I talked to them [literally in my broken Arabic: "I speak them"]

{enter house -- bowaab and I stand in silence while he looks at me like I'm insane or about 60 seconds...no noise...I am not going to let this go}

VC: Please, sit.

B: [in a jolly mood since I first accosted him, despite our run-in last night where I had my laundry man tell him that I don't want him asking me for money everyday because I know when the rent is due, and I'm always on time, and don't want daily reminders] Yes. I will sit here and wait and listen until we hear it. Where is it?

VC: *knocking on wall* It's here.

B: THERE?

VC: Not there exactly. I don't know where. It's everywhere.

B: Huh? ("Eh?")

VC: I don't know where, but you know, in a house, maybe *banging on wall gesture* over there, but *pointing to ears* here, or there, everywhere.

{wait for almost 3 minutes while I explain in VERY broken Arabic my theory that it actually IS the people on the 4th floor, but they stopped when they heard me go downstairs, literally: "They know I in elevator and they done. They know and they done." When FINALLY there are two loud and startling thuds, just when the bowaab was getting up to leave, contented, apparently, by my explanation that I'd intimidated my neighbours into silence}

B: I will go and check on every floor and find the noise.

WHICH HE DID! The people on the 2nd floor were drilling their walls...at this point after 11PM. He made them stop, and agreed with me when I chastized them in broken Arabic: "Why? Why now? Now it's 11! In the morning, ok. Now, problem." This is the first time in 10 months that my bowaab has been swift and effective (VERY ODD).

Let the day of problems continue: my pizza, as I'm freaking out to Desi online (who I JUST found out actually reads this blog), arrives with light sauce AND light cheese (which, when it's a plain thin crust pizza means: a crispy large cracker). I order AT LEAST 4 times a week (usually 5 or more) from Pizza Hut, and they KNOW me, but for some reason, after more than a year of great service, I've had three pizzas this week where they oddly think (perhaps emulating NYC Pizza Hut?) that "light sauce" means: "keep the sauce: cheese ratio the same, so light sauce AND light cheese, because I want to eat a plain dough cracker." I have tried to correct for this by persistently complaining, receiving complimentary pizzas (which I gave to the doormen/guys living in the lot next door, and who I caught, spying on them from above, refusing to eat the unknown pizza -- regarding the box with the suspicion normally reserved for Brazilians riding the London tube), and receiving personal phone calls from the call center and branch managers. I also TELL them: "light sauce, but regular cheese," which is often interpreted to mean: "light sauce and PLAIN cheese," rather than "cheese that is standard in quantity." Anyway, I had to send it back, explain the problem to the delivery guy, call the call center, talk to two operators and the manager, wait for the manager to call, call the call center again...it was a mess...but in the end I had a good pizza.

So, yeah. Today pretty much sucked. It's 4AM and I'm working on a proposal for a meeting in 11 hours to implement a system for awarding honors to graduates in our program.

All I wanted to say about the war is that it terrifies me to think what kind of a system I am part of that I am protected from ever being in war more or less thanks to my educational/social place, but there are 18yos (EIGHTEEN! That was me FIVE years ago) dodging bullets in Iraq, because they think they can't pay for college, and because they think they are protecting American democracy (they should be shooting the majority court in Bush v. Gore, if that's what they want to protect...but don't quote me!).

*sigh*

I miss my Mooom.

To end with something funny: check out this photo of Russian tennis player (who I really like) Nadia Petrova, lifting the trophy from the recently-concluded tournament in Linz, Austria. She defeated Swiss #1 Patty Schneyder, who I like even more -- another Swiss tennis genius...that country is a factory of tennis players with unmatched variety, finesse, and on-court wit -- and with whom she is fiercely battling for one of the last spots in the season-ending championships...the top 8 women compete for like a billion dollars and a Brazilian wax...or something like that. The trophy really cracks me up, though. What the heck is it? It's like a 4-foot glass prism! So weird. I should try to find a photo of the really cool golden hawk/pigeon/bird-thingy they give the winner as a trophy in Doha (or is it Dubai?). Keep in mind, when considering the humongosity of this chunk of glass, that this is NOT a small girl -- it's a HUGE trophy, lol. Oh yeah, it's also her FIRST ever win on tour...you have to feel bad for the girl that her first trophy looks more like the glass door to a trophy case than is does like a real trophy.

VC

*The reader, of course, knows VC's unabashed affinity for middle-aged men, so the emphasis, here, is on "slimey."

In Egypt & In Planning Mode (updated!)

Some of you might think that I am in Cyprus, right now, but I'm not. I'm on my couch. I will self-plagiarize an email I wrote to Curie earlier today to explain:

I canceled my trip. I just don't feel motivated/up to it. I think that there have been a lot of emotionally-draining things to deal with over the past few weeks (not like destructive things, but more like just THINGS occupying my emotional energy -- law school aps, your surgery, missing my family [for once! lol]) and I don't have a lot left to get excited about Cyprus. I also think (and I think if you borrow my LP Cyprus guide you'd agree) Cyprus is like THE ideal country for you and I to take 10 days and rent a car and go all over. A lot of the best UNESCO/World Heritage church frescoes are unreachable without private cars, as are some of the best hiking spots. It just felt a little forced, and not like a great trip that I was pumped about that was coming together. I'd also be missing a few academic responsibilities (meetings etc.) that I should really be here for, and that by NOT missing I'll be less stressed and not trigger the "I'm stressed and therefore paralyzed and can't do the work necessary to de-stress myself" reaction.

So there you have it. I'm in Cairo, and more or less nipping my responsibilities in the bud -- including this blog.*

By way of apologizing to some of my most valued friends who have recently emailed me, I am aware that I have been out of touch, but I am in the process of snapping out of it. Since I don't have the energy, right now, to blog about the many things on my list**, but I want to make some token gesture of connecting with my loved ones (you people), I'm printing my schedule for tomorrow (fun, right?). Please note that I don't include the personal/social things I have to do (like writing emails to you!) because that stresses me out and distracts me when making the schedule. Enjoy :)

VC

Sunday (30 October)

8:00 – 9:00 Wakeup, cleanup
9:00 – 11:00 Prepare for MEST 570
11:00 Pay Vodafone bill (check on deposit)
12:00 Request transcript from Registrar (and FedEx if available)
1:00 – 4:00 Prepare for MEST 570
4:00 – 5:00 MEST 570
5:00 – 7:30 Gym (purchase moisturizer)
8:00 – 10:00 Haircut & Dinner (call dentist)

Life List
(A) Go to Registrar for transcript
(A) FedEx transcript (if available)
(B) Get haircut
(B) Pay Vodafone bill
(B) Buy moisturizer
(C) Call dentist

Work to submit
(A) MEST 570 Week 8 Reaction Paper
(B) MEST 570 Work Plan
(B) MEST 570 Week 9 Reaction Paper

Evening work
(A) Proposal for MESC honours
(A) HIST 542 Week 9 Reading
(A) HIST 542 Reaction Paper

Predictions: Vodafone will hassle me about deposit refund or will not be open at 11AM; transcript will not be readily available; hot guy from gym will see me pre-haircut (but I cannot put off the gym any longer for this reason!); good haircut guy won’t be there; will fail at 25th attempt to call dentist.

Reminders for Monday (31 October): Get stipend, Crew meeting (3:00), Iftar & Movie (4:00-7:00), HIST 542 (7:00-9:00)
____________
* This is not a "responsibility" in that I'm not obliged, and I don't find it a pain at all, but more like it means something to me and rises to responsibility status because of its importance/functional value.

**A Word document called "Stupid Blog," which is a spin-off of the "Stupid Gmail" document that I created when my computer started randomly re-starting every few days, losing all unsaved info, leading me to misplace my frustration with my Stupid Toshiba [which I actually really like, for the most part] onto my email and blog accounts in the document titles of their backups) (<--how's THAT for a convoluted parenthetical!?) ++++++++++++++++++++++++ UPDATE

Well my schedule ended up being a total joke. It's 5:30PM and, only 6 hours into my awake day, I have to say that the turn of events today has been quite humorous. Start with: me waking up at 11:30 instead of 8:00, panicking, then reading the email sent to me at 7:45AM from my MEST 570 professor that she wanted to cancel our meeting and push everything back until 6 November. Phew (weird how that worked out, right?). This gave me a little wiggle room to go get cash for the cleaning lady (we actually call them "maids" in Cairo, but I'd imagine that's quite jarring to my American audience), sing a little of my favourite new Destiny's Child power ballad, "Stand Up for Love" (to be blogged-about soon enough), and take care of my Vodafone bill.

A note on Vodafone: that I only had to call seven times (two real calls and five disconnected calls while on hold), and the whole process only took half an hour, is a *miracle*. Seriously. There were the predictable frustrations (eg: them shutting off my phone, then telling me that to get it turned back on and pay my bill I'd have to dial a number on my phone that you can't dial unless your phone is NOT shut off), but the people were actually helpful and understanding, and I'm quite thankful that it wasn't the nightmare I thought it would be.

Enter the Registrar's Office: The AUC Registrar is a witch -- she is actually one of the most unpleasant human beings I have ever met, and I have no shame in telling her so. I wanted to get my Degree Audit Report officially printed and signed (the format of the actual "Transcript" I don't like), and she kept refusing, with brilliant Cairene logic:

VC: I'd like to get a copy of my Degree Audit printed and signed, please.

Evil Witch Registrar (EWR): We don't do that. It's not a document. You can print it yourself.

VC: I understand, but I would like official confirmation that the information on my Degree Audit is authentic.

EWR: No. It's not a document.

VC: I understand "no" and I understand "It's not a document," but I don't understand why?

EWR: We only print and sign things that can be forged, and you can't forget your Degree Audit. You print it from your online account, and we would print it the same way you would.

VC: Great, then please print it on AUC paper, sign it, and give it to me.

EWR: No. We don't do that. It's not a document.

At this point, after having patiently tolerated her snotty and exasperated demeanor for a full 90 seconds, I broke:

VC: Every time I have met with you, you are extremely argumentative, and I don't know why.

EWR: I'm argumentative?

VC: Yes. Every time I've met with you, you've been very argumentative.

EWR: I don't believe I've ever met you before.

VC: I HAVE met you before.

EWR: Well if I was argumentative then you must have said something to make me this way.

She is seriously 1.6 meters and 60 kilos of PURE witch. I'm still not sure how I will resolve this situation, but tomorrow I will go to the director of grad student affairs (who is AMAZING) and hopefully she can help me.

Interestingly, to get anything from the Registrar's office, you need to first have whatever you need paid for (with a stamped receipt) from a separate Cashier's office (which is also where I get paid) which closes at (I can hardly type it without feeling furious) 1PM! How they manage these long work days (4 whole hours!), I really don't know. So I was not able to get my pay, or my stamp, or make any progress with the Registrar.

I then decided to make myself feel better by rushing over to visa services to get my new passport a valid Egyptian residency visa. I sort of knew that they'd hassle me about being in the country "illegally" (your entry visa is good for 1 month + 14 days grace, and I arrived in September), but the stupid thing with AUC is that *they* (not the government) enforce visa fines that, if I just went to the airport and they saw my visa, they wouldn't enforce. I violated the stay period THREE times last year (and showed them this, today, in the office) and never paid a fine, but since today I wanted AUC's help with a SEPERATE issue (my residency status), they wanted the cash. In the end, I think that it's probably a matter of them going to the government and facing harsher rules than I face, as a foreigner, when I deal with them at the airport or elsewhere, so when they apply for me thay actually DO need the fee, but I hate (HATE!)* the inconsistency. I should also blog, at some point, about the shady HIV test requirement that they have -- basically (like in many countries in the region) that you can't live here (as a foreigner) if you are HIV+. Obviously there are a ton of issues, there, that I won't get into, now, but the really odd part is that this rule is, again, enforced at the level of the institution (eg: it's AUC that asks for my HIV test, not the Egyptian government). I sent them one when I originally applied from NYC, and when they lost it refused to get another test here (although I was tested for my OWN knowledge again in the States, later on), and my best friend, here (aka: Bombay Puppy, perhaps referred to before as Desi) refused, as a professor, to get the test, and he (like me) still EVENTUALLY got his visa (in other words: maybe my giving AUC the benefit of the doubt that it just has to deal with more bureaucracy than we see first-hand is not actually the case). Anyway, I'm now passportless for 10 days, and am a little sad that my new passport will lose its visa virginity to Egypt (the residency sticker is nowhere near as cool as, say, the sticker for Iran, or India), but what can I do?

Then I went to meet Shakira at Bon Apetit (a cafe where you can see, on a near-daily basis, the hilarious phenomenon of French tourists wearily stumbling in, hoping that it's ACTUALLY French, only to find out that the only thing French about the place is the name and the unpleasant waiters). Everything was going FINE -- I got them to give me the bug spray so that I could, myself, spray the entire sitting area, wipe down my own table, and clean the chairs (hey if you want it done right, I've learned, you have to do it yourself, because seeing tables covered in bird droppings and feeding flies just doesn't seem to encourage the waiters to clean!), which I was not AT ALL annoyed by (seriously, I was just glad to have it done by someone, even if it was me) -- until the bill came. Keep in mind that I tip RIDICULOUSLY for Egypt (like borderline insane with how big I tip) *and* I go to this place at least 3-4 times per week. The peach iced tea is made with water and peach packets, and is really week, so I ask for "extra peach" (2 packets, instead of one) and always do this (sometimes they mess up and only give one, but usually the drinks guy, who knows what I like, uses two, and looks expectantly at me for approval when I take my first sip -- glad that he cares about his work product!), and they ALWAYS charge me just for a regular peach iced tea. Today, ordering two of these "strong" ones, I was charged for 4 iced teas. Now, had this always been the case -- had it been that the first time, weeks ago, that I first ordered extra iced tea, the waiter said: "Chunk, we'll charge you double, but we can do it" then I'd have made an informed decision, but the LACK OF A CONSISTENT SYSTEM, which today surprised me with 4 iced tea charges, infuriates me. I got in a huge fight with a waiter, who (and I HATE THIS) tried to tell me that I was wrong about what I knew to be a fact: that this was NOT the first day that I'd ordered it with two packets (another waiter later confirmed this). I don't have a problem with the money, but I have a problem with these waiters vehemently defending THEIR (incorrect) understanding of what happened, when what they SHOULD be focused on (especially since it's not like the peach packets are taken out of their salary) is a regular and generous customer being happy. It's an impulse that they can't control, though, to argue, and I'm totally fed up with it.

I then go to the stationers/copy center (where I'm totally crushing on one of the brothers who owns the place and who I think, in another life, would reciprocate my crush -- I mean he reciprocates, but we don't act on it), got index cards and a new notebook for Arabic (tutoring starts in 8 November), and got a copy of Shakira's passport to fax to customs (which requires a photocopy of her passport faxed to them because they'd decided to confiscate the contact lenses that her mother FedExed to her), because I was going to the Hyatt to workout and buy moisturizer (per my schedule).

I walked to the GH, but when I got there EVERY shop (and the hair salon, which I was thinking of going to instead of my regular place) was closed, so I was only able to send the fax and nothing else (note: the hairdresser's is run by Lebanese Christians and definitely did NOT need to close for the Muslim iftar). Wanting to enjoy the afternoon sunset, knowing that traffic was impossible and I couldn't get a taxi, and hoping to burn some calories and release some steam, I walked all the way to my hair salon in Zamalek, which closed literally at the moment that I arrived at the door.

I failed to get my transcript (let alone mail it), get my pay, buy moisturizer, get my haircut, or go to the gym, and on top of that I had extremely unpleasant confrontations with the Registrar and a group of waiters.

Sometimes (and this is acknowledging that I *allow* myself to be stressed about these things) I really don't know how long I can last, here. I'm not depressed, or even all that angry, but I'm just tired of EVERY DAY encountering problems. I'm not a problematic guy, and as I think my friends from NYC (or even Kabul) can swear by, I am capable of having a day-to-day life that is free of frustration and problems...just not in Cairo.

It's now 6PM, and I am going to relax until 7 (when everything opens again, after the break-fast) by watching tennis and doing Arabic vocab cards. At 7, I will go to get my haircut, then go to the gym (which will make me feel ONE THOUSAND times better about my day), and then come home, where I will work on HIST 542 for tomorrow, and probably order pizza (at least I'm realistic! lol).

VC

PS: Per my gluco/insulin imbalanced existence in Cairo, and what I believe to be rapid mood swings that it induces (sugar level plummets after not having eaten all day, processed starch/sugar consumed -- cookies, pizza, etc. -- level spikes, hyper euphoria ensues, energetic for a few hours until level plumments again), I'm feeling less awful than I was 30 minutes ago, and am just looking forward to my haircut and seeing my pookie and friends and family again ASAP in the US.

*Hate, as a faithful reader of stuning South Asian beauty, is a very strong word, and we normally do not use it (we also don't use "ugly"), but in this case I'm defining hate as: "an emotional directed not at a person, but a system, that renders the world less efficient and more unjust," which is, I think, an acceptable usage.

Cypriot Sexism

Is it just me, or is the following description of Cyprus Air's "Sunmiles" program indicative of a distinctive sexism viz. the Greek pantheon?

Members travelling on Cyprus Airways flights and aircraft, accumulate points
which can be exchanged for free tickets in the Apollo Business class or in the
Aphrodite Economy class and for upgrading to Business class.

From Aphrodite to Apollo is an upgrade? I'm sorry, but I'd much rather be "the goddess of love, beauty, and sexual rapture" than some closet-case who falls in love with stupid boys who kill their pet dear (check out these articles on Aphrodite and Apollo to know what I'm talking about). Plus, if you are Aphrodite then you get to be the subject of a million "Naissance de Venus" (Birth of Venus) paintings, and you'd get to sleep with Adonis (I'd have never cheated on Hephaestos, especially not with Adonis of all people, but I think most of YOU would have, lol).

More apropos to Cyprus Air, it appears that this was the island where Aphrodite was taken after she emerged from the sea -- you'd think the airline could give her some credit for being the hometown deity!

Here are two Naissance de Venus paintings: on the left, the most famous one, by Botticelli (now Florence, from 1485); on the right, one by Cabanel (Paris, 1863), which I like much more, and which is usually spoken-of in comparison to to Manet's "Dejeuner sur l'herbe," done in the same year (below, now in Paris). The comparison is used to contrast the kinds of art that the traditional Ecole des Beaux-Arts jurists looked for in its Salon participants, Cabanel being accepted to the 1863 exhibition, and Manet being rejected. Incidentally, the Cabanel and Manet paintings now hang together in the same museum in Paris (the Musee D'Orsay).

VC

Blog-Chain

I don't want to be superstitious (I'm sure there is a more appropriate adjective than that), but one of the most important people in the world to me (I should say more flatteringly: one of the best people in the world...and I know because I've been to like 20 something countries and met a lot of people!) is having surgery today, and I want all my devoted VC readers (of which she makes up like 50% lol) to please be wishing her good thoughts around 1PM NYC time. We want her surgery to go great, and her long-term recovery to be smooth-sailing (she prefers windy sailing with polarized lenses, but that's different).

VC

Carbonated French People

I am moments (ok, several long moments strung together in succession ad infinitum) from sending my Yale application -- NYU and Harvard have already gone out -- but I wanted to just say very quickly that I just realized that French people are full of air. Seriously. It's not a cultural critique, but a physical phenomenon that can be empirically observed.

You must know a French person in order to appreciate this observation, and VC only counts for roughly 1/4, so unless you have another friend who is 3/4 French and who I am sitting on, then you need to have a totally French friend other than me...French Canadian does not count, because they are not full of air in the way that I am about to discuss, and I am not sure if the same phenomenon can be observed amongst Belgian Walloon, French-speaking Swiss, inhabitants of Luxembourg, or former French colonies. Here we go -->

Have you ever noticed that French people sometimes attach bursts of air to the end of their words that dwell somewhere between a hiss and a shush? (if they are talking to an American, then they are likely both hissing and shushing) Consider how "oui," or "merci," often become "oui-hhhhh," and "merci-hhhhh," and how "mon dieu" becomes "mon dieu-hhhhh."

I used to think that this was just a French linguistic habit of emphasizing certain vowels at the end of words, but I just got of the phone with a friend, who inserted this trademark French sound *between* two consonants: "Great *hhhhh*. So, pass by my office at one *hhhhh*."

This brought me to the revelation that French people, for a reason still unapparant to me, are full of air, and must spontaneously expel it in order to maintain homeostasis! I hope you all save this post, so that if I don't one day win the Nobel Peace Prize, then we can submit this blog to the Nobel Committee for consideration for the prize in medicine.

VC-hhhhh

Being Gay is Good!

Three funny things I thought I'd share.

1. Being gay is good, at least subconsciously if one evaluates the writing of my mother. Consider the following email I received from Madame Wong yesterday regarding me guilting her for not emailing me:

Chunk, honey, [she didn't say honey, but I think it sounds more tender] I would like you to think about how many days go by without me hearing from you. Me, the lonely old lady vs. you the adorable fascinating cultivated young gay son! I am extremely busy…I worked on Saturday and stay late almost every night! Give me a break. Where did you learn to lay guilt trips on people…Grandma Ruth I bet!

The reference to my now-departed Russian Jew-turned-Christain minister paternal grandmother really cracked me up. It's true that even a Princeton Doctor of Divinity did not shake the babushka out of her, and she was the "queen of lamentations," as well as the queen of shopping and queen of raising hell over bad service (god I really am her!).

Anyway, what you were intended to notice from this, and I bolded it to assist you :), is that she lumped-in with my good traits (adorable, fascinating, etc.) "gay" -- which I found very interesting. She is implying that to be gay is to lead a more interesting and enriched life...what can I say? I'm biased...but I *totally* agree. It also means that you can't marry and are considered both mentally ill *and* a criminal in most parts of the world, but that's for another blog.

2. Life Advice from Elle Magazine

Got this hilarious email from the most beautiful Pakistani-American Fulbrighter I know (ok, that sounds like a narrow category, but even if you changed it to just be "one of the most beautiful people I know" the distinction still stands):

I was reading the Oct. issue ofELLE and came across this and thought of you:

ask E.Jean: How can I get my man back?
Answer: Disappear for one year. When you run into him again, lookthree times hotter than you did before. Even then, the odds are 97percent against it.

We're going to ignore the last part. What does ELLE know aboutrelationships that you and I don't? Nothing.Smooches.

HAHAHA. It's still cracking me up. But I think that since I'm disappearing for 2 years and not just one, and am coming back with a master's and not just a tan, I only need to be 1.5 times hotter than I was before...which, ok, right now I'm not, but I *SO* will be by the time I see him again (for the record: when I went back to the US in January and was looking rather fit he DEFINITELY noticed and I DEFINITELY played it cool hahaha).

3. On the ridiculousness of gay men in Cairo (cont'd -- now and forever).

Now, I want to preface this by saying that I have met a few, and I mean VERY few, more-or-less normal, nice, educated gay guys here. I can think of about 2.5...ok, I'll be generous and say 3...but I wanted to share with everyone (including my soon-to-be-horrified mother) what I have to put up with here. Keep in mind that this is in response to my *TOTALLY* G-rated profile in which I explicitly state that the frequency with which I look for "hookups" is basically ZERO (those as more or less my EXACT words), and I ALSO say that I care NOTHING about looks, *as well as* saying that I do not go for 20yos.

The reply (and this is indicative of what happens basically daily, here): an email with NO message attached, just an email address (that is too dirty to re-type, here) which means: "this is my MSN chat email...add me so that I can waste time asking you if you are the police and see if you have a webcam" (which I don't). Anyway, I just looked at this guy's profile and it is SO typical (SOOOOO typical) that I had to re-print it, here. I don't want you to think that what bothers me is the English, because actually that's not what annoys me about this kind of profile. You should be able to find the red flags for yourself, but just in case you can't (being novice gay profile readers, and all) I'll put them in red for you :)

About
HI
HAW R U
I AM 20 YEASR OLD
I LIVE ALL MY LIFE IN SUDAN BUT I GO OUT SAID 2 SEE MY FAMILY AND ANTHER CUONTRES .
MY MUM SHE IS MOROCCAN
MY DAD HE IS EGYPSHIN AND TURKISH
SO ABUOT ME I GET ALL THIS PASSPORT AND WITH THE SUDANES .
SO I AM A SMPIL GUY I LOVE 2 CHAT AND HAVE A FUN LIKE AND ONE AND I AM MODIL

Looking For
SO ABUOT THE GUY WHO I AM LOOKING AT HIM HE MUST BE BERFECT AND GOOD AND JENTEAL AND MODIL AND HE MUST BE STAIL WITH MORE HONDSOME AND NIEC BODY

Oh, and his nickname? "Casenova horny." HAHAHAHA.. YEAH RIGHT!

So, just so we know what kind of "modil" [sicK] we are talking about, I thought I'd post his photos (which are public online and which were not sent to me privately) -- let's just say that someone might make a better veiled chunk than I do! Those of you who ask me why I don't date or have a boyfriend, here, should (I hope) be finally silenced by this post:



















And for the record, the body pic was subtitled: "Me hot body...WOW" :*(

VC

Solomonic Solutions & Turtle Stacking

My undergrad is known for its mandatory core curriculum that places a really heavy emphasis on classical humanities studies, and is often criticized for producing a bunch of snobs who can feel proud about having read Plato and listened to Stravinsky, and it was many a time said to me, while I was there, that we were being trained to sound smart at self-congratulatory cocktail parties. Maybe. Personally I don't really care if that WAS the object of my education -- there are more important things going on in the world than the perpetuation of categories of elite based on knowledge of philosophy and music, like the much more insidious privileging of elite categories based on religion, passport colour, breast size, and skin pigmentation.

That said, I do not think that this is what our education was serving to do. I think that what we were given were a set of storied, tools maybe, that we could use subconsciously to think analogically about the world around us. I just came to this, today, when I was one of the only people in our comparative con law & human rights class who "got" the reference in the article to the world being built upon infinitely-receding stacks of turtles [edit: having doubted myself, I spent the past hour googling it to make sure that I was right about its Hindu origins], and there was also a reference, in the must-read Makwanyane Case from South Africa (and again in our reading, today) to "Solomonic Solutions," that I did not get before reading the Makwanyane Case, but which is now a useful tool in my conceptualization of certain choice options. Knowing about Plato's Cave is not about feeling smart while eating fondue in your Pookie's Greenwich Village apartment; it's about being aware of a structure (for lack of a better word) that appears, in one instance, in the form of a cave, shadows, and an allegory of ignorance and "true" contemplation of forms, and can appear, in another instance, to describe the neoconservative blogosphere in the US and the caves in which many neo-con libertarians find themselves ;p [sorry to any neo-cons reading this]. Studies in humanities provide us with invaluable structures that contribute to the vocabulary (if not in words but in more abstract relational descriptions between things) that we can use to decipher our own world.

VC

La vie romantique: mise en relief

Don't know why I felt like saying that in French, but the title, in case you couldn't guess, is: "Romantic Life: Put in Relief" (NOT in the sense of relief = satisfaction, but in the sense of a sculpture and the degradation of depth achieved with something is put in relief).

I have a lot of things to discuss, but I guess -- to be stream of consciousness about this -- the one that is currently and most frequently on my mind are the perspective-inspiring developments in my personal life, this week.

To self-plagiarize from an email just sent to Desi that summarizes recent developments (following me calling up the ex-Pookie and following up my unabashedly frank emails with some real phone time):

Things have taken a fantastic turn (thanks to my aggression), and he is really pushing for a weekend visit in December (even when I told him I'd prefer that he not). The key to the offer, on his part, is that it's not motivated by the sense of obligation that would then later loop back around to make him feel constrained by burdensome expectations, but is just a positive desire on his part to see me in the place that I live. He also followed the request with an "I'll understand if you don't think it's a good idea," which is about as close as he is capable of getting to acknowledging the emotional complexity between us (as opposed to pretending like there is nothing of substance or complexity at all...which is what he normally does with everything).

*sigh*

Yeah, I feel pretty happy about it. It's funny, too, because talking to him on the phone (which we basically NEVER do), seeing his photo, emailing him regularly (like everyday -- which is also not standard practice of the past year), it really reminds me that this abstract thing that I keep saying I want (a relationship with HIM) does not ONLY exist in my head, but can be (and should be) a daily reality. It suddenly puts into very severe relief that stupidity of "options" (so-called) that I considered with certain other people...they're in totally different universes in terms of what could/has happened.

{end of email} To follow-up that last thought, since I think it's worth clarifying: I don't want to give the impression that the people I've dealt with in Cairo are less real, or deserve less respect, or should be considered less seriously than my ex, but rather that my responses to them (ranging from jealousy, to attachment, to combination of things in between), and the weight that my interaction with them had in my day to day happiness, was totally out of proportion to what happened and what was happening with them. I will analyze why I was allowing this to happen, and what ways in which I allowed this to happy, at a later point, but the main thing, now, is that seeing his face -- knowing that he is there -- I can't explain how much more connected I feel to NYC and less affected (less disproportionately affected) I am by what is happening in Cairo. To engage in just once sentence of the analysis I said I'd postpone: maybe part of what made me so unhappy this past year in Cairo, and what made me react in such extreme and disproportionate ways to the goings-on in my nearly-nonexistent Cairo romantic life, was that I was acting out the process (the deeply emotional process) that I never experienced as part of my breakup (or negotiation phase) with the ex, because we were dating, I moved to Egypt, and we broke up (no discussion, no denouement -- it just vanished).

Will write a seperate blog about some other things, but there you have it -- romantic life of the Chunk.

Oh, but just to make you laugh, I circulated his photo to some close friends, and here are the replies that I got (keep in mind that he is 48, and despite the fact that I'm 23, HE'S the hot one!):

• In this picture, he totally looks like Jack from Will & Grace!
• I think he's adorable, VC!! I also think he's the kinda guy whocalls his mom "mother" and knows how to use proper silverware (these are good things).
• Wow. [Pookie] is very boyish-cute.
• ...wanted you to know that of course I forwarded [Pookie's] photo to [a friend who is an extremely talented painter, excellent woman, and great political thinker, and who will soon be linked-to on this blog]…she wrote back this morning that he looks like he is 20 year old!

Just thinking about the four wonderful people who wrote those responses, as well as the other people in my life, as well as the Pizza Hut dinner that JUST arrived, I feel like a pretty happy Chunk.

:)

VC

Online Strikeouts

Going to bed, soon, but in order to bore myself to sleep, I decided to check out online NYC prospects (read: make sure my ex does not have an online profile). I was watching Will and Grace DVDs, but was having too much fun and ended up getting MORE awake rather than less, so I figured draining my mind with the nonsense that normally fills people's profiles would help fatigue me.

I have to say that while Cairo has not been easy, romantically, some of the profiles I'm reading (within certain search parameters to maximize the chances of finding the target) make me think that I'll be single FOREVER. Three that stick out in my mind are:

• A guy who only wants slave boys who hold master's degrees (I thought the vocabulary used was QUITE ironic). I *obviously* do not fit that bill (ask any of the waiters I've made cry).
• A writer/producer/lawyer (read: unemployed and full of himself) who listed his favourite film as Shakespeare in Love (!). I'm guessing that's why we haven't heard of his work.
• A guy who bragged about the size of his KITCHEN (we are right to breathe a sigh of relief that this is all he was bragging about). Fine...BUT, he was "looking for" someone who would like to cook in it. Now, VC doesn't have any problem with a nice kitchen, in fact, I think the kitchen can be one of the most beautiful rooms in a house, but don't expect me to cook in it, or enjoy cooking with you in it, or understand the difference between a sauce pan and a...wok (those are that ONLY two pans I can even think of!)...is there such thing as a grease pan? That sounds right.

A nice arrangement that I had with the ex, convenient for him, me, and the tiny kitchen, was that I did not pass the threshold to the kitchen, and interacted with him while he cooked *across the bar*. Occasionally I entered to grab a champagne glass for my vanilla coke (it was sort of a THING, back then), or sneak in to put some Laughing Cow cheese in the fridge (which he considered to be a total offense to his taste in real cheese), but I can honestly say that I have not turned on a stove in...gosh...years...and years.

*sigh*

So where does that leave the chunk? Single, hungry, NOT watching Gwyneth in drag, and NOT bent over anyone's knee. Maybe it would be a useful exercise for me to think of what kind of profile WOULD make me happy? What DO I want? HAHAHA -- a rep/jazz musician (? I have no idea, they aren't captioning him) from New Orleans on BBC right now just described the people of New Orleans as "wild and elegant." That's a start. Maybe emphasis on the elegant and light on the wild? I could work with that. Throw in kind, critical, culturally-engaged, directed, established, and bold, and we've got ourselves a match :)

(oh no! The guy from New Orleans just decided to expand this idea of wildness by comparing New Orleans to Ancient Greece, which, he reminds us, had "all this wild stuff" and ALSO gave birth to Homer)

Well I'm getting sleepy, so that's a good thing!

Will update, tomorrow.

VC