I was thinking this evening about a bumper sticker I saw; I'd heard the saying before but I suppose it stuck what with election fever going on everywhere. The quote is something like: "If you're not liberal when you're young, you're heartless. If you're not conservative when you're older, you're brainless."
I pondered this while I prepped strawberries this evening. Does this mean that my Republican friends are heartless? (Yes, Nina, I do have friends who are Republican. Forgive me.) Does it mean that my parents and their friends, who are Democrats, are brainless? I think the answer on both counts is no. However, I do think it makes more sense to be liberal when young, because we're not making any money, so of course we want the government to use taxes for social programs to make the country a better place! I'm sure that when I'm older and actually making a living I'll be less comfortable with having money I earned diverted away from me to take care of someone who doesn't work. However, I highly doubt I'll ever be a conservative. (Strike that. I KNOW I won't.) I think that whoever came up with tonight's saying must have been working off of a strictly economic base. The other issues behind liberalism/conservatism, such as reproductive rights, foreign policy, environmental issues--those aren't so much pocketbook related (although everything comes back to money eventually) as they are social conscience. So, in the end, I think the bumper sticker is wrong.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Too much driving
We've been busy up here. Friday we drove to Boothbay to hit the used bookstore again. Yesterday we drove to Bailey and Orrs Islands, where Dad and I grubbed around looking for sea spiders (didn't find anything) and stopped at Target in Topsham. Bailey's Island was gorgeous, and would have been more so if it hadn't been all hazy and visibility limited.
Today we took off for Stonington, the very southern tip of Deer Isle, which is only one peninsula south of Bar Harbor/Acadia. Long trip. Unfortunately, it was foggy. We drove into the peninsula through Blue Hill, formerly the home of Robin McKinley, my favorite author. I stopped into the local bookstore where I got to see a photo of her and Peter Dickensen's house in England, and got directions to the house where she lived. It was adorable. I wish she still lived there, so I could have totally violated her much cherished privacy and thrown myself at her feet.
Many twisty turny roads later, and many would have been scenic if they hadn't been covered in fog views, we arrived in Stonington, where Dad picked up his baby lobsters and we had an overpriced lunch before heading home. We had planned to go back through Castine, a village which is supposed to be absolutely gorgeous, but since visibility was nil we opted to delay that.
Highlight was definitely when a BEAR walked right out in front of the truck. I had to swerve off the road to keep from hitting it. I wanted to grab my camera for a picture, but Dad forbade me getting out of the car and by the time I got sorted out the bear was off into the woods.
Yesterday, on the way to Bailey/Orrs, we were first on the scene of an awful wreck. Two women in a Saab went off the road, flipped about four times, and landed right in front of us. Dad and I along with two other guys held the car up off the passenger's arm until the Wiscassett fire department and EMS arrived. I could hear Karen doing my CPR training in my head; it was scary as all hell and I'm just glad the car didn't want to catch on fire, because I was damned if I was going to move what I considered spinal risk victims. I felt nauseated and horribly tired the rest of the day. It was awful.
Tomorrow I want to lay around by the water and read and NOT spend any time in the car. I miss the horses; I wish I could go ride. Reading Fugly and Mugwump just makes me want to ride even more. Haven't called Yet b/c I don't want to hear that Seamus a)isn't sold b)doesn't show signs of being so and c)I owe her another check, the one which will cause me to have officially NO MONEY. And of course since Mom and Dad are in the process of buying a house up here, they can't float me a loan. I'm scared.
Enough for now.
Today we took off for Stonington, the very southern tip of Deer Isle, which is only one peninsula south of Bar Harbor/Acadia. Long trip. Unfortunately, it was foggy. We drove into the peninsula through Blue Hill, formerly the home of Robin McKinley, my favorite author. I stopped into the local bookstore where I got to see a photo of her and Peter Dickensen's house in England, and got directions to the house where she lived. It was adorable. I wish she still lived there, so I could have totally violated her much cherished privacy and thrown myself at her feet.
Many twisty turny roads later, and many would have been scenic if they hadn't been covered in fog views, we arrived in Stonington, where Dad picked up his baby lobsters and we had an overpriced lunch before heading home. We had planned to go back through Castine, a village which is supposed to be absolutely gorgeous, but since visibility was nil we opted to delay that.
Highlight was definitely when a BEAR walked right out in front of the truck. I had to swerve off the road to keep from hitting it. I wanted to grab my camera for a picture, but Dad forbade me getting out of the car and by the time I got sorted out the bear was off into the woods.
Yesterday, on the way to Bailey/Orrs, we were first on the scene of an awful wreck. Two women in a Saab went off the road, flipped about four times, and landed right in front of us. Dad and I along with two other guys held the car up off the passenger's arm until the Wiscassett fire department and EMS arrived. I could hear Karen doing my CPR training in my head; it was scary as all hell and I'm just glad the car didn't want to catch on fire, because I was damned if I was going to move what I considered spinal risk victims. I felt nauseated and horribly tired the rest of the day. It was awful.
Tomorrow I want to lay around by the water and read and NOT spend any time in the car. I miss the horses; I wish I could go ride. Reading Fugly and Mugwump just makes me want to ride even more. Haven't called Yet b/c I don't want to hear that Seamus a)isn't sold b)doesn't show signs of being so and c)I owe her another check, the one which will cause me to have officially NO MONEY. And of course since Mom and Dad are in the process of buying a house up here, they can't float me a loan. I'm scared.
Enough for now.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Feeling like Icarus
Listening to Jimmy's wonderful album Fruitcakes this afternoon I heard some familiar lyrics which pretty much sum up my life right now:
"We sail from the Port of Indecision
Young and wild with oh so much to learn
Days turn into years as we try to fool our fears
But to the Port of Indecision I return."
Class rankings came out the other day. Suffice it to say I'm not high enough to be in any of the sections they publish. This brought on a whole new attack of insecurity, as if the meltdowns following finals and then the release of grades weren't enough. I still feel like I don't belong in law school. Surely other people must feel like this? Mostly I'm afraid of not getting a job I can be happy doing because of my grades, which are unimpressive (at best) because I'm pretty much abysmal at law school exams. This indecision JB sums up so well is why I'm in hiding in Maine with my parents rather than doing something productive or legal related back home. (well, also I'm broke) Do I take a year off? Do I scrap law school altogether? I was never someone who passionately wanted to be a lawyer. (My right brain doesn't like this option, because I have LOTS of loans already). Do I keep plugging along, at the bottom looking up? I just don't know.
I know how Icarus felt. The wax has melted and those wings that carried me so high for so long have shredded and I'm freefalling. Not in an open-souled, Tom Petty kind of way, either. The question is, do I patch together another pair of wings, or do I find a different, more earthbound, pursuit? Right now, my anchor's dropped in the Port of Indecision with no sign of a tide change.
"We sail from the Port of Indecision
Young and wild with oh so much to learn
Days turn into years as we try to fool our fears
But to the Port of Indecision I return."
Class rankings came out the other day. Suffice it to say I'm not high enough to be in any of the sections they publish. This brought on a whole new attack of insecurity, as if the meltdowns following finals and then the release of grades weren't enough. I still feel like I don't belong in law school. Surely other people must feel like this? Mostly I'm afraid of not getting a job I can be happy doing because of my grades, which are unimpressive (at best) because I'm pretty much abysmal at law school exams. This indecision JB sums up so well is why I'm in hiding in Maine with my parents rather than doing something productive or legal related back home. (well, also I'm broke) Do I take a year off? Do I scrap law school altogether? I was never someone who passionately wanted to be a lawyer. (My right brain doesn't like this option, because I have LOTS of loans already). Do I keep plugging along, at the bottom looking up? I just don't know.
I know how Icarus felt. The wax has melted and those wings that carried me so high for so long have shredded and I'm freefalling. Not in an open-souled, Tom Petty kind of way, either. The question is, do I patch together another pair of wings, or do I find a different, more earthbound, pursuit? Right now, my anchor's dropped in the Port of Indecision with no sign of a tide change.
Withdrawal
Since arriving in Maine, I've been absolutely desperate for a fountain Coke. Yes, I have cans, but it's not the same. The fizziness bubbling on your tongue as they syrupy ambrosia surges through the straw...Can you tell I have a problem? Anyhow, for some reason, Mainers do not believe in fountain drinks. Or ice in drinks.
This is a problem for me.
I've forced my parents to stop at every gas station we pass, hoping that this one will have the much longed-for fountain drink machine. You can't not find one in the South. I've struck out over and over again. Worse than no fountain machine at all is walking in and finding a fountain Pepsi machine. Now, I know that Maine isn't the homeland of Coke, but honestly, Pepsi?? My whole being recoils in horror.
Today the weather was cold and drizzly on and off, so we gave up our boating plans and headed into town to do laundry and run errands. (Side note: nothing like a laundromat to make you miss your washing machine) Driving down Main Street-Damariscotta's only street, really-I happened to glance in the window of the local old-time pharmacy. Hope sprang anew as I read the words I'd never noticed before: "Soda Fountain," and below, the sacred Coca-Cola logo. As soon as the clothes were in the washers, I ran across the street and plopped myself down at the vintage soda fountain counter in Waltz's Pharmacy. I happily ordered a Coke, bouncing in my seat like a little kid. I was a bit confused when the girl behind the counter immediately put my cup under the spigot and starting filling. Then I noticed the lack of an ice machine-bad news. A thunderbolt hit the girl and she asked, "Did you want ice in that?" Before she'd even finished her question I nearly shouted "Yes!" She allowed as how she'd better leave some room at the top. She left about an inch and a half. My dad had come in by this point, and as the girl reached into the freezer for a ziploc bag full of ice tray ice cubes, he had the nerve to say that it was BETTER to add the ice second because the Coke fizzed less that way. "You want it to fizz!!!" I nearly screamed. To be so close and thwarted yet again was painful. My fountain Coke today had a total of four ice cubes. It had a decent syrup ratio, but the fizziness was definitely lacking, and there was no ice to crunch on when the Coke was gone. Better than I've found up here so far, but I'm still longing for Nu-Way or Chik-fil-A.
This is a problem for me.
I've forced my parents to stop at every gas station we pass, hoping that this one will have the much longed-for fountain drink machine. You can't not find one in the South. I've struck out over and over again. Worse than no fountain machine at all is walking in and finding a fountain Pepsi machine. Now, I know that Maine isn't the homeland of Coke, but honestly, Pepsi?? My whole being recoils in horror.
Today the weather was cold and drizzly on and off, so we gave up our boating plans and headed into town to do laundry and run errands. (Side note: nothing like a laundromat to make you miss your washing machine) Driving down Main Street-Damariscotta's only street, really-I happened to glance in the window of the local old-time pharmacy. Hope sprang anew as I read the words I'd never noticed before: "Soda Fountain," and below, the sacred Coca-Cola logo. As soon as the clothes were in the washers, I ran across the street and plopped myself down at the vintage soda fountain counter in Waltz's Pharmacy. I happily ordered a Coke, bouncing in my seat like a little kid. I was a bit confused when the girl behind the counter immediately put my cup under the spigot and starting filling. Then I noticed the lack of an ice machine-bad news. A thunderbolt hit the girl and she asked, "Did you want ice in that?" Before she'd even finished her question I nearly shouted "Yes!" She allowed as how she'd better leave some room at the top. She left about an inch and a half. My dad had come in by this point, and as the girl reached into the freezer for a ziploc bag full of ice tray ice cubes, he had the nerve to say that it was BETTER to add the ice second because the Coke fizzed less that way. "You want it to fizz!!!" I nearly screamed. To be so close and thwarted yet again was painful. My fountain Coke today had a total of four ice cubes. It had a decent syrup ratio, but the fizziness was definitely lacking, and there was no ice to crunch on when the Coke was gone. Better than I've found up here so far, but I'm still longing for Nu-Way or Chik-fil-A.
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