Pass the John Denver and Rhianna, Please

How can you tell it's nearly spring in DC? Three to twelve inches of
snow on Monday melt away in Friday's 65 F sun. It's a pleasure to see
little blades of grass at your toes, however sere and winter-seared
the hills look.

There are hymns sung in a style worthy of Christmas mall music playing
less than 50 feet from me. Am saving myself from premature diabetes by
way of my favorite-this-week mix:

( The Moving mix. R. E. M., P!nk, Talib Kwaeli, the JBT, the Whitlams, K-OS., et al. )

And back to paperwork. Grr.

End of the Week Blathering

In light of my stupid-by-exhaustion, I called in sick Wednesday and watched NCIS episodes and both Terminator movies on my computer, and fitfully tried to nap, between trying to pause the media on the desktop via the laptop touchpad and trying to switch tabs with the desktop mouse. My, James Cameron likes blowing up big tanker trucks.

So I did not post on the latest shenanigans. And now that it's Friday, and every other post on my f-list is about RaceFail, I don't care. Because the other thing that's going on is the highest unemployment rate in my life, so I'm feeling like my f-list is having a disjunction from mainstream reality, and not in the fun way. So last night I elected to return several library books and finish Half a Crown instead of actually checking behind any cut-tags. I want to print out the Anatole France quote that the law, in its majestic equality, forbids the rich as well as the poor to sleep under bridges, to beg in the streets, and to steal bread. Tonight I'm going to go to my SF club meeting, be nice to everyone, and read Guns, Germs and Steel on the metro as "research" for Lawrence of Arabia In Space, Only Not, With Fewer Skeevy Turkish Prisons and More Democracy In Space, The Next Generation (will be cowritten with norabombay). And tomorrow I am going to take my laptop to the library, block LJ, and write the presentation I'm giving next week. As well as the five other things I need to do this weekend, like clean my room. What insane internet shenanigans? If this is white privilege, well, at least I know how to spell it.

The important things are: I do not like in a third world refugee camp, I do not live in a fascist England, and I get to sit on my patio in the twilight with my laptop, because time is flowing on to a spring of great hope (for a car, ha). And I am finding my perspective once more.