** Quakes blamed on 'immodest women' **
A leading Iranian Islamic cleric has said women who wear revealing clothes are responsible for earthquakes.
< http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/2/hi/middle_east/8631775.stm >
So I was just on the good ole BBC when I came across this gem: Quakes blammed on immodest women. Since we are having quakes here in Los Angeles I had to click on it. Read the article and I am beside myself. Why don't we have articles with headlines like: "Jackass Bastard Political and Religious Leaders Fuck up Entire Nation and World with Their Bullshit" That's more accurrate. And true.
If I didn't have to live down the shit that some Christian leaders say in America, I would like to think this particular colossal ignorance was confined to the Middle East. But its not. Apparently neither American jackasses like Jerry Falwell or this nutcase below have corned the market on stupidity.
Quakes blamed on 'immodest women'
Promiscuous women are responsible for earthquakes, a senior Iranian cleric has said.
Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedighi told worshippers in Tehran last Friday that they had to stick to strict codes of modesty to protect themselves.
"Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray and spread adultery in society which increases earthquakes," he said.
Tens of thousands of people have died in Iran earthquakes in the last decade.
Mr Sedighi was delivering a sermon on the need for a "general repentance" by Iranians.
"What can we do to avoid being buried under the rubble? There is no other solution but to take refuge in religion and to adapt our lives to Islam's moral codes," he said.
'Disappoint God'
Young Iranians sometimes push the boundaries of how they can dress, showing hair under their headscarves or wearing tight fitting clothes.
Mr Sedighi also referred to violence following last year's elections, which occurred when thousands of - mostly young - Iranians protested against the result, as a "political earthquake".
"Now if a natural earthquake hits Tehran, no one will be able to confront such a calamity but God's power, only God's power. So lets not disappoint God."
More than 25,000 people died when a powerful earthquake hit the ancient town of Bam in 2003.
Seismologists have warned that the Iranian capital Tehran is situated on a large number of tectonic fault lines and could be hit by a devastating quake soon.
President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has said many of Tehran's 12 million inhabitants should relocate.
There are plans to build a purpose built new capital near Qom.
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/middle_east/8631775.stm
Published: 2010/04/20 11:06:14 GMT
© BBC MMX
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Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Death Warmed Over
Wow. Yes I know things are hard out there ladies. But did you have to do this? Is there no attractive and healthy man who wants to date a single woman in her 50s. Even if she is hot? Yikes
Necrophillia
Today's new word is Necrophillia.
also nec·roph'i·lism (nĭ-krōf'ə-lĭz'əm, nĕ-)
You don't know this but I tend to date older men. My friends are concerned and have tried to get me to stop. Recently, I have finally agreed with them and have taken a break from dating older men. However after reading online articles and seeing pictures of Larry King and his wife, only one word comes to mind.
also nec·roph'i·lism (nĭ-krōf'ə-lĭz'əm, nĕ-)
1.Obsessive fascination with death and corpses.
2.Erotic attraction to or sexual contact with corpses.
necrophiliac nec'ro·phil'i·ac' (-ē-ăk') adj. & n.
You don't know this but I tend to date older men. My friends are concerned and have tried to get me to stop. Recently, I have finally agreed with them and have taken a break from dating older men. However after reading online articles and seeing pictures of Larry King and his wife, only one word comes to mind.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
This too shall pass
It’s the twenty-fifth day of March and my life is still stuck on crappy. Got home from a temp job (Praise Jesus) and hopped right into bed and went to sleep. Was I tired? Yes. The reality that I had no money to buy food or do anything else but I was “working” left me exhausted.
That is a heavy and draining realization. I woke up with it. I managed to get it unto the bus and took it to lunch with me. I spent about $4.00 today: $1.99 for breakfast, a banana and granola bar at the gas station; and $2.20 for lunch, Dollar Menu Chicken Sandwich at McDonalds and a yogurt parfait which was also a dollar. I ate; I read; I was at peace.
Since I don’t have my car I have stopped going to my weekly meditation meeting. This has highlighted that I also get more than meditation from that meeting. I get food. It’s my food pantry. Without it, I’m hungry.
To keep functioning, I am trying to embrace gratitude. At various times, not just in the morning or when I am going to bed, I will try to think of a few things for which I am grateful. My health, this temp job, my weekly pay check, birdsong, butterflies, bees, the priceless sacrifice of the men and women of the military, beautiful days and clear skies of LA, somehow I’m still here and struggling; the feeling that I am moving forward, friends, Prozac, the Lilly Corp Prescription Assistance Program, the possibility of the future, that now is only temporary…. Get the picture.
No grand plans, no big promises to myself, just the prayer that things will change; that is what keeps me going. I just have to make it until then. Again, it is worthwhile to note that this is exactly how I felt as a child growing up in my home and family. “Just hold on Ann” this won’t last forever is how I got myself through lonely summer months left at home. No brighter picture of the future than I would be alone and alive got me through days of not speaking to anyone (including my parents). So there is an odd serenity to my days.
I used to obsess over thoughts of home. Where was my home? Who was my family? Was it Jamaica, with my parents, our townhouse, school? Today I know it is a feeling. It’s a feeling that springs from a place of dis-ease, want, and insecurity. I am walking on cracking ice. I am at home when my parents can not help me and have told me so. They haven’t abandoned me; it is just I should be rescuing them. My friends do not know what I am going through. I tell no one. I don’t ask for help. I also know that there is no external sign of trouble. I look happy; I eat; I make jokes; I make plans; I don’t complain. Everything is fine until it all collapses. And it won't. This bridge is made of rope but it is still a bridge.
That is a heavy and draining realization. I woke up with it. I managed to get it unto the bus and took it to lunch with me. I spent about $4.00 today: $1.99 for breakfast, a banana and granola bar at the gas station; and $2.20 for lunch, Dollar Menu Chicken Sandwich at McDonalds and a yogurt parfait which was also a dollar. I ate; I read; I was at peace.
Since I don’t have my car I have stopped going to my weekly meditation meeting. This has highlighted that I also get more than meditation from that meeting. I get food. It’s my food pantry. Without it, I’m hungry.
To keep functioning, I am trying to embrace gratitude. At various times, not just in the morning or when I am going to bed, I will try to think of a few things for which I am grateful. My health, this temp job, my weekly pay check, birdsong, butterflies, bees, the priceless sacrifice of the men and women of the military, beautiful days and clear skies of LA, somehow I’m still here and struggling; the feeling that I am moving forward, friends, Prozac, the Lilly Corp Prescription Assistance Program, the possibility of the future, that now is only temporary…. Get the picture.
No grand plans, no big promises to myself, just the prayer that things will change; that is what keeps me going. I just have to make it until then. Again, it is worthwhile to note that this is exactly how I felt as a child growing up in my home and family. “Just hold on Ann” this won’t last forever is how I got myself through lonely summer months left at home. No brighter picture of the future than I would be alone and alive got me through days of not speaking to anyone (including my parents). So there is an odd serenity to my days.
I used to obsess over thoughts of home. Where was my home? Who was my family? Was it Jamaica, with my parents, our townhouse, school? Today I know it is a feeling. It’s a feeling that springs from a place of dis-ease, want, and insecurity. I am walking on cracking ice. I am at home when my parents can not help me and have told me so. They haven’t abandoned me; it is just I should be rescuing them. My friends do not know what I am going through. I tell no one. I don’t ask for help. I also know that there is no external sign of trouble. I look happy; I eat; I make jokes; I make plans; I don’t complain. Everything is fine until it all collapses. And it won't. This bridge is made of rope but it is still a bridge.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Postcards from the Recession
I’m listening to NPR and they are talking about saving for retirement. The Employee Benefit Research Institute has completed an annual study and Surprise! Nobody is saving enough. Who didn’t know that? So now, that we know they are trying to do PSA to get people to save. How about raising real wages and creating jobs by investing in infrastructure??? I’m not saving for retirement. I also don’t have health insurance, life insurance, own a home, have a husband, or a job. (sigh)
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Emotional Generosity
This is a new term for me. I want to be emotionally generous and I want to be around emotionally generous people. I want to fall in love with someone who is emotionally generous.
Someone who is emotionally generous shares their feelings, with friends, family, and individuals. When you have hurt their feelings or offended them; they tell you. When you have made them angry; you know it. They are not afraid to compliment, acknowledge, listen, and empathize.
This is so different from the home I grew up in. This term is completely nonsensical in the context of my childhood. One was generous with tangible things. If you were rich, then maybe you were generous with money, clothing, or food. If you had running water, then maybe you were generous with it; giving beggars ice, or lemonade, or bathing your neighbor’s children. But emotions?
Praise was earned. If you got no praise, then you didn’t deserve it. Isn’t that simple? Love was an obligation and an entitlement. I had to love my father, mother, and brother; no matter what they did to me.
Of course I loved my father, even though he made me cry, beat my mother & brother, and terrified me. He took me to school everyday and berated my mother everyday. How could I do anything but love my mother, who spent most of her waking hours, during week and weekends, saving people’s lives and providing me with money. I got to spend that same time isolated in a house with my brother and father who rarely spoke to me and never to each other. I was in college before she got an eight hour work schedule and a junior in high school before she stopped working weekends.
Anger, that’s another topic entirely. Anger was always under the surface. It’s amazing I can’t ice skate because I certainly know what its like to be on thin ice. I walked on thin ice all the time and did not know the confidence and relief of being myself without someone exploding in rage, until I moved out of my parent’s home. To this day, I over apologize to all strangers and am the first to apologize to all friends.
How Do I see this playing out in society as a whole?
I listened to friends as they justified the following hypothesis: Teenagers and young people have been over praised. Teachers and coaches (not parents mind you in this example) are so eager to build confidence that they praise small if not insignificant achievements. This leads them to expect recognition and praise in the work world and how terrible is that! (lol)
I take the opposite position: my generation, particularly adults who were abused as children, were raised with emotionally withholding or emotionally repressed parents. My parents were not that in touch with their emotions. More powerfully, my grandparents and parents alike all encouraged me to suppress or dismiss my emotions. If I cried, I would be threatened with a beating. When my Dad made me cry, he then bought me candy or pastries. (Now I credit this to him as a loving act.) When I got angry with my Mom or tried to hold her accountable, she would become hysterical: making me feel guilty for feeling anything but pity or unconditional love. So I became overweight and was not conscious of any anger towards my Mom until I was 28; heavily medicated and in intensive therapy. (ohyeah.)
But, what does this phrase mean?
Someone who is emotionally generous shares their feelings, with friends, family, and individuals. When you have hurt their feelings or offended them; they tell you. When you have made them angry; you know it. They are not afraid to compliment, acknowledge, listen, and empathize.
This is so different from the home I grew up in. This term is completely nonsensical in the context of my childhood. One was generous with tangible things. If you were rich, then maybe you were generous with money, clothing, or food. If you had running water, then maybe you were generous with it; giving beggars ice, or lemonade, or bathing your neighbor’s children. But emotions?
Praise was earned. If you got no praise, then you didn’t deserve it. Isn’t that simple? Love was an obligation and an entitlement. I had to love my father, mother, and brother; no matter what they did to me.
Of course I loved my father, even though he made me cry, beat my mother & brother, and terrified me. He took me to school everyday and berated my mother everyday. How could I do anything but love my mother, who spent most of her waking hours, during week and weekends, saving people’s lives and providing me with money. I got to spend that same time isolated in a house with my brother and father who rarely spoke to me and never to each other. I was in college before she got an eight hour work schedule and a junior in high school before she stopped working weekends.
Anger, that’s another topic entirely. Anger was always under the surface. It’s amazing I can’t ice skate because I certainly know what its like to be on thin ice. I walked on thin ice all the time and did not know the confidence and relief of being myself without someone exploding in rage, until I moved out of my parent’s home. To this day, I over apologize to all strangers and am the first to apologize to all friends.
How Do I see this playing out in society as a whole?
I listened to friends as they justified the following hypothesis: Teenagers and young people have been over praised. Teachers and coaches (not parents mind you in this example) are so eager to build confidence that they praise small if not insignificant achievements. This leads them to expect recognition and praise in the work world and how terrible is that! (lol)
I take the opposite position: my generation, particularly adults who were abused as children, were raised with emotionally withholding or emotionally repressed parents. My parents were not that in touch with their emotions. More powerfully, my grandparents and parents alike all encouraged me to suppress or dismiss my emotions. If I cried, I would be threatened with a beating. When my Dad made me cry, he then bought me candy or pastries. (Now I credit this to him as a loving act.) When I got angry with my Mom or tried to hold her accountable, she would become hysterical: making me feel guilty for feeling anything but pity or unconditional love. So I became overweight and was not conscious of any anger towards my Mom until I was 28; heavily medicated and in intensive therapy. (ohyeah.)
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Ham Damn That Boy is Fine!
About two years ago, Forbes online magazine introduced the world’s wealthiest and best looking royals to the ignorant masses. Actually, [rewind press play] I was listening to BBC radio mention that Prince William and Prince Harry were at the top of the list. Naturally, I wanted to see who else was on the Forbes list. That’s when I saw him. Sheik Hamdan bin Mohammed bin Rashid al Maktoum.
Do you get me?
Do you get me now?
Then you are in with the IN crowd.
Dig this! 2000 and late, Arianna Huffington is scoping out the dude also. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/05/30/the-worlds-20-hottest-roy_n_104295.html
Meditate on the following: Prince Hamdan was born on November 13, 1982 and is the named successor to his father, the Prime Minister and Vice President of the United Arab Emirates. He, and all his brothers, graduated from Sandhurst, the exclusive military academy in England. He is worth millions if not billions of US dollars. He is a poet; a falconer. Oh, and he is hot. Seriously, he is a good looking dude. He is an attractive, young, athletic, wealthy, powerful man. And he has brothers, single brothers.
I don’t really have to explain this right? I mean, royalty were the first international celebrities. He’s good-looking; rich, young, single, and he wears his pants on his waist and not hanging down lookin’ like a fool. If that wasn’t enough, the list goes on long enough to make me swoon.
There are no videos of him calling any Black woman a bitch; or performing gansta rap. No interviews where he uses the “n” word; talks crassly about his sexual exploits; nor does he refer to himself as a pimp. He has real work to do like figure out how to make an economic engine of an entire nation run. Or raise the status of women or something equally as important. Not just work out and memorize movie lines.
He’s my dream come true.
Do you get me?
Do you get me now?
Then you are in with the IN crowd.
Dig this! 2000 and late, Arianna Huffington is scoping out the dude also. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/05/30/the-worlds-20-hottest-roy_n_104295.html
Meditate on the following: Prince Hamdan was born on November 13, 1982 and is the named successor to his father, the Prime Minister and Vice President of the United Arab Emirates. He, and all his brothers, graduated from Sandhurst, the exclusive military academy in England. He is worth millions if not billions of US dollars. He is a poet; a falconer. Oh, and he is hot. Seriously, he is a good looking dude. He is an attractive, young, athletic, wealthy, powerful man. And he has brothers, single brothers.
I don’t really have to explain this right? I mean, royalty were the first international celebrities. He’s good-looking; rich, young, single, and he wears his pants on his waist and not hanging down lookin’ like a fool. If that wasn’t enough, the list goes on long enough to make me swoon.
There are no videos of him calling any Black woman a bitch; or performing gansta rap. No interviews where he uses the “n” word; talks crassly about his sexual exploits; nor does he refer to himself as a pimp. He has real work to do like figure out how to make an economic engine of an entire nation run. Or raise the status of women or something equally as important. Not just work out and memorize movie lines.
He’s my dream come true.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The Sons of Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum
(sigh) How do I say this delicately? There is no easy way to say this.... I know it sounds like something that can be easily dismissed, but I am utterly fascinated the following two people I have never met before:
Sheikh Hamdan bin Mohammed bin Rashid al Maktoum
and
Sheikh Rashid bin Mohammed Al Maktoum
I was introduced by Forbes magazine and my good friend Andrea. TBC I have a hair appointment I have to motor to and I will use the time to draft something that sounds less than a fourteen year old with a crush.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamdan_bin_Mohammed_Al_Maktoum
She made a slideshow:
Sheikh Hamdan bin Mohammed bin Rashid al Maktoum
and
Sheikh Rashid bin Mohammed Al Maktoum
I was introduced by Forbes magazine and my good friend Andrea. TBC I have a hair appointment I have to motor to and I will use the time to draft something that sounds less than a fourteen year old with a crush.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamdan_bin_Mohammed_Al_Maktoum
She made a slideshow:
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Hells Yeah!
My doctor suggested that I take a Myers-Briggs Personality Test: the goal being to see what my dominant personality traits are and how they would match up with employment. Ok, no problem. So I wait a couple years and finally take one online about two months ago.
I must say I have always felt the need to entertain. And, I am rather a know-it all; I love telling people things they haven’t heard before. So the test rang true and got me to thinkin’: Hmmmmmm. I must say I find me fascinating. I am just an ever unfolding mystery. Like the horizon, I have no beginning and no end. Unfortunately for you, unlike the horizon, my beauty and mystery can not be grasped with a mere glance. No, fare blog reader. To know my mind is to discover what I am passionate about. And since I’m curious about my mysterious self, I’d like to explore my passions. Hence, a blog is born. Ta-DAh!
So, what’s on my mind?
Besides the Middle East and our war in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan, I’m concerned and what to explore the following broad areas:
I’m also an idealist. I happen to think we should have some of this bullshit fixed by now. Or at the very least it should be common knowledge why shit hasn’t been fixed yet.
That’s why I paid attention in class. I thought the sum total of my education would naturally take me to solving, reducing, alleviating, and eradicating something. You know change the world; make it a better place. Now I feel like that was just a tremendous amount of bullshit designed to keep me in my damn seat and racking up thousands of dollars in debt. [tbc]
Guess the movie from the quote:
Am I angry? Hells yeah! I’m so angry. I want to:
“…go to the window; open the window; stick my head out and scream! ‘I’m Mad As Hell and I’m not going to Take It Anymore.”
A Loving Note to My Mother: Mom, No one who has spent more than an hour alone with me is surprised that I am seeing a head doctor. In fact, they are all relieved.
I’m an ENFP (I retook the damn thing to confirm it.) My most suitable profession would be that of a journalist or an entertainer. Therefore, my ideal career is of a news anchorman. Ta-Dah! I must say I have always felt the need to entertain. And, I am rather a know-it all; I love telling people things they haven’t heard before. So the test rang true and got me to thinkin’: Hmmmmmm. I must say I find me fascinating. I am just an ever unfolding mystery. Like the horizon, I have no beginning and no end. Unfortunately for you, unlike the horizon, my beauty and mystery can not be grasped with a mere glance. No, fare blog reader. To know my mind is to discover what I am passionate about. And since I’m curious about my mysterious self, I’d like to explore my passions. Hence, a blog is born. Ta-DAh!
So, what’s on my mind?
Besides the Middle East and our war in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan, I’m concerned and what to explore the following broad areas:
The high infant and female mortality rate in the United States of America.
The intersection of food, power, and politics in this country and around the world.
How female oppression plays a role in our biggest and most challenging problems: poverty, AIDS, and global economic status of nations.
Coastal Erosion and Water resource management.
How do the prevalence of child abuse influence larger societal views of justice, war, and peace?
I’m also an idealist. I happen to think we should have some of this bullshit fixed by now. Or at the very least it should be common knowledge why shit hasn’t been fixed yet.
That’s why I paid attention in class. I thought the sum total of my education would naturally take me to solving, reducing, alleviating, and eradicating something. You know change the world; make it a better place. Now I feel like that was just a tremendous amount of bullshit designed to keep me in my damn seat and racking up thousands of dollars in debt. [tbc]
Guess the movie from the quote:
Am I angry? Hells yeah! I’m so angry. I want to:
“…go to the window; open the window; stick my head out and scream! ‘I’m Mad As Hell and I’m not going to Take It Anymore.”
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Dharma Seed - Carol Wilson's Dharma Talks
Dharma Seed - Carol Wilson's Dharma Talks
If you are feeling hopeless, then listenting to these talks can and will help.
If you are feeling hopeless, then listenting to these talks can and will help.
Anything Can Happen
After I wrote my last entry, I logged off and crumpled into my bed. I resolved to call my mother and brother and beg. [I realize that this is called asking for help in other families and by other people. For me and with my relatives, it is begging.] I did it. One voicemail left; just waiting on the call back. It would come eventually and yes I knew the answer would be positive; not all that I wanted but something: enough to get by on. Just like if you were to sit in the middle of a deserted country road you know a car will come along sometime. That’s why the road is there; cars use it. You just have to wait.
While I waited I could have had several sad and despairing thoughts. I could have been anxious or hyper-vigilant because of fear and adrenaline. Instead, I remembered I made a decision to practice Zen meditation. I practiced. Afterwards, I played an mp3 made at the Insight Meditation society. It was a talk given by Carol Wilson which was entitled “Anything Can Happen”.
This is the link: http://www.dharmaseed.org/teacher/39 and just look up the title Anything Can Happen: Faith and Confidence In Awareness.
She reminded me that just as bad things can happen; good things can happen. Rather than wait in fear for the bad; why not wait in expectation for the good. That’s my lesson. She is a Buddhist so she would not agree with the expectation angle. After all Buddhism is about letting go of attachments, desires, expectations, and being present in the now. But this is the best way I can summarize what I learned.
A man in my therapy group said something similar once and I have carried it with me since: “Things can always get worse. But who do you want with you when they do.”
Anything Can Happen. Any good thing can happen at any time. The phone rang after I had finished with the mp3 and the meditation. It was a placement agency. Could I start a job tomorrow paying $20/hr? Any good thing can happen. Ten minutes passed and the person called me back and said “Don’t report to the job site tomorrow. They want to interview for the position.” This could take several weeks and you still don’t have a job, food, or money. Anything can happen. Interesting huh?
The phone has literally not wrung with news of any possible job assignments for anything in more than six months. Then in one day; one particular day; bam!
Since then, the phone has been ringing. It rang the next day and the day after that. Yesterday, I had an interview with YET ANOTHER TEMPORARY STAFFING AGENCY. Then something really incredible happened as I was flunking a grammar and spelling test; I heard the guy talk to someone and say “Yes, Ann Wright is in the office right now and I have her resume. Can I send it to you?” (Keyboard keys clicking and then the phone he hangs up. Then it rings again later “Well she can come by for an interview as early as today….Oh tomorrow would be better? At 4pm? Sure. I’ll confirm it with her.”
And as simple as it seems I have a real job lead: my first in months. I haven’t gotten the job yet. I’m still unemployed. But Anything Can Happen.
While I waited I could have had several sad and despairing thoughts. I could have been anxious or hyper-vigilant because of fear and adrenaline. Instead, I remembered I made a decision to practice Zen meditation. I practiced. Afterwards, I played an mp3 made at the Insight Meditation society. It was a talk given by Carol Wilson which was entitled “Anything Can Happen”.
This is the link: http://www.dharmaseed.org/teacher/39 and just look up the title Anything Can Happen: Faith and Confidence In Awareness.
She reminded me that just as bad things can happen; good things can happen. Rather than wait in fear for the bad; why not wait in expectation for the good. That’s my lesson. She is a Buddhist so she would not agree with the expectation angle. After all Buddhism is about letting go of attachments, desires, expectations, and being present in the now. But this is the best way I can summarize what I learned.
A man in my therapy group said something similar once and I have carried it with me since: “Things can always get worse. But who do you want with you when they do.”
Anything Can Happen. Any good thing can happen at any time. The phone rang after I had finished with the mp3 and the meditation. It was a placement agency. Could I start a job tomorrow paying $20/hr? Any good thing can happen. Ten minutes passed and the person called me back and said “Don’t report to the job site tomorrow. They want to interview for the position.” This could take several weeks and you still don’t have a job, food, or money. Anything can happen. Interesting huh?
The phone has literally not wrung with news of any possible job assignments for anything in more than six months. Then in one day; one particular day; bam!
Since then, the phone has been ringing. It rang the next day and the day after that. Yesterday, I had an interview with YET ANOTHER TEMPORARY STAFFING AGENCY. Then something really incredible happened as I was flunking a grammar and spelling test; I heard the guy talk to someone and say “Yes, Ann Wright is in the office right now and I have her resume. Can I send it to you?” (Keyboard keys clicking and then the phone he hangs up. Then it rings again later “Well she can come by for an interview as early as today….Oh tomorrow would be better? At 4pm? Sure. I’ll confirm it with her.”
And as simple as it seems I have a real job lead: my first in months. I haven’t gotten the job yet. I’m still unemployed. But Anything Can Happen.
Friday, February 5, 2010
BBC News - Bombs and beatings: Life among the Taliban
BBC News - Bombs and beatings: Life among the Taliban
The power of being a girl. The above link is to the BBC news story about Meena. A thirteen year old who ran away from her family because they were pressuring her to become a suicide bomber.
The power of being a girl. The above link is to the BBC news story about Meena. A thirteen year old who ran away from her family because they were pressuring her to become a suicide bomber.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
To Please
Eve Ensler: Embrace your inner girl Video on TED.com
I needed some inspiration. So I turned to Ted.com. Good stuff is all I have to say. Better than watching the Black Eye Peas and a flash mob perform live for Oprah. Maybe I will find some strength; some power right here when I need it the most.
I want to put pictures, videos, mp3s, and writting all together for anyone to access. But how do I do that? Guess the blog is the only way that I see now. It allows you to post all that cool stuff in one place. That's good. I just wanted something a little less personal. lol I was hoping for something that wouldn't intimately and publically be me. Maybe that's just impossible.
The fact is I have only personal work left to do. I saw some pointless clip on GoJobbing.com about using social networking sites to "build your brand". Stuff like that just makes me want to vomit. (lol yes I'm emotional.)
Why?
Because my brand, The Ann Margaret Wright Brand, has very little to do with making millions for publically owned corporations. That's just the truth. In fact, that's what makes job interviewing and cover letter writting so hard for me becuase I got to think about how to please someone that, unless I worked with them, I wouldn't know them at all.
My terrible truth is that I am an original. Yes, I know some other free high spirits; some talented intellects; a couple of loving and warm hearts and some 'salt-of-the-earth' souls. But frankly, there is only one me: that unique combination of neurosis, original thought, and heart.
PS I love being a girl too Eve Ensler.
I needed some inspiration. So I turned to Ted.com. Good stuff is all I have to say. Better than watching the Black Eye Peas and a flash mob perform live for Oprah. Maybe I will find some strength; some power right here when I need it the most.
I want to put pictures, videos, mp3s, and writting all together for anyone to access. But how do I do that? Guess the blog is the only way that I see now. It allows you to post all that cool stuff in one place. That's good. I just wanted something a little less personal. lol I was hoping for something that wouldn't intimately and publically be me. Maybe that's just impossible.
The fact is I have only personal work left to do. I saw some pointless clip on GoJobbing.com about using social networking sites to "build your brand". Stuff like that just makes me want to vomit. (lol yes I'm emotional.)
Why?
Because my brand, The Ann Margaret Wright Brand, has very little to do with making millions for publically owned corporations. That's just the truth. In fact, that's what makes job interviewing and cover letter writting so hard for me becuase I got to think about how to please someone that, unless I worked with them, I wouldn't know them at all.
My terrible truth is that I am an original. Yes, I know some other free high spirits; some talented intellects; a couple of loving and warm hearts and some 'salt-of-the-earth' souls. But frankly, there is only one me: that unique combination of neurosis, original thought, and heart.
PS I love being a girl too Eve Ensler.
A postcard from the edge of the recession
The unemployment rate in California is over 12%. And that's not counting people who have given up and voluntarily taken themselves out of the job market. It means that employers don't even bother to schedule interviews anymore. Instead the have an "open job call". They advertise the time and place and tell you to just show up with your resume. Screening is done on the spot with no privacy: you hear everyone say how old they are; what college they went to....
Which all leads nicely to the question: I wonder what it will be like to get evicted?
I haven't worked in more than 6 months. My parents have run out of money to give me to pay my rent. I am two months behind as of today and I have no idea what to do next. No job; no job lead; nothing. I can only hope that my mother allows me to drag myself to GA and ride the recession out in her house. She would have to buy the plane ticket.
Which all leads nicely to the question: I wonder what it will be like to get evicted?
I haven't worked in more than 6 months. My parents have run out of money to give me to pay my rent. I am two months behind as of today and I have no idea what to do next. No job; no job lead; nothing. I can only hope that my mother allows me to drag myself to GA and ride the recession out in her house. She would have to buy the plane ticket.
Abuse TV
Got some feedback on my tv programming. My friend called it the "abuse station". Catchy huh? Okay so variety is needed; duely noted. Then he, its a guy, suggested I add more clips of Sallie Culberth. I agree wholeheartedly. I love Sallie Culberth and its just a shame that she is not producing more videos. I want to tell everyone to read and comment on her blog. Also download a podcast or two and you will understand what I'm talking about.
Sallie Culberth, co-founder of Committed to Freedom Ministries
Please leave comments or suggestions about video clips right here on my blog.
Monday, February 1, 2010
I am beginning to find myself
About three years ago I couldn't tell you what I was interested in; what did I want to work on; what did I think needed changing in the world. I just had no real concept. I knew I wanted to pass the bar. I knew I wanted to get a job that didn't bore me to death. I was pretty sure that happiness was somewhere on the other side of bar membership, lawyer job, and money. I was pretty confused.
Today, I know what gets me going in the morning: its the thought of doing work for the common good.
I am particularly interested in child sexual abuse and the effect it has on children and adults as the get older and try to live independent lives. I am also deeply concerned about the human aspect of war on terror: American soldiers, American Muslims, citizens of Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan; what is really happening; and what else can be done. That's what I think about everyday. Those are the thoughts that I have to pull myself away from to hunt for a job, project how I'm going to pay my rent, and remember to leave the house for my current employment torture.
What does this all mean? It means that I'm complicated! I am also a person who likes big, challenging problems; I want to help the whole world. And I'm not sure I have the confidence or ability to change my life. I need to work this out in public. I need the thoughts and criticisms of friends and strangers who think they know better. I'm not getting anywhere alone.
Today, I know what gets me going in the morning: its the thought of doing work for the common good.
I am particularly interested in child sexual abuse and the effect it has on children and adults as the get older and try to live independent lives. I am also deeply concerned about the human aspect of war on terror: American soldiers, American Muslims, citizens of Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan; what is really happening; and what else can be done. That's what I think about everyday. Those are the thoughts that I have to pull myself away from to hunt for a job, project how I'm going to pay my rent, and remember to leave the house for my current employment torture.
What does this all mean? It means that I'm complicated! I am also a person who likes big, challenging problems; I want to help the whole world. And I'm not sure I have the confidence or ability to change my life. I need to work this out in public. I need the thoughts and criticisms of friends and strangers who think they know better. I'm not getting anywhere alone.
American Hero
Woke up this morning And I got myself a gun.
Remember that from the Soprano's? I often think in terms of song lyrics. It is a quirk of mine; to think of the best song that captures my emotions. I will often sing it rather than try to explain my feelings. Pretty much no one understands this. (lol) Everyone thinks I'm just crazy and sing way too much. Gradually, friends that see me daily, start to notice the relationship between the song or tune I'm singing and maybe how they might be feeling. Then they start to get it a little.
That song is on my mind because I awoke with a definate purpose. That doesn't happen alot. Mostly I awake and start to worry or just mindlessly go about my morning routine. But this morning, I woke up with my fire.
I got on the internet and decieded to cut and paste the contact information of Muslim groups and interfaith organizations located in the city of Los Angeles. You don't know this, but my primary obsession has been peace in the Middle East and America's war on terrorism. Most days, I spend sometime thinking about this subject on and off.
To what end? I am convinced that the way to combat terror or religous extermeism is through education: building privately funded schools open to all children, especially girls. After that, I realize that so few people are making a concerted effort to accomplish this goal.
http://www.roomtoread.org/ http://www.ikat.org/ and http://www.spiritofamerica.net/
You may not know this, but I do. There are literally hundreds of individual Americans working to build schools, libraries, and other educational facilities in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India. But what gets to me is that they are not working together. And they are not promoting the idea that educational opportunities can transform lives the way I would like to see it done: i.e. as the only honest answer to extermist muslim terror groups.
Remember the Peace Corp? An organization founded by the President of the United States with the mission to do good work on an international scale. Remember CARE packages? CARE packages were sent to European families after WWII so that people wouldn't starve. The humble Care package solidified the international reputation that America has for doing humanitarian good. Where are the CARE packages to Iraq?
Why are we not empowered to work as a large-scale, grassroots, human rights movement to fight for peace, change, and equality? When are we going to start making friends and being friends to all the people that are left at the mercy of angry, power grabbers with an ax to grind?
Remember that from the Soprano's? I often think in terms of song lyrics. It is a quirk of mine; to think of the best song that captures my emotions. I will often sing it rather than try to explain my feelings. Pretty much no one understands this. (lol) Everyone thinks I'm just crazy and sing way too much. Gradually, friends that see me daily, start to notice the relationship between the song or tune I'm singing and maybe how they might be feeling. Then they start to get it a little.
That song is on my mind because I awoke with a definate purpose. That doesn't happen alot. Mostly I awake and start to worry or just mindlessly go about my morning routine. But this morning, I woke up with my fire.
I got on the internet and decieded to cut and paste the contact information of Muslim groups and interfaith organizations located in the city of Los Angeles. You don't know this, but my primary obsession has been peace in the Middle East and America's war on terrorism. Most days, I spend sometime thinking about this subject on and off.
To what end? I am convinced that the way to combat terror or religous extermeism is through education: building privately funded schools open to all children, especially girls. After that, I realize that so few people are making a concerted effort to accomplish this goal.
Links to American Individuals and Organizations doing humanitarian work in Afghanistan and Pakistan
http://www.roomtoread.org/ http://www.ikat.org/ and http://www.spiritofamerica.net/
You may not know this, but I do. There are literally hundreds of individual Americans working to build schools, libraries, and other educational facilities in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India. But what gets to me is that they are not working together. And they are not promoting the idea that educational opportunities can transform lives the way I would like to see it done: i.e. as the only honest answer to extermist muslim terror groups.
Remember the Peace Corp? An organization founded by the President of the United States with the mission to do good work on an international scale. Remember CARE packages? CARE packages were sent to European families after WWII so that people wouldn't starve. The humble Care package solidified the international reputation that America has for doing humanitarian good. Where are the CARE packages to Iraq?
Why are we not empowered to work as a large-scale, grassroots, human rights movement to fight for peace, change, and equality? When are we going to start making friends and being friends to all the people that are left at the mercy of angry, power grabbers with an ax to grind?
Friday, January 29, 2010
Post cards from the edge
I have been remarking to all my friends that ever since I have joined so many support groups and started talking to people and making new friends, I have stopped journalling. I used to need to go into my mental and emotional cave to write, think, feel, and reflect. I would also cry, comfort, and take a break from my mask in there. All done in solitude and isolation. Like a Buddhist nun without the head shaving or enlightenment.
Now I don't journal. I reach out. I call someone. I talk. I have begun to share my emotions with others. In the process, I have gained something which I had not experienced before. I think the pop psych term is "Authenticity".
I start to realize things at the time I express the idea verbally and not before. What is that called? Whatever it is; it is new to me. Maybe you can't relate.
When I needed my cave to feel, everything that I said to anyone had been rehearsed and rephrased. Like a writer drafting dialogue for an actor. The underlying assumption being the following: there is/was a best way to say something. I could formulate the "perfect thing" before real human interaction. Not only is that weird and controlling but it is also very lonely. The cave and the isolation made it impossible to experience "connection". I was protected from hurt but I gave up feeling understood.
Not anymore.
Now I don't journal. I reach out. I call someone. I talk. I have begun to share my emotions with others. In the process, I have gained something which I had not experienced before. I think the pop psych term is "Authenticity".
I start to realize things at the time I express the idea verbally and not before. What is that called? Whatever it is; it is new to me. Maybe you can't relate.
When I needed my cave to feel, everything that I said to anyone had been rehearsed and rephrased. Like a writer drafting dialogue for an actor. The underlying assumption being the following: there is/was a best way to say something. I could formulate the "perfect thing" before real human interaction. Not only is that weird and controlling but it is also very lonely. The cave and the isolation made it impossible to experience "connection". I was protected from hurt but I gave up feeling understood.
Not anymore.
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