Lists By One Most Listless, continued: #'s 48-55

48.) So I've been scrambling to locate that comprehensively brilliant & terrifying article on torture that I read in a Northwestern class (entitled, oddly enough, "Milton's Material World") so I can begin to fulfill my self-assigned task of writing and publishing (the fluidity of such terms now that blogging has arrived is a bit scary--I'd never tout myself as 'published', for instance, simply because I trot out some of my poetry for your perusal here) that editorial on the topic; I'm quite pleased most of you voted for it because it's something I'm not feeling ready to expound upon, which I take to mean that I need some education--from various sources--before I can do so intelligently. EVERYBODY WINS. Except perhaps the dudes in hoods at Gitmo.
 Listen, I know that kind of wry humor can make it seem like I'm diminishing something that needs, if nothing else, to be taken more seriously,  to be unearthed and looked at with some intentionality, and not simply shirked as an unpleasant topic that we relegate to the domains of the military or the government. Because let's be honest, there is nothing more banal, more fundamentally human, more relevant, than the way we treat one another. Forget for a moment the mitigation of criminality; of course in theory the people being tortured are criminals, often war criminals, and until my research indicates otherwise I'm going to assume that in the majority of cases they are guilty of something. My point: forgive the jokes. It's in my nature, but it doesn't mean I won't consider the topic with characteristic thoroughness and humanity.
In the meantime, Ahmad Sadri, a former professor of mine and brilliant Persian-American author, activist & respected academic, took all of four seconds to respond when I posed the question, "heeeeey Ahmad, any names occur to you if I'm looking to read some of the more intellectual stuff on torture?". Google Ahmad if you've got 6 consecutive hours to spare, and would like your mind blown by a remarkable intellect.
 Michael Levin's famous essay I'll certainly deconstruct,--- and it occurs to me just now that despite my inherent dislike for and distrust of Christopher Hitchens for some of the things he's written that so crassly disrespect my God, he's still a brilliant writer, I love "Vanity Fair", and in fact I don't know of many people who were willing to undergo waterboarding in order to better write about the topic of torture, as he did. More soon.

49.) I was scrounging in the clearance bin at a fancy boutique yesterday in search of a gift to supplement the small one I have for my grandma and came across a hat that I LOVE. Those of you who know me at all will know that in order for me to post anything concerning fashion whatsoever, it's got to be a pretty big deal. I appreciate nice things. I just don't seek them out. And while I own TONS of clothes, I wear the same variations on, like, approximately 6 outfits CONSTANTLY. I'd like to cast it in euphemistic terms and call it loyalty. I'm just loyal to certain clothing items. Anyway, I took a picture of my new hat the moment I tore the tag off and hopped into the car, to text Job. I like it. Enough to post it here. Self-shots are uber-flattering, right? Wrong. (Found my grandma a phenomenal ______ --who knows if she peeps this, so we'll go dark on the noun for now!---and am uber excited to give it to her!)

THERE'S SOMETHING FRIGHTENINGLY VACANT ABOUT MY EXPRESSION HERE. THE ROBOTIC HEAD TILT AND OPAQUELY FLAT PUPILS AREN'T MUCH HELP. BUT ANYWAY, DIG THE HAT.
THAT IS INDEED SWEAT ON MY HAIR. I'D JUST FINISHED JOGGING. MCNERNEY'S ARE KNOWN FOR HAVING BIG HEADS (I'M SUPER SUPER EXCITED ABOUT GIVING BIRTH WHEN YOU CONSIDER THAT PLUS THE SIZE OF JOB'S DOME....I WANT TO, LIKE, PRE-ORDER AN EPIDURAL NOW),  BUT THIS HAT CAN HANDLE IT.
LOVE IT.

50. & 51.) I should *not not not not not* be considering acquiring another dog. Let the asterisks and bullheaded repetition of the word 'not' be sufficient evidence for you to know that I am--if and only if it's the absolute ideal situation. For all four parties. Parties consisting of: The family. The new dog. Hugo. And me. It'd only work if I do end up in Vermont sometime soon, which I'm more hopeful of (I suppose this'll be sort of an impromptu transition to #50...here we go, yo)......COMMENCE #51.... after some really promising connections the past 36 hours have yielded. I'm a bit chagrined to realize that the incidence of response, positive response, has increased tenfold now that I've done two things: 1) buckled down and actually taken the time to write 14 consecutive cover letters, and 2) widened the scope of the lens through which I was seeing potential opportunities. The major hitch was that I wasn't even aware I'd imposed a lens over my vision. The past day and a half or so has been kind of heady! :-) It's delightful to realize that while extensive unemployment has been really hard on my self-esteem and taken a real toll on my sense of self-worth (I think knowing this is the case doesn't diffuse it, unfortunately,it just lends some perspective), there are so many things I'm qualified to do, and if I just adjust my thinking accordingly, perhaps deviate a bit from the course one would take if handed my resume and blithely told to assume my identity....all things are possible. It is so incredibly heartening to see opportunities, even if they're still really amorphous, like communicating with a potential employer after seeing a Craigslist ad. See, I think I assumed I was safe from the constraints of doing things in order to please others--I'm not pursuing certain vocations to please either parent, for instance. What I hadn't accounted for, however, was some serious inflexibility in my own thinking. I wouldn't even consider it an attempt to 'reinvent myself'--kind of a popular phrase in the self-improvement parlance. I'm young enough where it's perhaps just a correction in course.
Regardless, there is one opportunity in particular I'm especially excited about. The short version on why I won't elaborate: 1. I'm privy to magical thinking (beware a REALLY reductive, simplified explanation here): the tendency to think that the way we think or speak about something we desire, or fear, either end of the spectrum works, can actually influence the outcome. I consider it a neurosis, not an asset. Nevertheless I recognize that while it's irrational, and not in line with my spiritual thinking, it's potent. 2. In this age, everyone's media-savvy. If a prospective employer locates my blog, I'd rather have it appear that I'm appropriately restrained in what I share--especially considering that I don't want to conflate my eagerness and excitement about the position with overconfidence. Or have it appear that way. 
In any event, EXCITING!!!!!!! The kind of excitement that'll diminish, surely, if the opportunities I'm presently stoked about don't come to fruition--but still, the kind that breeds a more broad sense of peace. An 'I got this'. Kind of refreshing.

[I know it was pretty insulting of me to switch font colors to usher in #51, because I imagine pretty much anyone stumbling upon this blog post can discern the difference between me waxing endlessly about my love for--and desire to obtain a second--dog(s), and a bubbling editorial on some prospective jobs. In case anyone couldn't, I went maroon for you.]

52.) Observation. When I'm driving, and encounter a vehicle with an out of state license plate, I'm prone to be a little saucy. Not visibly so--I'm an extremely polite driver. We're talking total private passive aggression. This frequently entails me saying something like, "Heh, maybe that's cool in MICHIGAN, pal..." when the driver does something minor- that normally wouldn't perturb me. (You can substitute any state for Michigan--the sentiment's the same. My inexplicable juvenile attitude does not discriminate amongst the 49 states.) I certainly hope I'm not the cause of similar disdain. I've spent extensive amounts of time in Vermont and Ontario. Wonder how many people have been scornfully derisive when Myrtle the Murano has committed some negligible offense, like braking too quickly at a light...."Maybe that's how you roll in ILLINOIIIIIIIIIIYYYYS." I suppose I'd deserve it. The beauty is this all occurs in the confines of my own car, and I feel not even the slightest annoyance toward the actual driver. Just, as I noted, an observation.....just a funny quirk considering I'm often disarmingly friendly (too open, in fact) with strangers. :-)

53.) I'm gonna need you not to question the veracity of this, no matter what your first impulse is. Yesterday at the forest preserve, I was walking, prepping to jog, when up ahead I saw a deer. Not uncommon. It was standing directly next to one of those huge city-issued industrial tin garbage cans, painted green (the can, not the deer, stay with me), and I noticed it notice me. Its ears pricked, we locked eyes, its senses were heightened, the whole deal. Then?

It spit. into. the. garbage. can. There's really nothing else to say. 

True. Story.

54.) In a recent post (http://blogtitletbdfornow.blogspot.com/2011/01/36.html), I introduced you to Kaya and Darwin, two dogs whose breed I now know to be American Indian Eskimo. At the time I'd only (and I'll ask you now, in advance, to grow up) seen their holes, and posted the photo depicting them. Now, I've met them numerous times, and they've even cavorted a bit (Darwin more readily than Kaya) with Hugo. Here are a few more pics of them on the perimeter of their kingdom. I dig these dogs, big time. Love them long time. You're gonna wanna say a silent prayer of thanks for me having discovered Picnick, because I'm able to condense tons of photos into one or two, thanks to their collage function, and it makes these interminable blog posts a bit more palatable, no?

GORGEOUS. BOTH PREOCCUPIED WITH HUGO, WHOM YOU'LL SEE IN THE NEXT SHOT, CERTAINLY KEPT HIS DISTANCE. THEY'RE SWEET, THOUGH, AND WERE WHIMPERING FOR HIM TO COME CLOSER. HE, IN TURN, WAS WHIMPERING SOMETHING UNINTELLIGIBLE THAT SOUNDED LIKE "MOM, GET OOOOOVER HERE, THEY'RE HUGE!!"

CONTENT TO ACQUAINT HIMSELF FROM A DISTANCE.

COUSINS.
GORGEOUS.
THE ONLY DARWIN I'LL EVER LIKE. :)

55.) So, oral surgery was a blast, natch. Check out the comparison photos. I wish I'd thought to take one earlier. The swelling was far more grotesque. Ah well, you get the picture. :) I'm grateful it's over. And appreciative of ALL of your prayers during the painful time preceding and following it!

God bless & thanks for reading!!

I sincerely hope this blog'll get more interesting as I rediscover the ability to write.

Thanks for your patience in the meantime.