Sadly, my desire to read literature fell off after graduating

Cheater post, nothing new here except a list of books I'd like to store as worth reading.

"The Big Read reckons that the average adult has only read 6 of the top 100 books they've printed."

1) Bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your own blog.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Ronald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

Rain on the rooftop

There's nothing like a little turbulance in your life countered with a moment that just makes you stop. Stop stressing. Stop thinking. Start listening.

I've been frantically trying to plan and prepare for my trip to Mexico the day after tomorrow. I've been keeping my social life up to date, prioritizing visits with loved ones and melding into the local music scene. But tonight I came home, exhausted and it started raining the minute I climbed into my loft. I have a lofted sleeping area where it feels like your in a barn. There literally is hay inside the adobe walls! I just love the sound of soft rain on the rooftop. I'm so close to it. I can hear the wind and rain coming in waves of dull percussion. The best of the best lullaby. I only wish my the man were here to lay in silence with me while the symphony entertained.

I'll be in Mexico for the next week and a half or so! I'm scared, nervous and dreading the horror I've heard the subway is for females. But all that turbulance in my head is minimal now. Not while its raining.

Chaa Chaa Cha Chaanges

So a few things are shifting in my life:
1. Housing.
I'm moving into the ultimate hippy commune/my own garage apartment where I'll only have to share a kitchen/laundry area with people. I love it. My current roommate has destructed into a slobby, inconsiderate ghost. I look forward to clean spaces where the mess left for weeks at a time is entirely mine!

2. Grad School.
I'm applying to Law School/Public Policy schools where I can get a joint degree and focus on women's studies. I know....science-enviro-nerd....now doing law? Well, I love the idea that I can be flexible, will possess a skill that will be applicable to all my social justice causes and provide me the means to be effective in my intellectual pursuits! Yay! More on that later....

3. Work.
My best friend just got fired from our job and it's been hard to keep morale high. I know it was partly her fault, but it nonetheless damaged the family-like quality of work I've been enjoying. I may just go work at whole foods if I can't handle it prior to entering graduate school. Who knows? Also, another co-worker was systematically pigeon-holed into quitting. She was a huge problem for me for a long time and just in the last 6 months, I had figured her out. I also got mad props at my job for learning to work with her. I know it's because of my Buddhist practice. She challenged me to figure out a way to deal, be compassionate, and ultimately build a relationship with her. While I wouldn't trust her as far as I can throw her and don't actually see her as a friend, I have a comfortable faux working relationship with her. And she quit. :( I won't miss a lot, but the less-than-a-handful of things I will miss, will be genuinely missed.

4. Love.
I'm in deep. Its wonderful. And he's moving. My Buddhist practice, once again, keeps things in perspective. When we're together: magic, fireworks, explosions (the only way!!!). The move will give us perspective. Are we meant to be? Only time will tell....and buddhism is keeping me in the moment, enjoying every second of it.

5. Family.
Mine is awesome. Littlest bro and sis are planning to visit me. Bro is hoping to move here (AMAZING, Progressive, great music-filled, young-person-filled area) and I know he'll love it. Anything is better than the conservative, elderly, polluted south. Sis is needing an escape and I miss her dearly. I hope they visit before I head down to s. America!

6. Bike Tour.
Planning takes forever. If I'm headed to Law School next fall...well....right before I enroll is the ONLY chance for freedom-based goals to be fulfilled. So, I'm doing a bike tour of some historical region of the U.S. or Canada. Thinking a month and a half of cycling. And possibly by myself. AND I'm shaving my head. Cliche? Sure. But something I've always wanted to do. Why? Freedom. From sexual desirability. From beauty pressures. From mainstream culture. From myself. And, when the hell else will I ever get the chance to do this again? As a lawyer? Hayl naw! So I gotta do what I can while I still can.

Self-Awareness can be a curse

I have come to realize that my smile: is a complex expression; happiness, sadness, manipulation of others. I resent and embrace that my primary source of power in this society has to do with my looks.

I have come to realize that when I talk: I still haven't shut down the voice in my head that tells me I'm stupid. It delays what I have to say and sends me offtrack more than it should at my age. I am intimidated by what I perceive others to think.

I have come to realize that if I get emotionally attached to someone: That kind of investment doesn't go away.

I have come to realize that I need: artistic expression combined with at least the feeling I'm making a difference.

I have come to realize that I lost: my need to make everyone think the way I do. I have a lot more respect for differences of opinions than I ever had. I am nonetheless extremely radical and opinionated and happily discuss my point of view with respectful friends.

I have come to realize that I hate it when: people only act in their self interest. I am too big hearted to understand how people can be totally self-serving. I hate feeling like I have no back up plan. I am not comfortable with taking great risks.

I have come to realize that if I'm drunk: I can be mean. Anger is a common denominator in my life for good and bad. I try not to get drunk.

I have come to realize that marriage: is a way to force heteronormativity down women's throats at a young age and the wedding culture makes me want to vomit. I reject the religious institution
it was born out of and resent the lack of equality set out by those backing hetero marriages....i.e., it ain't for me. If gay marriage becomes legal, I might consider joining the club.

I have come to realize that work: is so much better if you feel like you're making a difference and can see the big picture.

I have come to realize that I will always be: able to see the problem for what it is; figuring out the solutions will be a tougher matter. Also, I need to be around people. Solitude is not my favorite pastime.

I have come to realize that I like: surrounding myself with other independent, thinking women.

I have come to realize that the last time I cried was: when my lover told me he may be moving away. I am happy for him, but I fear losing him again. When will I feel strong enough to handle it?

I have come to realize that when I wake up in the morning: I enjoy doing the dishes, laundry and ironing. I am a morning person apparently. Or I just need to be in a vegetative state to enjoy mundane tasks.

I have come to realize that today I will: Try to balance living in the present with a fear and anticipation of what may come.

I have come to realize that tonight I will: be in the arms of the man I love, and that those times are always limited and should be cherished when they can be.

I have come to realize that tomorrow: I have a list of things I really need to figure out...but probably won't.

I have come to realize that I really want: a life fully lived, with a partner and a healthy sense of indepence.

I have come to realize that my favorite place in the world is: travel with good friends.

I have come to realize that I'm most thankful for: knowing the everything that happens is meant to be and I just have to have faith in myself and learn to be fully appreciated.

The Tattoo Club

Well, I joined it. Its a whole new world. Like when you paint your skin another color to empathize with another racial group. Or not like that. More like getting a boob job? Anyway, its a bit of a sociological experiment I seem to be in. I got a huge tattoo on my upper thigh, so when I wear shorts, it peeks out mysteriously (not my words ;-O). Taunting. All the tattooies (boy I love saying that) must ask. They see it, they can't resist... But in their defense it is an amazing, unusual piece of scientific artwork. Anatomically correct and all.

First, I forced it upon my friends. They obliged, ooh ooh, its so big. and colorful. and well, grotesque. It is a praying mantis. A giant, beautiful praying mantis.

Now, a week and a half in, its healing extremely well and I'm allowed to bring it out in public more. Its less of an 'open wound' than it is an 'itchy, uncomfortable sunburn crusting over'. So, i slather it down with sunscreen or make like a vampire and remain indoors until the witching hour. I also took it out at the gym. Once in the ladies locker room, where a wholesome, well-rounded, straight a's kinda woman abruptly exclaimed, 'wow! that's a cool tattoo!" I coyly thanked her and she couldn't resist staring, saying, "it just pops out at you!"

Then later, I was all sprawled on the stretching mat, where another sweet girl said to me..."that's a pretty tattoo!" and proceeded to tell me she had a butterfly in the same spot. Err, it's a grotesque canabalistic predatory insect, not 'pretty.' I guess my artist was good! So, being the science educator I must be, I asked if she knew what kind of insect it was, and she said, "a grasshopper!" to which I showed her in full, no, rather the raptorial killing machine front legs are not that of a grasshopper, and she guessed correctly with the full monty.

Then today, at my favorite beer stop/the ultimate job for death metal boys who have little aspirations beyond makin it in the HUGE music genre for metal, I had another encounter. I wasn't showing it off, but from afar I could see these boys/clerks were glaring for a view as I approached. I assumed my smelly, paint covered t-shirt and wedgy sporting athletic shorts were the real draw, but alas, their real purpose was revealed when I put my beer on the counter for purchase. No sooner did I hear the kerthunk of my six bottles of malty stout goodness hit the counter, did the clerk assert, "what's your tattoo of?" and I realized I had joined the club. My body had now become a public art house. I became instantly more accesible to the clerks. I no longer looked like the straight-laced, upper middle class lady I had been fronting as all along. So, I threw the dog a bone, exposed my badass artwork and fed the beast. It seemed satiated.

I gotta say, I'm enjoying being a walking canvas. I think the tat bug may have gotten me...if I can bear the pain pain pain again.

Forced Sedentary Lifestyle

Geez. It was Bike to Work week this week. And my tuckus did not leave the comfort of my four door sedan once. Not that I was particularly comfortable, because I got a huge tattoo on my upper thigh on Sunday. My fab artist told me not to exercise. And the sheer discomfort of having a large sun-burn-like wound made some movement unfeasible. Nonetheless, I'm a damn active person, I bike to work all the time. I bike to the bar. I bike to get groceries. I bike bike bike. And I've been trying to shed a bit of winter weight I gained over the past few months, so I've been hitting the gym quite a bit as well. So a forced hiatus was not particularly in my cards. I compensated by drinking.

But there were a few good things to the week.

1. I hung with my male companion. Who knew cannibalistic tattoos would make men go wild?
2. I got poison ivy.... dang it, which list is this again? (see above described compensatory action)
3. I slept a lot.
4. I read more about the pressure for gals like me to be effortlessly perfect and thin....which I had been reading at the gym. The title, "perfect girls, starving daughters" is a bit ironic considering I was obsessing over my body while reading...
5. For a minute, I stopped focusing on my body and focused more on my patterns of eating and general shape, which is quite toned. Why do I still think there is more progress to be made? This damn book on being effortlessly perfect is so true. I wish enough was enough.
6. I secured a new apartment. Good things are happening.

Can we cut back on the fear-mongering insanity?

Last month, I had the pleasure of reading an article by a solo-female-cyclist traveling from Canada down to my region of origin, the gulf coast of the US of A in BUST Magazine (Feb/March ’08). She chronicled her trek, highlighting all the folks along the way asking her the frustrating question I think women are taught to hear, then repeat, repeat, repeat: “Aren’t you scared?” The moral of the story for her was, everyone thought she was a bit nuts to travel, as a woman, alone in a world where there is so much to fear. Ahhh….this article spoke to me like none other because I love to commute by bike. Alone. At night. As the possessor of a vagina. Baffling, I know.

This article portrays a major fear women are conditioned to keep locked away; if you are alone, something bad will happen to you (and it will be your fault, you were alone). As a young lady, the portfolio of other bullshit victim-blaming tactics women are taught to buy into does not stop there; If you are dressed a certain way, you’re at fault if anything happens to you; If you waver at any moment in your role as the sexual gatekeeper, then you’re at least ‘partly’ to blame for any possible assault; If you are drunk and flirtatious, you are ‘inviting it.’

I digress. My point is, there seems to be a cultural notion that women are supposed to hide out and fear living life in order to avoid being raped/killed/all of the above. The subconscious clues to this way of thinking translates to making a person worry that danger lurks around every corner (geez, maybe I’m looking in the wrong corners?) But this article highlights a very real notion that if thy sex is lady, strange men are to be feared. When in actuality, you’re most likely to be raped by someone you know, within 50 miles of your home. (DOJ stats) I’d like to propose an amendment to the campaign, how about watch out for all the people you know; they could rape you at any moment.

Sarcasm aside, where do these myths come from? I’d urge you to take a look at any horror film, or big media scary abduction story (Natalie Holloway anyone?) being touted as a legitimate danger to women, instead of an anomaly. Not to say these kinds of stories shouldn’t be told, but I believe the way they end of translating into culture is very dangerous for women, creating a situation where we avoid living life instead of tuning into our surroundings, playing it smarter in situations our intuition tells us are not exactly safe.

Not like I can single-handedly stop the Hollywood fetish of hacking up women, but I will stress that stories that should stop being told are the far-fetched emails. You know the type, always involving a woman sitting in her car, balancing her checkbook (come on, how many people even balances their checkbook anymore?) in the mall parking lot or something, and a man gets in the car because she didn’t lock her doors, (or is already in her car and the gas station attendant saves her) and you know how the story ends. I cannot tell you how man of those damn stories I’ve read, ugh. The headline is always something like, “PLEASE CIRCULATE TO EVERY WOMAN YOU KNOW IF YOU DON’T WANT THEM TO DIIIIEEEE!” By immediately deleting these bullshit stories (which you just have to double check on Snopes to uncover), I momentarily feel the pang, oh no, I must not care about my females loved ones! Then reality sets in and I remember no one I know balances their checkbook, so at least my friends/family are safe. Frankly, I find these emails highly annoying (could you tell?) and ultimately dangerous because they waste perfectly good brain space for worry on things completely out of your control. Especially, when more violence and harm done to women is by someone they know, typically a spouse or lover, NOT strangers. What kind of world would we live in if women were taught the signs of domestic abuse and how to get out of it, instead of walking around worrying about strange men? The most frustrating part of this fear-strange-men-culture is that when this notion of danger to women looming in the hands of strangers translates to the police action, civil servants who are supposed to protect us (I know, rarely the truth, but still, lets stick to the definition). But this sometimes leads to real issues being ignored, and ultimately undermines real danger and cases of stalking and domestic abuse.


How rooted are these ideas that women need to be protect themselves from lurking predators? Well, growing up as the female portion of a boy/girl twin set, I can say I was definitely treated differently. Not to say my parents have particularly archaic views on gender roles, but I can see where they bought into the hype. I was much more aware of my body and the need to cover it because of what trouble this female form could bring. Also, I wasn’t allowed to spend the night at certain friends houses, because a fear of a live-in boyfriend of the mother, that could have had a hankering for my girl form. So I was kept away from one friend when in all actuality, another girlfriend, who I slept over with regularly, was being raped for years by her step father (he is now in jail for it). Fortunately, I believe my spending the night was the buffer for her; at least those nights it was the delay of the tragic situation. But it really makes me question who makes the grade? Is the reason I was allowed over due to the fact this friend’s parents were married, passing the not-a-child-rapist test? Or maybe because we went to church with him?

So if the real danger to our precious lady flowers is people we know, why do we send these emails on? Why do we feel the urge to keep retelling false stories, perpetuating and investing energy in the hopes of preventing a tragedy? I blame the media. I think stories such as the Natalie Holloway anomaly are being blown out of proportion because they sell papers and ads, i mean, would you be enticed by an article with the headline “Husband rapes Wife”? Or maybe it’s because these stories of Us vs. Them are the easiest to digest, and so those are the ones we want to hear about.

Either way, a heck of a lot of women asked this female solo cross country cyclist if she was afraid. Partly because they were for her, and partly because, well, how could she not be!?!?!

I think this all ties into my world because I frequently ride by bike home late at night. My coworkers think I’m crazy. My parents bite their nails and try not to think about it. Not because cycling is dangerous in my city (which it is!), but because I’m alone and a woman. I know the danger of a car hitting me (I do wear the perpetually cool helmet) is a lot greater than being kidnapped by a lurking predator. Not to say I didn’t have stalker a while back (good news, he’s gone now, but I did have to call the cops and they were very receptive to my lack of concrete evidence of being stalked, YAY POLICE!), but I wasn’t going to let that dictate what my life was. I wasn’t going to hide out and avoid my regular hangouts because of a creep. That being said, on the scale of stalkers, I did get lucky, he was relatively benign, albeit persistent (9 months is a bit long). I refuse to live in a state of fear, even if I did have a reason to be. Because that’s not living.

So, my final request is ladies, please stop scaring the crap out of us! Men, stop feeling the need to protect us from you! Lets all focus on the realities of predation and spend our energies helping preventing violence against women and rethink these misguided efforts.