My Mouth, My Choice

Next time you think the government is taking away the rights of the American people, remember the lowly Singaporean who for twelve years could not chew gum. All hail the new age of gum chewing in Singapore!

Listen to the story aired on Morning Edition: Morning Edition Returns: Easing Up on Chewing Gum and/or read the following article for background information from Globe and Mail, Canada: Free to Chew, But Not to Choose.


A special thanks to Melissa for the catchy title!


Aren't politics and the media interesting? I'm trying to find out what the media is saying about the status of Independent presidential candidate Ralph Nader being added to the Texas ballot for this year's election. So far the most current information I can find is from the web site Nader for President 2004 (check out this article) and email updates from the local chapter of Nader's campaign.

For more information on where Ralph Nader stands on the issues, look at this link (and NO!, I do not agree with all his positions but at least he knows how to think for himself).

His other web site is The Nader Page.

This election, lets try to think outside of the box!



So today I was convinced that my daughters (and maybe sons but only if they want to) should learn ballet, at least as little girls. The Slavin Nadal School of Ballet had its Spring concert this afternoon. Kizze takes lessons and teaches ballet at the school. Of course her performances were great (and I, for one, think she should take some time off after graduating from college to dance because she is so good--I can hear her now: Amateur!). But the children's dances were just so cute, particularly the three to five year olds. No matter how unpolished or how easily distracted some of these young dancers were they seemed to know the steps and performed them with enthusiasm (except for maybe Aloe Vera but she is a red head and, thus, apt to do whatever she darn well pleases). It goes to show what young people are capable of and that we should encourage their learning all kinds of skills while their little brains are still developing.

The main concern I would have is allowing them the, perhaps, greater potential for acquiring an eating disorder as adolescents than if they were not dancers. Of course, it doesn't take much, in our society, to encourage unhealthy habits. After I started a subscription with a teeny beauty magazine in junior high I decided I was fat and needed to lose weight. Actually, I wanted to look like a model (and maybe even be one, which if you look at any picture of me you would see that was a longshot). I never really starved myself (although not eating was a punishment when I didn't like myself), but it goes to show how easy it is to succumb to the standards set by the media. I look at pictures of me at that time and I'm a knobby kneed, frizzy haired, orange-faced girl.

Why is beauty taken so seriously, really? How many women really like to get dressed up everyday? Or putting on makeup or doing their hair, trying to look pretty, everyday? Is it just for the male species (which, by the way, is a double standard)? Or to like ourselves better (afterall, isn't Extreme Makeover a hit?)?

I guess the moral of this story is dancing is an art and little girls and boys are so cute when they do it and we need to set more positive, substantive role models for future (and why not current?) generations.


Its a Gamble

Love is like the lottery: You only have to get lucky once and then its all worth it.

Of course the odds are 1:1295 that a person may be your soulmate (Bessell, H., & Hurlburt R. (2004) Love is not a game (But you should know the odds). Personhood Press.)

Or love is an art: You must learn how to manipulate the canvas to make it your own.

--Shannon (Data Entry Clerk-USDA)


This is one of my favorite songs right now. Its so happy and hopeful and paints a beautiful picture of life. Here's what we have to look forward to:

What a Wonderful World--Louie Armstrong

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.


Krazy Kizze and I are on an important mission. That mission is to seek out the best deal on Dance Dance Revolution (or DDR as the pros call it!). We've enlisted fellow DDR geek and music tech man Iron Roddy Rowdy Piper to make sure we get the best deal possible. So far our search has consisted of scouring eBay and making one bid, but luckily we were outbidded as Kizze noted in her blog, because we know we can do better. (We're amateurs with the whole eBay thing.)

Now I have admit that this seems like a pretty silly endeavor. And it truly is. However, when you're hanging out at our pad, dancing your heart out, upsetting the people living downstairs, remember that Dance Dance Revolution is here to stay!

(Okay is this cheesy or what?!;)


So its a beautiful day and I decide that rather than take the bus from work to campus, I'll walk. The most scenic route is cutting through the State Capitol building grounds: lots of shade, green grass, and funny people wandering around.

I'm plodding along when I suddenly realize there are several men in military uniform heading down the sidewalk in my direction. The only uniform I recognize is the United States Air Force. As I pass by the men, who flash their bright white teeth at me (it is a small world afterall and GIs the world over like any and every humanoid with boobs--I think they'll take what they can get), I realize that some have accents and an Airman is explaining some aspect of American culture to one. Hmmm, I wonder what they're doing.

As I continue on my way I come to the end of the line and upon some stragglers.
"Can I get a picture?" a man from Kazakhstan asks.

Because he has a thick accent and I have bad hearing (or something) I ask him to repeat himself. "You want me to take a picture of you?"

"No, "he answers. "I want a picture with you."

Now anyone who knows me much at all knows I hate to have my picture taken. But I'm in a generous mood, feeling adventurous, and having a good hair day (and not feeling particulary sensitive about my Adams apple--it only shows up in each and every picture I ever take!). I consent.

Next thing I know two more men run over wanting to be included in the picture. We pose, take the picture, and the photographer and one of the soldiers leave. I chat with the remaining two soldiers (one from Kazakhstan and Alegeria). I ask them what they're doing here.

Well you learn something new everyday. They are stationed at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio. I didn't know we had foreign soldiers stationed in the U.S. but, hey, thats neat.

We chat a little. The Algerian man, who's a cutie but a bit short, tries to impress me by stating that he speaks French and has a French accent. Then he ask me if we can exchange email addresses. I tell him, "No, I'll never see you again."

We chat a bit more and then part ways, as I have to get to class.

The moral of this story is that aside from the positive impact on the environment and one's personal character, a way to add spice to one's life is to use an alternative form of transportation. I don't know where to begin relating all the bus stories I have (and I have lots of experience riding the bus--elementary school to the present). For example, the other day there was an old man telling this wild story about a fall he had the night before from a three story building. If it wasn't for the ring finger on his right hand he would not have lived to tell the story. That finger wasn't even scratched.

Wow.....!


The word "blog" is such an unattractive word. Its onomatapoeia for someone puking--BLOOOOOG!.

Good times....