ISleepInADrawer.com

Driven

We're back from Portland. I do enjoy my times in that city. Smaller than Seattle, but the atmosphere appeals to us more - particularly since neither Z nor I grew up in "big city" areas. We found it surprisingly laid back.

Our first hotel room was an old renovated efficiency apartment with a wall kitchen unit built in. Imagine us on Thanksgiving trying to cook, sharing one square foot of counter space while I'm attempting to pay attention to one of Z's favorite films, Lost in Translation. Realizing I suck at cooking, I graciously surrendered the Kitchen Wall to his loving touch, and let him cook for me. I could definitely get used to this.

I also got quite used to Oregon's lack of sales tax. Strange: Oregonians I encountered complained about their high state income and property taxes while they lack a sales tax... and Seattlites I encounter daily complain about their high sales and property taxes while they lack a state income tax. There's a solution here, people... but, I'll let you figure it out for yourself.

Z and I also (granted, on my urgings) did something we haven't done in quite some time: gay bar. Portland has many to pick from. But (again, on my urgings) we stuck with the Silverado. I think, one day, I'd like to take a group of my friends (gay and straight, male and female) to a bar like Silverado... just to gauge reactions. I'm sure some of them may never speak to me again - others may speak to me more. It'd be a gamble, but it'd also be an absolute adventure. And, for over half of them, it'd no doubt count as a Cross Cultural Experience. I'll be the first to admit, however, that my friends are few and far between, and presently spread out over a wide geographic area. Sooooo... perhaps an outing if this sort will have to wait until I
A. have more friends
B. grow a spine

But still, it's good to spread culture in all legal forms.

Speaking of which, we also hit the heavily-under-construction Portland Art Museum. I've decided I'd like to return there... when they don't have every freaking work that once occupied two buildings squeezed into one. I was impressed, but mentally taxed... viewing Rococo and Barbizon works (with elaborate gold frames) packed in like sardines in a brightly lit room: fun until the colors start to run together, the room begins to spin, and I start to wonder if this is what it's like to be high.

The best time, however, had to be the Oregon Zoo. We got there on a cloudy day-before-Thanksgiving fifteen minutes after the gates opened. I swear, we had the place entirely to ourselves for the first two hours. Of those few friends I have, fewer still probably know that I love zoos. I was impressed with the variety of exhibits, though a few seemed more on the cramped side to me (I do hope they expand the primate housing). Z was very patient with me when, upon hearing the morning cries of the siamangs and the gibbons, nearly twisted his arm dragging him from the polar bear exhibit (his favorite) to my second-favorite mammalian taxon: the Order Primates.

While the mandrills and tamarins kept my attention for quite some time, I was really there to see some of my fellow Hominids. I spent a good half hour with the orangutans. I was also horrified with a particularly offensive tourist couple at the chimpanzee. Wife would reach over the guard rail and pound her hand on the glass while Husband, camera in hand, would yell at the two older chimps in the exhibit to "Look here! I take picture!" They were, of course, standing right next to two advisory signs: Please keep your voices down. Loud noises can startle the chimpanzees and other nearby primates and please do not reach over the railing or tap on the glass barrier. The chimps are very sensitive to such disturbances [both paraphrased]. I initially thought I'd explain to this couple (from Japan) that the signs are advising them to do the opposite of what they've been doing. I then saw Wife take a break from her glass pounding exercises to read the information card identifying which chimp was which (she apparently couldn't realize that the only chimp in that room with low-hanging balls and a penis was the dominant male). So, they obviously could read the warnings. I wanted to run over there and wring her neck... but all I could do was stand there, hands-on-hips, head lowered in what an alien naturalist could only describe as a primitive primate territorial gesture challenging rivals to battle. Wife finally noticed and, seeing my obvious rage, gleefully said, "See?! Tap on glass! They come every time!" [The chimps, for the record, had by this time retreated to more private quarters.] She then gestured for me to come and help her. "Tap glass! Hit glass! They come every time!" Indeed. I wonder if the same would be true for her bedroom window. The chimps calmed down after Husband and Wife left, and I visited the orangs again, nursing my hominid rage with the reassurances that there is a special place in hell for people like them.

Other than that nasty episode, we made numerous trips to Powell's, visited art galleries in the Pear District, spent a romantic evening at my favorite Lebanese restaurant, and still found time to watch Star Trek.

Yeah. I could live there.

On the Road Again

I had some interesting (read: embarrassing) dramas this weekend. But, no time to tell them now. Z and I are off to Portland until Sunday. Happy Thanksgiving!

Midwestern Nostalgia

This morning, I had to dig an ice scraper out of my trunk to remove a healthy layer of frost from my Buick's windscreen. The sun was also out, and I could see my breath as I exhaled. My unprotected ears and nose turned a healthy, crisp pink. My hands enjoyed mittens.

I suppose I'm made for cold weather. It was refreshing.

Stigma

It's taken me two years to admit that I have a particular medical condition... a condition that only occasionally surfaced, according to folks that would know such things. But, throughout the accepting process, I have always been reassured by the fact that this condition apparently surfaced infrequently, and with only mild inconvenience to those around me.

Now, however, it has been brought to my attention by a certain individual that this condition has worsened recently... symptoms have surfaced more often and at a much higher intensity. I find this highly disturbing... since both of my parents suffer from this condition as well... and I grew up annoyed and bothered by its symptoms.

You see... I now snore. A lot.

It used to be an "on occasion" event. It apparently used to be soft, quiet, and almost cute in its infrequency. But now, according to a forlorn Z, I simply sleep on my back and, wrapped in somnolence, apparently mimic the sounds of a dump-truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant.

Aside from the intense guilt I feel for being responsible for some sleepless moments on Z's part during the past five nights, I am most bothered by this turn of events because... well... I grew up hearing it. Constantly. Both of my parents snore heavily. They divorced just as I finished college, but back when I was younger, you could hear their snores all over the house. They'd fill the hallways with sounds of primeval agitation, until one woke the other and would retreat to the couch so they could resume their unholy chorus. My sibling sleeps like the dead and was rarely distrubed by the nocturnal row. I, on the other hand, tend to be a light sleeper; I'd often wake up and hear their snores (and the occasionally vicious raccoon fights in the back yard). I grew up inwardly vowing that I would never snore and, if I did, I'd never disturb others.

Alas, I've broken my word. My only comfort at this point is that Z is easily able to silence me. Apparently, he just gives me a good shove or poke in the side - then, I whimper, shift my feet, whine, steal the covers, roll over on my side (usually the right), and quietly resume whatever dream was floating around my cerebral cortex. Luckily, Z has notice that I only snore when I sleep on my back. I've contemplated sleeping with a device that senses when I roll on my back, and delivers a mild electric shock to counteract such unconscious behavior.

A friend said it'd be easier simply to give Z an electric cattle prod (he's from Iowa, after all) to "zap" me with each time I snored. But, I think such power would go to his head, and he'd start down the long, dark road to dictatorship. So perhaps instead I'll just drug him with cough syrup each night to ensure that he sleeps through my primitive grunts.

I also talk in my sleep. But apparently I say some pretty brilliant sh*t on occasion... so I have yet to be bothered by that. Plus, Z does the same thing. The other night, he yelled his intentions to go fishing with LBJ.

The Shift

Well, I'm glad I didn't bet Z dinner on what position Dr. Condoleezza Rice would have in the new Bush cabinet. Hell, I wouldn't have expected some of the changes that had happened so far. So much for my skills of political commentary:

1. Actually, I predicted that Powell would leave the State Department. He and Rumsfeld clashed a few too many times... and Powell's more moderate voice isn't needed after Bush's resounding victory and supposed "mandate."

2. As for her replacement, I actually didn't think it would be Rice! Whoops. There goes my political clout. You see, I believed inside sources and associates of Rice, who said that, while she's fully qualified for both State and the Pentagon, she was really wanting to sink her teeth into the Defence Department. I was picturing a scenario where Rumsfeld departed (as I think he should have ages ago with Abu Ghraib), and would be replaced with Rice. Danforth, I thought, would take State.

3. But, Rumsfeld is still here. Perhaps he'll remain a few months... or years. But my scenario has been dashed. If he leaves, will Paul Wolfowitz move up to the top Pentagon job? I'm sure it's being strongly considered... though, if so, I think of all the nominees, Wolfowitz will have the most trouble getting through a Senate confirmation. [Yet another reason why I thought my above scenario would be preferrable.]

4. With Ashcroft's numerous health problems over the past year, I figured he'd leave, if only for that. But, the Dems smelled blood with the prospect of an Alberto Gonzalez nomination to succeed Chief Justice Rehnquist and, despite their diminished minority, were preparing for battle. I'm sure a Gonzalez nomination to succeed Ashcroft was seen as a necessary compromise... though I'm betting his confirmation hearings in the Senate will be somewhat controversial, due partly to the infamous torture memos.

5. I still think Tom Ridge will leave Homeland Security... possibly to be replaced by Rudy Giuliani... unless Giuliani wants to stay in New York to run for governor in two years, or run against Senator Clinton. Lord, all the prospects make my head spin.

6. Armitage is out, too - No surprise there. He and Powell were a package deal.

7. Ann Veneman, a pseudo-moderate in Agriculture, is gone, too. Apparently, spindoctors are just as lost on her successor as I am. If Kerry had won, I would've predicted Tom Vilsack.

8. I see I'm not the only one hypothesizing that Spellings will most likely replace Rod Paige at Education. I wonder what she'll have to say about the NEA. Am I the only one who laughed at the coincidence between her last name and potential new job?

9. Don Evans left the Commerce Department. No surprise there - he misses Texas.

10. Bye-bye, Spencer Abraham. I'm guessing you didn't get enough done in the Energy Department to make the administration happy. But honestly, I'm only guessing at this point.

11. I'm still going to predict that Norman Mineta will leave Transportation and Tommy Thompson will depart Health and Human Services. But my track record thus far isn't very promising. I'll also tap Elaine Chao in Labor as possibly leaving.

So far, the trend seems to be
--"Moderates" or "out-of-the-club" members leave for various vague reasons, and are whispered to be replaced by hardliners or Bush loyalists.
--Any hardliners or far righters have left for legitimate medical or personal reasons.

Thus, I'm fearful that we're seeing the beginning of the "mandate" the President has referred to in past. Well, I'm not trembling or anything... just seeing as, "Well, he won. Consider this a celebration consolidation of authority." But, makes me dread the first meeting of the new Congress. Perhaps this should be the part where I go pound beers and pray the FMA doesn't resurface.

Last Man Standing

Today I took what will hopefully be the last "standardized exam" I'll ever have to take in my (so-called) life. To say the least, I'm sick of paying $$$$ to get a frank appraisement of my intelligence.

The past few weeks have been... eventful, to say the least. I'm looking forward to assuming a "normal" life as I
1. finish applications to graduate school
2. read books
3. try to be the best boyfriend I can
4. breathe in and out

Oh, and plan a vacation over Thanksgiving! Yeeha!

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Somewhere, somehow, I hope Darwin is laughing it up with Aristotle and Copernicus over this. Perhaps with scotch. Lots.

"Stickers Put in Evolution Text Are the Subject of a Federal Trial"

Personally, I dread the day when some of my relatives ask me why the organism I work on is studied in science, particularly at a cancer research facility. The answer undoubtedly would include many references to the phrase "molecular evolution." *gulp*

Move Along Home

President Bush's decisive re-election last week has produced a startling, arguably laughable phenomenon among the "Blue Folk" (far lefties, left-center, and even staunch centrists who sang the "anyone-but-Bush" tune gleefully and preached the virtues of the Dean throne, and then the Kerry throne) or disaffected citizens of the "Blue States" (those states going for Kerry, whatever the margin): an exodus. In most cases, to Canada.

The Expatriation Movement is nothing new. Americans have been known in the past to... well... become citizens of other nations for various reasons. American Jews, for example, heeding nationalistic cries after the fledgling United Nations created a mandate for the Israeli State, joined many of their colleagues in the global Jewish Diaspora, flocking to the historic homeland in various waves of immigration throughout the republic's turbulent history. Liberia was carved violently out of coastal west Africa as a "homeland" for freed American slaves to settle... albeit at the expense of the native tribes who, for over 130 years of the republic's history, struggled against the coastal Americo-Liberian ruling class. Americans such as myself grew up hearing about how America is a "nation of immigrants" - images of huddled families on New York's (or New Jersey's?) Ellis Island applying for entrance to the "land of opportunity" under the benevolent shadow of the Statue of Liberty, a gift from our first ally, the French Republic. But, for one reason or another, Americans have left America to settle Elsewhere (wherever that may be). A more well-known example is Lee Harvey Oswald, who held Soviet citizenship for several years allegedly due to his pro-Marxist tendencies (unless you're a conspiracy theorist, in which case you most likely assert that he was under the jurisdiction of the CIA or some other rogue government agency as part of his "grand role" as a scapegoat in the assassination of JFK). And let's not forget the Confederados, southerners and their descendants who fled the post-Civil War anarchy of the conquered and humbled Confederate States of America and accepted the invitation of Brazilian Emperor Dom Pedro II to settle in and around the South American nation's coastal regions and Amazonas frontier to take up cotton farming. Another more level-headed example is David Sedaris, who packed his bags for France, as you can read in Me Talk Pretty One Day.

But now, will there be a new, historical record for emigration from the United States? Will the disenfranchised Blues flee north to Canada? Or will they stay and fight against America's recent right-leaning tendencies, hoping for a rebirth of legitimate left-of-center alternatives that are just as appealing (or more appealing) than the right? Will other nations (Canada, in particular) open arms wide to accept a flight of espresso-drinking intellectual elites and culture war-weary gay couples seeking the oh-so-tempting flavor of left-center policies? Will the center and right-of-center (slight) majority that now apparently prevails in the 50 states cling to the ankles of expatriates as they near the Canadian border, begging them to remain? Or will a general "good riddance" be uttered from Anchorage to Miami, and Bangor to Honolulu? Such questions leave us pondering the very purposes and importance of citizenship, patriotism, and idealism... and apparently the Reds and Blues (if such a distinction exists between persons or states) may see things differently.

The supposed migration of Blues from mourning Blue states or triumphant Red states leaves one thinking that, to these would-be expatriates, citizenship must be as discardable and dynamic as a favored brand of detergent. Is it so? Granted, citizenship, and how it is discarded or acquired, varies greatly from country to country. I'm willing to bet that most people reading this are American citizens for the same reason I am: they were born in America. And why was I born in America? Well, in my case, my parents were also born in America. And my grandparents. Even my great-grandparents. After that, it gets a little fuzzy... but I can at least claim to be a fourth or fifth-generation American citizen. And like many Americans born and raised in the latter half of the twentieth century, interstate movements were a part of growing up. "Childhood" began in Arkansas, continued in Florida, and ended in Illinois. "Adulthood" began in Illinois and Iowa, and has now settled (for the moment) in Washington. This mixture of growth environments has led to an unholy blend of an occasional Southern twang, a memory of manatees, and Midwestern pride all manifested in the same Anglo-Saxon body, planted in a sea of coffee-drinking hippies in the shadow of the Space Needle. But all of these are distinctly "American" for the simple reason that they are all characteristics forged within the borders of the United States. Surely that does not make me solely an American. There are other Americans around me who were not born here, or who did not have ancestors living here. In such times of global immigration, my past apparently does not anchor me to the 50 states.

Thus, perhaps I should be a Blue moving north. As a homosexual, my options for living and settling down with a partner (not that I'm saying Z and I are ready for that) are increasingly constrained, especially if we want to enjoy some of the fruits of a legal recognition of our relationship. Right now, we're limited to marriage in Massachusetts or civil unions in Vermont. I, unfortunately, am not applying to graduate school in either state, so such benefits remain distant on the horizon, at best. The growing number of Red states and Blue states barring such forms of legal recognition has grown (even including next-door Oregon). Though I'd love to have legal recognition of any same-sex partnership I seek to undertake (God, I'm making it sound like baking a cake...), is it absolutely necessary? Maybe instead I could just buck it up with lawyer fees, put Z explicitly in my will and appoint him my guardian (should my brain someday poop out), and then seek joint ownership of a house where we can populate each floor with cats, giving them odd names like Borneo, Puffy, Fang, and Mathilda. It's certainly an option (though the kitty names should be negotiated, I feel). It's considerably less effort than the time and effort invested in applying for Canadian citizenship. But, in some cases, the rewards for the latter effort are much more appealing.

Canada seems the most attractive choice for disheartened Blues.

Geographically, it is the closest English-speaking nation. Cultural values, though more left-leaning than the U.S., are similar. Government structure is slightly different than what Americans learned about in social studies... but a democracy is obviously a democracy. Folks such as myself, who look longingly at the parliamentary form of government with every filibuster, pork-laden bill, or bipartisan spat that afflicts Congress, the House of Commons and (hopefully someday directly-elected) Senate that make up the Canadian Parliament are quite appealing. The comparatively smooth interprovincial relations could also make the regular conflicts (often court-settled) between incompatible state laws in the U.S. look positively archaic. For homosexuals, of the thirteen primary political subdivisions that make up Canada (ten provinces, three territories... I'll tell you their capitols and principal cities later), seven (accounting for around 85% of the total Canadian population) have court decisions or provincial laws permitting legal gay marriage (Nova Scotia, Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, the Yukon Territory, British Columbia, and now Saskatchewan thanks to a recent court decision). Some half-joking and entirely-serious groups are gearing up to lure gays and Bush-hating Blues north to the future. There's even a "program" to set up willing Americans with a quick marriage to a single Canadian, presumably to speed up the citizenship process and ensure one more left-leaner moves north to vote for the Liberal or New Democratic Party. Some Blues are vowing to stay, for whatever reason. The real number of those wanting to leave due to the fifty-year decline of the political left varies based on who you ask. Some say it's a fad, other's cite it as a growing trend. One thing's for sure, though: for now, this Blue is staying put.

Why? Well, why not? At this point in my feeble life, staying put seems more prudent (uh-oh, there it is... James' ten-dollar word). Right now, my goals are simple: transform myself into Dr. James and coax Z into becoming (metaphorically, of course, since I love his Y chromosome and all that goes with it) the next Mrs. [James' last name]. Those can be done (albeit the latter with no legal recognition) right now in Washington. Perhaps Dr. and Mrs. James would like to move north in the future, but that's jumping the gun a little, isn't it? My world is relatively stable and supportive - my life is secure. I am content here - though the right-leaners are also (slowly) getting a grip on my current home here in Washington state, I do not feel any more threatened or any less safe. I can still hold Z's hand in the gay-friendly areas of Seattle. Though Republicans now have a sharper hold in the Federal Congress, the FMA seems to have dwindled in the face of various state constitutional amendments.

Plus, should an emigration from the U.S. be in store in the future, it need not be to Canada. Granted, my language skills are limited to... well... English... so that pretty much eliminates over half the globe there. But Canada, while the most geographically appealing choice, is not the sole choice. Stable, flourishing democracies in New Zealand, Australia, the United Kingdom, the Irish Republic, and South Africa beckon as obvious destinations. Some fleeing Blues are using their ancestry to speed up the process. Ireland, for example, has a propensity to "fast track" the "repatriation" of Irish (or Irish descendants) who fled during abysmal economic and sociocultural conditions in the past two centuries of the island's turbulent history. Now, as the shining star and economic pride of the EU15, Ireland is the coolest place to settle in Europe. For me, peering back beyond my great-grandparents generally gets into some guessing, legends, and sheer hand-waving. Recessive alleles for red hair on my mother's side, for example, leave us guessing "Ireland". There are unconfirmed rumors of Scotland as well. One branch on my mother's side we've traced back to Normandy in and around 1060, moving to lower England in 1066 with William the Conqueror's forces, ripping land from the Anglo-Saxons following the Battle of Hastings. So, (big surprise) England is in my past. There are decent records also implicating Wales for my existence, and slightly-less reputable records implicating the presence of a few Choctaw and Cherokee tribal alleles in my genotype (though, to look at my phenotype, they must be buried too deep in my junk-laden genome to make their voices heard). My intra-American predecessors, by all accounts, lived briefly in Virginia, Maryland, and central Illinois, spending longer (and more recent) bouts in Arkansas, Tennessee, and Missouri. Post-Civil War carpetbaggers? You never know. So, at best, ancestry can get me a few guffaws at the Irish consulate and a gentle, distant hand-wave from Queen Elizabeth II or a slip down Princess Diana's memorial fountain in Hyde Park.

My blood has no real ties, then. So what about politics and culture? Australia holds the appeal of history and biology - unique settlement of a fascinating island-continent. Marsupials, Aborigines, the works. Sure, I'd have to learn to drive "British style", but the same would hold true for New Zealand, the UK, and Ireland. On the downside, if I'm a fleeing Blue seeking left-of-centerness, I'd have to take note that the center-right Liberal Party under John Howard was just elected overwhelmingly to a fourth stint in government. The Australian left-of-center Labor Party is as dejected as the Democrats here. New Zealand has even more allure as a "different, wonderful" geographic and cultural locale. Reconciliation with the Maori and salvage of their culture is at a much more honorable stage than that of the Australian government's programs (or lack thereof) with the Aborigines. Government and policy are not reported easily in America, but information is still easily accessible for the curious mind. Government is currently left-of-center, and sociocultural trends may be more favorable to expatriate American Blues than Australia in the current global climate. But, geographically it's a substantial move for non-Hawaiian Americans (the same goes for Australia). Jon Stewart's new textbook spoof, America (the Book): a Citizen's Guide to Democracy Inaction, refers to New Zealand as "Australia's Canada." Thus, by that light, we coin the analogy "New Zealand is to Australia as Canada is to the United States." With both Australia and the U.S. recently electing right-of-center governments, expatriate American blues may have to compete with disenfranchised Australian Labor-voters, abandoning posh Sydney highrise apartments for the center-left atmosphere of Auckland.

So now what are we left with? For fleeing American homosexuals, South Africa’s constitution explicitly spells out the rights and protections under law for gays, and the nation itself, while it is facing some growing pains in the post-apartheid reconciliation era, is one of Africa’s most stable, prosperous democracies, and a beacon of relative tolerance in the darkness of the continent’s increasingly polarized homophobic policies. English is one of South Africa’s dozen or so official languages, but a move there may be preferable to Dutch speakers, who can easily adapt to learn Afrikaans; also, the handful of fleeing Blues who happened to be fluent in Xhosa, Zulu, Sesotho, or one of the other ten or so native Bantu languages will find a high rise in Johannesburg, Pretoria, Cape Town, or Durban most appealing.

So what must I do? What are any Blues to do? Fight or flight? Stay or go? On the one hand, if the United States really is too far right-of-center for you, perhaps you should depart. But, recall that voters can indeed be fickle. In four years, the Democrats could have a revolution of their own akin to the 1994 Republican Revolution. Then again, in four years, the Democrats could be squeezed so far out of power that not even Barack Obama can save them. The key here, to me, is to wait and see. Personally, I have not yet reached my threshold to flee. There may not be “fight” left in me, but there is enough tolerance left, for now, to keep my Canadian adventures limited to north-of-the-border vacations.

Human After All

I'm really more of a cat person. I'd like a pet that instinctively knows where to and where not to go doody. And I value self-sufficiency in the mammals I take under my wing (boyfriends being the obvious exception). But, I found this selection to be most calming to my soul... especially after this week of... surprises. I guess that means I'm human after all!

"When you leave town for a week, I'll pee in your shoes. But right now, don't I look a-f*cking-dorable?"

Indeed. Thank you, Poje.

Seize the Time

Well, the votes are counted.
The election is conceded.
Passive voice is used.

There are some reasons to smile: in Washington, Patty Murray was re-elected for her third term in the Senate by a wide margin… Barack Obama will be the new Senator for my former home of Illinois.

There are some reasons to frown: all eleven state constitutional anti-gay-marriage amendments passed by wide margins… ardently anti-gay Congressional candidates Tom Coburn and Jim DeMint are headed for the Senate

There are some reasons for pause: I still do not know whether the next governor of Washington will be ho-hum Christine Gregoire or the incredibly frightening Dino Rossi.

I went to bed early last night, forcing myself into a sort of Refractory Period. I tried my best to step back from Gloom and Doom… to remind myself that, in the end, everything (or at least almost everything) is going to be all right. As one who leans toward pessimism, I suppose I didn’t have as far to fall as others. Not quite “nothing ventured, nothing gained,” but more like, “some ventured, but quickly recovered.” Things will continue: Supreme Court Justices will resign, and their replacements will be easily confirmed in the Senate… gay marriage advocates (and yours truly) have hopefully learned that provoking moral debates can lead to a painful amputation of influence from Oregon to Georgia… international policy will continue… Iraq will hold an election… Bill Clinton’s ticker is shaken, but steadfast… my Crystal Ball predicts more Congressional victories for Republicans in the coming years, particularly in the Senate.

As for the Democrats, I’ve recently embraced the type of accountability seen more in strict parliamentary forms of government. Thus, at 8:00AM Eastern Time today, if I had my way in DNC headquarters:
1. A slew of folks would have been demoted, reassigned, or dismissed.
2. Approximately fifteen minutes later, conference call meetings would have been in place to plan strategies for defending vulnerable seats in the next Congressional races. There are plenty of them: from Hillary Clinton in New York to Maria Cantwell here in Washington.

Obviously, my vision involves quick accountability, and a shedding of bitterness. The election is conceded in Bush’s favor. The Congress took a sharp step right. There is no time for blame – action is needed to
A. Find more effective strategies to defend the numerous vulnerable seats the Democrats must defend in November 2006.
B. Find effective strategies to keep the party competitive nationally.

Can it be done? Beats the hell out of me. I’m just a molecular biologist with a propensity to drool over men who aren’t clean-shaven and a love of Romantic-era compositions. If it can’t, then the right and center-right can claw it out for national domination, and the 2-party system will be modified to a 1.5-party system for now.

But, while such speculations are good Brain Food, now is not the time. Soul Food is what we need. For all – not just those who saw their candidate win or lose… not just those in the blues in the blue states, the reds in the red states, the blues in the red states, the reds in the blue states, or the Naderites in every state… not just the Murkowski supporters (still waiting) or the Knowles supporters (still waiting)… not just the Rossi champs or the Gregoire champs… not just the votergasmers, the MoveOn.org-ers, the Rock-the-Voters, the Alliance-for-Marriagers… All of us. Now is the time to look inside and find things that, win or lose, keep us going. Comfort Thoughts. Introspective Smiles.

I, for one, thought of
walks with my boyfriend around Green Lake
crisp bacon
clothes fresh from the dryer
whole season DVDs of Star Trek
biscuits with sorghum
holding hands and brushing my cheek up against his
Tahoma font
listening to Car Talk in bed on a Saturday morning
caramels
ferry rides
a smile from Z
sunrise
a bookshelf filled with my favorite works
sunset
salt breezes on the beach
freshly-painted toenails
the brief pause at the end of an opera, just before the audience applauds
the scent of Scotch tape
hot chocolate (but not too hot)
hooded sweatshirts
art museum memberships
laughter-through-tears
a satisfying sushi plate
yellow cake with chocolate frosting
the feel of pages of my favorite novel
the poetry of Wallace Stevens, Elizabeth Bishop, and Emily Dickinson
tall buildings
snapdragons
saltwater taffy
visits to the zoo
a symphony orchestra
humming
cuddling
flip-flops
and another serving of crisp bacon

My favorite author, Arundhati Roy, leans much more left politically than I do. But, I still listen to many of her broadcasts - just to enjoy her lush speeches, intoxicating voice, thoughtful comparisons, and clever dialogue. In the last speech I heard, she ended with, “Seize the time.” Well, though her word where prophetically meant for another audience, I propose the same now: seize the time. Take the time to look inwards, to find your own reasons why “it is going to be all right.” Why we will laugh, smile, and cry – no matter who wins, who loses, how big or small the majority is, or which laundry detergent you use... at the end of the day, your clothes will still have that comforting, soft scent when they are taken fresh from the dryer.

I will be fine. And you will be fine. Seize the time.

But leave me that last slice of bacon.

At the Gates

Well, on the whole of it, we homos are waking up in a slightly more apprehensive atmosphere than when we went to bed. Teresa Heinz Kerry will not be the first First Lady to champion gay rights, the Republicans are significantly closer to a 2/3 majority in Congress, the Democrats are fractured and licking wounds, and while 10 states clearly banned gay marriage (but skipped the obvious "F*ck you" that went along with it), this particular result, out of all that's happened last night and this morning, made me choke back tears:

"It is the policy of Oregon, and its political subdivisions, that only a marriage between one man and one woman shall be valid or legally recognized as a marriage."

Sure, I live in Washington (which had plenty of its own disheartening results, believe me), but the fact that it's lapping so geographically close to my painted toenails... well... that's going to make it a little bit more difficult to get up, get dressed, and get to work this morning with a (fake) smile on my face.

Record Turnout

"Vote early, and vote often." --Richard J. Daley

That witty Ashcroft. What won't he think of next?

There was a line outside my polling place. Inside, there weren't enough voting stations, so folks were filling out their ballots on the floor or up against pillars. Record turnout? I'm convinced.

A Healthy Dose of Pessimism

Z calls it "pessimism" (as if it's a dirty word). I call it realism. My crystal ball says...

Kerry: 265
Bush: 273

Kerry's Comfortable Margin Victories: Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, Vermont, New York, Maryland, Delaware, the District of Columbia, Illinois, California, and Washington.

Bush's Comfortable Margin Victories: Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, Indiana, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Arizona, and Alaska.

Kerry's "Boy, that was a close one!" Moments: Oregon, Hawaii, Minnesota, Michigan, Maine, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Florida.

Same for Bush: Nevada, New Mexico, Colorado, Iowa, Wisconsin, Arkansas, Missouri, Ohio, and New Hampshire.

I also think Bush will (barely) win the popular vote.

As for the Senate, I'm still a bit murky on my state play-by-play, but I say, at the end of the day...
Republicans: 53
Democrats: 46
Independents (Dem. in all but name): 1

If you've been able to pick your jaw up off the floor, let me add one more point... perhaps the most important thing I've typed yet tonight:
Boy, I hope I'm wrong.