Saturday, December 29, 2007

There is still time!



Christmas season isn't officially over. What do you get for the girl who has everything? Chigurh's air gun, doy! Or a Pit Bull that can swim really well.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Tuesday night

In case you wondering what I was up to or have been concerned about my well-being. All is well. And yes in order for Pug to sit on my lap I must put down a towel for fear of what might leak out of him.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Early Warning


Sparkly, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



Endymion rolls in Mid City for the first time since before the storm, dudes. Saturday - February 2. Mardi Gras is on the 5th. If you can make it out and make it down.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Getting Well-er


DSC_0120.JPG, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



Just wanted to make a quick post to tell everyone that my mom's surgery went very well. Lots of nail biting took place. My mom got a super sweet hospital suite by luck. The hospital is at capacity since the storm supposedly, so we had to wait several hours after her surgery to get a room. Long story short we had posh accomodations with a sleeper couch so Megan and I got to stay with her every night she was there. (Sleep over party and blood bag fight!)

The nurses and staff were great and we got to witness a Code Pink. I was walking up the stairs with celebatory cookies and a nurse popped out of the third floor door and asked, "Do you have a baby in there?" To which I responded, "You lost a baby."
As I made my way back to my mom's room I saw staff of all shapes and sizes squealing, "Oh shit! Code Pink!"

I think they found the baby later on.

Sandra Rae is recovering nicely though. She is throwing all of her troubles to the wind. Or to the ducks, respectively.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Katrina Kauses Kancer

So, tomorrow morning Pugsley goes in for the official removal of his balls. Say a prayer and shed a tear folks. Tis a sad day for all ball aficionados. He may or may not have Prostate Cancer. Three Vet fingers up a swollen Pug anus can only show so much. This will be revealed in the surgery I am sure.

On Wednesday my mother - my hero - goes in for a Bilateral Mastectomy.
Don't just say a prayer, but light a football field full of Novenas on
this one. Megan and I will be spending lots of time at the hospital
this week. We have great plans of graffiti-tagging a pro-life poster that is in front of the institution. Shhhh - don't tell anyone. (I am kidding.)

And I am well aware that there are three K's up there. That was just meant to be in poor taste. And kind of funny. And its true - Cancer rates have skyrocketed in the coastal region since Katrina. Stress = Cancer. Pugsley is stressed.

Monday, November 19, 2007

I Heart...Everything.



Did you see Alan Moore on The Simpsons with Art Spiegelman and Daniel Clowes? I met two of those people - but NOT Alan Moore. Le Sigh, someday.



Also, I saw Beowulf tonight so Mr. Gaiman gets an honorable mention.

Pssst... thanks everyone for the kind gifts, letters, words and phone calls. We really appreciate it down here. I heart you too.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Friday, November 09, 2007

Balls.

So, I am in New Orleans rocking it hard with Sandra Rae. She is quite possibly stronger than Frank Miller's Batman in A Dark Knight.

In our daily coming and goings we often drive past the 17th street canal. You know the one:



Some awesome person has taken it upon themselves to build a huuuuuuuge mansion right where the levee broke. It is huge. But, not as huge as their balls. (Or ovaries respectively.) I love them.

Speaking of balls - imagine the Mona Lisa without her smile. Hurts, don't it?

Now imagine my Pug, Pugsley, without his big black balls. Hurts worst, right?


Pug Slurp, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



After 14 years of life Mr. Pugsley may be facing his remaining years as a Castratto. (There are medical reasons for this.)

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

A shot in the dark.



Good Bye Chicago. You were an abusive boyfriend who loved me tenderly from time to time. I love the people I know there and miss them with all my heart.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

It is against my religion to not like this movie.



Pretty dresses and shoes, dreamy cinematography set to Joy Division and Siouxsie Sioux, pastry eating, and pug snuggling.



It would go against everything I stand for to not love this movie. Sofia Coppola, you had me at "Lick the Star".

Friday, October 12, 2007

Ghost of Corporate Future (Past)

This song came on my shuffle as I made my way to my last day of work in Chicago. I thought it was appropriate.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Roommates of Past and Present Collide


enron shannon, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



Erin is in town. She and I will snuggle soon. She got to meet my current roommate Lauren. Phoenetically their first and last names are very similar. I wonder what that means?

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

New Camera, Last Work Week, Soon - New Old Home


Art, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



I finally got a Digital SLR. I was really scared to touch it. I brought it home as soon as I got it. I pet it and cooed, "My precious." That's how my roommate found me. Creepy. I think I will name my camera Ouroboros.

I spent all of Friday night trying to figure it out and taking pictures of my feet.

I also bore witness to Ms. Robin Mill's magical powers as she ran the Chicago Marathon with her dad. She also passed the Bar. Her next feat - beat up war. (I have used that line like three times already.)




Also, this is my last week of work. I will be packing up and hopefully spending time with YOU before I move to New Orleans. One of my oldest and dearest friends will be coming up to get me around November 2nd.



So get your Shannon time in before she devotes it entirely to Sandra Rae adventures. When I had a Myspace profile I listed her and Buffy as my heroes. Not much has changed.

And one final entertainment note - get thee to MCA. It is teh awesome. I especially liked the Slater Bradley installation and getting to see Thax Douglas walking through a rainbow room.

Friday, October 05, 2007

Things that I like. No, love.


buffy 5, originally uploaded by Gemini Ace.




Thanks to my roommate, I am re-watching a lot of old Buffy episodes. I used to think the first season was awkward and kind of hard to watch. Not so. It is awesome. I love Buffy so hard. I almost forgot how hard.

You want to know what I also love? You guessed it - the Tamales Man. I know its kind of sick, but the cheese tamales are so awesome with Beer or Shannon Tonics it makes me cry a little.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Full Nights at the Empty Bottle


Bat For Lashes, originally uploaded by Glastonbury on the BBC.



While all of the hipsters were geeking out to Dan Deacon, we saw Bat For Lashes with the Nerdsters. Their performance was like watching a History textbook come to life. In a really good – heart tingly kind of way.

Lewis and Clarke opened. They did a slow, creepy cover of Jackson C. Frank's "Carnival". I almost exploded.

It drizzled on our way home.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Crunked


Crunked, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.

This weekend was full of physicality, deep conversations, and copious amounts of alcohol consumption. To the max! I don't even remember taking that photo let alone putting on that headband. I just found this picture in my bag - hot.

I have two weeks to go in the corporate publishing world before I start moving my earthly goods to my sister's in Ann Arbor AND getting everything ready before I move down South.

I feel like Superman when he got infected by that plant from Krypton and he drove down to Louisiana and Swamp Thing saved him. I feel just like that.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Monday, September 24, 2007

Song of the Open Road

I have been thinking a lot about this man lately and this poem:

Song of the Open Road

1

AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, 5
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them. 10

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

2

You road I enter upon and look around! I believe you are not all that is here; 15
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, neither preference or denial;
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple, 20
The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town,
They pass—I also pass—anything passes—none can be interdicted;
None but are accepted—none but are dear to me.

3

You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings, and give them shape! 25
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I think you are latent with unseen existences—you are so dear to me.

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships! 30
You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings! 35
From all that has been near you, I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me;
From the living and the dead I think you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

4

The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted, 40
The cheerful voice of the public road—the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel! O public road! do you say to me, Do not leave me?
Do you say, Venture not? If you leave me, you are lost?
Do you say, I am already prepared—I am well-beaten and undenied—adhere to me?

O public road! I say back, I am not afraid to leave you—yet I love you; 45
You express me better than I can express myself;
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all great poems also;
I think I could stop here myself, and do miracles;
(My judgments, thoughts, I henceforth try by the open air, the road;) 50
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me;
I think whoever I see must be happy.

5

From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute, 55
Listening to others, and considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

I inhale great draughts of space;
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine. 60

I am larger, better than I thought;
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me;
I can repeat over to men and women, You have done such good to me, I would do the same to you.

I will recruit for myself and you as I go; 65
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go;
I will toss the new gladness and roughness among them;
Whoever denies me, it shall not trouble me;
Whoever accepts me, he or she shall be blessed, and shall bless me.

6

Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear, it would not amaze me; 70
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d, it would not astonish me.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air, and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Here a great personal deed has room;
A great deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men, 75
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law, and mocks all authority and all argument against it.

Here is the test of wisdom;
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools;
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it, to another not having it;
Wisdom is of the Soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, 80
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities, and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the Soul.

Now I reëxamine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds, and along the landscape and flowing currents. 85

Here is realization;
Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him;
The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me? 90
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

Here is adhesiveness—it is not previously fashion’d—it is apropos;
Do you know what it is, as you pass, to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

7

Here is the efflux of the Soul; 95
The efflux of the Soul comes from within, through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions:
These yearnings, why are they? These thoughts in the darkness, why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me, the sun-light expands my blood?
Why, when they leave me, do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under, but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? 100
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees, and always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver, as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman, drawing his seine by the shore, as I walk by, and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s or man’s good-will? What gives them to be free to mine? 105

8

The efflux of the Soul is happiness—here is happiness;
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times;
Now it flows unto us—we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character;
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman; 110
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old;
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments;
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

9

Allons! whoever you are, come travel with me! 115
Traveling with me, you find what never tires.

The earth never tires;
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first—Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first;
Be not discouraged—keep on—there are divine things, well envelop’d;
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell. 120

Allons! we must not stop here!
However sweet these laid-up stores—however convenient this dwelling, we cannot remain here;
However shelter’d this port, and however calm these waters, we must not anchor here;
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us, we are permitted to receive it but a little while.

10

Allons! the inducements shall be greater; 125
We will sail pathless and wild seas;
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements!
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules! 130
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests!

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.

Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance;
None may come to the trial, till he or she bring courage and health. 135

Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself;
Only those may come, who come in sweet and determin’d bodies;
No diseas’d person—no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes;
We convince by our presence. 140

11

Listen! I will be honest with you;
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes;
These are the days that must happen to you:

You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve, 145
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d—you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction, before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you;
What beckonings of love you receive, you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.

12

Allons! after the GREAT COMPANIONS! and to belong to them! 150
They too are on the road! they are the swift and majestic men; they are the greatest women.
Over that which hinder’d them—over that which retarded—passing impediments large or small,
Committers of crimes, committers of many beautiful virtues,
Enjoyers of calms of seas, and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land, 155
Habitués of many distant countries, habitués of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers down of coffins, 160
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years—the curious years, each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely, their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth—Journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content, 165
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

13

Allons! to that which is endless, as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights, 170
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys;
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you—however long, but it stretches and waits for you; 175
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it—enjoying all without labor or purchase—abstracting the feast, yet not abstracting one particle of it;
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go, 180
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them—to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road—as many roads—as roads for traveling souls.

14

The Soul travels;
The body does not travel as much as the soul; 185
The body has just as great a work as the soul, and parts away at last for the journeys of the soul.

All parts away for the progress of souls;
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments,—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of Souls along the grand roads of the universe.

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

Forever alive, forever forward, 190
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go;
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

15

Allons! whoever you are! come forth! 195
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Allons! out of the dark confinement!
It is useless to protest—I know all, and expose it.

Behold, through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people, 200
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession;
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors, 205
In the cars of rail-roads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bed-room, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself, 210
Speaking of anything else, but never of itself.

16

Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? nature? 215
Now understand me well—It is provided in the essence of things, that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.

My call is the call of battle—I nourish active rebellion;
He going with me must go well arm’d;
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.

17

Allons! the road is before us! 220
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well.

Allons! be not detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher! 225
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

Mon enfant! I give you my hand!
I give you my love, more precious than money,
I give you myself, before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? 230
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Read Megan's Blog - she has great things to say about the Jenna 6 and Vitter. Stop being stupid Louisiana, or I will come down there and make you stop.

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Run Away! Run Away!

I am full of vitriol and anger lately. To get rid of said aggression I usually just go out and beat up a hobo. Or I find a person smaller than me – so basically children – to smack around.

No, that would be crazy. And illegal.

I have been running!

And I will be running in Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Race. You can DONATE HERE.

This is why.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Twinventures


Twinventures, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.

Need to start doing this again.

Soon?

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Work Flowers


Picture 114, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.

They feel like brains.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

A me flower - I bloom pictures.


Me!, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



Sooo, I take a lot of pictures. And then I fell onto my camera while hiking with Megan, Erin, and Robin in Turkey Run, Indiana. Rather than going out and buying a whole new point and shoot, I got my PowerShot SD550 fixed. Rest assured, however, I will be buying a brand new camera in the not to distant future.

More specifically a Digital SLR Nikon D80. Droooooooooooooool.

You will now be able to see my mercilessly documented life in high def. Hopefully.

More news coming...

Saturday, September 08, 2007

People try to put us d-down (talkin bout my generation)



I was introduced to this gem thanks to my lovely co-worker. My mom watched it and later asked, "So, do you drink a lot of PBR?"

Priceless.

And thanks again Wikipedia:

"Etymologically, the words "hep" and “hip” derived from the African Wolof tribe’s word “hipi” meaning; “to see”.[1] The word was used in many African communities of the Diaspora since their time of transplantation from their original locale."

So, really I just see.

In other news I got an early Birthday card entitled, "A message from Sheikh Osama Bin Laden to the American people."

"You permitted Bush to complete his first term, and stranger still, chose him for a second term, which gave him a clear mandate from you... to continue to murder our people in Iraq and Afghanistan".

It is hard to not agree with that point. And I understand the purpose of the tape is really just to show he is still alive.

But, its like putting Jeffrey Dahmer in a Milk add. I mean yeah Milk IS good for your bones and everything, but now I can't stop thinking of Dahmer eating fat ladies with a milk mustache when I want Milk.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

24 More Years!


Apocolypse, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



From Me: (all e-mailed to friends)

Hello Folks,

I have aged. Or will officially age on the 11th. Never forget.
This is my first birthday without my twin tower. Come help me celebrate my 24th year of life and my first year of solitude - the only way I know how to celebrate = with pizza, beer, and ping pong.

Happy Village
1059 N. Wolcott Ave.
773-486-1512
8:00 pm
Tuesday - September 11,2007 (a school night!)

Grab your pizza of choice before you get there. I am getting mine from Pizza Metro. (This is because it is delicious.)
There is also a Tamale man that stops by the bar. So, there are options. I am looking out for you here.

It is supposed to be in the 60's that night, so come enjoy the last bit of patio season with your friend and mine - me.
If all goes according to plan I should be drunk by 8:15.

Call if you have questions. And bring friends. So I feel popular.

From Megan:

It's time to choose sides, people. You know that scenic Ann Arbor with its Huron River, one hipster bar and your more favorite twin is the better option. Forget this hobag.

From Me:

Yeah and when you choose that side remember what side you are choosing - one full of non-shaven legs, the stink of patchouli oil, and massive amounts of String Cheese Incident. At least all of us city dwelling, bike riding, PBR drinking hipsters are saving the world fashionably. While wearing deodorant. My twin is a dumb dyke! Happy Birthday Megan!!!

From Mike: (He wishes he was our twin. Then maybe our parents would love him more.)
Fuck that noise. Come to New Orleans and get the best of both worlds.
Don't believe that there are only two options available to you.
There is a third (and fourth and fifth and so on)! And even though I
don't know twice as many as half of you in this reply, you can bring
me presents for my upcoming birthday. Boycott the twins!

Thursday, August 30, 2007

This is perfect!



And just in time for Critical Mass tomorrow. Almost Happy Friday!

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Ehhnnnn

It blooms awesome. Seeing it on the big screen, just has a different effect.


The Dark Knight, originally uploaded by eddie..



"Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

Friday, August 24, 2007

Monday, August 20, 2007

Shanina!


shannonjanaina, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.



A little history lesson. Janina V. and I first met when we were fifteen years old. We were on a Study Abroad program in Australia. I was placed in Melbourne and she in Adelaide. On an official USAC safarri we traveled by bus and tent through the great continent of Australia with other kids in the program who were stationed in Tasmania as well. (That would be my twin's group including the great Robin and Jake-a-rooni.) Janina and I bonded over Tim-Tams and cried in the outback about the pains of adolescence as Dreamtime settled all around us. She and I only knew each other for two and a half weeks.

We kept in touch through the years via e-mail, letters and phone calls. She knew my deep dark secrets and I knew hers. We were a distant, objective ear.

Fast forward to 2004 and I am on another Study Abroad program in the Czech Republic. I took a side trip to Rotterdam, Holland to see Janaina. We had not seen each other since Australia. Much to our delight we got along better than well. We bonded over the pains of post-adolescence and Dutch cookies as our Mushroom induced dreaming settled all around us.

Janina is in America. So far we have seen Jeff Wall prints, had romantic strolls through the park, ridden our bikes drunkenly through the city, seen a petting zoo of rats with Robin at Happy Village, set up a video rental for both of us, fought trolls with umbrellas, disgusted and surprised each other with how sick we both are, ran through the rain and subsequently danced in our underwear to Kate Bush (ok it was just me - I like what God gave me- sue me), and we have eatten a lot of cupcakes.

And we are also heart-breakingly photogenic.

Yay for seeing the world!

Friday, August 10, 2007

Inspiration



Like a breath of fresh air.

Dear Life,

Thanks for being insane.

Love,
Shannon

Megan Flower

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

B (log) Vitamins

I apologize for my lack of Blogging lately. A lot has been going on. I just moved to a new hood and I am having Rogers Park withdrawals. Just joking. It takes me 15 minutes to get to work by bike now and I pass what I (my nose) think is a Bread Factory and a pool (my eyes).


Suffice to say - lots of changes are happening and are about to happen. Thank God for all of my awesome friends and brother who have been helping my sister and I move /cope with shiznit.


Also, you should check out Megan's Blog to get some perspective: Red Beans and Lice. Watch Kota howl and hear from Megan's mouth how awesome I am. And my mom. Sandra Rae is awesome. Just think about THAT.




And it wouldn't be a Shannon Post without an entertainment recommendation:




I saw Sunshine with Mike, Funzi and Megan this weekend. It was (Mike you will like this) AMAZING.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

A Long Blog for a Long Day



This week has been super busy. I meant to write a really detailed account of my magical weekend from last week, but had to make a quick trip to New Orleans for family matters.

I will give a few suggestions for those who live in Chicago. Firstly, go to Public Pools and parks. The Chicago Park District is a thing of beauty. You will be greeted by tons of little kids who want to swim with you and comment on your boy choices. LaToya thinks Megan's dude is "ugly". And the water is ice, ice cold.

Second suggestion - Go to the Puerto Rican festival in Humboldt Park. It is way tastier than St. Patrick's Day. Get the stick full of meat and a Pina Colada in a Pineapple.

And third, next time Dax Riggs comes to town - go. You know that really tense video of David Bowie and Mick Jagger dancing and singing with each other? Well, when they were done shooting they went down to the swamps of Louisiana and made love. They had a baby and his name is Dax Riggs.



The show reminded me that sometimes the best part of meeting people are the cds and books they leave behind on your nightstand.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Happy Birthday Red Beans and Lice!



Megan's Blog is a year old today. To celebrate we are going to put our pictures in the LOL Cat generator and go see Knocked Up and photog it all. Generation Y is better than your generation.

PS - This man wants to start his own blog - because he has "things to say".

Interwub - be ready.


Tuesday, June 05, 2007

The Moviegoer

Sandra Rae, mi madre, has been recommending a lot of movies recently. And Virgin, Megastore is closing. So, this got me thinking about movies I would like to buy. A lot of them are from last year. Good show, movie world. Good show.

Thinking about this made me want to list my Top Ten movies from last year. You should watch them.

The Fountain



The Science of Sleep




The Departed



Down in the Valley




The Prestige





Pan's Labyrinth





Children of Men




Brick





Half Nelson






Little Miss Sunshine





Honorable Mention - The Descent







PS - I like posting pictures on my blog.

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Pug Flower


Me and Pug, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.

They bloom poop.

Aren't You Ashamed?

Being a girl is weird. While purchasing some sundries at the local CVS with my co-workers the other day, I was reminded of this fact. I needed some Feminine Products to stop the blood. The cashier asked if I wanted a bag, to which I replied, "No thanks."

She looked up at me with a shocked expression, "Aren't you ashamed?"
Um, no. More than half the population bleeds once a month. If anything, I felt a little crampy. Which is why I also bought me some mood-enhancing Pamprin.



Later that day we met up with JR of Peace Corps glory. He told us that women could only get Pads on the Dominican Island he lived on and they cost three dollars a pop! That could get really expensive on a heavy flow day. Really expensive.

Our Patriarchal World is punishing us for its Womb Envy.

Below is an essay from a dude who created one of the best female characters to ever grace this planet.



Joss Whedon on the ladies.

This is not my blog, but I don't have a blog, or a space, and I'd like to be heard for a bit.

Last month seventeen year old Dua Khalil was pulled into a crowd of young men, some of them (the instigators) family, who then kicked and stoned her to death. This is an example of the breath-taking oxymoron "honor killing", in which a family member (almost always female) is murdered for some religious or ethical transgression. Dua Khalil, who was of the Yazidi faith, had been seen in the company of a Sunni Muslim, and possibly suspected of having married him or converted. That she was torturously murdered for this is not, in fact, a particularly uncommon story. But now you can watch the action up close on CNN. Because as the girl was on the ground trying to get up, her face nothing but red, the few in the group of more than twenty men who were not busy kicking her and hurling stones at her were filming the event with their camera-phones.

There were security officers standing outside the area doing nothing, but the footage of the murder was taken – by more than one phone – from the front row. Which means whoever shot it did so not to record the horror of the event, but to commemorate it. To share it. Because it was cool.

I could start a rant about the level to which we have become desensitized to violence, about the evils of the voyeuristic digital world in which everything is shown and everything is game, but honestly, it's been said. And I certainly have no jingoistic cultural agenda. I like to think that in America this would be considered unbearably appalling, that Kitty Genovese is still remembered, that we are more evolved. But coincidentally, right before I stumbled on this vid I watched the trailer for "Captivity".

A few of you may know that I took public exception to the billboard campaign for this film, which showed a concise narrative of the kidnapping, torture and murder of a sexy young woman. I wanted to see if the film was perhaps more substantial (especially given the fact that it was directed by "The Killing Fields" Roland Joffe) than the exploitive ad campaign had painted it. The trailer resembles nothing so much as the CNN story on Dua Khalil. Pretty much all you learn is that Elisha Cuthbert is beautiful, then kidnapped, inventively, repeatedly and horrifically tortured, and that the first thing she screams is "I'm sorry".

"I'm sorry."

What is wrong with women?

I mean wrong. Physically. Spiritually. Something unnatural, something destructive, something that needs to be corrected.

How did more than half the people in the world come out incorrectly? I have spent a good part of my life trying to do that math, and I'm no closer to a viable equation. And I have yet to find a culture that doesn't buy into it. Women's inferiority – in fact, their malevolence -- is as ingrained in American popular culture as it is anywhere they're sporting burkhas. I find it in movies, I hear it in the jokes of colleagues, I see it plastered on billboards, and not just the ones for horror movies. Women are weak. Women are manipulative. Women are somehow morally unfinished. (Objectification: another tangential rant avoided.) And the logical extension of this line of thinking is that women are, at the very least, expendable.

I try to think how we got here. The theory I developed in college (shared by many I'm sure) is one I have yet to beat: Womb Envy. Biology: women are generally smaller and weaker than men. But they're also much tougher. Put simply, men are strong enough to overpower a woman and propagate. Women are tough enough to have and nurture children, with or without the aid of a man. Oh, and they've also got the equipment to do that, to be part of the life cycle, to create and bond in a way no man ever really will. Somewhere a long time ago a bunch of men got together and said, "If all we do is hunt and gather, let's make hunting and gathering the awesomest achievement, and let's make childbirth kinda weak and shameful." It's a rather silly simplification, but I believe on a mass, unconscious level, it's entirely true. How else to explain the fact that cultures who would die to eradicate each other have always agreed on one issue? That every popular religion puts restrictions on women's behavior that are practically untenable? That the act of being a free, attractive, self-assertive woman is punishable by torture and death? In the case of this upcoming torture-porn, fictional. In the case of Dua Khalil, mundanely, unthinkably real. And both available for your viewing pleasure.

It's safe to say that I've snapped. That something broke, like one of those robots you can conquer with a logical conundrum. All my life I've looked at this faulty equation, trying to understand, and I've shorted out. I don't pretend to be a great guy; I know really really well about objectification, trust me. And I'm not for a second going down the "women are saints" route – that just leads to more stone-throwing (and occasional Joan-burning). I just think there is the staggering imbalance in the world that we all just take for granted. If we were all told the sky was evil, or at best a little embarrassing, and we ought not look at it, wouldn't that tradition eventually fall apart? (I was going to use 'trees' as my example, but at the rate we're getting rid of them I'm pretty sure we really do think they're evil. See how all rants become one?)

Now those of you who frequent this site are, in my wildly biased opinion, fairly evolved. You may hear nothing new here. You may be way ahead of me. But I can't contain my despair, for Dua Khalil, for humanity, for the world we're shaping. Those of you who have followed the link I set up know that it doesn't bring you to a video of a murder. It brings you to a place of sanity, of people who have never stopped asking the question of what is wrong with this world and have set about trying to change the answer. Because it's no longer enough to be a decent person. It's no longer enough to shake our heads and make concerned grimaces at the news. True enlightened activism is the only thing that can save humanity from itself. I've always had a bent towards apocalyptic fiction, and I'm beginning to understand why. I look and I see the earth in flames. Her face was nothing but red.

All I ask is this: Do something. Try something. Speaking out, showing up, writing a letter, a check, a strongly worded e-mail. Pick a cause – there are few unworthy ones. And nudge yourself past the brink of tacit support to action. Once a month, once a year, or just once. If you can't think of what to do, there is this handy link. Even just learning enough about a subject so you can speak against an opponent eloquently makes you an unusual personage. Start with that. Any one of you would have cried out, would have intervened, had you been in that crowd in Bashiqa. Well thanks to digital technology, you're all in it now.

I have never had any faith in humanity. But I will give us props on this: if we can evolve, invent and theorize our way into the technologically magical, culturally diverse and artistically magnificent race we are and still get people to buy the idiotic idea that half of us are inferior, we're pretty amazing. Let our next sleight of hand be to make that myth disappear.

The sky isn't evil. Try looking up.


Joss Whedon enduces my Menstrual Flow. In other girl news, I tried Diet Coke Plus today. It tasted like someone put chalk in Diet Coke.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

I Guess He Has a Type



Remember that time a few weeks ago when my friend Ling and I grabbed a beer at the Rainbo after a disappointing trip to the Empty Bottle? We saw a cute boy walk by and we both nodded in approval. Within a few minutes of sitting down with our drinks said cute boy and friend sat in our booth. Cute boy insisted he take me out on a date later that week. Let’s call him Harry. Harry asked for my number and then called my phone (which was sitting on the table) to make sure I had his phone number. The thing is, Harry stopped being cute when he started to talk.

When he called I was busy with things and a little scared by his enthusiasm. He ended up calling me one evening till five o’clock in the morning just from this one chance encounter. Sweet.

This weekend a couple of friends and I went to the Rainbo again. A cute boy with a beard walked by and we nodded in approval. He then went up to my sister Megan and asked her if she wanted to have a “cocktail” with him. Ling’s eyes got big and she said “That’s the guy who kept calling you!”

We asked Megan what was his name.

“Harry,” she said.

Harry grew a beard.

Well, the dude has a type I guess. And it is the Milliken type. Next time our brother Mike comes into town, we are strapping a wig on him and marching over to Rainbo to see if he gets lucky, lucky with a fellow by the name of “Harry.”