We've been blessed with obnoxious neighbors.
They live below us and have likely raised booming their repetitive music to an art form: they've caused our apartment and its furnishings to VIBRATE. :-(
You know the volume of someone's music must be high if you can feel vibrations through your computer KEYBOARD, as well as feel vibrations through your SHOES while you're standing in the kitchen and it's being boomed from their bedroom!
One warning from the police--who we haven't called...yet, hasn't scared them from causing further disturbances. Nor have several formal complaints filed by us through the apartment management office dissuaded them.
WHY do people feel the need to blast their noise for the whole world to hear? And to KEEP doing it in retailiation for each complaint lodged against them? It's RUDE, and quite immature, to put it mildly. :-(
We have asked them three times in person to please lower the volume. The first time hubby approached them, they were very hostile, which helped to establish in our minds that these people may be dangerous to deal with.
He was greeted with, "Why do you have to knock on the door like the PO-leece?" (Because you had your music blasting so loud, I had to repeatedly bang on your door, dumbass!) Oh? They know how the police knock on their door, do they?
I think they must regularly fry their noodles with something nasty. Hence, our hesitation to call the cops on them, though we were sorely tempted the other night (we called the office instead); they might have a worse retaliation in mind than annoying us with loud music to vibrate our walls. I've had to deal with druggies before in a customer service setting, next to a subway station no less. They're menacing and unpredictable.
Normal people apologize and try not to disturb their neighbors again. Our neighbors living below us don't give a shit.
I would have liked to have seen their faces when the two "PO-leece" officers knocked on their door a couple of weeks ago! At that moment, their music was blasting through the whole building, probably in response to our third formal complaint. Perfect timing! And it was the maintenance man who called someone to call the police on them. He had even less tolerance for the racket than we did...and he told me he left the front door to the apartment building open so the police could come right in. ;-)
The second time we knocked on their door, a different person answered. Maybe a friend of theirs? He wasn't hostile like the other two, and they DID lower the volume, as it was 1 a.m., way past the 10:30 p.m. deadline for loud noises. The third time--which was after we left a note, the bitch half of the couple answered, and was, of course, hostile. Her gorilla partner is equally unapproachable.
They weren't so bad when they moved in last summer. And they stopped playing loud music late in the evenings last fall. But now, they really just don't give a flying fig, and I'm sure they would dance gleefully if we were to move out in disgust.
However, we've been here nearly five years. Much longer than them.
This evening, when they began to play their game of blasting the same music they've played since last summer, for who knows how long (sometimes its 20-30-40-50 or more minutes), hubby got fed up and left to go the university computer lab to concentrate. I stayed put, feeling indignant, because I believe that WE should not feel compelled to leave our home. WE didn't do anything wrong...they're the ones who are causing unnecessary disturbances.
Besides, I was BOILING inside, intending to write a seething, scathing, vitriolic post on our inconsiderate neighbors!
Wouldn't you know it: they stopped about 10 minutes after hubby left. I emailed him to say they had stopped...for now. He ended up coming home an hour later, before he even read my email. :-)
And now, a new development has occurred this week: construction sounds past 10:30 p.m. Yes! Drilling and hammering! Did they think we needed some variety? :-(
I suppose most everyone has an annoying neighbor, to varying degrees. At present, we're just trying to follow office procedures and build a paper trail, to cover our butts. In our most recent complaint to the apartment management, we stated very clearly that if this matter wasn't resolved within a month, we would begin looking for another community to live in, in our city.
The day after, as expected, the assholes below us had their noise thumping, so we called the office, put the phone receiver to the floor, and let the office staff person share our (almost) daily joy. She was shocked. Then she told us what we could do next, since we called saying we wanted to move.
Write a letter to management stating your intention (moving) and reason (unresolved issue with neighbors), she told us, then management will have you come in for a meeting to negotiate options. Like what? Moving US to another of their apartments? I don't think so! WE are acutely aware of the penalties of leaving before our lease is up; however, they'd better come up with something reasonable or they'll lose a loyal tenant when they're already desperate to fill spaces. And they know it.
We haven't written THE LETTER yet. We're waiting for just the right dramatic moment from the dimwit occupants below us before we pounce on them and management in one lucid letter.
Last fall, hubby blasted some twangy country music he thought they'd likely hate (given the stuff they boom to us), and put the radio speakers toward the floor! I don't think it had much effect on them, since I'm sure they have a much better sound system than we could ever care to have. But it was amusing at the time. :-)
I was thinking I wanted to make up a Top Ten list of ways to annoy your neighbors, in the spirit of David Letterman, but I can't come up with ten things to really irritate the alien invaders who live below us.
Besides, now I'm thinking about a huge billboard I saw on Maryland's eastern shore that quoted the words of Mahatma Ghandi:
An eye for an eye will make the whole world go blind.
Maybe someday somebody can invent a spray that will eliminate obnoxious sounds, the way you can disinfect the air from obnoxious odors!
Wouldn't that be nifty?
Pssft.
Oh, it's quiet and peaceful now, thank God! ;-)
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Mush Day!
(otherwise known as Valentine's Day :-))
What IS mush, anyway?
According to Wikipedia, it can be defined as:
Or, how my body has been feeling the last two weeks due to a nasty cold and the worst sore throat of my life. :-(
But those definitions are not what I prefer.
Mush, according to me, is lovey-dovey stuff. Anything romantic, super sweet, sentimental, tear-jerker quality...you get the idea.
I am a MUSHMEISTER! :-D
So on this mushy day, a.k.a. Valentine's Day, I dedicate this post to mush and things mushy, because I am a die-hard mushmeister and proud of it, too.
Others may wince, roll their eyes, spew out sarcastic remarks, or worse, at my melting heart tendencies, but do I care? Of course not! I have to remind myself from time to time that life is too short to worry about other people's opinions of me.
Hubby will always tease me if he catches me getting emotional during certain scenes in a movie, and I will blurt out: "Leave me alone!". I can't help it: I love romantic things!
Now, I do have my limits, such as with certain romance novels which I may find cheaply mass-produced, with little or no substance.
That's why I love classics. Like the works of Shakespeare, as well as the works of the artists, poets, novelists and composers who were part of the romanticism movement of the 18th and 19th centuries. Their words, music, and art can take your imagination to great heights, great places! They certainly have been--and continue to be, a source of comfort and joy to me. :-)
Mush can be a syrupy sweet photo of puppy dogs or kittens or (my fave) baby panda bears. Mush can be a photo of cute babies. Mush doesn't have to be a photo at all. It can be seeing two lovebirds walk past you.
Spontaneous mush is best! I'm not into the contrived sort where little pets (human and otherwise) are dressed up for a studio portrait. Then again, something like movies are a contrived medium. I'd say anything that can make my heart swell or make my eyes well up is mushY!
My top three mush movies? "It's A Wonderful Life", "The Sound of Music" and "Annie Hall". The last one isn't particularly outwardly syrupy, but it's still romantic, regardless of what you think of Woody Allen movies.
And my top mush novels: Jane Eyre, Anna Karenina, and Middlemarch.
How about mushy men? I hope that's not oxymoronic--men tend not to be mushy...I've yet to meet one, though not being mushy doesn't dictate that one can't be affected by an emotional scene! I'm talking about leading men on the silver screen who make women swoon from imagined love and lord knows what else.
My favorite: Sean Connery (yes, I'm a Bond junkie). There's others, but I can't think of them now...they come and go!
Mush is best shared with a significant other! It's somewhat alien to my honey, but he knows it's part of me and I'm here to stay...so there--take it or leave it, dude. ;-b What man in his right mind would resist showers of MUSH on Valentine's Day, anyway? Lots of love and kisses go a long way. You don't need a special day to spread your mush!
Just so I don't forget to tell you: I love that other "mush", too. The one called oatmeal. I have it every morning with ground flaxseed and vanilla yogurt. Helps keep me healthy.
So you see, MUSH and "mush" are both really good for your heart and health. :-)
Here's to mush--plus more than enough to last several lifetimes in your lifetime!
* * * * *
Oh Lift Me!
Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love and kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:~
Oh! Press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
--Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822
What IS mush, anyway?
According to Wikipedia, it can be defined as:
- Mush (cornmeal), a kind of corn pudding or porridge
- Mush, slang meaning man or face.
- Mushing, a sport or transport method powered by dogs or a command to a dog team
- Muş Province, in eastern Turkey
- Muş, the provincial capital of Muş Province
- Mush, a 1992 album by the band Leatherface
- Mush Records, a Los Angeles-based independent record label
- Mush, a nickname for Pakistani president Pervez Musharraf
- Mail User's Shell, a Unix mail user agent
- MUSH, a text-based online social medium
Or, how my body has been feeling the last two weeks due to a nasty cold and the worst sore throat of my life. :-(
But those definitions are not what I prefer.
Mush, according to me, is lovey-dovey stuff. Anything romantic, super sweet, sentimental, tear-jerker quality...you get the idea.
I am a MUSHMEISTER! :-D
So on this mushy day, a.k.a. Valentine's Day, I dedicate this post to mush and things mushy, because I am a die-hard mushmeister and proud of it, too.
Others may wince, roll their eyes, spew out sarcastic remarks, or worse, at my melting heart tendencies, but do I care? Of course not! I have to remind myself from time to time that life is too short to worry about other people's opinions of me.
Hubby will always tease me if he catches me getting emotional during certain scenes in a movie, and I will blurt out: "Leave me alone!". I can't help it: I love romantic things!
Now, I do have my limits, such as with certain romance novels which I may find cheaply mass-produced, with little or no substance.
That's why I love classics. Like the works of Shakespeare, as well as the works of the artists, poets, novelists and composers who were part of the romanticism movement of the 18th and 19th centuries. Their words, music, and art can take your imagination to great heights, great places! They certainly have been--and continue to be, a source of comfort and joy to me. :-)
Mush can be a syrupy sweet photo of puppy dogs or kittens or (my fave) baby panda bears. Mush can be a photo of cute babies. Mush doesn't have to be a photo at all. It can be seeing two lovebirds walk past you.
Spontaneous mush is best! I'm not into the contrived sort where little pets (human and otherwise) are dressed up for a studio portrait. Then again, something like movies are a contrived medium. I'd say anything that can make my heart swell or make my eyes well up is mushY!
My top three mush movies? "It's A Wonderful Life", "The Sound of Music" and "Annie Hall". The last one isn't particularly outwardly syrupy, but it's still romantic, regardless of what you think of Woody Allen movies.
And my top mush novels: Jane Eyre, Anna Karenina, and Middlemarch.
How about mushy men? I hope that's not oxymoronic--men tend not to be mushy...I've yet to meet one, though not being mushy doesn't dictate that one can't be affected by an emotional scene! I'm talking about leading men on the silver screen who make women swoon from imagined love and lord knows what else.
My favorite: Sean Connery (yes, I'm a Bond junkie). There's others, but I can't think of them now...they come and go!
Mush is best shared with a significant other! It's somewhat alien to my honey, but he knows it's part of me and I'm here to stay...so there--take it or leave it, dude. ;-b What man in his right mind would resist showers of MUSH on Valentine's Day, anyway? Lots of love and kisses go a long way. You don't need a special day to spread your mush!
Just so I don't forget to tell you: I love that other "mush", too. The one called oatmeal. I have it every morning with ground flaxseed and vanilla yogurt. Helps keep me healthy.
So you see, MUSH and "mush" are both really good for your heart and health. :-)
Here's to mush--plus more than enough to last several lifetimes in your lifetime!
* * * * *
Oh Lift Me!
Oh lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love and kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:~
Oh! Press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last.
--Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Beauty Rest
It is very peaceful to be up in the early morning hours. No noise downstairs or outside! But truth be told, I am NOT a morning person! %-0 I have more peace at night.
The only reason I'm up and writing at 7 something on a SUNDAY morning is because I was sick last night with pain and nausea and went to bed early.
I know that it is possible to get TOO much sleep. I'd rather get too much than too little! Recent studies have shown that lack of sleep doubles the risk of death from cardiovascular disease and increases the risk for weight gain, hypertension, and Type 2 diabetes. Then again, too much sleep can also double the risk of death...but fewer studies have been done on too much sleep and risk factors. I'd rather err on the too much sleep side! ;-D
And I'm sure you've heard of reports on studies that demonstrated that cognitive performance declines with fewer than eight hours of sleep?
Beauty rest is essential to healthy living! I'm all for healthy living!
I know I mentioned sleep in another post last year, but it's very important to me!
If I don't get my BR (as hubby likes to call beauty rest), I can be reeeeealllly cranky. I had an acquaintance long ago who stayed the night with us and the next morning, for whatever reason, she became Queen Bitch! %-( Snapped at me and my honey! After that visit, I vowed to not be like that, ever! Were we supposed to cut her some slack just because she was a single mom, had been raped at gunpoint in college (in my hometown!) and was daily stressed because of her history and a crazy ex-husband bothering her beyond compare? I didn't think so and I called her on it, too.
It wasn't the first time she snapped at me...and I do think she had gotten as much sleep as we did! Sure, I felt bad for her and her situation, even took time off from work to accompany her to court, but I wasn't the right person to help her out. Eventually, I came to dread her calls and slowly extracted her from my life because she abused our friendship, and despite repeated (empty) apologies, never made amends to stop using me or other people around her as her punching bag when she was frustrated. She completely exhausted me and gave me a reason to run to my cozy bed.
I'm a wild sleeper! When I wake up, the blankets are twisted as if a tornado had gone through our room! But my honey is very peaceful, like my mom. So much so that it scares me once in a while because they both are so STILL, reminding me of how dead people look in their coffin. :-( Even as I gaze upon my honey now, entering his 40th year today (!), he looks very calm lying there under our comforter. :-)
It's very rare that the blankets are smooth when I wake up. I forget I caused it and then when nighttime rolls around, I look at the twisted sheet and blanket and wonder aloud: how did this happen?
Okay, so now I just confessed I don't make the bed. All we have is our comforter, flat sheet, bed sheet and king sized pillow. I used to have a bed cover, but it's in storage. The comforter IS our bedspread! Just cover the bed with it and it looks fine! Sometimes I fold up the blanket like I did when we grew up. No fancy bedcover and pillows--we never had any of that. Mil has always had that, so it takes me a while to make the bed when we visit her--as in a half dozen fancy pillows to throw on top of the bed to make it look pretty and proper.
I've done a lot of sleeping on public transportation in my young life: on planes, trains, and buses. I've even ended up in another city because I fell asleep on the subway train! %-0 I need to get myself a neck pillow because I always end up with a sore neck. And I have missed my stop a few times from snoozing on the bus. What's another few blocks to walk?
Some friends have told me they can't sleep anywhere comfortably except their own home. Maybe they haven't traveled enough? I don't care! I've slept in a roomful of strangers both here and abroad--and not just for one night, but several. If I'm sleepy, I don't intend to deprive myself of much needed beauty rest!
Let's see where else I've snoozed: airports, classrooms (uh oh!), campgrounds, homes of friends or relatives of friends whom I didnt know from Adam, and in another home in another city, via a domestic AFS (American Field Service) weekend exchange that felt more alien than being halfway around the world.
As long as I get my sleep, I'm a happy camper. :-) If not...be careful! ;-0
I'm also incapable of taking short naps. Mine are mega naps--at least an hour. Two is better! When I'm out, I'm OUT! The other day, I took a 20 minute nap, which is miraculous. Hubby can take a five minute nap and feel refreshed. Not me.
How about you?
Without sleep, I wouldn't have fantastic, vivid technicolor dreams to report to my man. Or to myself. Dreams where people from my past and present collide, dreams where characters from movies are chasing me instead of the characters from the film, dreams about other people I've never met--or creatures I've never met, dreams of myself inserted into futuristic scenes that came out of a movie I saw recently, dreams of my family members or relatives doing strange things, or dreams of myself being on the world stage (doing something worthy to benefit humanity)! :-)
How else would I enter an idyllic or fantasy world without sleep? It's a fun, often bizarre, and sometimes nightmarish place to go...and that can make waking up a good thing. But I usually have a terrible time waking up, regardless of how little or how much sleep I got. I like my sleep.
I love my sleep! ;-)
* * * * * * * *
That makes no show for dawn
By stretch of limb or stir of lid, --
An independent one.
Was ever idleness like this?
Within a hut of stone
To bask the centuries away
Nor once look up for noon?
--Emily Dickinson
The only reason I'm up and writing at 7 something on a SUNDAY morning is because I was sick last night with pain and nausea and went to bed early.
I know that it is possible to get TOO much sleep. I'd rather get too much than too little! Recent studies have shown that lack of sleep doubles the risk of death from cardiovascular disease and increases the risk for weight gain, hypertension, and Type 2 diabetes. Then again, too much sleep can also double the risk of death...but fewer studies have been done on too much sleep and risk factors. I'd rather err on the too much sleep side! ;-D
And I'm sure you've heard of reports on studies that demonstrated that cognitive performance declines with fewer than eight hours of sleep?
Beauty rest is essential to healthy living! I'm all for healthy living!
I know I mentioned sleep in another post last year, but it's very important to me!
If I don't get my BR (as hubby likes to call beauty rest), I can be reeeeealllly cranky. I had an acquaintance long ago who stayed the night with us and the next morning, for whatever reason, she became Queen Bitch! %-( Snapped at me and my honey! After that visit, I vowed to not be like that, ever! Were we supposed to cut her some slack just because she was a single mom, had been raped at gunpoint in college (in my hometown!) and was daily stressed because of her history and a crazy ex-husband bothering her beyond compare? I didn't think so and I called her on it, too.
It wasn't the first time she snapped at me...and I do think she had gotten as much sleep as we did! Sure, I felt bad for her and her situation, even took time off from work to accompany her to court, but I wasn't the right person to help her out. Eventually, I came to dread her calls and slowly extracted her from my life because she abused our friendship, and despite repeated (empty) apologies, never made amends to stop using me or other people around her as her punching bag when she was frustrated. She completely exhausted me and gave me a reason to run to my cozy bed.
I'm a wild sleeper! When I wake up, the blankets are twisted as if a tornado had gone through our room! But my honey is very peaceful, like my mom. So much so that it scares me once in a while because they both are so STILL, reminding me of how dead people look in their coffin. :-( Even as I gaze upon my honey now, entering his 40th year today (!), he looks very calm lying there under our comforter. :-)
It's very rare that the blankets are smooth when I wake up. I forget I caused it and then when nighttime rolls around, I look at the twisted sheet and blanket and wonder aloud: how did this happen?
Okay, so now I just confessed I don't make the bed. All we have is our comforter, flat sheet, bed sheet and king sized pillow. I used to have a bed cover, but it's in storage. The comforter IS our bedspread! Just cover the bed with it and it looks fine! Sometimes I fold up the blanket like I did when we grew up. No fancy bedcover and pillows--we never had any of that. Mil has always had that, so it takes me a while to make the bed when we visit her--as in a half dozen fancy pillows to throw on top of the bed to make it look pretty and proper.
I've done a lot of sleeping on public transportation in my young life: on planes, trains, and buses. I've even ended up in another city because I fell asleep on the subway train! %-0 I need to get myself a neck pillow because I always end up with a sore neck. And I have missed my stop a few times from snoozing on the bus. What's another few blocks to walk?
Some friends have told me they can't sleep anywhere comfortably except their own home. Maybe they haven't traveled enough? I don't care! I've slept in a roomful of strangers both here and abroad--and not just for one night, but several. If I'm sleepy, I don't intend to deprive myself of much needed beauty rest!
Let's see where else I've snoozed: airports, classrooms (uh oh!), campgrounds, homes of friends or relatives of friends whom I didnt know from Adam, and in another home in another city, via a domestic AFS (American Field Service) weekend exchange that felt more alien than being halfway around the world.
As long as I get my sleep, I'm a happy camper. :-) If not...be careful! ;-0
I'm also incapable of taking short naps. Mine are mega naps--at least an hour. Two is better! When I'm out, I'm OUT! The other day, I took a 20 minute nap, which is miraculous. Hubby can take a five minute nap and feel refreshed. Not me.
How about you?
Without sleep, I wouldn't have fantastic, vivid technicolor dreams to report to my man. Or to myself. Dreams where people from my past and present collide, dreams where characters from movies are chasing me instead of the characters from the film, dreams about other people I've never met--or creatures I've never met, dreams of myself inserted into futuristic scenes that came out of a movie I saw recently, dreams of my family members or relatives doing strange things, or dreams of myself being on the world stage (doing something worthy to benefit humanity)! :-)
How else would I enter an idyllic or fantasy world without sleep? It's a fun, often bizarre, and sometimes nightmarish place to go...and that can make waking up a good thing. But I usually have a terrible time waking up, regardless of how little or how much sleep I got. I like my sleep.
I love my sleep! ;-)
* * * * * * * *
A Long, Long Sleep, a Famous Sleep
A long, long sleep, a famous sleepThat makes no show for dawn
By stretch of limb or stir of lid, --
An independent one.
Was ever idleness like this?
Within a hut of stone
To bask the centuries away
Nor once look up for noon?
--Emily Dickinson
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Happy 100th Birthday, Simone de Beauvoir!
I remained faithful to my declared intention of turning all that life imposed on me to my own purposes.
--from The Prime of Life, by Simone de Beauvoir
Today is your 100th birthday, Simone! Joyeux anniversaire!
How I wish you were alive today. I will write this as if you are, because I feel you are alive, in spirit. In my mind and in my soul. :-)
In the last six months, since I began reading the first volume of your autobiographies, Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter, you have possessed me.
Revolutionized my thinking. Caused me to want to read everything you wrote. Deepened my convictions about the need for gender equality. Broadened my understanding of the place of women in history as well as what it means to be a woman. Convinced me of the importance of lifelong study of issues important to me, thus becoming more strongly independent-minded. Inspired me to not be afraid of anything: go after what I believe in, go after what I want, and not be bothered by what other people think...to keep an open, inquiring mind.
You have ignited my passion concerning women's issues!
I have been inspired by some great male thinkers in history, but to feel energized by a great female thinker and doer such as yourself brings inspiration to a whole new dimension! Men cannot hope to understand everything, especially about women--because they are not women! The world needs more women like you.
I hope that there will come a day in my lifetime that women such as yourself will not be a rarity. That the bright women today are no longer hidden in the masses. When both women and men will respect brilliant women and be inspired by them, not threatened or intimidated by them. Nor be reduced to saying stupid, sarcastic, and offensive things about women who have their own mind. Things like: a woman is something less of a woman if she is not a mother, doesn't have a man in her life, or has too much ambition in her career pursuits. Or that she must be frigid because of any of the aforementioned things.
Things haven't changed that much for women since The Second Sex published nearly 60 years ago, or maybe even the last 22 years since you departed this earth. Sure, there have been improvements in varying degrees, especially since the feminist movement of the 70's. But it's not enough. If it were, we wouldn't have the problems tied to gender inequality we have today that have been around for a long time: domestic violence, violence against women with impunity, the spread of AIDS--especially among women and girls in developing countries, sex trafficking, pay inequality, etc.
Research shows that gender inequality is the root of many ages-old and newer problems mentioned above. Anyone can find detailed information on this on the internet; the International Center for Research on Women (ICRW) is a great place to start, and discover what research leading to progressive policy changes is happening around the world today.
I have become obsessed now with reading everything you wrote! I hope to accomplish this in 2008...you were quite prolific! Few writers have had the effect of causing me to want to read everything they wrote, so consider yourself lucky. ;-) A few of them you've read: Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and Dickens, and Shakespeare. I've read all but one of the first's popular novels, the two major ones of the second, and working on the third, thanks to a recent Christmas gift from my dear mother in-law. The last, I also love, but I consider him the most challenging, so I don't feel as time-pressed to read everything!
The other writer you probably don't know, since most of her work was published after your passing: Banana Yoshimoto, from Japan. The only person whose work I've read entirely thus far. It's only fitting that she's a woman, isn't it? Women first! ;-)
So far, I've read your first two autobiographical volumes, Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter (which got me hooked on your work from the start) and The Prime of Life (which hooked me even more), The Ethics of Ambiguity (which I need to reread after I read a primer on philosophy since I remember nothing from my intro class 20+ years ago, and I was not entirely awake when I read it), and The Second Sex (I LOVE it).
I cannot do justice to The Second Sex in describing it to others. Many have written about it, but I think you expressed your thoughts on your very own work the best, when you wrote about it in your third autobiographical volume, Force of Circumstance--which I haven't read and am going on the word of the site where I found it, and which I must share with the world: On the Publication of The Second Sex.
What I have done in your honor is to read everything you wrote, read as much as I can on feminism and women's issues from as many viewpoints as possible so that when the day comes when I decide to open my mouth publicly and/or write as prolificly as you did (at least, in spirit!), I will have a clue as to what I'm talking about.
So you see, you need not worry that I'm blindly and slavishly reading only your work! I've only just begun my quest to reach out to others' work. I have read Gloria Steinem and bell hooks. hooks, who doesn't use capital letters when writing her name, wrote a very cool primer/handbook: Feminism is for Everybody. In it, she provided a very clear and straightforward definition of feminism that everyone can embrace:
Feminism is a movement to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression.
Who can disagree with that, except those who are the most close-minded, insecure, and ignorant?!
And since I'm such a devotee of yours, I'm leaving reviews on amazon.com for each work of yours I read. It may not be the most well-written among the others, but a lot of respect, admiration and love went into reading your work, writing about it, and sharing it. A good site where others can find out more about you is The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
Or for a fresh (and shorter) look at your life, Spiegel Online International published a wonderful article in honor of your 100th birthday, today. ;-)
You've become my mentor in spirit, my inspiration to reach for higher achievements, and my heroine, because of what you represented: you were your own woman, you did what you wanted to do on your own terms, you were seemingly unafraid to do anything in life--including challenging men, and helping countless women. Myself included.
The quote I put at the beginning of this dedication to you is forever seared into my memory. I turn to it whenever I am in doubt, or feel weighted down by illness, or by life circumstances. I reflect on it when I'm in good spirits as well. It gives me a big boost!
If I was writing this 25 years ago, I could maybe write something coherent to you in French, with five years of study under my belt...fractured French! Then I'd be too embarrassed to send it to you! But I barely knew you existed then. :-(
Fortunately, I know about you, NOW. :-)
I can only imagine the amount of work you might have produced had you lived at least until today, your 100th birthday, and in the internet age, no less!
Merci beaucoup, Simone. Et bon anniversaire!
--from The Prime of Life, by Simone de Beauvoir
Today is your 100th birthday, Simone! Joyeux anniversaire!
How I wish you were alive today. I will write this as if you are, because I feel you are alive, in spirit. In my mind and in my soul. :-)
In the last six months, since I began reading the first volume of your autobiographies, Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter, you have possessed me.
Revolutionized my thinking. Caused me to want to read everything you wrote. Deepened my convictions about the need for gender equality. Broadened my understanding of the place of women in history as well as what it means to be a woman. Convinced me of the importance of lifelong study of issues important to me, thus becoming more strongly independent-minded. Inspired me to not be afraid of anything: go after what I believe in, go after what I want, and not be bothered by what other people think...to keep an open, inquiring mind.
You have ignited my passion concerning women's issues!
I have been inspired by some great male thinkers in history, but to feel energized by a great female thinker and doer such as yourself brings inspiration to a whole new dimension! Men cannot hope to understand everything, especially about women--because they are not women! The world needs more women like you.
I hope that there will come a day in my lifetime that women such as yourself will not be a rarity. That the bright women today are no longer hidden in the masses. When both women and men will respect brilliant women and be inspired by them, not threatened or intimidated by them. Nor be reduced to saying stupid, sarcastic, and offensive things about women who have their own mind. Things like: a woman is something less of a woman if she is not a mother, doesn't have a man in her life, or has too much ambition in her career pursuits. Or that she must be frigid because of any of the aforementioned things.
Things haven't changed that much for women since The Second Sex published nearly 60 years ago, or maybe even the last 22 years since you departed this earth. Sure, there have been improvements in varying degrees, especially since the feminist movement of the 70's. But it's not enough. If it were, we wouldn't have the problems tied to gender inequality we have today that have been around for a long time: domestic violence, violence against women with impunity, the spread of AIDS--especially among women and girls in developing countries, sex trafficking, pay inequality, etc.
Research shows that gender inequality is the root of many ages-old and newer problems mentioned above. Anyone can find detailed information on this on the internet; the International Center for Research on Women (ICRW) is a great place to start, and discover what research leading to progressive policy changes is happening around the world today.
I have become obsessed now with reading everything you wrote! I hope to accomplish this in 2008...you were quite prolific! Few writers have had the effect of causing me to want to read everything they wrote, so consider yourself lucky. ;-) A few of them you've read: Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, and Dickens, and Shakespeare. I've read all but one of the first's popular novels, the two major ones of the second, and working on the third, thanks to a recent Christmas gift from my dear mother in-law. The last, I also love, but I consider him the most challenging, so I don't feel as time-pressed to read everything!
The other writer you probably don't know, since most of her work was published after your passing: Banana Yoshimoto, from Japan. The only person whose work I've read entirely thus far. It's only fitting that she's a woman, isn't it? Women first! ;-)
So far, I've read your first two autobiographical volumes, Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter (which got me hooked on your work from the start) and The Prime of Life (which hooked me even more), The Ethics of Ambiguity (which I need to reread after I read a primer on philosophy since I remember nothing from my intro class 20+ years ago, and I was not entirely awake when I read it), and The Second Sex (I LOVE it).
I cannot do justice to The Second Sex in describing it to others. Many have written about it, but I think you expressed your thoughts on your very own work the best, when you wrote about it in your third autobiographical volume, Force of Circumstance--which I haven't read and am going on the word of the site where I found it, and which I must share with the world: On the Publication of The Second Sex.
What I have done in your honor is to read everything you wrote, read as much as I can on feminism and women's issues from as many viewpoints as possible so that when the day comes when I decide to open my mouth publicly and/or write as prolificly as you did (at least, in spirit!), I will have a clue as to what I'm talking about.
So you see, you need not worry that I'm blindly and slavishly reading only your work! I've only just begun my quest to reach out to others' work. I have read Gloria Steinem and bell hooks. hooks, who doesn't use capital letters when writing her name, wrote a very cool primer/handbook: Feminism is for Everybody. In it, she provided a very clear and straightforward definition of feminism that everyone can embrace:
Feminism is a movement to end sexism, sexist exploitation, and oppression.
Who can disagree with that, except those who are the most close-minded, insecure, and ignorant?!
And since I'm such a devotee of yours, I'm leaving reviews on amazon.com for each work of yours I read. It may not be the most well-written among the others, but a lot of respect, admiration and love went into reading your work, writing about it, and sharing it. A good site where others can find out more about you is The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.
Or for a fresh (and shorter) look at your life, Spiegel Online International published a wonderful article in honor of your 100th birthday, today. ;-)
You've become my mentor in spirit, my inspiration to reach for higher achievements, and my heroine, because of what you represented: you were your own woman, you did what you wanted to do on your own terms, you were seemingly unafraid to do anything in life--including challenging men, and helping countless women. Myself included.
The quote I put at the beginning of this dedication to you is forever seared into my memory. I turn to it whenever I am in doubt, or feel weighted down by illness, or by life circumstances. I reflect on it when I'm in good spirits as well. It gives me a big boost!
If I was writing this 25 years ago, I could maybe write something coherent to you in French, with five years of study under my belt...fractured French! Then I'd be too embarrassed to send it to you! But I barely knew you existed then. :-(
Fortunately, I know about you, NOW. :-)
I can only imagine the amount of work you might have produced had you lived at least until today, your 100th birthday, and in the internet age, no less!
Merci beaucoup, Simone. Et bon anniversaire!
Monday, December 17, 2007
The Grim Reaper Strikes Again
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.
- From a headstone in Ireland
My Auntie M--my mom's second eldest sister, passed away today. :-( It just seemed too quick, since her diagnosis in September. I thought she was supposed to have at least six months, according to her doctors.
Auntie M and Uncle B were married for over 50 years. They had no children. I imposed myself on them 21 years ago, one summer, while I was trying to graduate on time by taking a couple of intensive, three-week, quick and dirty get-it-over-with summer courses at San Francisco State U. (Not my regular college). I stayed six weeks. I'm sure it was hard on them, having had no children and not being used to company.
I felt like I was under a microscope the entire time, with Auntie M reporting my every move, word, and habit to my mother! %-0 Despite our difficulties, I came to realize Auntie M was a good-hearted person. She may have been seemingly hypercritical, judgmental, and intolerant of others at times, but she really had a good heart. :-)
Auntie M makes the fourth person in the family we've lost this year. In January, it was a dear family friend. In March, my favorite uncle. In April, a young cousin (who survived a year after being diagnosed with a brain tumor). And now, Auntie M.
Can we have a break from all this sadness, which also includes loved ones on both sides of the family who've been diagnosed with cancer this year??
When I read things like: death is part of life, I do NOT disagree. But that doesn't make it any less painful for the ones who lost someone dear in their lives, by any measure.
I'm not a religious person, so I am not going to talk about God. My feelings are ambivalent about Her (!) at best. I go to God when I'm feeling desperate, like going for junk food when I have no other choice in front of me. No wonder sailors curse God all the time. Or pray fervently to God. They are sailing on rough waters that seem to have no end in sight.
(To those shocked by my reference to HER, I ask: DO YOU IN FACT KNOW that God is a HE, not a SHE?)
When I think of death, I think of an image seen too many times in film: the image of a robed, hooded person whose face you can't see, with a sickle in hand--used for digging your grave.
The last time I encountered the Grim Reaper, it was when I had my one and only car accident en route to work one morning. A slippery bridge...my car went out of control, and I ricocheted across the bridge. Good thing no one was on it except me. It was 5:45 in the morning or so. Yes, I used to work crazy hours like that for too many years!
Hubby asked later why I didn't use the emergency brakes. Well, dear, it's kind of hard to remember that when you think that this is THE END. When you suddenly see your life flash before you. When you try to remember at what point do you open your car door and escape when your car flips over into the water (which I was sure that was going to happen, but never did)?
The first time I thought I had met Mr. GR was a decade ago, after an operation to remove ovarian cysts, and I felt so utterly miserable that I almost didn't care AT ALL if I woke up again or not. I was SO completely overwhelmed with nausea. Yech!
I've escaped him twice now. I know you can't choose your time, and I've had more ailments throughout my lifetime than I can count on my fingers and toes together. My family can attest to that! But each time I get knocked down with something, I allow myself a little pity party, and then force myself to move on. Do whatever I have to do to get over this situation.
I'll be damned if I let the Grim Reaper get anywhere near me: I'll fight HIM tooth and nail as long as I have my faculties intact! (Yes, a him. How could such an unpleasant character be a woman?!)
I did have a couple close calls in the last year with a monster Mack truck and also a pick-up truck (the driver was looking right AT me! Or was it through me?) while crossing the street on foot. The Grim Reaper can show up anywhere!
I am the baby on both sides of the family. I came later in my parents' lives (for the 60's) and all my grandparents were products of the 19th century. I was very young when three of them passed away in succession within a year and a half or so. I had just barely started school--no later than the beginning of 1st grade when the last of the three died.
I didn't know them well, but I have a good photographic memory of them. AND their funerals. I think seeing a lot of death in a short period of time and being very young has had a big impact on me in ways I haven't quite figured out yet.
My mom was also having health problems at the time, but I didn't know it--or maybe I did at the time but didn't ask. And wasn't told. That's just how things were then.
I do know that I don't get freaked like some people do when others die. Maybe they haven't seen death close up before, I don't know. It's never, never easy, no matter how many times I've seen death. I had two friends who sat next to each other at my wedding banquet; both were gone the next month. And of course I fell apart at their funeral and memorial service. :-(
When someone I cared about leaves this world, it certainly makes me reflect on their life. Was it a life well-lived? How did he or she survive war and manage life's dark moments? Then I think about my life. Am I living the best way I can, according to my desires and goals first, rather than according to the expectations/conventions of society? What can I do better to achieve and surpass my own expectations? There is always room for improvement, yes indeed! ;-0
Death may be lurking in the distant future, but I intend to live my life as fully as possible, on my terms, pursuing the activities and ideas I value, standing firm for my convictions, and not being afraid of those who may vehemently disagree with me. We'll just have to agree to disagree. ;-)
Oh, one other thing: I don't like wearing black at all. It reminds me of funerals, death. Black looks great on other people. It looks cool. Sophisticated. I'll wear black trousers if need be, like for work or if it's too cold to wear a dress, but if I don't have to, I won't. Because black represents death and cold, vast emptiness to me.
I'd rather wear my favorite color, RED: a color symbolizing life...vibrancy...warmth!
Rest in peace, Auntie M. I'll never forget what a good heart you possessed and my brief time with you and Uncle B. :-)
- From a headstone in Ireland
My Auntie M--my mom's second eldest sister, passed away today. :-( It just seemed too quick, since her diagnosis in September. I thought she was supposed to have at least six months, according to her doctors.
Auntie M and Uncle B were married for over 50 years. They had no children. I imposed myself on them 21 years ago, one summer, while I was trying to graduate on time by taking a couple of intensive, three-week, quick and dirty get-it-over-with summer courses at San Francisco State U. (Not my regular college). I stayed six weeks. I'm sure it was hard on them, having had no children and not being used to company.
I felt like I was under a microscope the entire time, with Auntie M reporting my every move, word, and habit to my mother! %-0 Despite our difficulties, I came to realize Auntie M was a good-hearted person. She may have been seemingly hypercritical, judgmental, and intolerant of others at times, but she really had a good heart. :-)
Auntie M makes the fourth person in the family we've lost this year. In January, it was a dear family friend. In March, my favorite uncle. In April, a young cousin (who survived a year after being diagnosed with a brain tumor). And now, Auntie M.
Can we have a break from all this sadness, which also includes loved ones on both sides of the family who've been diagnosed with cancer this year??
When I read things like: death is part of life, I do NOT disagree. But that doesn't make it any less painful for the ones who lost someone dear in their lives, by any measure.
I'm not a religious person, so I am not going to talk about God. My feelings are ambivalent about Her (!) at best. I go to God when I'm feeling desperate, like going for junk food when I have no other choice in front of me. No wonder sailors curse God all the time. Or pray fervently to God. They are sailing on rough waters that seem to have no end in sight.
(To those shocked by my reference to HER, I ask: DO YOU IN FACT KNOW that God is a HE, not a SHE?)
When I think of death, I think of an image seen too many times in film: the image of a robed, hooded person whose face you can't see, with a sickle in hand--used for digging your grave.
The last time I encountered the Grim Reaper, it was when I had my one and only car accident en route to work one morning. A slippery bridge...my car went out of control, and I ricocheted across the bridge. Good thing no one was on it except me. It was 5:45 in the morning or so. Yes, I used to work crazy hours like that for too many years!
Hubby asked later why I didn't use the emergency brakes. Well, dear, it's kind of hard to remember that when you think that this is THE END. When you suddenly see your life flash before you. When you try to remember at what point do you open your car door and escape when your car flips over into the water (which I was sure that was going to happen, but never did)?
The first time I thought I had met Mr. GR was a decade ago, after an operation to remove ovarian cysts, and I felt so utterly miserable that I almost didn't care AT ALL if I woke up again or not. I was SO completely overwhelmed with nausea. Yech!
I've escaped him twice now. I know you can't choose your time, and I've had more ailments throughout my lifetime than I can count on my fingers and toes together. My family can attest to that! But each time I get knocked down with something, I allow myself a little pity party, and then force myself to move on. Do whatever I have to do to get over this situation.
I'll be damned if I let the Grim Reaper get anywhere near me: I'll fight HIM tooth and nail as long as I have my faculties intact! (Yes, a him. How could such an unpleasant character be a woman?!)
I did have a couple close calls in the last year with a monster Mack truck and also a pick-up truck (the driver was looking right AT me! Or was it through me?) while crossing the street on foot. The Grim Reaper can show up anywhere!
I am the baby on both sides of the family. I came later in my parents' lives (for the 60's) and all my grandparents were products of the 19th century. I was very young when three of them passed away in succession within a year and a half or so. I had just barely started school--no later than the beginning of 1st grade when the last of the three died.
I didn't know them well, but I have a good photographic memory of them. AND their funerals. I think seeing a lot of death in a short period of time and being very young has had a big impact on me in ways I haven't quite figured out yet.
My mom was also having health problems at the time, but I didn't know it--or maybe I did at the time but didn't ask. And wasn't told. That's just how things were then.
I do know that I don't get freaked like some people do when others die. Maybe they haven't seen death close up before, I don't know. It's never, never easy, no matter how many times I've seen death. I had two friends who sat next to each other at my wedding banquet; both were gone the next month. And of course I fell apart at their funeral and memorial service. :-(
When someone I cared about leaves this world, it certainly makes me reflect on their life. Was it a life well-lived? How did he or she survive war and manage life's dark moments? Then I think about my life. Am I living the best way I can, according to my desires and goals first, rather than according to the expectations/conventions of society? What can I do better to achieve and surpass my own expectations? There is always room for improvement, yes indeed! ;-0
Death may be lurking in the distant future, but I intend to live my life as fully as possible, on my terms, pursuing the activities and ideas I value, standing firm for my convictions, and not being afraid of those who may vehemently disagree with me. We'll just have to agree to disagree. ;-)
Oh, one other thing: I don't like wearing black at all. It reminds me of funerals, death. Black looks great on other people. It looks cool. Sophisticated. I'll wear black trousers if need be, like for work or if it's too cold to wear a dress, but if I don't have to, I won't. Because black represents death and cold, vast emptiness to me.
I'd rather wear my favorite color, RED: a color symbolizing life...vibrancy...warmth!
Rest in peace, Auntie M. I'll never forget what a good heart you possessed and my brief time with you and Uncle B. :-)
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The Right to Read
On the occasion of the hyped unveiling of amazon.com's new wireless reading device, Kindle, I present to you the following cautionary tale:
The Right to Read
This article appeared in the February 1997 issue of Communications of the ACM (Volume 40, Number 2).
(from “The Road To Tycho”, a collection of articles about the antecedents of the Lunarian Revolution, published in Luna City in 2096)
For Dan Halbert, the road to Tycho began in college—when Lissa Lenz asked to borrow his computer. Hers had broken down, and unless she could borrow another, she would fail her midterm project. There was no one she dared ask, except Dan.
This put Dan in a dilemma. He had to help her—but if he lent her his computer, she might read his books. Aside from the fact that you could go to prison for many years for letting someone else read your books, the very idea shocked him at first. Like everyone, he had been taught since elementary school that sharing books was nasty and wrong—something that only pirates would do.
And there wasn't much chance that the SPA—the Software Protection Authority—would fail to catch him. In his software class, Dan had learned that each book had a copyright monitor that reported when and where it was read, and by whom, to Central Licensing. (They used this information to catch reading pirates, but also to sell personal interest profiles to retailers.) The next time his computer was networked, Central Licensing would find out. He, as computer owner, would receive the harshest punishment—for not taking pains to prevent the crime.
Of course, Lissa did not necessarily intend to read his books. She might want the computer only to write her midterm. But Dan knew she came from a middle-class family and could hardly afford the tuition, let alone her reading fees. Reading his books might be the only way she could graduate. He understood this situation; he himself had had to borrow to pay for all the research papers he read. (10% of those fees went to the researchers who wrote the papers; since Dan aimed for an academic career, he could hope that his own research papers, if frequently referenced, would bring in enough to repay this loan.)
Later on, Dan would learn there was a time when anyone could go to the library and read journal articles, and even books, without having to pay. There were independent scholars who read thousands of pages without government library grants. But in the 1990s, both commercial and nonprofit journal publishers had begun charging fees for access. By 2047, libraries offering free public access to scholarly literature were a dim memory.
There were ways, of course, to get around the SPA and Central Licensing. They were themselves illegal. Dan had had a classmate in software, Frank Martucci, who had obtained an illicit debugging tool, and used it to skip over the copyright monitor code when reading books. But he had told too many friends about it, and one of them turned him in to the SPA for a reward (students deep in debt were easily tempted into betrayal). In 2047, Frank was in prison, not for pirate reading, but for possessing a debugger.
Dan would later learn that there was a time when anyone could have debugging tools. There were even free debugging tools available on CD or downloadable over the net. But ordinary users started using them to bypass copyright monitors, and eventually a judge ruled that this had become their principal use in actual practice. This meant they were illegal; the debuggers' developers were sent to prison.
Programmers still needed debugging tools, of course, but debugger vendors in 2047 distributed numbered copies only, and only to officially licensed and bonded programmers. The debugger Dan used in software class was kept behind a special firewall so that it could be used only for class exercises.
It was also possible to bypass the copyright monitors by installing a modified system kernel. Dan would eventually find out about the free kernels, even entire free operating systems, that had existed around the turn of the century. But not only were they illegal, like debuggers—you could not install one if you had one, without knowing your computer's root password. And neither the FBI nor Microsoft Support would tell you that.
Dan concluded that he couldn't simply lend Lissa his computer. But he couldn't refuse to help her, because he loved her. Every chance to speak with her filled him with delight. And that she chose him to ask for help, that could mean she loved him too.
Dan resolved the dilemma by doing something even more unthinkable—he lent her the computer, and told her his password. This way, if Lissa read his books, Central Licensing would think he was reading them. It was still a crime, but the SPA would not automatically find out about it. They would only find out if Lissa reported him.
Of course, if the school ever found out that he had given Lissa his own password, it would be curtains for both of them as students, regardless of what she had used it for. School policy was that any interference with their means of monitoring students' computer use was grounds for disciplinary action. It didn't matter whether you did anything harmful—the offense was making it hard for the administrators to check on you. They assumed this meant you were doing something else forbidden, and they did not need to know what it was.
Students were not usually expelled for this—not directly. Instead they were banned from the school computer systems, and would inevitably fail all their classes.
Later, Dan would learn that this kind of university policy started only in the 1980s, when university students in large numbers began using computers. Previously, universities maintained a different approach to student discipline; they punished activities that were harmful, not those that merely raised suspicion.
Lissa did not report Dan to the SPA. His decision to help her led to their marriage, and also led them to question what they had been taught about piracy as children. The couple began reading about the history of copyright, about the Soviet Union and its restrictions on copying, and even the original United States Constitution. They moved to Luna, where they found others who had likewise gravitated away from the long arm of the SPA. When the Tycho Uprising began in 2062, the universal right to read soon became one of its central aims.
Author's Note
This note was updated in 2007.
The right to read is a battle being fought today. Although it may take 50 years for our present way of life to fade into obscurity, most of the specific laws and practices described above have already been proposed; many have been enacted into law in the US and elsewhere. In the US, the 1998 Digital Millenium Copyright Act established the legal basis to restrict the reading and lending of computerized books (and other works as well). The European Union imposed similar restrictions in a 2001 copyright directive. In France, under the DADVSI law adopted in 2006, mere possession of a copy of DeCSS, the free program to decrypt video on a DVD, is a crime.
In 2001, Disney-funded Senator Hollings proposed a bill called the SSSCA that would require every new computer to have mandatory copy-restriction facilities that the user cannot bypass. Following the Clipper chip and similar US government key-escrow proposals, this shows a long-term trend: computer systems are increasingly set up to give absentees with clout control over the people actually using the computer system. The SSSCA was later renamed to the unpronouncable CBDTPA, which was glossed as the “Consume But Don't Try Programming Act”.
The Republicans took control of the US senate shortly thereafter. They are less tied to Hollywood than the Democrats, so they did not press these proposals. Now that the Democrats are back in control, the danger is once again higher.
In 2001 the US began attempting to use the proposed Free Trade Area of the Americas treaty to impose the same rules on all the countries in the Western Hemisphere. The FTAA is one of the so-called “free trade” treaties, which are actually designed to give business increased power over democratic governments; imposing laws like the DMCA is typical of this spirit. The FTAA was effectively killed by Lula, President of Brazil, who rejected the DMCA requirement and others.
Since then, the US has imposed similar requirements on countries such as Australia and Mexico through bilateral “free trade” agreements, and on countries such as Costa Rica through CAFTA. Ecuador's President Correa refused to sign the “free trade” agreement, but Ecuador had adopted something like the DMCA in 2003. Ecuador's new constitution may provide an opportunity to get rid of it.
One of the ideas in the story was not proposed in reality until 2002. This is the idea that the FBI and Microsoft will keep the root passwords for your personal computers, and not let you have them.
The proponents of this scheme have given it names such as “trusted computing” and “palladium”. We call it “treacherous computing”, because the effect is to make your computer obey companies instead of you. This was implemented in 2007 as part of Windows Vista; we expect Apple to do something similar. In this scheme, it is the manufacturer that keeps the secret code, but the FBI would have little trouble getting it.
What Microsoft keeps is not exactly a password in the traditional sense; no person ever types it on a terminal. Rather, it is a signature and encryption key that corresponds to a second key stored in your computer. This enables Microsoft, and potentially any web sites that cooperate with Microsoft, the ultimate control over what the user can do on his own computer.
Vista also gives Microsoft additional powers; for instance, Microsoft can forcibly install upgrades, and it can order all machines running Vista to refuse to run a certain device driver. The main purpose of Vista's many restrictions is to make DRM that users can't overcome.
The SPA, which actually stands for Software Publisher's Association, has been replaced in this police-like role by the BSA or Business Software Alliance. It is not, today, an official police force; unofficially, it acts like one. Using methods reminiscent of the erstwhile Soviet Union, it invites people to inform on their coworkers and friends. A BSA terror campaign in Argentina in 2001 made slightly-veiled threats that people sharing software would be raped.
When this story was first written, the SPA was threatening small Internet service providers, demanding they permit the SPA to monitor all users. Most ISPs surrendered when threatened, because they cannot afford to fight back in court. (Atlanta Journal-Constitution, 1 Oct 96, D3.) At least one ISP, Community ConneXion in Oakland CA, refused the demand and was actually sued. The SPA later dropped the suit, but obtained the DMCA which gave them the power they sought.
The university security policies described above are not imaginary. For example, a computer at one Chicago-area university prints this message when you log in (quotation marks are in the original):
This system is for the use of authorized users only. Individuals using this computer system without authority or in the excess of their authority are subject to having all their activities on this system monitored and recorded by system personnel. In the course of monitoring individuals improperly using this system or in the course of system maintenance, the activities of authorized user may also be monitored. Anyone using this system expressly consents to such monitoring and is advised that if such monitoring reveals possible evidence of illegal activity or violation of University regulations system personnel may provide the evidence of such monitoring to University authorities and/or law enforcement officials.
This is an interesting approach to the Fourth Amendment: pressure most everyone to agree, in advance, to waive their rights under it.
References
- The administration's “White Paper”: Information Infrastructure Task Force, Intellectual Property and the National Information Infrastructure: The Report of the Working Group on Intellectual Property Rights (1995).
- An explanation of the White Paper: The Copyright Grab, Pamela Samuelson, Wired, Jan. 1996
- Sold Out, James Boyle, New York Times, 31 March 1996
- Public Data or Private Data, Washington Post, 4 Nov 1996. We used to have a link to this, but Washinton Post has decided to start charging users who wishes to read articles on the web site and therefore we have decided to remove the link.
- Union for the Public Domain—an organization which aims to resist and reverse the overextension of copyright and patent powers.
This essay is published in Free Software, Free Society: The Selected Essays of Richard M. Stallman.
Other Texts to Read
- Philosophy of the GNU Project
- Copy Protection: Just Say No, Published in Computer World.
The author's note talks about the battle for the right to read and electronic surveillance. The battle is beginning now; here are links to two articles about technologies now being developed to deny you the right to read.
- Electronic Publishing: An article about distribution of books in electronic form, and copyright issues affecting the right to read a copy.
- Books inside Computers: Software to control who can read books and documents on a PC.
Print this article
Navigation
Key resources
- Help a priority project
- Help revise GNU licenses
- Free GNU/Linux distributions
- Free Software Directory
- GNU software packages
Stay up to date
- Get email alerts from the FSF
- Keeping Up
- GNU Mailing Lists
- GNU Speakers
- GNU User Groups
- Press Information
For developers
Support the FSF
For fun
Other resources
Please send FSF & GNU inquiries to gnu@gnu.org. There are also other ways to contact the FSF.
Please send broken links and other corrections or suggestions to webmasters@gnu.org.
Please see the Translations README for information on coordinating and submitting translations of this article.
Copyright © 1996 Richard Stallman
Verbatim copying and distribution of this entire article is permitted in any medium without royalty provided this notice is preserved.
* * * * * *
HEY EVERYBODY, DON'T FORGET ABOUT YOUR LOCAL LIBRARY...IT'S FREE, NO BUTTON TO PUSH TO BUY A BOOK! YOU CHOOSE WHAT YOU WANT TO READ. :-)
Friday, November 16, 2007
I Didn't Aspire To Be A Domestic Goddess
Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with it's endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day.
-Simone de Beauvoir
-from The Second Sex
Merci, Simone, for expressing my thoughts exactly on housework and putting them on paper before I even was born! You are my newfound heroine, inspiration, and mentor from beyond! I am in the process of devouring everything you wrote and I will dedicate a post to you on your 100th birthday next January. :-)
For now, I am publicly admitting that I am not a domestic goddess. That's a fancy, modern day term for housewife. I never yearned to be one. Ever. It would drive me insane.
I say kudos to the generations of housewives who have fed, clothed, and kept their families living in relative neatness and cleanliness. We wouldn't be here without them!
However, I don't fit that category. My apartment is evidence of that! %-0 It's not a pigsty but neither is it a Macy's showroom. Daily cleaning is BORING. I'm talking about thorough cleaning beyond just cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen or bathroom, like daily dusting, vacuuming, cleaning floors.
Cooking is also part of housework. Cooking is essential, and I like to cook the things I like to eat, but I am not a chef--though I do like to pat myself on the back when a dish turns out especially good. It's much more enjoyable to feast on other people's fine dining, like my family's or friends' or at a restaurant. ;-)
Referring back to de Beauvoir's words, it is the montony of housekeeping that I relate to. Having read half of her four volume autobiographical series, I can tell she was no housekeeper. She was an intellectual since her youth. She had no intention of ever submitting to the "service" of marriage and motherhood. And she didn't. She was too busy teaching and writing. She was a woman ahead of her times: freethinking and independent in her own right. She challenged women to think for themselves and become their own person. She laid the foundation for modern-day feminists.
Thinking about dust bunnies was not high on her to-do list. Nor mine--until I see them...and I have poor eyesight anyway!
What is the torture of Sisyphus, to which Simone de Beauvoir refers in the quote? Sisyphus, according to Greek mythology, was a king punished in the Tartarus (either a deep, gloomy place, a pit or abyss used as a dungeon of torment and suffering that resides within Hades or the entire underworld with Hades being the hellish component) to roll a huge boulder up a hill for eternity. The catch was that before he reached the top of the hill, the rock would always escape him and would have to begin again! %-0
That sounds EXACTLY like ironing to me! Torture. Repetitive torture at that! I hate ironing. But it's a necessary evil; I iron because I don't like to wear wrinkly clothes. I have wrinkly clothes because I've never liked to use a dryer unless I have to in emergency. I hang them out. Just as my mom has done probably her whole life. Freshly hung clothes smell better and last longer. I just wish I could wave a magic wand and they'd all be smooth, straight out of the washing machine! I can't think of a more mind-numbing activity than ironing. :-(
If I know company is coming, which is very rare for hubby and myself (as in a few times a year or less), I go on a mad cleaning rampage: I put on some kind of racy classical music in the cd player, while I wash and vacuum the floors, and make everything non-cluttered and clean as can be in a few hours' time! Yes, I wait until the last minute. That's how much I think of the the task of housework.
And no, I don't like looking at dust, much less dirt. I'll take care of it in due time thank you very much. Dirt first. We don't wear shoes in the apartment, so that helps a lot. I don't let company wear their shoes in our home, either, if they're going to stay awhile.
Clutter is another matter. I do try to make "neat" piles of stuff. It's hard! Hubby is a pack-rat, as is his dad and my family. I save a lot, too, but I try to organize it, or at worst, hide stuff in drawers until I get to it in another life. ;-) Hubby's worse than me: he'll even save cardboard boxes. He might have to send back an item someday he says. Hah! %-(
When we left our house four years ago, we had an attic PACKED with old boxes! A fire hazard, indeed! NEVER AGAIN, I proclaimed. He even took the words right out of my mouth one day recently: "I didn't sign up to be a WAREHOUSE manager!" Darn right I didn't, mister.
Hubby's favorite line to me whenever I make noise about clutter: "What's it hurting you? Don't you have more important things to think about?"
* BIG sigh*!
Well, of course I do. He's right. I DO have more better things to think about, like keeping abreast of new developments in my field of massage therapy, or devouring the work of Simone de Beauvoir or any other feminist, or reading about things Chinese. That's plenty to keep my mind busy. I made a vow to myself long ago that I wanted my life to have a feverish quality about it: to be as involved as possible through mind, body and soul in pursuing what I enjoy and what I believe in.
I think of myself as a woman finally on the blazing path to realizing her dreams, but still pulled back now and then by the nitty gritty details of life: serious illness and death among friends and family/relatives (six already this year). Somehow, the serious and sad parts are easier for me to accept than the mundane details of housekeeping.
It is my good fortune I hooked up with a progressive-thinking man who is not a neat freak. I just don't want too much clutter and dust! Is it because I'm a woman, conditioned by society that it's the woman's job to upkeep the home?
Even though The Second Sex was written over a half century ago, I think that Simone's views on housework and other topics are still pretty much as true today as when she wrote them. It is what I observe in some, but not all, relatives and friends. Impatient and ignorant reviewers on amazon.com will say she's boring and outdated, but I don't agree.
On housework:
"...woman's work within the home gives her no autonomy; it is not directly useful to society, it does not open out on the future, it produces nothing. It takes on meaning and dignity only as it is linked with existent beings who reach out beyond themselves, transcend themselves, toward society in production and action. That is, far from freeing the matron, her occupation makes her dependent upon husband and children; she is justified through them; but in their lives, she is only an inessential intermediary."
I like to keep in mind her words: "in order to find a hearth and home within oneself, one must first have found self-realization in works or in deeds". For myself, it is more important to invest my time nourishing my mind and body than to spend time making my home look physically beautiful.
Dust bunnies will never rule my day! %-0
* * * *
At worst, a house unkept, cannot be so distressing as a life unlived.
-Rose Macaulay, prolific poet and novelist
-Simone de Beauvoir
-from The Second Sex
Merci, Simone, for expressing my thoughts exactly on housework and putting them on paper before I even was born! You are my newfound heroine, inspiration, and mentor from beyond! I am in the process of devouring everything you wrote and I will dedicate a post to you on your 100th birthday next January. :-)
For now, I am publicly admitting that I am not a domestic goddess. That's a fancy, modern day term for housewife. I never yearned to be one. Ever. It would drive me insane.
I say kudos to the generations of housewives who have fed, clothed, and kept their families living in relative neatness and cleanliness. We wouldn't be here without them!
However, I don't fit that category. My apartment is evidence of that! %-0 It's not a pigsty but neither is it a Macy's showroom. Daily cleaning is BORING. I'm talking about thorough cleaning beyond just cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen or bathroom, like daily dusting, vacuuming, cleaning floors.
Cooking is also part of housework. Cooking is essential, and I like to cook the things I like to eat, but I am not a chef--though I do like to pat myself on the back when a dish turns out especially good. It's much more enjoyable to feast on other people's fine dining, like my family's or friends' or at a restaurant. ;-)
Referring back to de Beauvoir's words, it is the montony of housekeeping that I relate to. Having read half of her four volume autobiographical series, I can tell she was no housekeeper. She was an intellectual since her youth. She had no intention of ever submitting to the "service" of marriage and motherhood. And she didn't. She was too busy teaching and writing. She was a woman ahead of her times: freethinking and independent in her own right. She challenged women to think for themselves and become their own person. She laid the foundation for modern-day feminists.
Thinking about dust bunnies was not high on her to-do list. Nor mine--until I see them...and I have poor eyesight anyway!
What is the torture of Sisyphus, to which Simone de Beauvoir refers in the quote? Sisyphus, according to Greek mythology, was a king punished in the Tartarus (either a deep, gloomy place, a pit or abyss used as a dungeon of torment and suffering that resides within Hades or the entire underworld with Hades being the hellish component) to roll a huge boulder up a hill for eternity. The catch was that before he reached the top of the hill, the rock would always escape him and would have to begin again! %-0
That sounds EXACTLY like ironing to me! Torture. Repetitive torture at that! I hate ironing. But it's a necessary evil; I iron because I don't like to wear wrinkly clothes. I have wrinkly clothes because I've never liked to use a dryer unless I have to in emergency. I hang them out. Just as my mom has done probably her whole life. Freshly hung clothes smell better and last longer. I just wish I could wave a magic wand and they'd all be smooth, straight out of the washing machine! I can't think of a more mind-numbing activity than ironing. :-(
If I know company is coming, which is very rare for hubby and myself (as in a few times a year or less), I go on a mad cleaning rampage: I put on some kind of racy classical music in the cd player, while I wash and vacuum the floors, and make everything non-cluttered and clean as can be in a few hours' time! Yes, I wait until the last minute. That's how much I think of the the task of housework.
And no, I don't like looking at dust, much less dirt. I'll take care of it in due time thank you very much. Dirt first. We don't wear shoes in the apartment, so that helps a lot. I don't let company wear their shoes in our home, either, if they're going to stay awhile.
Clutter is another matter. I do try to make "neat" piles of stuff. It's hard! Hubby is a pack-rat, as is his dad and my family. I save a lot, too, but I try to organize it, or at worst, hide stuff in drawers until I get to it in another life. ;-) Hubby's worse than me: he'll even save cardboard boxes. He might have to send back an item someday he says. Hah! %-(
When we left our house four years ago, we had an attic PACKED with old boxes! A fire hazard, indeed! NEVER AGAIN, I proclaimed. He even took the words right out of my mouth one day recently: "I didn't sign up to be a WAREHOUSE manager!" Darn right I didn't, mister.
Hubby's favorite line to me whenever I make noise about clutter: "What's it hurting you? Don't you have more important things to think about?"
* BIG sigh*!
Well, of course I do. He's right. I DO have more better things to think about, like keeping abreast of new developments in my field of massage therapy, or devouring the work of Simone de Beauvoir or any other feminist, or reading about things Chinese. That's plenty to keep my mind busy. I made a vow to myself long ago that I wanted my life to have a feverish quality about it: to be as involved as possible through mind, body and soul in pursuing what I enjoy and what I believe in.
I think of myself as a woman finally on the blazing path to realizing her dreams, but still pulled back now and then by the nitty gritty details of life: serious illness and death among friends and family/relatives (six already this year). Somehow, the serious and sad parts are easier for me to accept than the mundane details of housekeeping.
It is my good fortune I hooked up with a progressive-thinking man who is not a neat freak. I just don't want too much clutter and dust! Is it because I'm a woman, conditioned by society that it's the woman's job to upkeep the home?
Even though The Second Sex was written over a half century ago, I think that Simone's views on housework and other topics are still pretty much as true today as when she wrote them. It is what I observe in some, but not all, relatives and friends. Impatient and ignorant reviewers on amazon.com will say she's boring and outdated, but I don't agree.
On housework:
"...woman's work within the home gives her no autonomy; it is not directly useful to society, it does not open out on the future, it produces nothing. It takes on meaning and dignity only as it is linked with existent beings who reach out beyond themselves, transcend themselves, toward society in production and action. That is, far from freeing the matron, her occupation makes her dependent upon husband and children; she is justified through them; but in their lives, she is only an inessential intermediary."
I like to keep in mind her words: "in order to find a hearth and home within oneself, one must first have found self-realization in works or in deeds". For myself, it is more important to invest my time nourishing my mind and body than to spend time making my home look physically beautiful.
Dust bunnies will never rule my day! %-0
* * * *
At worst, a house unkept, cannot be so distressing as a life unlived.
-Rose Macaulay, prolific poet and novelist
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)