Strongly Worded

Chistmas Post-Mortem

I was a good Jew this year, not naughty, but nice!

I watched three movies:
Pride and Prejudice (beautiful but not noteworthy);

The Family Stone (incredibly, insultingly stupid--a blight on the chick flick genre); and

Munich, by which I was quite disappointed. This film could have adeptly explored all the complexities surrounding the murder of the Israeli Olympic Team members at the 1972 Munich Games. Instead, it focuses on the subsequent process of avenging the murders, with some (but not enough) nuance thrown in. Sadly, the almost three-hour-long movie felt like an assasination "to do" list. My opinion is very beautifully articulated by the Chicago Tribune.

I ate two quite tasty Chinese meals.

And I drove around with two lovely friends admiring the over-the-top holiday lights displays around my neighborhood--see above.

Posted by Dori at 9:49 PM 0 comments

Lost and Found

Last weekend, when I pulled my sweater off at the gym, I heard a snap. I thought that maybe I'd broken my necklace, but I couldn't see it anywhere. Not in the collar of my sweater, not on the floor, not in the locker. I assumed that I was imagining things, and that my necklace was safe at home. I carried on with my workout and forgot about the incident.

The next day, my heart sank when I realized that the necklace was not at home. It was a gift from my former boyfriend, a super classy, super thoughtful, super meaningful gift. In addition to the tremendous sentimental value, I genuinely love the necklace itself. It has a short chain and a delicate silver pendant. I am extremely picky about jewelry, and this choice was a real accomplishment. Also, and I know this shouldn’t matter, it’s from Tiffany’s, and I still treasure the signature blue box.

I ransacked my apartment, growing more and more anxious. I asked myself what I would do if I couldn’t find the necklace, if it had snapped at the gym and then disappeared in the parking lot on my way out.

I asked myself: would I buy another one? If the important thing was the sentiment, would it matter that the physical object had been replaced? Would I feel right going to the store and buying the same necklace for myself? If I didn’t do that, would I forever long for it? Would I want the former boyfriend to know it was lost? Would I want him to know I still love it? Was its loss some cosmic sign indicating that I need to move on?

At my writing workshop last night, we had a long conversation about the importance of a physical thing and its symbolic significance. Plenty of people propose marriage with a “decoy” ring, then pick out a real one together. What happens to the first one? Is the second ring really the engagement ring?

I am delighted to report that I found the necklace, broken but safe, at the gym’s lost and found. I drove way out of my way to a jewelry repair store last night and will pick it up, once it’s restored, tomorrow. I will see the former boyfriend this weekend and I want him to see me wearing it. Because it’s beautiful. Because he gave it to me. And because it is a physical manifestation of something very important.

Posted by Dori at 11:39 AM 0 comments

Rage Against the USPS

OK, so you all know I have a really hard time with the pernicious effects of the celebration of Christmas (note that I don't have a problem with the actual holiday). While some of it stems from being Jewish and feeling put out by the constant onslaught of songs, sales, greetings, and decorations for a holiday I do not celebrate, I think most of it stems from the fact that the aforementioned songs, sales, greetings, and decorations are fucking everywhere, preventing anyone, of any religion, from forgetting for one single second that 'tis the season. And the season feels endless, since Jack Frost starts nipping right after Halloween.

I will not get into my many, many issues with this season, which include, but are not limited to, commercialism, pressure/stress, and false goodwill, not to mention the recent "defense of Christmas" horror that has surfaced lately. But I will, for your reading pleasure, discuss the latest outrage, which occurred recently at the post office.

I went to the post office to mail a package (for a friend) and buy stamps ( for work). Of course there was a huge line, but I cozied up to the automated postage machine, which I love. I weighed and sent the package, then paid for the stamps. Three booklets slid out of the slot, featuring smiling Santas.

When I complained to the "attendant" (the guy stationed next to the automated machine--oh, OK), he pointed to the sign above the machine, which depicted St. Nick alongside the phrase "Now Available". I didn't even notice the sign, but even if I had, to me "available" does not mean "non negotiable." No way in hell is my organization sending out mail with Santa stamps. Not only is it unprofessional, but it is inappropriate. I told the attendant this, my outrage mounting.

He sent me to the long line snaking towards the counter, in which, out of principle (and again, mounting outrage), I stood until I got to the cashier. The cashier refused to exchange the Santa stamps for normal ones. The manager (you bet I talked to the manager) concurred that he couldn't exchange them, since they were from the automated machine and have a different code .. blah blah.

He didn't care that I told him that, as a Jew, I would never, ever send mail with those stamps, and that, anyway, they were for my job at a secular organization that accepts government funding (not sure if that matters, since USPS is a governmental agency, too, I think).

I should have made an announcement (aka scene) and try to sell the stamps to some Christian waiting in line, and then bought normal stamps. Alas, I was too mad. I stalked out.

This little transaction exemplifies everything I hate about the way Christmas is celebrated. The assumption is that everyone wants Santa stamps--and not only do they want them, but they will have them, damn it, because that's all that's available if you don't stand in a long line and articulate otherwise. If I went to a clothing store and unwittingly bought a sweater with Jesus on it, they sure as hell would let me exchange it for a plain one. Or even give me cash back.

So. I'm putting three booklets of Santa Stamps up for grabs. Any takers?

Posted by Dori at 3:49 PM 2 comments

Get Thee to the Cinema

On Friday night I attended a lovely party thrown by an officemate, which I almost skipped out on because of transportation issues. The hostess, who had invited many people from the GBLT community, ultimately convinced me to attend, assuring me that I wouldn’t be “in the heterosexual minority”. I found this hilarious, because--hello!--I attended a women’s college, and at one time lived in a dorm in which 75% of the residents identified as lesbians.

Then, on Saturday night, I saw Brokeback Mountain, which has become known as the "Gay Cowboy movie." The movie is beautiful and heart-wrenching, the kind of movie that makes you ache (in a good way). As you probably know, this film has generated incredible hype, such that that the theater was completely packed and I ordered tickets days in advance. As the theater filled, one of my friends commented that, “this whole audience consists of gay people or people who want to see gay people getting it on.” I was a bit taken aback, and I hope she thought that I fell into the first category, provided, of course, that it included “gay allies.” In college, there was a lot of debate over whether our GLBT organization should be called GLBT-A, such that the name of the group would represent the straight people on campus considered themselves allies.
I never considered myself an ally until then (although I didn't--and still don’t--think that the name of the group needed to include Allies—would people want the NAACP to be called the National Association for Advancement of Colored People and Their Allies?). I grew up in a really progressive town, and our high school had a Gay-Lesbian Alliance, and during my senior year, the homecoming queen was a guy who routinely wore skirts to class.

So, interestingly, being gay never seemed novel or controversial until I got to college, where I was surrounded by gay women, many of whom felt free to express their sexuality for the first time in their lives. (I was also surrounded by LUGs (lesbians until graduation), for whom involvement with other women was a short-lived experiment that generated contempt from many of the “real” lesbians.) Because college was such an unusually safe space, it pushed women to be Lesbians with a capital L—to love very loudly, if you will. Lots of women shaved their heads, donned leather jackets, and embraced many labels that would be considered offensive in other contexts. In some ways, it was a very polarized community, and there was a lot of pressure to fit into this specific, butchy image of how a lesbian should look and act.

The experience was illuminating. The first-year orientation included a “Lesbian 101” workshop, in which a panel of older students freely and matter-of-factly explained about homophobia and the mechanics of lesbian sex. (I was riveted.) Then, during parents’ weekend, I watched as people stuffed themselves—and their Pride paraphernalia—back into their closets. And I learned not to take this openness and tolerance for granted.

During my sophomore year, I became an ally officially, which basically meant that I represented the straight community (!) during the Lesbian 101 talk. And because they were all around me, I developed strong feelings about gay and lesbian issues. And I’ve since become very interested in the complicated experiences GBLT people have in our culture, and am outraged by the persistent bullshit put forth by hate-mongering conservatives. I say this not because I want you all to think I'm such a saintly progressive person (aka the kind of white person who claims to lack prejudice because she has black friends), but because it's interesting to reflect on why I wanted to see Brokeback Mountain during its premiere weekend and why I wasn't just there for the potential peep-show aspect.

Anyway. I loved the movie, and I’m glad that it’s come out (ha), because it is a relatively mainstream film that depicts a love story, and the characters happen to be gay people, who are not caricatures. I think a major strength of the film is that the story would work almost as well if the two lovers were straight. (And there really isn’t much sex in it, in case you were wondering).

Posted by Dori at 12:33 PM 4 comments

The Good, Bad, and Ugly

The Good:

• I am the almost-owner of a 2000 Honda Civic!It is a very pertty "iced teal pearl" color. It has a remote starter which will allow me to warm up the car before I step into it. It also features a radio/CD player and a cup holder, which is a big deal to me, having spent over a year in a car with neither. I am still waiting to get the car's title, and to inspect, register, and insure it, but it's been paid for, which is the main thing. It took a village to buy this car. Thanks to R. for her advice and resources and for dissuading me from buying a 1995 model with 140,000 miles on it. Thanks to A. and her husband for accompanying me on the test drive and confirming that it does, in fact, accelerate properly on the highway on which I am too afraid to drive. Thanks to D. for recommending the awesome mechanic who checked out everything and inspired confidence. Also thanks to the approximately 1 million people who patiently listened to my obsessing about this topic.
• I found an off-street parking space in which to stow my foster car until its owner decides to take it back. While costly, this space will deliver much peace of mind.
• I went to the doctor today and, even though he ran 35 minutes late and inspired wistful feelings about my former (physician) boyfriend, he assured me that the discoloration on my left toe is a result of a bruise and not gangrene. Good to know.
• Also I got weighed and am thinner than I thought. Also good to know.
• The new season of Project Runway is under way. Such joy.

The Bad:

• I am deep in the darkest days of the whole year (literally--the nights will keep getting longer until the solstice on the 21st). As a victim of Seasonal Affectation Disorder, this sucks.
• I have to endure the impending doom of New Year's which, as I've mentioned, is a slap in the face of anyone who is not attached.
• I am annoyed by the use of the term "single" as a noun (as in "come to this hideous event for singles"). I think we should all be referring to this as a condition, aka "a person without citizenship status" as opposed to an "illegal alien".)
• I can no longer tolerate "Santa Baby", "Let it Snow", or "All I Want for Christmas". ENOUGH already.
  

The Ugly

• My beloved landlords have installed two glowing reindeer on our front porch and the house across the street is similarly festooned:

Posted by Dori at 6:06 PM 2 comments

Dating Dori Don'ts

So I went out on two "secret dates" over the weekend which renewed my disgruntlement with my current single status and the depressing task before me: Getting Back Out There.

The appalling features of the composite experience (two dates, two guys):

- Abysmal spelling. This is usually a deal-breaker for me, but I'm trying to be open minded, since many lovely people have learning disabilities. (But shouldn't they spell check if this is the case?).
- Use of the term "addy" (for email address).
- Suggestion by one guy that he pick me up at my house so we "can go sleding and get coco after" [sic]. OK, Mr. Strange Man, let me tell you where I live. And then, let me hop into your car so you can drive me to some remote steep place and rape me and leave me to freeze in the wilderness. Hang on, I'll give you directions. Do you have a pen?
- Reference to enrollment in a not-very-impressive college as "five awesome years".
- Charge that a mainstream Jewish organization is comprised of "Stealth Zionists". (I'm a Zionist.)
- Sub-par living situations: with parents, with valium-snorting roommates ("I'm cool with drugs, but I draw the line at snorting or injecting").
- "Funny" drug-related anecdote. "So yeah, in college we all made friends with the owner of this restaurant, and we'd bring our 'shrooms over there and he'd bake them into the pizza!"
- A total of four hours of social interaction in which I wasn't asked a single meaningful question about myself.

This SUCKS. Where is my husband already?

Posted by Dori at 3:53 PM 4 comments

The Cold War

As I may have mentioned, I live in an owner-occupied apartment. I have the ground floor, and the owners have the upper two floors. They are a retired couple that stay home all day and yell at one another constantly. In general, we get along fine, but I have never gotten used to the sense of surveillance, and their assertion that I am one lucky chick to be living in their house. My apartment is adorable, but I pay good money for it.

Whenever there is a problem, they bust in and take a look around (while insisting, at first, "I'm not going to come in". Then they fix whatever it is (the pilot light on the stove, mysterious gurgling in the pipes ...) and give some additional warnings about keeping plants off the hardwood floors or leaving the shower curtain open to prevent the pipes from freezing. These warnings are almost always accompanied by some horror story about one of their many horrible former tenants. (One flushed cat litter down the toilet. Another left banana peels to rot on the (pre-hardwood floor) wall-to-wall carpet. Another's careless winter behavior caused the pipes to freeze.) After the story is complete, they'll ALWAYS say, "I don't want to be a pain, though." And talk about what a cute apartment it is and don't I just love living here blah blah.

This routine has been "a pain" over the last year or so, but never a big deal. This year, however, relations have become very chilly. The landlords pay for and control the heat. They have one thermostat for the whole house, and heat rises. So it's always warmer upstairs that it is here. Last year, it was toasty warm at all times. This year, not so much. I have an indoor thermometer so I know exactly how cold it is. On Thursday night when I came home from work it was 52 degrees. After cooking dinner in my down coat, they turned on the heat. It warmed up to 64. Then I called them, and they raised it to 70. I prefer 73-75, but I'll take it.

This same story happens almost every night. On several occasions, after my call, they've busted into my apartment and suggested that I: put plastic over the windows to "seal" them, move my bed into the living room because it has fewer windows, and mount the thermometer "at eye level" so that it's more accurate. They have also invited me on multiple occasions to see for myself that it's much warmer upstairs and that they really, truly do have the heat on. Then they always sigh and talk about how expensive fuel is this season.

I can't describe how enraging this is, especially the thing about the thermometer. If it's 63 degrees at "Dori level" (the thermometer is on the living room table), then it's cold. I don't care if it might be 65 degrees at "eye level" or wherever the fuck they think is a more accurate place. I hate calling them, I hate defending myself, and I hate the crazy anxiety I have watching the temperature drop, and worrying about whether or when they'll turn the heat back on, and putting my face against the radiator listening for the blessed banging and hissing sounds that indicate impending warmth. I get so anxious listening that every little noise sounds like heat to me.

I dread coming home in the evenings, worrying about the cold. At least at work I can control the temperature, and I almost braved the storm yesterday for that reason. I am so sensitive to cold that I cry sometimes from the shivering, even when I'm wearing two shirts, a sweater, and a fleece (as I did all day yesterday).

Even though it offends my moral principles, I am going to buy a space heater today. I begrudge every cent of the purchase price, and every cent of the electric bill, but I guess I can't put a price on warmth.

Posted by Dori at 9:43 AM 2 comments

Snow Day

It is 9:04 a.m., and I am pretty sure I am going to "work from home" today.

It is snowing. In fact, the City has declared a fucking snow emergency, which is, if you have a foster car registered in California and no driveway, is very bad news. According to the lovely municipal website (which has all this bold text): "During snow emergencies, parking is allowed on the odd-numbered side of the street only. Cars not moved by 10 a.m. tomorrow morning will be subject to ticketing and towing – but the City recommends that vehicles be moved by, or before, 6 a.m."

I have no parking permit, just a visitor pass (the whole California plates thing). So it warms my heart to read: "It is the responsibility of the resident to clean off their vehicle and ensure their Residential or Visitor parking permit is visible. If the permit is not visible the vehicle WILL be ticketed for Permit Parking Violation." In other words, if the windshield of the car is covered by, I don't known, SNOW, there's no way the evil parking police can see the pass on the dashboard, and thus, they are entitled to slap me with a $40 ticket.

Even though I could use public transit to get to work today, I have no motivation to do so. It's cold. It's snowing. Schoolchildren are home with cocoa. I feel strange about it, but I'm burrowing in today.

Posted by Dori at 9:03 AM 0 comments

Focus on Health Insurance

I love focus groups. Love, love, love them. I've entered myself into the database of a locally-based market research company, and I get fairly frequent calls in which I am screened for participation in groups about things like shaving products and online "gaming". Usually, I don't make the cut (because of demographics or shaving habits or whatever), but I have gotten paid upwards of $75 to discuss my opinions on printers, migraine medications, and, most recently, health insurance.

In my view, health insurance companies and drug manufacturers are Twin Sources of Evil. Thus, I do have some ethical qualms about taking money from them. I want to share my strongly worded views on their sneaky, greedy ways, and I feel entitled to their money since they take so much of mine on such a regular basis (I calculated yesterday that I spend over $2,000 a year on health care). However, I acknowledge that these companies conduct all these focus groups precisely because they want to find ever more sneaky ways to screw over health consumers everywhere.

So. Last night I joined nine other people to discuss the relative merits of four health plan "concepts". "Concept A" would allow the "member" to pay a LOWER premium if (s)he chooses from "a select group of practitioners chosen for their efficiency and high quality". OR (s)he could elect to pay MORE money in order to access a larger group of "lower quality" physicians. The focus group leader spent a lot of time trying to explain that this is, in fact, logical, since it is clearly cheaper to see "higher quality" physicians who have "better health outcomes" and design treatment plans with shorter hospital stays, reduced chance of complications, and "specialty expertise".

Umm ... do we know where this is going? Isn't it abundantly clear that "select, higher quality" is insurance-speak for "physicians who agree to comply with our stingy and overbearing policies"? It's like Starbucks talk. Call it Venti if you want, but we all know it's just a fancy word for small.

The "Concepts" got ever more preposterous. Concept C allowed for a choice of "only the best of the 'higher quality' physicians", and included the provision of "wellness plans" that would "help the member set and meet health-related goals". Meaning, Big Brother insurance company is now getting information about how well the "select physician" is doing and adding another task (the Wellness Plan) for him/her to accomplish during the 4-minute "high efficiency" office visit.

And the kicker: a Concept in which the member can choose among "a select" group of hospitals, but pays less if (s)he elects for the one that charges the least. Also, in case the "best" option is deemed a "Center of Excellence" outside of the state, the insurance will pay for transportation/lodging costs of the member and his or her family. So in other words, the insurance company can broker bulk rates for certain procedures, nation-wide, and send its members to a "Center of Excellence" across the country if that proves to be the most economical option. What's next? Roundtrip airfare to India, where health care is really cheap?

The horrible thing about this (OK, one of the countless horrible things), is that the people in the group got excited about the generosity of the insurer who would send them and their families across the country for the "best care". A lot of the people in the group thought it would be helpful to have the insurer "work with the physician" to help implement their "Wellness Plans." And when the focus group leader pushed on cost sensitivity, asking whether we would suck up all this nonsense if it would cost 5%, 10%, or 15% less than what we are currently paying, a lot of the people said that they would.

I kept insisting that I hated all of it, and that I would go to another insurer before choosing one of the Concepts. But then I realized that most employers don't offer a choice of insurance companies, and so I'd be forced to pick a lesser of these evils. How scary is that?

Posted by Dori at 9:15 AM 0 comments

Dori Does Driving, Part 8 Billion

So it seems that driving brings with it a whole host of ethical issues. Remember how I allegedly "obstructed" a so-called "handicap ramp" and got nailed with a $200 parking ticket and people on the Craigslist women's forum berated me for trying to get out of it? Because, they alleged, I don't I care about the rights of people with disabilities?

Today, a new chapter in the saga:

I hauled my ass out of gym in time for this morning's 9:30 Step N Sculpt class (saintly, aren't I?). It was snowing, so I parked in a covered lot nearby. I exercised, bought some groceries and the paper, and was on my merry way home (eagerly anticipating a hot shower and hot coffee).

You know where this is going. I backed out of the parking space and into a black Honda Echo. I got out of the car and assessed the situation. My foster car appeared completely unblemished. Even the snow on the bumper was not displaced. But the Honda Echo sported a deep gouge in its back panel. It seemed unlikely that my little bumper-to-bumper kiss would have caused such damage. There was none of the Echo's paint on my foster car, no black rubber bumper residue on the Echo, but still.

I was freezing and near tears. I went into the shopping complex and asked the staff at various stores whether any of their employees were drivers of Honda Echos. No go. So I wrote a note to place on the windshield, expressing my hope that I did not cause the damage, but offering my contact info should that be the case. I discussed the note with a staff member at one of the stores, and he sneered and said that whether I caused the damage or not, I would be paying for it. "People just want their cars fixed," he said. Faithless bastard.

I got scared. I definitely didn't want to finance the repairs of some ruthless Echo-owner with no soul and a pre-existing condition. And I figured the driver was less likely to lie if we met face to face. So I stood freezing in the parking lot for an hour and finally found her. She was driving her sister's car and didn't know whether the gouge was new or not. She seemed honest and nice and promised that her sister would not try to screw me.

I gave her my number. I'm hoping, hoping, hoping she does not call.

Posted by Dori at 3:53 PM 1 comments

Closing the Loop

Since I know you're all tossing and turning at night wondering about some loose ends of my life ...

Hateful Feelings Update
I am still experiencing some hatred, (and thanks for those concerned calls and emails!), but I have, to some extent, bounced back to my chirpy if sarcastic self.

Elections Update
My friend of a friend is now an alderman. The ballot initiative tanked.

Former Boyfriend Update
A few weeks ago, I did end up talking to my former boyfriend, to express my concerns about his emotional health. We talked twice, and he was all grudging and dismissive the first time, and perky the next time. Last week, he sent me a very short email alerting me to an upcoming Iron Chef episode centered around asparagus, one of my all-time favorite foods. We then a had an interesting, in-depth, post-Thanksgiving discussion. So he's OK. Not great (which, given that we are broken up, is to be expected) but OK.

Raise Update
Remember how I botched my salary discussion? Well, with coaching from my fellow Brain Team members (a group of grad school alumnae who get together to exchange career advice), I negotiated a 5% raise, with an additional boost to be discussed in six months.

Skin Update
This is riveting, I know: the mean dermotologist prescribed two different creams to address the underwhelming state of my complexion. (Seeing how the sex remedy isn't an option just now.) I have been applying said creams as directed, and am not noticing much of a change, although every morning my skin is dry and irritated, so clearly the stuff has some effect.

Posted by Dori at 5:15 PM 0 comments