feel free to congratulate me … now

hey! so guess what! not only have i maintained a spring-fresh perspective over the several days since my acupressure appointment, even over the course of one exam and my very first HONORS exam, but i have also

bought a new pair of shoes, a pair of pants, and a tank top with a monkey on it for $6 total;

seen my video production class exhibition go off flawlessly and reaped compliments thereafter;

gotten a good grade on my vpc final project;

and received word that i made the next cut in the interminable process that is getting my entry-level job in The Company. the vice president actually sounded excited to talk to me and we’re setting up interview #3 for after my honors exams are over. yay!! plus the honors exam that i had today was totally fine. i’m sure i passed. half of the test was me writing an essay on clueless, for god’s sake. if i don’t know clueless, i don’t know nothing.

an eerie way to spend a morning

i woke up with a start at 8 a.m., as though the morning had burst through my window and begun jumping on my bed and singing showtunes. unable to fall back to sleep (literally fall, since i woke up sitting) i hopped over to the internet and have been reading stories of military abuse ever since.

in case you’re interested, i have learned:

• the washington post has new, previously unpublished pictures of the atrocities. its highlighted picture is of what looks like a six-year-old girl holding a leash attached to a naked iraqi man. the “girl” of course is a soldier who has not yet been charged, only transferred to fort bragg, n.c. [because? and?] she’s pregnant.
  

• limbaugh declares they’re not atrocities at all, more like a fraternity prank. sure, rush. i’ll bet he thinks it’s about as funny as killing koi in california. {from wonkette and sf gate, respectively};
  

• salon, of course, is dripping with the story;
  

• cnn is oddly brief with it;
  

• usa today is oddly comprehensive;
  

• even the national review deals with it soberly, calling the abuse “familiar,” although surrounding the article are flashing advertisements for W04!! and the reagan revolution!!, some horrible article by mark steyn about abortion and a promo for a book about how sex differences are REAL and IMPORTANT

and that, folks, is today’s key take-away. sex differences: valid, and important.

hey, i didn’t know he was jewish!

jon stewart, that is. i mean, did you? then why did you hide it from me?

(courtesy of jewsweek)

by the way, not to make a big deal out of it or anything, but if you happen to be in the swarthmore area tomorrow — and the vast majority of you 50 readers are, don’t think i don’t know — my video production class is screening our short films at 4 pm. meet the broad-shouldered boys! make eyes at the cute bryn mawr chick in my group (although hands off, boys; she’s taken)! and treat yourself to some seriously amateur cinema while *bonus!* making little ester happy.

lpac. 4 pm. wednesday may 5.

“touching your shoulder’s like putting my hand on a wall”

i’m growing a respect for a-traditional medicine. first, in the fall, the chiropractor, who looked like a boyband frontman, fixed my poor wrenched neck for only $5. then, this morning, the acupressurist here at swat made my whole body feel fuzzy in a good way for no money at all!

i had been a little irked when i recalled i had the appointment with her this morning. i had been up til the wee hours last night, just as i’d been to the wee hours the night before that, in both cases to work on eliz’s and my video project. we finally finished! whee! and danced around and went back to our rooms to get some much-needed sleep. so the prospect of rising at 9-something (too wee! i wanted something much less wee) was not a friendly one.

the acupressurist herself was very friendly though and for the hour that she treated me i either slept or hallucinated. or maybe i saw visions of the future. not my future, but someone’s, whoever’s involves a whole world gone gray except for a bright red flag flown at the top of an official-looking building. hmm. now that i think about it, that’s a pretty communist vision, init? well, i can’t be held accountable; i was being pressure-pointed at the time.

afterwards, to handle my wooziness, she advised me to lie down and drink lots and lots of water. i did her one better: i decided, on impulse, to take my woozy but much improved body into the city to see kill bill 2. i met up with an old friend, wandered through the sunshine, ran an errand for my boy, and, on impulse, returned to swat without having seen kb2. but still, a worthy day. now i’m going to see mitch hedberg and commence the scariest 10 days in recent memory.

check check bacon check

stereotype check (courtesy of nyt):

He is taught to take at least an hour to say goodbye at family gatherings; always to complain in restaurants about the seating, the air-conditioning and the menu; and to order salmon with everything. He is also taught to talk to his parents eight or nine times a day on his cellphone and to say “I love you” to them like a child. And he is taught never to admit he is in perfect health.

true for me? i’d say: yes; no; absolutely; of course; and no. i am in perfect health. especially perfect mental health. try asking me about it sometime!

i’ll fly away

last day of classes. tomorrow. i’ve been so busy being busy that i haven’t thought about the momentousness. indeed, even as i write these words, they signify nothing. how very postmodern.

in case you’re dying to know

i “aced” the typing and the grammar tests at the Company yesterday, according to the nice lady who administered them. the only thing i got wrong on the grammar test, which turned out to also be a spelling test, was “correspondent.” i spelled it with an “a.” typing though: i did twice as well as they require you to. so.

however! lest you think that meant yesterday was a victory, heh heh, remember that my Good Luck Fairy is shooting up in a dark alley somewhere, trading jokes with the well-brandied inigo montoya, and that, this spring, i’m in the hairy, sadistic clutches of the Real Life Fairy. the Real Life Fairy squeezed hard when, in the impromptu interview with the director of human resources after my grammar&typing tests, mr. dhr informed me that —

if he likes me he’ll pass me to the vice president

if she likes me she’ll call me back for another interview (#3)

if she likes that, she’ll hand my file to a panel

if the panel likes me, they’ll call me back for ANOTHER interview (#4 — is the NSA this rigorous?)

if they like me, then … maybe i’ll get the job.

i left crushed, demoralized, hearing in the back of my head the cigar-in-mouth guffawing of my Real Life Fairy who, when i concentrate on picturing his florid face, looks remarkably like the evil man who phone-interviewed me for columbia. why is my imagination so short on villians that it produces the same one twice?

let’s set a new tone in this country!

did i mention i saw john kerry speak this weekend? that was pretty noteworthy. the crowd — about 3,000 including my darling mother and ben who gives a lucid description — wore red and white shirts from planned parenthood and naral and enjoyed his speech. the man is not on fire yet but according to sources within the administration he will only get bigger, and angrier, and more passionate until his takes this country BACK FOR US IN 2004!!!! YAYWHOOOOOOOOO!!!!

i also did a lot of screaming this weekend. “what do we want?” “CHOICE!” “when do we want it?” “now! er, always!” and “bush, bush, go away! racist, sexist, anti-gay!” and some screaming, of which ben didn’t approve, at the pro-lifers waving death-sin-holocaust signs at us. it was the holocaust references that got to me; you can’t show me night and fog-type pictures in non-night and fog-related contexts and not expect me to become the estHulker. (“the only h in ester stands for HULK”)

if kerry had spoken at the rally, i think he mighta swung the momentum a little away from “more bush less george” to “ke-rry! ke-rry!” etc. but as it is, most everyone i saw wore a kerry sticker, aside from the “we’re pro-choice republicans!” folks who i didn’t understand. that means they don’t vote pro-choice … why are they announcing that?

my favorite sign might have been “roe roe roe your vote.” that was pretty cool.

the point is, i’m off to new york for today for a visit with The Company followed by a Gala, & i need a happy face. the sunshine is soothing, like an huge lozenge that’s sucking on ME. wow. now, with metaphors like that, how did i get rejected from so many mfa programs, i ask you? they don’t know what they’re missing.

twenty oz. of perspective! stat!

the good news is, the nyu draper program confirmed that they have received my application (sent two weeks ago). the bad news is, i may not hear from them until early august.

the good news is, i had a lovely weekend home with a women for kerry rally on friday, the march for women’s lives on sunday, a lyrically gorgeous day on saturday ending with a party, and lots of time with ben throughout. the bad news is, my suspicions were confirmed in terms of how stressed i need to be in this my last week of classes.

the good news is, i handed in my thesis to the english department last friday. yay! the bad news is, i also have to turn in a copy to the history department this friday and though i gave my advisor a copy a long time ago, she never got it back to me. well, until today. annotated. dripping with purple. her comments, in addition to being lengthy, are (a) tardy, as i now have only four days to revise with everything else i have to do, and (b) tactless, as, over the course of 110 pages, she couldn’t write the word “good” once. i would dare the FBI to comb through and find a single scrawl that even resembles a compliment.

n.b. to anyone reading anyone else’s creative work: use the word “good” in your reaction, even if only once, even if only in reference to the font choice or the effort. people who produce creative work are notoriously sensitive and are likely crying in front of their computers right now because of you and your stupid purple thoughtlessness.

see? i should have written after i’d taken an a pied tour of bethesda with my b.loved, or after dinner with high skool friends, or after seeing kill bill which i actually liked, or after attending a history-making feminist march with my mother. before i got back to swarthmore and morphed into my more-and-more-frequently grumpy swat self.

problematic man pays me a visit

Problematic Man: ho there, little girl! how are you today?

me: not so great, problematic man. i’ve had a hard afternoon.

Problematic Man: really? were you made to feel like a hysterical second-wave feminist in your film class? were you alienated by misogynistic student theater? and were you subsequently frustrated by the insidious classism of the O.C.?

me: yes and yes! and yes, Problematic Man! it all began …

scene one

video production workshop, where the two groups — one being mine and the other composed of four, white, broad-shouldered sophomore boys — show segments of our group projects. my group’s presentation went fine. then the broad-shouldered boy group showed theirs, a collection of genres: an art film, a cartoon, a sitcom. and THEN …

[the four females in class suddenly sit up, gape at screen. film finishes.]

broad-shouldered boys: so, what did you think?

one female: why, uh, did you choose to put porn in your film?

broad-shouldered boys: what, do you hate porn?

another female: no, but what’s the point? it’s not as innocuous as your other genres. some people are offended by porn, you know.

b-s boys: really? they are?

problematic man: wow! they are unaware of any social ramifications or controversy of pornography! indeed, they are amazing. what happened next?

third female: and while we’re on the subject, why is the only african-american in your movie the aggressive, sexualized black male in the porn?

b-s boys: is he? uh. we didn’t think about that.

fourth female: you know, that’s a stereotype.

b-s boys: [silence]

fourth female: a harmful stereotype. STEREOTYPE.

b-s boys: but that wasn’t our intention.

females: still, you have a responsibility to consider the images you’re presenting.

b-s boys: [silence]

females: you have to think about how the film will be perceived.

b-s boys: [silence]

females: STEREOTYPE!

b-s boys: … so, you hate porn?

scene two

my good friend’s production of sarah kane’s Phedre’s Love.

phedre: strophe, my daughter, i’m in love with my step-son, your step-brother, even though he is cyncial, egotistical, nihilistic, unhygienic & unkind!

strophe: mother, stop! can’t you control yourself?

phedre: no! i’m a woman!

phedre: oh hippolytus, i love you, even though you’re my step-son, cyncial, egotistical, nihilistic, unhygienic & unkind!

hippolytus: go away. i hate you. fuck someone else.

phedre: no, i must have you! because i am an irrational woman, governed by my emotions! please, let me fellate you. i will not enjoy it and you will transmit to me your various venereal diseases, and i am your step-mother, but i do not care because i love you!

strophe: hippolytus, my mother killed herself because she is an irrational woman governed by her emotions and she loves you too much.

hippolytus: i told her that you and i are fucking. and that you fucked my father, theseus, her husband. i told her these things because i am cynical, egotistical, nihilistic, unhygienic and unkind!

strophe: you monster! yet i love you anyway, because i am a woman! let us have sex, though you will transmit to me your various veneral diseases!

theseus: here i am, back home again! what transpired in my absence?

hippolytus: i am accused of raping and murdering your wife, my step-mother.

theseus: oh no! i will kiss you, and then kill you, but not before i rape and kill my daughter strophe, for no conceivable reason! then i will kill myself!

scene three

the o.c., an excellent show that sadly trafficks in stereotypes

the o.c.: domestic violence only happens in chino!

problematic man: a troubling afternoon indeed, little girl. are you feeling any better today?

me: yes, problematic man. and this weeked i’m going to march for women’s lives: that will make me feel even better.

problematic man: then i’ve done my job!

me: but you haven’t done anything — can’t you talk to those b-s boys? or my friend the director? …. problematic man? problematic man? where’d you go?