Welcome to The Island

You should probably know, though I’m not going to be the one to tell you, that I’ve placed you on “the island.” And, no, this is NOT the island that’s deserted and where we have to spend the rest of our lives depending on each other, no doubt spending the first 3 weeks doing it on the beach morning, noon, and night (oh come on, you know that’s the first thing everyone thinks of with this scenario). No, I’m not on this island at all. You are though, along with those who are like you and have been sent there previously. You guys can totally do it on the beach morning, noon, and night should you wish – but I’m pretty sure you (and the others – uh, okay, MOST of the others) don’t swing that way.

For the first few weeks, there will be attempts to test out your carpentry skills and build a raft, and I’ll even have sentencing remorse and send out a lifeboat (or two) to bring you back. It’s usually an attempt late at night, after you’re delirious from something island-like, like fermented coconut milk, and me suffering from a more common intoxication. And because of your lovely allure and sweet, perfect kisses, I can’t help but welcome you back, even if just for a moment. But, I promise you, its short lived; just ask your new island buddies. They know. They’ll tell you that I’m crazy (that’s always your guys’ excuse) and that you’re not alone. They’ll say there are way better fish in the sea (and you’ll think, there damn well better be –we’re surrounded by miles and miles of water!). And finally, they’ll say not to worry, man, you are definitely better off on the island. And, hey, you know what – honestly, you probably are. And while it was fun and exciting, having you there, and not here, is better for me too.

Home

Well its been a long time since I’ve written. I know, I know… it’s rare that I take such a long hiatus, but for a while something somehow managed to squash the urge to purge my thoughts on the screen.

For the most part, things are going really well. Sure, I have my complaints (which will, I'm sure, be unveiled in late night scribbles soon), but who doesn’t? Even in the most comfortable and smoothest of times, one generally has at least one thorn under foot. While my previous entries are not always riddled with sadness, frustration, or anger, I do find myself at my most creative and descriptive when I am holding a passionate pain. I was re-reading past narratives the other night and I was flooded with the memories of how difficult 2007 and 2008 were. Wow. The ups and downs, the confusion, the hopeless frustration, all consumed with such disappointment; the reappearance of a ghost who draped my spirit in bright brassy red; and the anger and bitterness that I rarely have that bubbled to the surface and narrowed my vision of possibility. And yet, again, the words that fill those pages are so much more real and raw than anything I’ve tried to write recently.

But, 2009, so far has been a different story. I’m happy in Seattle today. For the first time in a long time, the wanderlust that has always been so ever-present has subsided for a bit. This is my home, a place that comforts me and calls me when I am away for both long and short periods of time. The deep desire to travel is still there, of course, as it is something that will never leave me, but the urge to move somewhere new has turned its powerful head and is no longer staring me in the face, seducing me. Even the call of the ocean and lure of the sun and sand has quieted for the moment. We’ll see how long it lasts, but right now, it feels really, really good... to be home.

Things I learned in 2008

(a continuation of 2006 and 2007)

Trust is a very delicate thing.

Snow isn't as exciting as it was when I was 10.

Surprises are so much fun!

If it seems too good to be true, sadly, it probably is.

The youth vote is a powerful thing.

Yep, I still hate skiing.

I have more balls than many of the men in my life.

Doing the hard thing is sometimes doing the right thing.

Grantseeking is proving to be way more rewarding than grantmaking.

I still know how to throw a damn good party.

All men aren't pigs.

Jumping ship without knowing how to swim isn't necessarily suicide.

Sunshine does wonders for the soul.

Fuck 'em, they'll get what they deserve... someday.

I love the pounding feeling in my chest when you pound on those drums.

America is finally more excited than afraid of change.

You can fall out of love with someone and still love them more than ever.

Having a messy room is just "my thing".

I am still so lucky.

Hello, Google.

Is it weird that I trust Google more than MySpace and Facebook? They're all website phenomena that make money off of my participation. They all store too much of my private information and no doubt use it for some type of power, profit, and/or political gain. But for some reason, I hold a bit more trust and liking for Google. So much so that I have decided to delete (or at least attempt to - its not easy) my Facebook page, and start blogging here via Google, not MySpace.

I learned this weekend, at the National Conference for Media Reform, that Google is now worth more than General Electric, Ford Motors, and Coca Cola combined. Thats crazy. And to think - it all supposedly started in a basement. But whats crazier is that the popular social networking site, Facebook, not only provides my information to its numerous online partners (something that in a way Google also does), but now also alerts all of my friends when I purchase something on one of those partner's sites. Back before I learned of the conservative politics that Blockbuster plays, I used their online movie rental service. One day, after I'd added a new title to my movie queue, I saw a notice at the bottom of the screen that says "Sara has just added High Fidelity to her Blockbuster Queue". WTF? Sure, High Fidelity is no big deal, but what about the fact that I tend to rent it often - maybe so often that its a mystery why I don't just own a copy. Suddenly my crush on John Cusack is no longer my secret indulgence, its now an obsession seen by all 183 of my friends. Hmmm... something seems wrong here.

Waaaaiiiittt a minute - now, that is indeed an annoying "feature" (that I have since learned can be turned off), but is it really reason enough to attempt to write off Facebook? No, no, I agree - that probably isn't enough for me to say goodbye either. However, the following is.

Upon more investigation of the board members of Facebook (there are only 3, despite the estimated value of $15 billion), I found that at least two of the three board members participate and promote ideas that directly contradict my own. After graduating from Stanford (where he founded a rightwing journal that is still up and running some 20 years later), board member Peter Thiel wrote a book in 1988 called the Diversity Myth in which he argued that the idea of multiculturism prohibits individual freedoms. I don't know about you, but that seems to be the EXACT opposite of what I think multiculturism does. Additionally, he is a member of Vanguard.org, an ultra conservative website organization that seems to, from what I gather, have been set up solely to take down Moveon.org (one of my favorite organizations working toward a progressive future). Jim Breyer, the other board member that I am deeply suspicious of, sits on the board of none other than Wal-Mart. I find it hard to believe that the money Theil and Breyer are making off of my personal information and record of web activity isn't somehow, somewhere being poured into neoconservative organizations that are working against everything I am working toward.

My distrust with MySpace is a bit less focused on the security and privacy issue, and more on an overall question of whether or not I really want to be supporting the person who now owns it. Two years ago, media mogul, Rupert Murdoch, added MySpace to his fast-growing collection of media sources. Murdoch owns News Corporation, the entity that most notoriously embodies all Fox programming, including Fox News. While Fox News constitutes as "fair and balanced" to most of my family, to me it does not. Additionally, Murdoch sits on the board of directors for Philip Morris, which reportedly donated $2.9 Billion to the good ol' George Dubyah campaign in 2000. I'd say Mr. Murdoch and I share a difference in tastes.

So anyway - there are my reasons for making the switch. I’ve transferred my blogs from MySpace to here and will from here on out be entering random thoughts here.... that is, until I learn something about Google that will cause the jaw to drop, hand to go to mouth, and fingers to start typing a Google farewell.

The things we recognize but do not say

we go out, fall into a slight intoxication - not enough to constitute as drunk, but enough to make us stare a little longer, and smile a little bigger. enough to make us say more than maybe we should. enough to make us turn off our cell phones and forget about others. you talk to me about her and while you never say it directly, you tell me in your lazy descriptions what i know. you want so bad for it to work out, for what you have with her seems so perfect. more perfect than anything before. i don't pry, i don't encourage a deeper dish about the problems. instead i listen and smile and wonder if this smile is making it worse. you're doing the thing you used to do, you're watching my lips form the words, occasionally glancing back up to my eyes as if to briefly check in with me. its a contagious behavior and i find myself doing the same to you. you slip and say my name in a drawn out manner, as if you are going to tell me something you shouldn't. its the pause before a leap that i recognize from a sometimes-brief and sometimes-long time ago. i wait for it, silently struggling with hope and fear. your eyes bounce from corner to corner in the room. i see how uncomfortable you are and in an effort to distract you from it, i catch the eye of the waiter and order us 2 more drinks. it works and the moment has passed. and, as beautiful as what has just happened may seem to others, we both breathe a deep inaudible sigh of relief.