Monthly Archives: July 2010

Curdled milk.

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*This post comes to you on behalf of my mother, who told me I’m terrible at blogging. I think she was talking about frequency, but this post might prove the entire statement to be true. Hm.

I have a pretty strong stomach. I can abuse the crap out of it and it’s usually fine. I can drink a hell of a lot before I induce vomiting, and I didn’t start throwing up until after I turned 21, no matter how much I drank. Now, it’s only when I really, really overdo it or drink something stupid.

Bad food? I’ll feel sick, might even get sick in the other way. But I’ll rarely throw up, even when my friends do. People talking about gross things while I’m eating never effects me.

I occasionally get stomach bugs. When I do, it’s usually accompanied by huge bouts of stress. It’ll last an evening or so before I get back on my feet. One time, I was sick all day, then got on a red-eye flight to New York and was good enough to do my sightseeing, even if I was a little tired.

I also don’t have much of a gag reflex. There have been times where I wish I could throw up after eating too much and feeling like a blimp. But, alas. I have a largely non-responsive gag reflex.

There is one thing, though that can make me sick instantly, and put me down for the count in just a few seconds.

Curdled milk. I hate hate hate curdled milk.

I hate doing dishes, like any regular person. One of the nice things about living alone is no one yells at me when I put it off for a couple of days.

I let it go too long this week. And I was eating a lot of cereal. And I even had a glass of milk. Well, half a glass of milk.

The rest of it sat under a cookie sheet for a few days.

Nothing, nothing, nothing has the effect on me that the look and smell of curdled milk. the gelatinous white that separates from the water, the horrible, horrible smell that attacks your nostrils…

I immediately ran to the bathroom to throw up, wrapped a towel around my head and finish the dishes. Sprayed, sanitized, tried to make it smell halfway decent. Once it was clean, I was shaking. I was still sick from the brush with the curdled milk. I fell asleep.

I was going to post a picture of curdled milk…but googling it made me sick again. That’s my cue to go to sleep.

My name is Jami and I’m a cartoon!

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Well, I have a face, in case you missed it. It’s a decent one. Apparently it’s one that begs to be drawn.

Yesterday, the awesome Anthony over at anthonylicari.com tweeted at me. “I want to draw you. You should be drawn.” I told him, in 140 characters or less, of course, that someone had beaten him to the punch. You see, my good friend Betsy (at just a little bit louder) had drawn me pretty recently.

I hated to dash Anthony’s hopes, but how can you even compete with that? That is epic drawingness right there.

But…I didn’t realize that he was so awesome that he could take this photo:

And turn it into this epicness:

Awesome. Maybe it can compare.

“It could be worse..”

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That’s the  phrase that’s gotten me through all the craziness of the past four months or so. It kept popping up around February, mostly as a joke. “I stepped in a mud puddle!” It could be worse, my friends told me.

Then came what I now call “that week.” The week was back toward the end of March. In that week my grandpa died of a long illness, my great uncle Sam died unexpectedly, my great grandma was hospitalized, my ex-boyfriend/really good friend played some of the biggest shows of his life and decided to stop talking to me, I’d had to admit to myself that I simply didn’t love him anymore, and the loneliness that I’d avoided by going home every weekend and talking to friends every night slowly started to crush me.

“It could be worse,” a friend reminded me. I didn’t tell him, but I honestly didn’t really believe him. It felt like he was lying, and that I was lying to myself by trying to believe it.

I hid it well, but the pressure of everything around me was killing me. Shortly after, another slice of solace I’d had faded away and I was too stubborn to tell any of my friends how just how shitty I actually felt. It could not be worse, I thought. No way.

But it could be worse. Little things kept happening, making it worse, and after each one, I told myself, “OK, now it can’t possibly get any worse.”

But then, when I was at my lowest mentally and emotionally, I was also euphoric in another sense: my cousin had just had a baby, the most darling little thing I’d ever seen . Even though I was at my absolute worst, I couldn’t possibly be pessimistic when she existed. It could have definitely been worse, I thought.

So I started incorporating it into my mindset. My friends aren’t talking to me? Well, it could be worse. Another overdraft fee? It could be worse. Dino got into the race? It could definitely be worse.

What at first felt like a stupid pessimistic little saying is actually the complete opposite: it started to remind me that things could also be better. It’s a bright glint of optimism wrapped up in that seemingly pessimistic idea.

Then, all of a sudden, things did start getting better. I was hanging out with a friend who made me look forward to weekends again, even though I was avoiding Portland. I got a cool job and started the same day my old job ended. My friends reappeared. Old friends reappeared. I started meeting new friends.

When we were camping a couple of weeks ago, I found out that one of my new friends also lives his life by “if could be worse.” Mosquitos are swarming and attacking in the dozens? “It could be worse – last time they were like this I forgot my tent.” I slept downhill and woke up with a huge headache? “It could be worse.” My hot dog didn’t get cooked all the way through? “It could be worse.”

And when this friend said it, I chose to believe him. Because apparently if you don’t believe it, the world will crush you until you do.

200/365

Playing with camera settings, my new hat, and self-portraiting in my bathroom.

201/365

At a park in downtown Oly, working on essays for my Teaching Chile application. Only two left, and it’s finished! Beautiful this weekend.

Dear David Bowie.

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I…I am so sorry, dude. I am an asshole. I can’t believe that I made TWO posts last week about my music crushes, and I didn’t include you.

I’ve loved you longer than any of those fools, though, and you know it. Sure, you terrified me as a child as the Goblin King in Labyrinth. But as I grew up and realized that a whole bunch of my favorite songs on the classic rock station were yours, I fell in love. You are amazing. I mean, “Rebel, Rebel” is my signature karaoke song!

So…all I can say is I’m sorry. I guess my music crush on you is just so ingrained that it doesn’t even need to be vocalized. It’s just a part of me.

Also, I don’t feel like posting all the pictures from the week, so here’s yesterday’s because it’s my favorite. This weekend, I’m going to upload all the one’s I haven’t posted the Flickr. No worries.

199/365

Went up to Seattle yesterday to help Mackenzie pick out a dress for a wedding. After her and I dragged Jeremy all over, we ended up at a record store on the Ave. Funnnnnn day. Kind of an impulsive day, but fun.

Why I might actually be okay with my job and what I do now.

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When I first realized I was getting into politics again, I had a weird sort of meltdown. I yammered on and on and on about how much I hated it, drew weird references to non-existent party boundaries and generally went a little bit crazy. I think I drove my friends and family crazy. Sorry about that, guys.

I had every right to, I suppose…after the election in 2008, I swore up and down and across the universe that I would never set foot in the political arena again. When people asked me why, I generally referenced an incident on a doorstep and the subsequent emotional breakdown I suffered on a sidewalk.

Me: Hello, sir, my name is Jami and I’m just going door to door for Senator *** ******. He’s been serving us over 16 years and has never voted for a tax –
Jerkface: I’m not voting for that guy.
Me: Oh, well, even though he’s a Republican, he has a lot of Democratic support. He has a history of working across the aisle.
Jerkface: Don’t bother. I’m more liberal than he is, stupid. Get off my porch.

Sure, probably not the meanest thing I’ve ever heard on the doorstep. I’d had my share of condescending behavior (one time a man repeatedly tapped me on the head with the palmcard I’d handed him, shaking his head and saying, “silly girl, what do you know?”) but this was the straw that broke me.

I went and sat on the curb, and when Daniel came to meet me, I told him what happened, burst into tears, and yammered on about how I just wasn’t meant to jump into the middle of a ridiculous, divisive pool like political campaigning. It went against everything I’ve always been about – I’ve always been the one who build bridges between differing parties, not recruiting people to join sides.

The fact is, I just don’t identify as a Republican or a Democrat. I have a lot of really strong beliefs, and, trust me, I can back each of them up if thoroughly provoked – I’ve even changed the minds of some ultra liberal friends of mine on a few points.

So standing on the Republican side along with folks like George Bush and Glenn Beck and some local party people made me absolutely sick. I hate sensationalism and extremism in every form. I’m terrified of being misidentified as a true-red conservative, who worships green green money and thinks the biggest evils we face as a nation are towelheads, aborters, and gays.

I can’t make it clear how much this isn’t true. I’m anti-war (these wars in particular), pro-choice, and pro-gay marriage. I can’t make it any clearer.

I’ve also been the kind of person who sees every side of every story. It’s why I almost never get angry. I can see why, if someone reads and believe in every word of the Bible (which is their choice!) that they would believe in those issues. As a courtesy, I expect them to understand that I don’t believe in the Bible, which entitles me to my opinions. Everyone has a different background that leads them to different beliefs. It doesn’t necessarily mean that this belief is generally wrong, or that one is generally right  - it just means that it’s right for that person for these reasons.

So it’s really fucking hard for me to argue one side over the other when I feel like I simply can’t change people’s experiences so that they align with mine.

So, after we won the election, I took my letters of recommendation, went to Mexico and washed my hands of politics completely.

Until last February, as you know if you read this blog. Jobless and desperate for work, I moved an hour and a half north to the capitol to take a job as legislative assistant for my old boss while he ran for US Senate. Well, we all know what happened there, since I’ve written about it here and here.

After I asked the Senate Republican Caucus chief of staff to circulate my resume, I got a job with the House Republican Organizational Committee as the field coordinator. Our objective is to elect Republicans to the House of Representatives.

Pretty damn partisan. I must be shaking in my peace sign boots, no?

Well, no, actually. After working in the legislature, watching many stupid decisions by the majority party (Dems have the majority in the Senate, House, and also hold the Governor’s mansion), I’m really just blown away. I can’t believe that they overturned I-960, a voter approved Initiative that requires a 2/3 majority to raise taxes, not once – but twice. When they overturned the section dealing with the 2/3 vote, but failed to overturn the sunshine provisions in the bill (which shed light to voters on who it was that voted for the increases) then went back, drafted another bill, and killed the entire Initiative.

That’s one thing that pissed me off. Voters elect officials because they think they’ll stand for them and what they want. Initiatives are the voice of the voter – they said, “Hey guys, we realize it’s necessary to raise taxes sometimes. But it shouldn’t be your go-to thing. So try out some other things first, and if they don’t work, then 2/3 of you can say so and raise them.” Legislators, though, apparently know better than voters.

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s arrogance. And the majority has definitely become arrogant. Voting on bills with no text (title-only bills), failing to announce public hearings in a timely manner on important legislation (like the income tax bill that never went anywhere – the hearing was announced an hour before it began) and wasting money on per diem when they failed to finish the budget in time.

I guess what all this comes to is that I’m definitely not alone when I say that something needs to change in Olympia. We’re facing a $12 billion deficit! The Washington Policy Center voted this the least transparent session in history! If there’s anything that people can (or should) agree on, it’s that a budget should be sensibly balanced and a government should be transparent and accessible to its populace. Right now, it’s not.

I’m not working to elect “Republicans” to the legislature. I’m working for a change in Washington. Will getting a Republican majority in the House solve all our problems? Probably not. Will it at least present different ideas? God, I hope so.