I have been on a hardcore Star Trek TNG kick lately. I'm not a huge fan of TV as a rule, so the shows that make it past my entropy and ADD need to really have something special. Almost 18 years have passed since "All Good Things..." aired, which, btw, I watched the last half of with bunny ears because our cable had gone out. Those were the days. But almost two decades later, and the show still holds up flawlessly. It does this because the strength of TNG lies both in its peerless actors (Patrick Stewart, please stand up) and in its continually character-driven plots. I've had people tell me that the "treknobabble" turned them off of the show. But all that trek talk was never the point. Space was simple a colorful backdrop for Gene Roddenberry to hold up a mirror to all of our lives.
Normally I would just, you know -- watch it, and within a few weeks I'd be satisfied and on to something else. But thanks to youtube removing all the Star Trek episodes (I'd managed to watch ALL of TOS and TNG on youtube in the good old days...), and Netflix refusing to show itself in Georgia, I have to content myself with scrolling through Wikipedia and making a setlist for the massive, weekend-long TNG marathon I intend to have when I get back. Not all of these are particularly known as fan favorites, but they are MY favorites. You might notice that "Yesterday's Enterprise," widely considered the best TNG episode ever, doesn't even make it on this list.
(Can you watch 35 episodes in one weekend? you ask -- especially since this list counts 2-parters as one episode? To which I reply -- you clearly do not grasp the dedication and devotion I choose to heap on the things I decide I love.)
Top ST: TNG Episodes, Chronologically
Datalore
11001001
The Measure of a Man *
The Enemy
The Vengeance Factor
Deja Q
The Offspring *
The Best of Both Worlds *
Reunion
Future Imperfect
Final Mission
Night Terrors
Redemption *
Ensign Ro
Unification
I, Borg *
The Inner Light *
Relics
Schisms
Rascals
Chain of Command *
Tapestry
Face of the Enemy
Birthright
Starship Mine
Lessons
The Chase
Timescape
Descent *
Gambit
Parallels
Lower Decks *
Eye of the Beholder
Preemptive Strike *
All Good Things... *
You'll notice that I starred eleven episodes in particular. There were supposed to be ten, but then I forgot one, and I can't take any off so there it is. Eleven. These, of course, are my Ubiquitous Top Ten Eleven, and because it is freezing rain outside and I have nothing better to do, here are those episodes in order of awesomeness.
11. Descent
10. Redemption
9. Preemptive Strike
8. Lower Decks
7. I, Borg
6. The Offspring
5. The Inner Light
4. The Measure of a Man
3. Chain of Command
2. All Good Things
1. Best of Both Worlds
And I haven't even done my TOS post yet.
Oh yes, btw, I will negotiate the favor of your freaking choice if you can tell me a way I can watch Star Trek in Georgia for free.
This awful, freezing winter weather is making me crazy. I made myself go for a long walk today and it helped my mood and general well-being considerably. Think maybe I should try to force myself to walk every day as long as weather permits, even if it is hovering around freezing. I walked all around my little Village on the Edge of the City, and found my way up a hill to a church I'd been eyeing in the distance since I got here. It is always hella complicated to get anywhere in Georgia (or Tbilisi), so my geographic win coupled with free entertainment for two hours really made my day. On our tiny little Main Street, I found a lot of really awesome fruit and produce sellers -- there even was a pineapple! One of the things I have learned to accept as a constant in Georgia is that I will be solely responsible for my own nutrition. My host family feeds me, of course, but fruit and veggies are usually conspiculously absent, especially in the winter. Fresh produce in Poti was harder to come by, but I have to wonder at my Tbilisi family's consistent omission when there really are perfectly acceptable choices nearby. But oh well. I bought two small apples and an orange. Maybe I'll bring home some carrots and squash next time as a present and see what they do. :)
One of the things I miss about Poti is the ability to walk everywhere. That sentence is important, because I do miss Poti, much more than I ever expected I would. I miss Mark and Julie quite a lot -- they filled the role of my travel companions and dinner buddies and general partners in crime for the entirety of my stay in Georgia, at least until I made the move to Tbilisi. I miss the rest of our small, pretty tight expat community as well, and I really miss being able to call one of those folks up at random during the course of an afternoon or an evening, and meet for a 1.20 lari beer an hour later.
Everything is more expensive in Tbilisi, everything takes (a lot) longer to get to, and our expat community is so big and so spread out compared to the nine of us in little Poti. All that wraps up to a package of "everything is just a little more difficult." I love this city and am incredibly happy to be here, but I do miss a certain simplicity and comfortableness. I miss daily exercise from walking or my bike. Come to that, I miss my bike, the mighty Bee. I miss the Black Sea. I've always hated being so far away from open water.
And I miss my host family. I knew that I would, and I do. I was so completely fortunate to be able to live with a family who took the time to include me in so many Georgian activities and traditions. Thanks to them I feel like I got a picture of Georgian life that I might not otherwise have had. Here in Tbilisi, things are just done a little differently. I like my new family and situation just fine, but I miss walking into my Poti family's large kitchen and finding a spontaneous supra about to begin. I miss watching them make churchkhela and pelamushi. I even miss feeding logs to their big wood-burning stove that provided all our heat once it started getting chilly. I miss my Nana's sharp deadpan wit, Eldari's very particular laugh, and the conversations I used to have with Nata.
I don't miss the Mexican soap operas dubbed in Georgian. Just sayin'. Also don't miss freezing my tuckus off in any part of the house that wasn't the kitchen, or sharing my bedroom with a mouse! But hey -- and I'm realizing the true extent of this now that I am in Tbilisi -- no one can say I didn't get the true Georgian experience while in Poti. And for that, I am grateful.
But -- here I am living the second half of my Georgian year exactly as I would have wanted it, with easy access to all of eastern Georgia, plus mayonnaise-free pizza. No regrets, then or now!
I do need to get out more. My cabin fever is calling up all sorts of former activities and making me itch to do them again. Yoga and pottery are both at the forefront of my mind for some reason these days. With all the expats in Tbilisi, there must be a yoga studio somwhere... but then of course here I am in middle-of-nowhere Vashlijvari. I must find out where bus 27 goes.
Grah, I have been having such a hard time sinking my teeth into anything recently. Right now I am pushing my way through The Way of Shadows by Brent Weeks, which is strictly mediocre and I am trying to force myself to continue mainly because I don't want to stop yet another novel halfway through, rather than for any real concern for the characters or outcome. But I guess in this regard, Weeks is doing better than Dan Brown, because I can't think of a thing that could inspire me to pick up Deception Point after I gave up on it 57% of the way through the other day. That's what I get for reading Dan Brown I suppose.
On a friend's recommendation, earlier in December I read The Magicians, by Lev Grossman. In the spirit of honesty, what bothered me the most about the novel is that I didn't think of it first. Grossman shamelessly takes from the benchmarks in the fantasy genre, notably Harry Potter and the Narnia series. It's every bedtime fantasy I've ever had since my Dad first showed me Star Wars. Magic is real, and among us, and if you're lucky you'll get whisked away to a place where real-world problems will never bother you again.
I say "take" specifically, because that was how it felt to me. It wasn't borrowing gently, with love. I didn't feel this book was meant to be a homage to great pillars of the fantasy genre. I don't know exactly how to put it. It seemed... vaguely unfriendly. I know that doesn't make much sense, but I'm trying to describe a nebulous gestalt feeling that nagged me throughout the reading. Maybe I just didn't like C.S. Lewis's world being so casually ripped off.
Certainly the characters are hardly a credit to their talents, but then, this would probably be exactly how young people would behave if given access to almost limitless power, to a life entirely without consequence.
The Magicians is an interesting dark twist to the Narnia story, and I will say one thing -- I definitely did not ever feel the drag to put it down halfway through. The ending is meh though. I give it a seven out of ten. Maybe a 6.5.
While in Okinawa, I happily availed myself of my sister's bookshelf, and came away with two reads in particular that stuck with me, for very different reasons.
The first is Lost in Planet China, by J. Maarten Troost. I am such a tremendous sucker for travel writing, and it's one genre in which my kindle is lacking, so this was a very happy find. The premise: writer Troost decides to embark on a long tour of China to see if it's an acceptable country in which to move his family. He never comes out and actually says definitively yay or nay, but I have to infer from his overarching impressions that he decided not to. Frankly, after reading this book, I don't particularly want to go to China.
Troost spends a lot of time talking about the abysmal air pollution in China. A lot. And it's kind of scary. Something like a third of the pollution in the Sierra Nevada mountains comes from China? Maybe it's even a higher number, but the book is back in Oki and I don't particularly feel like googling it. Anyway, the pollution is bad. And apparently the Chinese government has not the slightest inclination to deal with it. (This is all Troost, btw. This is a book review, not a commentary on China.)
Troost travels all over China... Beijing, Hong Kong, Shenzhen, and lots of other places whose names I forget, and again, the book is in Oki. He also goes to Tibet, which is kind of like my personal Everest in terms of world travel. Someday...
The writing is funny, sarcastic, and engaging. He kind of reminds me of me, if I can have some momentary hubris. I, however, would not choose to eat live squid, which this author does. His observations are stark and bullshit-free, and he's certainly not above the self-effacing anecdote to give his travel stories a little spice. China is maybe not presented in the most positive light, but I believe that he wrote China as he experienced it. I recommend it to anyone with the inscratchable travel bug, or anyone interested in Asian current events. Or anyone who appreciates a good laugh.
I also read Stolen by Lucy Christopher. This book pissed me off so comprehensibly, I cannot even tell you. But hey, I'll try. First things first, Christopher must be a big fan of that inspiring literary opus, Twilight, because the premise is exactly freaking the same. "Normal" girl gets swept off her feet and taken by a mysterious man with beautiful eyes into a foreign, dangerous environment, where said stalker/kidnapper is the only thing keeping her safe from the trouble he got her into.
In Stolen, the main character, Gemma, gets kidnapped from an airport in Bangkok and ends up in the Australian desert. Pretty ridiculously implausible, but whatever. It's a story. Her kidnapper, Ty, admits to stalking her (in England, no less), since she was a little girl. To sum things up, Gemma gets Stockholm Syndrome in about ten minutes. Ty is "older," he is "enigmatic." His eyes are a "piercing blue." The fact that he is crazy, a complete sociopath, and an international felon all seem to be fairly minor inconveniences. Because hey, he likes to paint and can tame camels. Cool, huh?
Gemma makes a few very poorly thought out and weak escape attempts, I will give her that. But in the writing, it's obvious that the author wants you, the reader, to want Gemma to be found again by her captor. She wants you to want Gemma to stay. She wants you to hold your breath, waiting for the moment when Gemma finally succumbs, and they kiss.
And you know what? I think that message is not only fucked up, but dangerous.
Let me tell you how I would have written my heroine who had found herself in a similar situation. Given that her captor is delusional enough to think that Gemma will eventually come around and want to stay in his miserable desert hovel with no air conditioning or beer, I would have her take advantage of this. I would have her wait until he is asleep, knock him soundly on the head, and then tie him to the bed and wait until he got thirsty enough to tell her which direction to drive for the nearest settlement, how long it will take, and how much extra fuel she will need to carry. She would make him draw her a map. She would leave him tied with only enough water for a few days, telling him that when she reached the settlement, she would tell the authorities where he was so they could rescue him. But if he lied to her about where the settlement was or how long it would take to get there, he would die.
Implausible, sure. But hey, it's a story. And at least this girl wouldn't have lost her cojones somewhere over the Pacific.
Unfortunately, Gemma doesn't do this. In fact, her weapon of choice when she finally makes her move is -- wait for it -- a sewing needle. She drives off into the desert with no map, no directions, and no water. It would be hilarious except for the fact that kidnapping young girls and trafficking them across continents is so utterly and completely not funny.
The only thing, and I do mean the only thing, that redeems this sad tale of female frailty and dumbness (and of male dominance and superiority) is that Gemma eventually gets herself snakebit and Ty finally agrees to take her to a town so she won't die. The Good Guys catch him, and Ty is put in jail awaiting trial. Cool beans.
Except that the story ends with Gemma and her Stockholm Syndrome wondering if she just might lie (or turn the truth a little, same difference) to the judge in hopes of getting him a reduced sentence. Because, you know. He was so darn interesting, and artsy and had pretty eyes. He had that bad childhood and all. And he didn't let her die from a snakebite. He decided not to cross over from stalker and kidnapper to murderer. What a find.
Bitch, please.
Just so I can put this out there -- because God after reading this book I think it needs to be said -- kidnapping is never fucking okay. Taking a woman, taking anyone, against their will and holding them against their will is not okay. It's not romantic and it's not fun. It's not some sort of coming-of-age learning experience. It doesn't matter if your deranged brain thinks you are "saving" her. It doesn't even matter if you don't rape her, although of course that is a mark in your favor. These are facts, and they don't change, ever. For any reason. Writing a story that glamorizes this is also not okay. That bit's just my opinion, but I'll stand by it with everything I have.
Yes yes... I have done one measly day out of 26 for my Okinawa vacay. But old news will stay old news, and I wanted to let you know about a couple Tbilisi experiences I've had recently that I highly recommend!
First, I had a very excellent afternoon and evening earlier this week, bar-hopping with my good friend and super human being David One. We had lunch at Ronny's Pizza, in Saburtalo near the Medical University metro stop. Highly recommended! It is actually run by an American couple, so the pizza is the way it should be and not all weird and covered in mayo like most Georgian pizza. After lunch, David and I found ourselves at the American-themed expat bar Buffalo Bill's -- that place is freaking EXPENSIVE when you're not on a hedonistic, "this is my summer vacation, what the hell" kick. Left after one drink... even their cheapest beer was eight lari!!
American flag in the background. Represent.
Next we found ourselves at a Georgian place that unfortunately I did not get the name of, but it is directly across the street from the Rustaveli metro and has a giant barrel surrounding the door, so easy to find. Another place I recommend wholeheartedly. Extensive menu, friendly staff, really cute rustic wood decor, and their beer was only two lari. That is more like it.
David doesn't like beer so I had to help him with that bottle of vodka. What are friends for?
We left the Georgian place and wandered down Rustaveli... and passed the Tbilisi Pantomime Theatre. They had a show starting in seven minutes, and the tickets were only 5.50 lari each! Seriously check these guys out! Their show was completely entertaining, and of course mime means that not knowing the language was not a barrier in the slightest. It's a tiny theatre so pretty much any seat is a good seat, and the show lasts a little over an hour, which is a plus if you happen to have a small bladder and have been drinking all afternoon.
Back out on the street, we commenced our wanderings once again, and once again didn't get far. Stopped into another Georgian place (no name again, sorry) that had very upscale decor and friendly staff that spoke good English. David and I shared a bottle of Georgian champagne. I am such a pushover for wine with tiny bubbles.
Later in the evening I got a surprise, and David Two joined us along with David One's friend Mary. So... two Davids and two Marys. Kewl. Good conversation and general hanging out... it was David Two's last night in Tbilisi before he headed home, so I was really happy I got the chance to say goodbye.
THEN... a few days ago my friend Pauli got back from her trip home, and at her suggestion we fought off Tbilisi's ridiculous winter chill by visiting the Tbilisi Sulphur Baths!
There are several options for sulphur baths, all right next to each other. We chose this one, with the blue mosaic entrance. Private baths are all located on the bottom level -- the nice lady at the front desk spoke English and let us check the place out before we plunked down our cash. A "small cabin" (totally fine for two and probably three or even four) was 20 lari each, per person. Not bad. We also decided we wanted a 'massage', which is more exfoliation and then a scrubbing, and that was quoted to us as being an additional 10 lari each. (This ended up be 14 instead of ten -- not sure if we got the Foreigners Markup or if there was some service that the desk lady forgot to include, but whatever.) I bought a big bottle of beer for four lari, and that brought the entire experience to 38 lari for one hour. So... maybe a little pricey, but of course you can get that down by losing the beer and the scrubbing. I will say that both of those greatly added to the experience, however. (Even if beer may not be your thing, I DO really recommend bringing a bottle of water or something. You'll be glad you did. It is hot in there.)
This is the inner room of our Small Cabin. You can see how much steam is in the air! The outer room had a small table where we left our clothes. Oh yeah... this makes the third country in a row where I have gotten naked in front of friends and strangers. :) The pool is a very hot bath about four feet deep... natural sulphur-infused water continually seeps up through cracks in the rocks. There's a drain near the top of the pool, so the water is continually being refreshed which is good. The marble slab is where we got our Georgian Lady Scrubbing. To the left are two shower spigots where we rinsed off before getting back in the tub for soaking.
I would totally do this again... even by myself. 20 lari to soak in a steamy hot tub for an hour seems like a bargain, especially since this Tbilisi winter is apparently much colder than normal! Lucky me.
I'm really happy that I'm starting to get to experience more of what is uniquely Tbilisi. The weather has been such shite that spending time outside is really more like a punishment than anything else. But having such a good time at the Pantomime Theatre, I'm even more motivated to see Tbilisi's Puppet Theatre and maybe another Georgian opera. There are a few museums I haven't checked out yet as well...
I'm hoping to take a weekend trip to Gori and the cave city of Uplistsikhe in early February once I get paid again. Tbilisians, let me know if this strikes your fancy -- the departure of Mark and Julie (miss them!!) means I am in the market for new excellent travel companions.
And I can't forget that it's getting really quite close to that time when I'm going to have to decide what I want to do next....
It's 5:30 PM, Okinawa Time, and I'm watching a small but determined cockroach zoom his way around the Naha airport cafe. I had been writing in my journal and sipping on a can of Orion beer, but now I am simply watching in mildly horrified fascination while idly wondering if the cursory napkin swipe I gave to the mouth of my can was indeed sufficient as a sanitary precaution.
The cockroach is making a beeline for the refuge under my suitcase. This is exactly where I do not want him to be, so I ease up out of the plastic seat and inch forward -- the Squeamish Hunter in Pursuit.
A quick toe tap and its all done.
Except now I have the twitchy squished remains of my late cockroach to stare at, while scanning the floors and walls for any relatives. My skin prickles and my imagination illustrates. I sigh. Once again I am forced to remind myself exactly how far I still am from the gritty, backpack-toting world traveler I want to be. Equilibrium destroyed by inch-long cockroach. I think again about the email I recently received, inviting me to apply for a teaching job in Korea. I wonder if there's a checkbox on the medical form for "Unreasonable Roach Phobia".
Of course, it is nothing but a good thing that I reluctantly begin to pack up a little early, because I suddenly realize that I have managed to forget something quite vital, and spend the next 15 minutes frantically circling the various airport shops and kiosks, buying all the gifts for my host family that really should not have waited until this last of last minutes.
My flight leaves in little over two hours. Once again I am on the move.
Only this time I am dragging my suitcase, laptop bag, oversized purse, and unnecessary raincoat towards Check-In with a considerably heavier heart than I remember from airports of recent past. Just 90 minutes ago I gave my last wave at a departing Rav-4. And that was that. 26 days. Six months in the planning, two years in the wanting. Time for another page.
Inside my journal, I have carefully recorded the events of each day I spent on Okinawa. The idea was that these hastily scratched notes were to serve as a spur to memory later down the road. I can think of nothing worse than losing the fragmented mosaic that made up my short time on this island, and at the time of recording, I thought I was doing a fairly good job. But now, settled firmly in seat 5C, having been reminded that my seat cushion can be used as a flotation device and that I should secure my own oxygen mask before helping others, I page through my entries of the past month and already they seem painfully inadequate. December 25, 2011 is barely more than a page. One page. I couldn't do a little better than that?
___________________________________________________
"Mary...wake up. It's Christmas..." Eve has my bedroom door cracked and is calling softly. I can hear the smile in her voice.
The night before I had issued the usual standing request of 'Wake me up when you get up,' because otherwise it is entirely possible that the day will be half over before I emerge. But actually this morning I am already half awake, drowsily watching the thin winter sunlight filter across the walls that are the same cheerful yellow that Eve had requested for her bedroom when she was a little girl.
I roll over and grin. "Morning Sweetie."
Eve leaves me to make the final transition to horizontal on my own time. Down the hall, I can hear Christmas music that she had obviously waited to play until I was up.
I shuffle down the hall to the smell of coffee. Georgians have this insane idea that "coffee" is something that is instantly dissolved in hot water, and served black with sugar. There have been few things as wonderful during this vacation than the ability to step up to Eve's space-age coffee machine and present it with an oversized Christmas-themed mug where it is filled as if by magic. Add a (very) liberal pour of International Cafe caramel machiato creamer and top it off with an equally generous squirt of whipped cream. Heaven. Georgia, I love you, but you could really stand to pick up some tips about coffee.
Mug in hand, I make it into the living room without killing the kitten -- on accident or on purpose. Jade's 100% favorite game is to launch herself at your ankles while you are walking. It's pretty cute, until you accidentally boot her ten feet and she looks at you like she knows you did that intentionally, and now the game is REALLY on. (It's also not tremendously cute when she connects, btw -- all ten front claws and two rows of emerging, perfectly sharp baby teeth.) God made kittens adorable for a reason.
"Merry Christmas everyone!" Eve, Brad, and I position ourselves around the living room, each taking our own couch so as to have enough room to stack our loot. Everyone traditionally always does very well on Christmas in my family, and this year is no exception. Keeping traditions is important, after all.
Behold our glorious mess.
Fortunately out holiday traditions cover more than presents. One of the most sacred family traditions is unquestionably our breakfast, which is baked French toast with peaches. This year I am able to demonstrate my boundless love for my family by volunteering to cook the bacon, and so willingly offer my hands, arms, and face to the whims of exploding bacon fat for the next 20 minutes. But as any lover of bacon can tell you, first-degree burns are an accepted and quite acceptable price to pay for delicious delicious bacon.
Breakfast warrior
We pop some champagne for mimosas, and then when that runs out we open a very excellent prosecco I had found in a wine shop in Mihama. I look around the table at my two companions -- Eve and Brad -- and once again am bowled over by the simple and uncomplicated feeling of gratitude. At this moment, I am simply the luckiest person I can think of.
We also play with the hedgehog.
After breakfast, Eve retreats with the kitten to take a nap, Brad reads his new music books and I put together my new Star Wars lego set -- a present from my Dad. Ever since several years ago when I lamented that adulthood meant that I no longer got cool fun toys for Christmas, he has made sure to get me at least one cool fun toy every year. Thanks Dad.
It is time for next important phase of the day -- preparing Christmas Dinner. I happily assume my position of sous chef to Eve's uncontested reign of her kitchen. The menu features roast turkey with turkey sausage stuffing, green bean casserole and scalloped potatoes. Modest when compared to the mammoth spreads of dinners of old, but there are only three of us after all. Four if you count Jade, who would soon develop an instant and very insistent addiction to roast turkey.
The music of the hour is Florence + the Machine... new to me but a favorite for my two hosts, especially my sister. Florence sings her heart out to us as Eve and I approach our 11-pound dead bird with distinct trepidation. Raw turkey is gross.
But finally the bird is stuffed and safely in the oven, and for the moment, there is nothing for the sous chef to do.
Winter in Okinawa means that the temperature on this fine Christmas day hovers in the high 60s. I take my glass of prosecco and go out to the balcony, loving the gentle coolness of the afternoon. Every winter should be this temperature. Down on the grass, kids are playing with their Christmas toys. Florence is singing like a siren -- it's one of the first times I've heard the album and don't know the lyrics, I have no idea what most of the songs are even about. But I love her voice and the ethereal beauty of her music. At this moment she is belting out that "It's all right. That's all right!" And that, my dear lovely Florence, is exactly how I feel.
(Of course, later I would look up the lyrics, listen to the song again and again, because by then I will have fallen in love with it as I'll have with all her songs, and find out that actually it isn't all that apt for a laid-back, pajama-wearing family Christmas when all is well. But that would be later. This is now. And that's all right.)
But now breaktime is over. I go back in to help with the string beans and potatoes. So many onions, garlic, herbs. Butter to melt and potatoes to slice. Cream cheese and french onions. Ours is not a particularly health-conscious holiday. Finally, there's some geometrical negotiating needed to get the casseroles both in the oven along with the giant turkey. And our work is done.
We open more wine, put out crackers and cheese, and pass the time while everything cooks by watching Captain America, which my father had also given me for Christmas. And then, for some reason, we decide to watch Conan the Barbarian. The original. With Arnold. Eve is unimpressed, and we soon turn it off, although not before this MSK3K-worthy gem.
Conan's jailer: Conan, what is good in life?
Conan: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women.
Eve: Oh good.
Me: (A few minutes later) I never understand why they just let him go here for no reason.
Eve: He gave the right answer at dinner.
I guess that makes as much sense as anything else.
And then, we eat. (There's a small regrettable moment when my totally innocent suggestion almost results in the string bean casserole catching on fire, but fortunately my sister has an excellent nose. So no harm done. We shall speak of it no more.)
Dinner is, of course, completely amazing. Afterwards, we watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall. My parents call on skype and we get to wish them a Merry Christmas. And then Eve and Brad go to bed. I, of course, stay up and read a National Geographic Japan travel book on the balcony.
And that, my friends, was my Okinawa Christmas. Spent with my beautiful, wonderful sister, my awesome brother in law, a kitten and a hedgehog. Whoever would have thought life would be so much fun?
I'm sure you've all heard about the SOPA and PIPA bills that will soon come for debate on the Senate floor. These bills, in a word, suck. They are utterly detrimental, support censorship, and put power in the hands of big corporations. As you've probably noticed, I stay far away from politics on this blog, but these two pieces of legislation have the power to affect this blog and every other website out there. If somehow you are first hearing this from me, I recommend you visit wikipedia -- a free, unbiased online information source that these bills could censor! -- for info on SOPA and PIPA.
So, I wrote a letter to my senators. And now I'm posting it here. I'm recommending that you write your own letters to your own senators. Because these bills have the power to change pretty much everything that's cool about the internet. And frankly, that's just crap.
__________________________
Dear Senators Warner and Webb,
My name is Mary -------------, and I have been a Virginia resident for the past 27 years. I attended both college (James Madison) and grad school (George Mason) in Virginia. Currently, I am volunteering overseas in the country of Georgia, teaching English to young people. It is rewarding work and I am looking forward to returning to Virginia once my contract is up.
I am writing to you to protest the two bills currently under consideration in Congress -- the Stop Online Piracy Act (HR 3261) and the Protect Intellectual Property Act (S 968). Before volunteering in Georgia, I worked for almost five years at a Government Relations firm in DC. I am not a stranger to interpreting legislation, and it is my firm opinion that both these bills are not only ineffective at achieving their stated goals, but also dangerous.
As an American living overseas, I am even more dependent than most Americans on the internet for my news, my entertainment, and for keeping in touch with loved ones. These two bills as they are currently written stand to impact my quality of life considerably -- without, as I have previously stated -- effectively achieving any of the altruistic aims it purports to support. It puts power in the hands of large corporations and discriminates against small businesses and user-generated sites. I am hardly alone in my position, both among my fellow volunteers here in Georgia and among thousands of Americans at home who depend on the internet to provide them with unbiased, fair, honest and accurate information on a daily and even hourly basis. Please do not deprive America of this invaluable resource, not when the anticipated gains for such a sacrifice will be virtually nil.
For these reasons, I urge you strongly to vote against SOPA and PIPA. I thank you very much for your time and attention to this matter, and hope that you will hear the voice of Virginians and the American people, and do the right thing.
Hello my dear ones. I have not forgotten you. But I guess I ended up unofficially deciding to take a semi-break from the online world during this past month, a month in which I was having a truly unforgettable and once-in-a-lifetime experience with two people I love very much. Quite a lot to share with you too... castle ruins and Christmas and underground rivers and New Year's and horseback rides on the beach. We met the Green Power Ranger. I ziplined across gorges and helped with hedgehog and kitty bathtime. We hiked and laughed and talked and mixed delicious cocktails. Usually while cooking I don't know how many awesome dinners, lunches, and breakfasts. We caught up on all the movies I'd missed out on over the past eight months. I found some incredible new music and tried grilled octopus and stuck my feet in a tank with flesh-eating fish before getting nekkid with my sister and a bunch of Japanese ladies.
All true.
But for now, all you really need to know is that this happened.
How do you like my supersweet pajama pants btw?
Tonight, this entry is really just a teaser trailer to let you know that yes, the epic blog entries to come really will be worth the wait. But most importantly because, although I am WAY too tired to go into much detail at the moment (30-hour door-to-door trips are a beeyotch), I wanted to go on record and say yes -- it happened. I got that hug from a particular sister that was two years in coming. So thanks you two, for the time of my life.
