This is an excerpt from an article I had to read for class tonight about court cases involved libraries and the First Amendment. The portion I’m going to quote was part of the discussion about the USA PATRIOT Act (which stands for Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism).

“The Patriot Act specifically protects Americans’ First Amendment rights, and terrorism investigators have no interest in the library habits of ordinary Americans.”

I love that they make the distinction between terrorists and “ordinary Americans.” Yes - that’s how we’re divided. Ugh. Ordinary ole Americans.

Now to add some levity, there’s nothing ordinary about this American. Who’s actually a Polish-American. A Democrat, educated at a liberal arts college, NOT from the Bible Belt, pro-choice, supportive of civil rights and women’s rights and gay rights, and totally not what the current administration would like to imagine as an “ordinary American.” I wonder what their definition would be. A non-terrorist?

Tomorrow is my three-month review lunch meeting with my boss. I’m actually kinda nervous about it. I should say, first and foremost, that I am my own worst critic and have forever been the student or employee who would underrate herself on self-evaluations because she honestly didn’t think she was that good. Then the teacher or boss (at one time, my friend Krys) would give me the “are you kidding me??” look and perhaps think for a moment that I was trying to be humble for “effect.”

I guess it comes from expecting so much from myself and not knowing, realistically, what other people expect from me and what they are used to expecting from people. Whenever I misunderstand the slightest thing at work, I blush horribly and beat myself up about it for about 10 minutes (down from DAYS, thanks to therapy and meds!) I just thrive on feeling/knowing that I’m on top of things. I work for praise. It’s sort of sad in a way. I just want to know I’m doing a good job… I’m embodying the trait that I absolutely hate in puppies and children… that almost pathetic desire to PLEASE people.

And they say that the things we hate most about other people are the things we secretly fear or hate about ourselves.

I think I’m going to wear a skirt tomorrow since I so do not feel like doing laundry right now. It’s going to be rather mild - 53 degrees - so I can wear a skirt and my little pointy-toe heels that make me feel all fierce and “a force to be reckoned with” when I click along the street or uncarpeted floor at work. Yeah, the bathroom is an uncarpeted floor at work, but I can feel fierce there too!

So. I need to get to bed so I can be awake earlier than today and hit the bank before the weekend. I know that at some point, I’ll be seeing a movie with my friend Elizabeth and I will be visiting the doctor and the pharmacy and the bookstore.

Currently reading: “On Beauty” by Zadie Smith. I am loving it. The characters are superb. There’s one character, Kiki, a southern black woman living in Boston, who is (among other things) depicted as being full-figured… a solid 250 pounds, but very sexual and attractive and earthy and real. There’s a segment where she is thinking about her own appearance and her fullness and such, and - for the most flickering moment - I was proud of the junk in my trunk and my belly and hips. I’m nowhere near 250 but, even if I were, I’d feel OK with it after reading this.

Now watch - I’ll get to the next chapter and she’ll commit suicide or something. God, I hope not.

Time to brush my teeth. I have burrito breath from tonight’s dinner.

My parents have guests over and I keep hearing the annoying sounds of my mother and the other woman laughing… they’re sort of yelping, actually, and it’s bothersome. They don’t usually have people over this late at night - especially when they have work the next day - so it’s sort of awkward.

I’m in my pajamas already and this is their house, so I don’t really have a leg to stand on as far as telling them to shut up because they’re keeping me awake.

Have I mentioned lately that I need to get out of here sooner rather than later? This was not an issue when I had my own apartment. Nope. For my own sanity, I need to get out out out.

I enjoy the silence.

Happy February First. Only 13 days until the most mindless day of the entire year - and I am including National Talk Like a Pirate Day.

My house smells like celery and portabella mushrooms right now. I am NOT happy about that.

I am feeling like crap right now. No particular reason. Work was fine. Just a general sense of malaise. I guess that comes with the territory when a girl’s a depressive. I don’t even need PMS as an excuse to be miserable! While it’s only 8:30 or so, I’m thinking I might just grab an unread book, get into bed, start reading and be done with today. I’m just bored with it.

I guess that just happens sometimes.

I wonder when my Fulton umbrella from England will arrive.

Did I mention Fulton is Her Majesty the Queen’s official umbrella maker?

The seller on eBay wasn’t sure of how long it takes the Royal Mail to ship a parcel that size to the States. I checked the website and got some idea, but nothing concrete.

It will be raining on Friday and it would be wonderful if it would arrive tomorrow. However, I feel somewhat confident that there will be plenty of rainy days in the future during which I’ll be able to make use of this brolly.

Maybe this is a night to just cry and get out whatever little mental blockage is clogging things up and making me feel icky.