"Some calls it madness...I calls it HiDeeHo." - Cab Calloway
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Friday, August 23, 2002


Enetation! People WANT to comment to me, I know they do. I think it's time to shop around. In the meantime, ladies and gentlemen, please email me any comments you may have and I will post them as addendums. Please? I'm so desparate for validation! Validate me like a parking voucher!

Denver, you are skating on thin ice. Watch it.


Yes! get comments going! *grin*
Leeann, IndigoBlur

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/23/2002 03:52:00 PM

Thursday, August 22, 2002


I know there is injustice. I know there is suffering. I know 'every little bit helps.' BUT...I don't have any real pet issues that require time, money or envelope-stuffing. Not to say I don't care. I do. I care a lot. Caring isn't going to find land mines, feed starving millions, get equality for women all over the world, or end child/elder/spouse abuse, nor will my ranting and raving amongst strangers who will not hear me no matter where I go because they are too busy criticizing my clothes or gawking at my body. See? I'm a little embittered about activism, and here's why:

I will not be tied to any political party, country, ideology, religion, sexual orientation, marital status, socioeconomic status, or any other label.

I am NOT liberal, absolutely not conservative, nor am I MOTR. I have a hard time voting. I usually am among those whose votes are "wasted."

I have so many Euro-ethnicities (see below), and feel only a vague tie to my identity as "American." I'm not THAT proud to be American, to tell the truth; however, I am a big fan of the ability to say so, though. Other places do have freedom of speech, you know. I will look into that, just to prove I'm right.

I do not endorse any method of thought or expression over another, though I do endorse useful items. Today, it's pencils. Great things, pencils. You can write, sing, paint, draw, make lists, tag railroad cars, walk, dance, design and write games, spit on their burgers, mix jizz into the slaw, bang leaky pipes, take your clothes off for money, walk the streets chanting hare hare krishna...hey, man. It's your thing. Do it. Don't let me stand in your way.

I am not by any means Christian, nor Jewish, nor Muslim, nor Hindu, nor Shinto, nor Buddhist, nor even pagan per se. Believing in gods and goddesses like that is like believing in the mailman and the police. You interact with them and it doesn't require faith for them to be there delivering your mail or giving you a ticket, does it? So it is for me.

I am currently 70/30 in the next category. You don't need to know any more than that.

I am still married, not quite divorced, yet somewhat reattached, taxably single, wanting to be engaged again (!), yet still enjoying the freedom of being able to associate with whom I will. If I choose to associate almost exclusively with Josh, no one is to say me nay. He too has the freedom to come and go as he chooses. I can hope he won't go, but I can't force him.

I am working-class comfortable, but then I'm a single mom with a child in day care and I also don't have health insurance.

I am almost management at my job, but not quite. I am "staff."

I am not a vegan, nor vegetarian, nor do I eat particularly healthily. Health isn't about food.

I do smoke and drink alcohol on occasion, but I stop cold turkey for months at a time. Same as above; health is not about chemicals.

I am not brand loyal with very very few exceptions, and even those are just waiting to be knocked over. Show me something better and I'm there.

In order to be politically active or espouse any cause, I would have to sacrifice my nebulous lack-of-identity identity. All of those fights are not my fights. Self-determination is what it's all about, people. Those (choose country) huddled masses living in fear? They are oppressed, sure; they value continuing their lives rather than risking all to free themselves.

Yes, it's easy to say this from a peaceful small town in a peaceful region of a peaceful country. My mettle will be tested in the future, I'm sure of it. The unsurity of my 20s will shed like a snakeskin and come 30, magically, this ultra-super-powered woman will emerge, ready to fight for any cause that comes her way.

That's still two years away, though.

ADDENDA (comments?):
...and what if my " thing" is slaughtering Jews by the millions?
....and what if my "thing" is avaricious greed, with a willingness to impoverish thousands of others through my own aggrandizement?
.....do we, again, return to (what for me) is a horrifying concept, and hence a world in which ultimately all "things" have a moral equivilancy, simply because one imagines that one cannot change anything?
.....if I could only describe to you the vast difference between the world we inhabit today, and the world I was born into. The changes brought about in our country alone, by often miniscule sacrifices and sometimes seemingly meaningless "activism" over the last 65 years are so immense as to be, in some ways, mind-boggling.
....included in these immense changes is the reshaping of our culture so that so many can, with relative impunity, "do their own things." That cultural right didn't come to be without some significant labors and sacrifices, and it did not come about without being in tandem with other things, such as the Civil Rights Movement and the anti-war movement of the 1960's and 1970's. That right came, part and parcel, with and because of the other things.
Quite simply speaking, you don't get to "just do your own thing" without someone having died (not a metaphor) along the way for you to have that right.
One becomes "an activist" partially as repayment of a debt to those who, through blood and labors, gave us what modicum of goodness we have in this world.

This is me, Julie. I am biding my time, wifing my strength for the days when I need to lead the masses. I said I'd do it, didn't I? I have been on sabbatical trying to raise my daughter in a world that neither wants nor needs us. I'm still on sabbatical.

I will raise a lot of hackles with this one, but genocidal tendencies are a fact of human nature. In any group, there will inevitably rise some members who want to decimate fill-in-the-blank group because of fill-in-the-blank reason. Doesn't make it right, of course.

Personally, I count the European genocide of indigenous peoples of North and South America to be by far the worst. Jews are not nearly extinct.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/22/2002 02:19:00 PM

Wednesday, August 21, 2002


I plotted out the points at which different branches of my family and Josh's family originated. His includes Cork, Ireland to the west and somewhere (probably lots of different places) in Russia to the east. There are probably more than that, but I don't recall. Those stand out in my mind only as he mentioned them.

Mine are Margate in Kent and Wales in the UK (dad's father, hence my maiden name of Foat and his maternal grandma, last name Jones); Dresden and Hamburg in Germany (mom's mother- Wolff and Dressler and dad's mother, Kohlhaas); the Viamala Gorge area of southern Switzerland near Italy (mom's father in particular, Schams); Lodz, Poland (mom's mother's side somehow, must look into this); southwestern Romania (dad's maternal grandma, don't recall how). Can't forget good ol' Italy because the Romans were EVERYWHERE, especially England and eastern Europe.

You know what? Josh's people had mine hemmed in on both sides. Look at the block of land our ancestors came from. For such whitey-whites as us, it spans quite a great distance, but his were further east and further west.

I was inspired to make a note of this by something in poemcrazy, the bit about where am I from. I went and stuck pins in the globe and saw that they were all in a sine-wave line. It kind of jogged something in my head.

I am from pavilions of decandence
Imperator's servants
I am from a coal mine
Under a cabbage field.
I am from the place where they hammer out the time
On little brass bells.
I am from the mountains
Where Gypsies hid
I am from the birthplace of Britannia
And where Pomerania died
I am from a place
That no longer exists.

Looking at family trees boggles my mind. Looking at pictures of the places where my predecessors came from makes me want to go visit each and every one of them.

There is nothing left in Europe of any of my family's presence, I don't think. I have adopted Irish as my "heritage." If I'm going to make shit up, I may as well make up believable shit, right? I sure do look the part. Maybe next time, I'll adopt something more exotic.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/21/2002 01:14:00 AM

Tuesday, August 20, 2002


You know, I am a pathetic addict. Here I am, struck with a stuffy-nose scratchy-throat viral bug, and still smoking. BUT...

I experienced firsthand the counter-irritant effect. To wit: I light up a menthol light 100 (brand shall remain a mystery), inhale, and exhale forcefully through my poor stuffy nose in exasperation. Much to my surprise, my passages briefly clear...and stay clear. Sniffle, wipe...but I CAN BREATHE! Wow. I had a flash of insight at that moment. Hey, what if I applied some of the aforementioned tea tree oil to the cig and exhaled THAT? The medicine women of yore experimented primarily on themselves, you know. So I do that, and guess what? Damn if it didn't work! The menthol/cineole/terpin-4-ol somehow or another sent out a flood of serous dribble and now, an hour later, I am still breathing easy.

The empiric data are in: When Julie has a cold, she should smoke tea-tree enhanced menthols. More research is forthcoming.

There are other examples of counter-irritant effects in old medical lore; mustard plasters, stinging nettle rubs, isopropyl alcohol washes, and good ol' Ben-Gay. Bring blood to a part of the body, bring more white blood cells, more oxygen, speed healing and cure of symptoms and perhaps the cause as well.

Of course, there are better ways of getting counter-irritants than smoking cigarettes, but like I said, I am a pathetic addicted fool.

Worked a lot better than that stupid Benadryl last night.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/20/2002 03:44:00 PM

Monday, August 19, 2002


I'm sorry, I'm too chengafied on diphenhydramine to do anything intelligent. Here is a drawing of a stapler. No? Hey, where did it go? This is how I felt when I was smoking large amounts of HEMP BUDS in the past. Capped for emphasis. I will fall asleep shortly, and here it's only 8:46 CDT. Gods and Goddesses, how very responsible of me.


1. Type on Blog. Warn reader(s) of stupidity on my part. You have been warned.
2. Listen to all compilation CDs you own and remark upon their eclectic-ness.
3. Wonder who made that one CD, the one with the wrong Bjork songs on it. I wanted Big Time Sensuality and Enjoy, but NOOOOOO! Someone screwed up. Maybe it was me.
4. Miss aforestated adorable boyfriend, but be glad he doesn't have to see me with my nose still running like a broken faucet. Wonder if I am apparently stoned on diphenhydramine or if I could hide it.
5. Ponder Doritos and salsa.
6. Ponder leftover Krispy Kreme doughnut that I promised Morgan could have.
7. Note that "munchies" are not on the side effect label.
8. Shine flashlight into eyes in mirror; note sluggish pupils.
9. Stare blankly into candle flame and allow eyes to get very very heavy.
10. Email Sean Demory.
11. Laugh goodnaturedly at the fact that he and his brother have, in fact, THE SAME NAME! Ian=Sean=John.
12. Wish I had a harem couch and pillows.
13. End Blog entry on a low thud of a note.

posted by Julie Neff  # 8/19/2002 09:14:00 PM


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