I woke up wondering what it meant. Thinking about him no longer creates instant longing. Having him invade my sleeping space did make me curious about what he's up to, but not in a "must track him down and convince him to get back together with me" kind of way. I thought about it further and decided that his presence was the only way for my subconscious to remind me that I need to focus on my love life.

Perhaps I should back up and explain my tumultuous few weeks - I was contacted by two separate agencies in the last month and set up interviews for positions. I wasn't actually looking for a job, in fact I thought I was too busy with WILPF to even consider a switch. But since these opportunities came knocking, I couldn't close the door without seeing what was on the other side. During my interview with the second opening, I was offered the job. Flat out. And I said yes. And for the next week, I couldn't sleep. I was petrified that I made the wrong decision. It's a title bump and pay raise, yet I still felt like I was abandoning my employer and, somewhat more importantly, my clients. I knew that regardless of my title, my clients depended on my strategic thinking and ability to get projects created on time and within their preferences. Eventually, reality sank in, the offer was official, and I had to give notice.

The ease with which my boss accepted my resignation was the exact opposite of the anxiety that preceeded it. I'm half-way through my two weeks notice, and I've finally realized that I don't have to take everything so personally. My output has not diminished in quality simply because I don't consider every little decision as a reflection on my core being. In fact, realizing that sometimes junk mail is just junk mail allows me to leave at the end of the day without worrying about all the things I left until Monday to do. I grant you that giving notice was the impetus for the attitude change, but I truly believe that a more balanced approach is what everyone needs to create mental balance between work and personal space.

So back to that dream - see, I recently leased a new car and this new job allows me to feel more comfortable making the payments. I'm even thinking about buying a condo or a bungalow. ME! The woman who insisted she wouldn't buy property without a partner! Finally realizing that the combo of a tax break and an asset might be a reason to give up cramped living quarters.

The final support mechanism missing from my life is a companion. I'm healthy and happy and though I still lack a recognizable amount of free time, I am officially making myself open to finding the center of this dream.

I found paradise and it's the City of Angels. Nothing is perfect in my paradise, but there is path to the solution to every question. Though I've been bruised along the way, and some people dear to me did not live to see this day, it has finally come. Years of seeking have brought me to myself and I am ready to share this amazing existence with someone else. That is the center I seek for this dream I never intend to wake up from.

Which makes me wonder. Really? Is this what my life has turned into? Distracting myself from the e-newsletter I should be editing by spending time getting my (new) car washed and my nails painted? I suppose a 5 year illegal occupation on top of decades of noncompliance with international norms can cause many to despair of ever creating real change in this country. Me, I've learned to temper my activism with some good ol' fashioned materialism. The combination allows me to sleep well at night, albeit alone.

I keep forgetting about my sig line and how it's not exactly written in a professional manner. I enjoy the catch phrases I wrote about my blogs and my organization, but I'm not sure the world needs to know about my online persona. Then again, I suppose if you Google my name you find my entire online history, including my Serpentine Dancing Queen nickname, so I better stop caring. If a work contact can't handle the fact that WILPF has been railing against the military industrial complex since WWI, or that I write about politics from a feminist, activist perspective; or that I consider this blog cotton candy for the brain, so be it.

That's what I'll keep telling myself until I can fall asleep tonight.

1) getting friend requests from people whose names vaguely ring a bell, but you can't really place them.
2) being asked what I've been up to since graduating college eight years ago.

Let's see, where to begin? I always try to lighten the mood with the "traveled the country as a labor union organizer" line before diving into "and now I'm a cancer survivor!" Of course, then I have to add the caveat: and "it had nothing to do with my former life as a smoker," since one of the primary things I was known for in college was puffin on cancer sticks.

Maybe it's because facebook has better tools for finding people you forgot you knew - like the "you probably know these people" feature in the sidebar. Of all the networking sites I've been on, more people have crawled out of the woodwork on facebook than on any other app. Still highly unclear why the site makes a million dollars a week in ad sales...

good times. If you know a way to make my 90% vocal scores in Rock Band translate into a r/l social life, drop me a line: socialupheaval(at)gmail(dot)com

It was amazing - we had a great time up until about 9 p.m. on Sunday. Still, better to over-do having fun than leave wishing you'd done more. Now to figure out a way to bring the fun into my regularly scheduled life.

The restaurant has a wine tower and apparently, staff rappel the tower to gather wine when ordered by the bottle. Don't get confused if they bring you the wine list before the menu - you might end up ordering more liquor than necessary if you bow to the pressure to hand back the wine selection gadget (a tablet PC).

My dearest friend Tanyka and I shared the most delightful tasting menu ever. Shortly after the confusion with the wine list, a server came to our table and started putting down more plates. Once everything had been settled, he announced Lobster Bisque, "compliments of the chef." Then we received the Rose Chardonnay we ordered to accompany our appetizers and delicious bread. Finally, we received the menu and decided to go with the 7 course tasting menu rather than the 3 course prix fixe. Then, we decided to add the wine pairings, for a total of 4.5 glasses of wine (each course had half a glass, plus the rose). Here's the menu - each and every dish was absolutely fabulous! (Seriously; I don't even like sushi and I loved the ahi tuna.)

1. Hawaiian Ahi Tuna Trio w Paul Goerg, Blanc de Blancs Champagne (Chardonnay)
2. Slow Braised Beef Shank and Foie Grass Ravioli w W.T.W. Nadia (Viognier/Grenache Blanc/Roussane)
3. Olive Oil Poached Oregon Petrale Sole w Chardonnay, Oddero, Collaretto
4. Modesto County Pan-Seared Rabbit, w/ Morey St. Denis, J.P. Marchand (Pinot Noir)
5. Duo of Beef Tenderloin and Flat Iron w/ R.T.W. Cadence, Bel Canto (Cabernet Franc/Merlot/Petit Verdot)
6. Tasting of Cheese w Brioche Toast w/ Muskateller, Koehler-Ruprecht (Muscat)
7. Myer Lemon Parfait w Lemencello Sorbet w/ Kracher, Beernauslese Cuvee (Welschriesling/Chardonnay)

Unfortunately, Tanyka and I had a full day: we started with lunch/drinks at Trader Vic's, then did some serious shopping that didn't allow us to nap before arriving at Aureole. Since she had flown in from NYC and we got to the restaurant at 9:30 p.m., I had to understand when she started fading during course five. Thankfully, Hyoun and Lynne got into town in time for Hyoun to join us and eat Tanyka's sixth course and my seventh course. They brought me a trio of chocolates for my bday - including cake, tiramisu, and take-away wrapped white/milk chocolate. Let's be clear - I had every glass of alcohol from the rose champagne to the Beeranauslese Cuvee.

If this meal was the only thing I did for my 30th birthday, it would have been enough. Tanyka, you rock! (And thanks, Steve, for making the reservation.)

These are not necessarily bad things. I'm not a curmudgeon who thinks only fools fall in love. I'm just worried that in this highly competitive modern society, we haven't figured out how to maintain individual autonomy while accepting support from a lover.

I know that in my time at a women's college, I never once had to think deeply about my personal future - never had to figure out what it would be like to be financially dependent on another person, either for myself or my offspring. In fact, there was very little opportunity to confront the realities of modern society in my four cloistered years. Sure, I delved deeply into understanding human sexuality, gender roles, gender identity, and gender leadership through my chosen course work. But what does it mean to be dependent on another person to raise a child? What about when you're a passionate artist, and depend on your lover for food, shelter, and all those other material needs? What happens to you when the lover is no longer the support you need?

I'm being haunted by these questions because of things that happened to friends in the recent past. I know I am not responsible for other people's choices, but I keep wondering if I was better at being non-judgmental if my friendship could be a stronger support mechanism. I know this is irrational, but I keep grasping at straws as to how I can help my friends believe that both romantic love and feminist independence is possible. And that even if you've temporarily lost your independence, you will heal and you will return to your full self.

This is my Valentine's Day hope - that we can stop being afraid of getting close to one another, while remembering the importance of our separate identities.

...with hope for the future for my brilliant friend: a true artist and inspiration who will emerge from this dark period to continue inspiring the world with her magnificent writing and poetic acting.

For a long time I refused to consider birth control. My reasoning was simplistic - I felt it was unwise to mess with your hormone levels and that daily drug use was destined to cause problems. Nothing necessarily strange about that, except that while I was steadfastly refusing the gynecologist's offer of a script, I was also puffing away on cartons of cigarettes. Can't exactly be indignant about prescription drug effects when you're smoking cancer sticks.

In the end, I realized that freedom from condoms was a fair trade-off for possibly, probably not increasing my risk of disease. Strangely enough, the other hormone I take daily is more likely to cause long-term problems (early onset menopause, random cancers) than my lil white pill. Since I can't actually survive without my metabolism drug, I decided sometime last year to stop caring about future risk and focusing on today.

...this post is in honor of the 1-year anniversary of my thyroidectomy.

I'm intrigued that my coworkers think used cars are the way to go. You can get the type of car you want at a good deal by going this route. Though, as a female with zero ability to gauge the honesty of repairmen, I'm wary of leaving myself open to abuse. Trust me, I've sunk enough extra money into my Mercury Grand Marquis to buy a used Honda over the 5.5 years I've been driving it.

The other interesting thing about my male coworker's discussion of cars is that no one seems primarily concerned with color choice. I mean, people are willing to take a deal (particularly on used cars) rather than wait for the color combo that looks perfect. This may be a chick thing, maybe I'm just childish, but once I make a decision on the make/model of the car the most important decision to me is exterior and interior color. This is a helluva lot more important than all the extra doodads (particularly the dumbass guy lust for cool rims) you could put on a car.

As a chick, I can't help but be surrounded by mothers. From my own mom's decision to drive a Toyota mini-van, to my sister's mini-SUV, all around me women are making choices based on hauling their own kids or kids they're related to. And to declare my own independence from such accessories, I'm determined to get a sexy, lil car to replace my whale.

Right now, my eye is on the Nissan Z Coupe Touring in black with Burnt Orange Leather interior or the Audi TT Coupe 2.0 TFSI w Premium Package in Brilliant Black with Fine Nappa Leather in Luxor Beige interior. The Z's estimated price is $34,075 whereas the TT's estimated price is $38,050.

Seems a good thing that this new fangled internet allows one to lust after material possessions without having to deal with salesmen, since both are beyond my budget at the present time.

Random research note - supposedly the trade-in value of my whale is $3,400. Though my coworker tells me it'd be easy to sell it in the Latino community, where the model is highly valued.

...maybe I'll go test drive some cars today. Looks like a good day to play...

As a head's up for those of you who don't know what I'm talking about LFN was originally a French movie made in 1990, remade into the somewhat terrible film Point of No Return in 1993 and the t.v. series began in 1997. Buffy the Vampire Slayer the movie was released in 1992 and began its t.v. life in 97 as well. I mention this because they are both important cultural touchstones for the beginning of strong, leading females. I believe they should both be heralded as the original modern feminist screen heroes, though LFN is often thought of as the precursor to BtVS.

I purchased the first two seasons shortly after they came out. I was frustrated that the other seasons were being held up by disputes over music rights (or so the fandom said), and stopped looking for them. Then, on New Year's Eve I purchased seasons 3, 4, and 5 (on sale!). For the last 20 days, I've obsessively watched every episode from those seasons, breaking for the obvious (paid work) and not so obvious (never-ending volunteer work).

Sadly, the ending is not as good as the journey. Apparently, the writers knew they were being canceled during season 4, so they decided to wrap things up in the most fucked up ending to a series ever. Then, because of fan outcry, they were brought back for a pathetic 8 episode 5th season that further destroyed the good name of the series.

Since most people have never seen the series, I don't want to screw up the first 3.5 seriously good seasons for you by explaining the details of the horrid end. So, I'll talk in generalities.

There are few series that think it's a good thing to end by killing off the main characters one by one. Even worse is the idea of radically changing a major character into a sniveling idiot. Perhaps worse than all the other putrid contrivances of the 5th season was watching the New Woman shamelessly use her body to get ahead in Section. The show, like the French film it's based on, revolves around the love between Nikita and her mentor, Michael. But they did not come together because she wanted to use her anatomy to get ahead in the world, and it was disgusting to watch that plot unfold with another operative. (Let's not quibble over the fact that she was ordered to do this. Men directing women like puppets is another thing the writers got wrong in the last season. Perhaps because they killed off their gender-bending central figure.)

I guess that's not the worst thing I can say about the writing. Not allowing Nikita to react to the fact that Michael had a wife and child (supposedly operatives completely separate from real human reactions to interpersonal relationships when they're created as part of an assignment) and then having multiple high-level males die so that one innocent kid could live was just too damn much for me.

Needless to say, I wont be watching the end of the series again anytime soon. It was a bit of a shock to return to my DVR and find new episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Desperate Housewives waiting for me. Perhaps now I'll have time for the ten episodes of Cane that are waiting on my DVR...or maybe I'll just finally delete them and open up space for guilty pleasures that have a higher likelihood of returning when the strike ends.

2001 Interview with LFN star Pita Wilson. Transcript is housed on the fan site LFN Forever

Totally excited review of the series written while it was still on the air at Pop Matters.

The almost dead official site where you can link to watching a few eps for free.

Still, for some reason I didn't fully understand the connection between Bale's character and Ledger's character until I read the reviews.

Like many people, I thought Gere's bit was the least enjoyable of the movie. While I enjoy the Basement Tapes, I had the hardest time connecting to Gere. I appreciated the dissolution of Riddle, but Gere seemed to be skimming the surface of the milieu - one reviewer said his character was an actor in a period drama, but I thought he was actually supposed to be part of the environment without the artifice of actor playing a role.

Of course, like everyone, I thoroughly enjoyed Blanchett's reenactment of the seminal moments Dylan's transformation from folkie to rocker. And I got a kick out of Moore's bitter Joan Baez impersonation. Reminds me that my 2004 Halloween costume augured my future relationship to my personal Robert Zimmerman.

Though it is impossible to fully understand during a first viewing, and it doesn't have the linear draw of most movies - or the satisfying puzzle explained ending of most nonlinear movies - I'm Not There is one of my favorite movies of the year.

rotten tomatoes entry
Ty Burr's review in the Globe
Carina Chocano's review in the LAT
Ebert's review contains useful back story links
Owen Gleiberman's EW review

Went to Cafe Matou, which seems appropriate since I stayed in Maison Matou. I am grateful to Kelvin for putting up with my moodiness and providing a futon for me to sleep on. I was clearly difficult and distracted company, to say the least.

As this year comes to an end, I'm reminded of all the people I've lost touch with over the years. Since mortality is a lesson I've learned several times this year, I am making a concerted effort to rekindle friendships, enjoy each day, and make time for joy. Though my shock and grief at Katie's passing cannot be cast off like yesterday's clothes, I know I need to move forward and live each day to its fullest.

Since my writing is being drowned by trite cliches, I'll end here. Please consider sharing your year end thoughts with me, either in the comments section or via email: socialupheaval (at) gmail.com.

Katie and I met at Wellesley and rekindled our friendship during my sojourn in Chicago. Her friendship was unwavering and all-encompassing. She was very concerned about my cancer treatment - she even sent a radiation care package, which in my hypo-state I could not find until after I returned from the hospital.

Katie was the first gourmet cook in my life and she conjured up the grandest meals I ate during college (forget the all-you-can-eat food plan, her meals were worth a thousand Sunday sundaes.) Her lust for life included a taste for the more down-to-earth culinary delights, from McDonald's Big Macs (hold the vegetables) to fried food on a stick at the Woodstock County Fair.

We both experienced profound love and heart break, which probably made us appear off kilter to the rest of the world. We were moving forward in our lives, not exactly on the same trajectory as Wendy Wellesley, but in our own ways making an impact on the world.

I am devastated by this loss. My heart goes out to her family and her "babies" - Luke & Pepper, her beloved dogs. I will be in Chicago next weekend to attend a memorial for her.

Alas, I was wrong.

Perhaps I was spoiled by my sojourn in Chicago, but come on - why add tomatoes to your pizza if they're not fresh? Why bake it with so much cheese that the dough doesn't have time to cook? It's so disappointing.

I'm finally starting to get tired and it's 12:30 here. Good thing I don't have an AM meeting tomorrow. Hope I catch onto Eastern time soon...