Workplace du Jour

Hey kids! I got a respite from my freaky gas mask today and got to work right next to the ocean. A very nice change. Yes, there was a chain link and barbed-wire fence between us and the beach, but it was still much more fun than working on a bleak construction site full of loud and noxious machinery. This time I have my lungs to thank for this fortuitous change of affairs. The diesel and billowing dust clouds of the monitoring job are getting to me, despite my mask. Although, I was rather justly scolded today by a coworker who somehow found out that I wasn't wearing it the entire time on the monitoring job. That is true. But I challenge you to wear one of those things when climbing up a steep hill or jogging to avoid impending doom in the form of 200,000 pounds of cold yellow metal. It can't be done! I would have liked to wear the mask all day (well, no, that's a lie. I don't like that thing! But I like having my lungs healthy) but it was simply much too hard to breathe through those filters any time I moved at more than a slow ambling walk. I'm afraid it's just not practical for me out there. Without the mask, I suck in lots of deadly fumes that my body can't get rid of, and then I'm not able to breathe. With the mask, I can't get enough air when I exert myself, and then I can't breathe. There's my justification for taking the darn thing off. At any rate, that's why I'm temporarily off the job!!

So there we were at Silver Strand Beach, on military land south of Coronado Island. Lovely. Iceplant is typically a type of flora that I am not fond of; however, it is squishy and fun to walk on and makes a good cushion when you're sitting down doing paperwork. And in several spots, it was thickly overgrown where we needed to dig our units, so we got down and ripped it up with our hands. It was quite therapeutic--grabbing fistfuls of plant and roots and pulling with all my strength 'til big clumps came off and I could toss them over my shoulder--fun times! A few times it resisted so strongly that I had to pull with my full weight against it and then when the roots suddenly gave way I fell squarely on my butt. It just made me laugh. For those of you who think it's hypocritical of me to be gleefully tearing up plants left and right: iceplant grows like wildfire, takes over other vegetation if given the slightest chance, and doesn't even belong here. Take that, iceplant!
I know working at the beach all day seems like a dream, especially to you poor freezing east coast folk, but if it's any consolation, it was pretty cold in the early morning with all the fog. We also tend to not notice the lovely surroundings as much as you would think--we're too busy digging, screening, bagging artifacts, measuring...But the few times I paused and looked up I was extremely gratified and amazed at how gorgeous it was. Such a beautiful clear day! Not too hot or cold, the water was a flashing greeny-blue, pelicans were occasionally winging overhead, and a curious but aloof ruby-throated hummingbird guarded the periphery all morning. AAhhhhhhhhh, this is why I do what I do! I'll take my $30 less per hour to enjoy these shining saturated moments. Peace. Sunshine. Salt breeze. Bliss.

Things that made me happy today

When I went to pick up my prescription, I found a really good hardback book that I've been wanting and it was only $2.50. On my way out of the drugstore a homeless guy kissed me on the forehead after I gave him a dollar. Driving home I saw a toy poodle hanging out a car window wearing a purple harness and pink bows behind its ears. I counted all the different types of palm trees I could see on my way home--did you know that on Adams Avenue there are at least 6 kinds? I never knew. And I noticed that they just put up the Christmas lights on the Adams Ave. bridge over the 805. Pretty! And then at my apartment, I discovered that the bread slots in my toaster have grooves that look like little smiley faces.

I would like to add that that homeless guy was very nice. Honestly. Don't worry yourself at all about me being kissed by strangers asking me for my money. Just like people within any large group, some are nice and some aren't. His name is Billy, and he shook my hand (after kissing my forehead) and said he'd see me around. I hope I do! I have discovered that I am a philanthropist in the most literal sense of the word: I truly do love people. They make me happy. So do dogs, ladybugs at construction sites, smiley faces in kitchen appliances, the brilliant jewel-red of fizzy pomegranate juice glinting in a glass bottle in the sunlight as I drink it, warm fuzzy socks in Dr. Seuss stripes when it’s cold, and Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies. Bunnies!

Giant Scary Machines

Hey kids! Since it's most likely that only my archaeologist friends have ever worked on a construction site, I thought I'd share a day in the life with you. Imagine the biggest tire you've ever seen. Now double it, and you have a tire that costs $8,000, is about 7 or 8 feet tall, can kill people if it bursts anywhere in their vicinity, and belongs to a large yellow monstrosity called a belly scraper. Um, they're big. Here are some other exciting scraper facts: A new one will cost you at least one million dollars--closer to 1.5 million according to the paleontology guy. They weigh 150 thousand pounds (that's 75 tons, kiddos, or about 25-30 really big pickup trucks). They typically carry a load of dirt weighing about 100 thousand pounds, making a fully loaded scraper weigh in at 250,000 pounds, or 125 tons. And I got to stand next to them while they chewed up huge swaths of earth just a few feet from me.

Actually, I'm very afraid of these things, which is healthy. I try to stand at least a scraper-width away from them so in the off chance that one tips over next to me, I won't get squashed. I also always make sure that I have an exit path--at one point today I was standing on a wedge of higher soil watching the scrapers make a cut right in front of me. There are also several dozers out there, too; these are especially big ones, and some of them have a giant toothy-rake thing on the back that looks sinister and lethal, like a grotesque mutant wasp with three giant metal stingers. They use these kind of like a plow, dragging them behind them to break up soil to make it easier to scrape up. So anyhow, I suddenly notice that one of these was driving up behind me, and not only that, if he had decided not to notice me I would have been sandwiched between the scrapers and him. I got the hell out of there first chance.

Here's what the scrapers do, so you can get a picture of it: they drive around in really big loosely circular runs, scraping up huge loads of dirt and redepositing them wherever they need more fill. In this way, they can totally rearrange the topography in a matter of days; leveling off hillsides and filling up low spots. It's crazy. Awe-inspiring and tragic all at once. Scrapers have two main parts, the cab/engine up front, which can swivel a full 180 degrees from the body, and the body/trailer part. This part is especially cool looking--I find myself frequently in the conundrum of being horrified by the destruction being wrought by these things while at the same time admiring the techy-gadgety amazingness of them: like Tonka trucks grown up. The back end contains a large empty trailer that can be hydraulically raised and lowered, with the wheels on the very back end behind it. It also has a shovel-shaped bottom edge, and a large "door" that can move up and down on the front of it. When they are scraping, they lower the trailer bed part down to ground level and lift up the door, so it can scrape up all the dirt while they drive. When the trailer is full, they lower the door, lift up the trailer, and drive off to wherever they're dumping it, where they lift up the door again but without lowering the body, so the dirt falls out on the ground as they drive over it.

The ones out here are making fairly deep cuts, about a one- to two-foot cut at each pass. Because they're scooping up so much soil, they often need help, so they work in pairs. Their back ends have a huge trailer hitch-y thing above a large square plate, and the front ends have a humungous U-shaped bar that they can lower down, and a big metal plate on a spring, which is a sort of shock-absorber. The one in back lowers the bar down over the front one’s trailer hitch and scoots up real close until the metal plates bump together. It’s like some alien machine mating ritual. I wonder if the construction guys have ever thought about how sexual it all is, and if they have, do they suppress it because that’s just homo? Hmph! Now they’re all hooked up so that while the front one is scooping up dirt, the back one can help push--they would just bog down in the dirt otherwise. When the front one is full, he raises his trailer and pulls the back one as he loads up on dirt. It's like ballet! Only really stinky and noisy and without the tights and good-looking guys with huge leg muscles.

I really wanted to touch on some other things, but I’d like to end this on a somewhat positive note rather than go into all the death and destruction being caused out there by all this. I saved two snails today. I’ve got to save something! Just think about the stinky homo-machine dirt ballet. Tee hee!

Alien Freak Gas Mask

Hey kids! Since you did as requested and asked about the gas mask, I am obliged to reply. As most of you know, my lungs are just not up to par. Many of you also know that I am an archaeologist, at least for now, until I can find something more rewarding to do. At any rate, one of the less-fun things that we archaeologists get to do is chase around large earth-moving equipment to monitor them in case they start digging up and destroying cultural materials. Bleah. Said earth-moving equipment runs on diesel, and they put out a staggering amount of fumes. Not to mention lots of dust. As you may imagine, it is just not a good thing for me to be doing (or anyone else who wants to stay healthy, for that matter). Up 'til now, I simply told employers that I was unable to monitor. I had tried it a few times just to see, but it made my lungs hurt for three full days afterward, which I took as a subtle sign that I should avoid the whole deal.

Well! I have been rather direly in need of money, and the company with whom I've been working for most of the past 7 months was badly in need of help with monitoring. We discussed the possiblilities, and decided to try sending me out into the field with a high-quality respirator to fend of the menacing diesel and dust clouds. Which they paid for, thankfully. Now, I'm all about protecting my lungs and my health, but I have to admit that I was seriously considering telling them no, that I couldn't do it--because I just couldn't bear the thought of going out in public looking like a freak from World War I. I did some hard thinking about this. Honestly, I was pretty surprised at the intensity of my emotions about it. I was almost in tears thinking of having to go out amongst all those swaggering construction guys wearing my sissy invalid getup. It took me a full day to even work up the nerve to call the safety supply company.

After much pondering, I realized that what was going on in my head was something I'd encountered before when I've had to do home IV therapy for several weeks at a time. I always ended up wearing long-sleeved shirts (even in summer) or covering up the IV site with a sweat band or something. I simply am quite embarrassed to LOOK like I have a medical condition. That's the one thing that I think I am thankful for with my goofed-up cilia: most of the time, I look just like everybody else and you would never know. Now, when you see me wandering around a construction site with my giant face mask with its two purple cylinders sticking way out to the side like some freakish alien reptile from another planet, yeah, I look different! Top that off with a hard hat and an orange safety vest and I'm ready for a night on the town. Yeeha!

In all seriousness, it was a lot for me to overcome. I wrestled with it for a full week. Finally, my desperate need to pay ALL of my rent forced me to swallow my pride and put the thing on out in the field. It was a humbling experience, and I still grimace when I think about it, but it allows me to do my work. Those filters really work--I couldn't even smell the diesel at all when I was wearing it. Hooray for alien freak gas masks!

It was the sled!!

So I think it's time to just post a plain old update. Here 'tis: I am now working 7 days a week in order to mend my current situation of having to pay my rent in increments. At least I have two different jobs, which breaks things up and fends off monotony--although my life is anything but monotonous at the moment. A good heavy dose of personal tribulations, being at some job or other every single day, finishing up my fundraiser, keeping up with my dance troupe, trying not to ignore my friends and attend about a zillion impending holiday festivities is proving to be quite a full plate. Yow. And then there is my cat, ricocheting off of the back of the couch and scooting butter boxes around on the floor with her nose. I suppose things could be worse.

I definitely need to follow up on my PCD Spooky Walk. For those of you who participated, I can't thank you enough! It was a huge success; much more than I imagined it would be. I had begun to get very discouraged about two weeks prior to the walk itself--I was missing work and spending every moment of my conscious life planning for it, but truly didn't think we were going to get much response. Well, people came through in spades. I am so humbly grateful for everyone's help and their dedication to the cause. For those who didn't get my email with the latest total, here's the scoop: with more money on its way, we currently have $4,199 in funds raised from the walk!!! I get so overwhelmed with joy thinking about this you would think the money was all for me! I suppose that in a way it is. My brother and I, as well as a thousand other patients nationwide, will all benefit from the PCD Foundation being able to operate for yet another year, promoting awareness and research for this truly bizarre medical phenomenon we have to contend with.

In other news, I am working weekends at Stone Brewing Company, and boy howdy is it getting fun! The restaurant is open, and it is a wonder to behold. Truly. It is a surreal landscape filled with warm wood tones, polished granite, stands of bamboo, concrete, towering asymmetrical rock walls, fountains, trees, a rock spouting leaping flames over a pool of glassy water...it is magical at night! And of course, there is fine beer, wine, and munchables. I'm not advertising, I'm just telling you that it's dang cool. The only thing I have to complain about is that it is much too much fun to hang out there and I tend to spend many hours after work lounging in the sybaritic atmosphere. Quite a few of my fellow employees are having the same trouble as me--we just can't leave!

I also want to draw your attention to my newly updated profile. Just so's you know, I find it rather tedious and un-entertaining to leave my occupation the same week after week. So I change it. Telling the truth is really boring, too. So if you need an extra four seconds of amusement in your life, make sure to check my profile out periodically. I try to update my occupation and my question/response thingy about once a week. Yes, I am that out of touch with what my priorities ought to be! And that easily amused.

I will have to further this update later because I am just now noticing that it is nearly 1 a.m. What in the world am I thinking? Remind me to tell you about my new gas mask next time...

Gleeful Shrub Countdown

Check out that countdown timer! We are at fewer than 800 days left. Oh, melodious arrangement of digits! Oh joyous day! What sweet nectar from yon computer screen flows, perchance a liberal to sip!

All right, all right, so I'm no Shakespeare. I never claimed I was, so you really can't fault me. At any rate, I do love seeing that number dwindle in its unceasing and tireless way. I'm hoping that perhaps now with a less elephant-laden congress that we may even finally have some legislators with the guts to oust this tyrranyical regime for good. Let's shoot for 150 days left! What the heck! Only problem is, you'd really have to impeach just about everybody to effect any real change. That may prove difficult, but I remain steadfastly optimistic that an increasing majority of people in our country are coming to their senses at last--including those most conveniently placed in a position to really do something about it.

ps: In case you are new to my blog and haven't scrolled around much and are currently in a complete state of bewilderment as to the subject of this post--check out those moving numbers (over there on the right up closer to the top) counting down the time we have left to endure Bush and his cronies in office.

Politics as usual

Holy cow. Holy Toledo. Holy CRAP! It looks like our beloved state of California has lost its collective mind. Again. As of 10:15 p.m. tonight, it looks very likely that we will have another term of the Governator in office. I am really quite astonished and embarrassed by this. Do we have no pride? He is winning by a whopping 60% to 35% of the votes so far, and even with only 31% of all votes counted, I don't think Angelides is going to be able to pull off a late-night turnaround. Argh. The ONLY county in CA to vote for Angelides at all was San Francisco. Oh my stars. And Colusa county REALLY likes having Conan the Barbarian for governor--77.7% of those people there voted for him! I'm not sure where Colusa is, but I'm pretty pleased that I don't live there. I'm disheartened by our gubernatorial race, but the fact that the Republicans have decisively lost their throttle on the House makes me feel that maybe our federal government has a chance to do some good for a change. I remain hopeful. I have to. Things have to get better, don't they?

This just in: Proposition 85 is losing. This is a very good thing. This proposition, if passed and ok'd by the legislature, would force young pregnant teens to notify their parents before being allowed to have an abortion. You might think, "Well, isn't it better for her if she has parental guidance through such a tough time?" Of course it is! IF she is lucky enough to have been born into a family with nurturing, caring, and involved parents. But I am not ignorant enough to believe that this is the case for all young pregnant girls. The last thing a troubled, abused, pregnant teenager needs is to be forced to tell people who may harm her that she needs and abortion. That could send her straight toward some friend with a coat hanger, or worse. I really just can't imagine. Things could go very, very badly for many young women if that Prop. passes. Let us hope and pray that it doesn't! Right now it is losing, but by a narrow margin. Please think good thoughts!

I just happened to be wearing my "We Will Not Be Silent" shirt to the voting booths tonight (it has Arabic script on it in big letters). Nobody kicked me out or tried to take my vote from me. I guess it's acceptable to speak Arabic, or wear Arabic in public, as long as you don't actually look Arabic. I feel very guilty at times for having had the dumb luck to be born with white skin. We get off the hook very easily sometimes, don't we? And after reading the harrowing adventures of a good friend of mine in Egypt (while in the company of a Jordanian young man) I am very very glad that I do live in a country where, at least for now, I can wear a shirt with Arabic on it and not be beaten up, or arrested, or maligned in any way. That's why I speak out so vociferously about the current regime's trends--the abridgement of our rights, the criminal deception, the flagrant disregard for the environment, the squelching of union voices and fair worker treatment, denial of universal access to medical care...damn, this is a long list. At any rate, my point is this: I DO love this country. I DO feel very very fortunate, damn lucky, and privileged to have been born here, because even though things are getting nasty, they are still about a zillion times better than living in 85% of the rest of the world. And that's precisely why I fight so hard against the people trying to f*** it up. That's why I sound like an "America hater' to the uninformed. If you love your country, too, don't just sit there getting angry. Write to your congress people, make your friends care, make phone calls, protest, DO SOMETHING! Nothing changes unless you do.