Today my company arranged for employees to volunteer, on company time, at a variety of local non-profit organizations. Several of us chose a local battered women’s shelter. And there was plenty to do. Half of our group went to sort out the donated foods. The expired goods needed to be thrown out, including a box of jello mix from the 70s. I kid you not. The rest of us took on the more pleasant task of sorting and organizing holiday gift donations. Which, for the most part, were wonderful and plentiful. The shelter requests that any donated toys be of a non-violent nature, so instead of little soldiers with guns and whatnot there were fleets of hot wheels cars and trucks. And more unisex toys like building blocks, puzzles, art supply kits, stuffed animals, card and board games, discmans, DVDs and videos, and more. I could have done without all the vapid looking Barbies and their ilk, but what can you do. And I had no idea that those creepy cabbage patch kids were still being produced. But hopefully they will bring the little ones a little happiness.

There’s a letter I need to write, but I’m going to try to sort out my thoughts here first. Let me say this has long been a controversial issue, and not everyone will agree with my stance, but here it is. One night last week I’d been working late, then running errands afterwards…so I found myself in the car when NPR’s The World came on. I don’t listen regularly, but when I do I have often enjoyed this program. And had never before had a problem with the host, Lisa Mullins. But considering NPR’s long-standing pro-Israeli bias, I was surprised to hear her interviewing two ISM organizers. To clarify, the International Solidarity Movement (ISM) is Palestinian-led, and comprised of Palestinian and International activists working towards:
a) raising awareness of the struggle for Palestinian freedom, and
b) an end to Israeli occupation.
They utilize nonviolent, direct-action methods of resistance to confront and challenge illegal Israeli occupation forces and policies. They believe that nonviolence can be a powerful weapon in fighting oppression and are committed to the principles of nonviolent resistance. We have some firsthand knowledge of the ISM as J’s former roommate, a compassionate and dedicated individual, has made trips to Palestine, volunteering for them. This humanitarian group assists with the basics of every day life. Helping people get through the roadblocks (that severely limit legitimate travel) to get to the hospital, to obtain food, to work, to harvest their crops, to go to school. I don’t think the general public, at least here in the U.S., realizes just how impoverished and devastated the Palestinian people are, after years of oppresive occupation. The Israeli government has been diverting water supplies from Palestinian population centers to Jewish-only settlements, has responded to peaceful demonstrations with brutal police force, has imposed collective punishment for crimes committed by individuals, and on and on. Much of it in violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention.
So back to the program. Often enough it’s just background noise as I’m driving along, lost in my own thoughts. But my ears perked up when the ISM was mentioned and I started paying close attention. The guests were a Palestinian man and an Israeli Jewish woman, both ISM activists. Both were extrememly articulate, and concealed well what must have been serious frustration with the program’s host. The host who seemed to have a set agenda, and was sticking to her preconceived notions, prepared questions and remarks. It’s been some time since I’ve heard such an awkward interview, caused by the interviewer’s ineptness. Instead of altering her questions according to her guests’ responses, she clung dearly to her biased queries with thinly-veiled hostility and obvious ignorance. She made multiple attempts to equate the ISM’s good will work with that of terrorist groups, and accused the ISM of provoking Israeli soldiers with their non-violent actions (yes, let’s blame the victims). That’s like trying to say the American Red Cross or Doctors Without Borders are terrorist organizations. It was so frustrating. It could have been a great public awareness raising opportunity (and hopefully it still was, to some degree) but was certainly marred by the palpable tension. So I plan to let NPR/PRI know just what I thought of it. If you’d like more information about these complex issues, there are some good sites out there. As well as the main ISM site, there is one for their North American office, and a similar group out there called SUSTAIN. For general news articles about the conflict, one of my favorite journalists is Robert Fisk of the UK’s Independent.

It’s time to step up on to my soap box for a moment. On this, the 54th international Human Rights Day, there are more problems than ever to address.

• Here in the U.S. there are two executions scheduled to take place today, when, according to Amnesty International, “more than half the countries of the world have turned their backs on judicial killing, recognizing its incompatibility with human dignity, its failure to have any special deterrent effect, and its capacity for fatal error”.
• Citizens throughout the African continent face a plethora of challenges, ranging from extreme poverty and overwhelming health problems to a lack of democratic rights.
• In Russia Amnesty International is “launching a major worldwide campaign to highlight the discrepancy between the human rights protection which those living in Russia have in international and national law, and the reality of widespread human rights abuses committed in a climate of impunity.”
• There is so much to be said about human rights abuses being faced by the people of Iraq.
• Recently in Glasgow an Iranian asylum-seeker was beaten and stabbed.
• Human Rights Watch is marking the day by releasing a report documenting eight months of investigation and challenges to the Australian government’s policy on asylum seekers, as a breach of the country’s international obligations to protect refugees.

That’s just a brief highlight…to illustrate that it’s bad everywhere. Which leaves me feeling frustrated, exhausted and overwhelmed. And torn between laying down and accepting things, as they are, and wanting desperately to do something…to bring about change. So what can I do? I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Sigh.

Weird weekend. We didn’t leave the house. At all. Which isn’t the worst…but I wasn’t terribly productive while homebound. As I wound up feeling fairly ill. But I still managed to enjoy myself. Most of the time. Kept myself distracted by finishing one and nearly another of the Jonathan Carroll novels I picked up. And J got me totally hooked on Invader Zim. I’d heard of the show, but had never before experienced the glory of it…as I’ve been mostly cable-free, intentionally, as an adult. Had it hooked up for a six month stretch, but that was only to appease a former roommate. Note the word former. Anyhow, I try to limit our television/video intake. But wound up giving in to the little man far too often this weekend. I felt too sick and weak to put up much of a fight. And he’s figured out how to work the DVD player’s remote. I tried to vary his selections a bit, at least. Instead of all Monsters, Inc. all the time, I popped in the “Iron Giant” and Schoolhouse Rock. But because of the latter, I had the pronoun song in my head all night. Especially between midnight and 4am. When I should have been sleeping. But wasn’t. Due to an unfortunate alarm clock accident. The electricity in the house, especially my bedroom, is a bit flaky. The power blips on and off occasionally, causing the need to reset the clock. Which was half-done the other day. The time was corrected, but the alarm was left to its default setting. I’d gone to bed early. Without thinking to check it, I just flipped the switch to set the alarm. And collapsed into a deep deep sleep. So I was thoroughly confused when jarred awake around midnight, by the voice of a BBC announcer. Doh. Couldn’t fall asleep again for several hours. Read a bit, all the time with “Now I have a friend named Rufus Xavier Sarsaparilla…” replaying itself in the back of my head. Ugh. Need more sleep. And less Schoolhouse Rock.

So maybe my 96+ year-old house is falling apart a bit. And my three year-old son might be helping it along. But it’s still standing…and it’s cozy and comfortable. After the busy week we’ve had I am quite content to bask in its glory, now that it’s been freshly-cleaned (courtesy of J, a thousand thanks). This is a major deviation from our initial plan, though. That would have had us rushing around all over town. First to attend my employer-sponsored children’s holiday party. That was to start promptly at 8am at the death star. And then on to catch part of the Free First Saturday line-up at the Walker Art Center. Instead I’m doubting if we’ll get out of our pajamas before noon. Ah, it’s good to be home.

Listening to lovely Low b-sides and rarities, including many cover songs that surpass their originals. And trying to figure out what J and I were talking about recently…that led him to ask me “when did insanity ever stop you before?” I recall that it was quite funny at the time. And probably would be still, if I could remember why…or what we were talking about. In other news, a trial size bottle of ShiKai hand lotion ruptured in my messenger bag earlier today. Containment attempts have failed thus far. No word yet on whether the Spanish military will be deployed to assist. They seem to have enough on their hands. And, greasy as it is, my bag does smell nicer now.

Today I was making my way through the crowded skyways when I noticed an older gentleman. Who seemed somehow familiar. I couldn’t help but stare for a moment. I walked on, puzzled. Where did I know him from? Was he an old high-school teacher? Did I work with him at some point? Was he a former neighbor? Or a distant relation? When the answer came to me I felt so foolish I had to laugh. He was none of the above. He just happened to be a William B. Davis look-alike. You know, the actor who played The Cigarette-Smoking Man on The X-Files. Yeah, I watched a lot of TV in my day. Much too much, in fact. But these days I limit my intake to BtVS. Naturally.

Finished another of Jonathan Carroll’s earlier novels last night. I started reading him just recently, though I’d heard about him from around the way. So I borrowed a few of his books and began consuming them in a haphazard fashion. I set out with his most recent (at that time) novel, “The Wooden Sea”. Then jumped to his first, “The Land of Laughs”. And back up to his second most recent, “The Marriage of Sticks”. And down on to his second “Voice of Our Shadow”. I picked up “Sleeping in Flame” over the weekend, but I’m not entirely sure where it lies in the spectrum. I do know that this odd order seems fitting, considering Carroll’s writing style. I love his unpredictability. It can seem like he’s all over the place, but then he’ll tie all threads together neatly. But not too neatly. His work is realistic but surreal. It’s funny, it’s frightening, it’s fantasy. Each book has been a helluva good read. Not sure which one I’ll pick up next. But his newest novel, “White Apples“, is out, and receiving rave reviews.

Well, those plans are shot. I was having unusually odd dreams this morning, in the nine minute increments between hitting the snooze button on my alarm clock. The alarm is set to radio. And public radio at that, instead of the uber-annoying beeping. So that may have influenced my dreams somewhat. But it all came to a grinding halt when the little man burst into my room (the kid knows how to make an entrance) a full half hour earlier than he usually does. That whole thing is pretty new to begin with. He only recently defeated the safety cover on his doorknob. It was there to give me twenty minutes or so of peace in the morning…so I could shower, dress, pack lunches, and sometimes check my email, before attending to his needs. Then I’d enter his room to either find him asleep still, or happily playing with building blocks. Alas, those days are gone. Now that he’s more mobile. But thankfully there are frozen waffles to keep him occupied. And he has yet to defeat the safety lock on the fridge.

In other news…just got off the phone with J, who is back at the batcave. Ok, our house. But batcave sounds cooler. I’ve been stressing a bit all day…wondering whether or not a package arrived safely to the house. I’d been checking the airborne express delivery tracking page (somewhat compulsively, as you do) and was shocked and dismayed to discover my package had been delivered at 9:08 this morning…to someone else. To a receptionist somewhere. Whose named sounded not at all familiar. Who signed for my package. Immediately I called up airborne express to inform them of this egregious error. The customer service rep was so nonchalant about it, but assured me it would be taken care of. Hours later she called back. While I was in a meeting. And I couldn’t confirm that she spoke the truth. I frantically called J to see if he’d received the package, but he was out and about. After hours of fretting, he called. And yes, the package had arrived. Along with an added bonus. My new issue of Bust Magazine was also delivered today. Yay!