The Blog of Chloë and Pete  

Two characters (that would be Chloë and Pete) looking for love, safety, and Krispy Kremes. A book looking for readers and a publisher. An author (Jessica) looking for an agent, a life, and a region-free DVD player.

email: jessica_lynn -at-

About Me 23.07.02

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The WeatherPixie


My boy's bike is actually a Yamaha ('83 Midnight Virago, for those interested) and he doesn't have a Jewish bone in his body, but I think he'd like the Stars of Davidson anyway.

  posted by Jessica @ 14:02 |



Okay, this is pretty nifty:

If you feel more comfortable donating to something established, you can go directly through the USO. Unfortunately I don't know what the British and Australian equivalents would be.

  posted by Jessica @ 12:08 |


I love airports. Or rather, I love the feeling of being alone in an airport. I am a sophisticated lady; I am Marlo Thomas in That Girl; I am the one with the laptop, or the one browsing through the lad-rags at the Hudson News, or the one eating overpriced yogurt, and it doesn't matter long as I make it onto the plane.

I love Hartsfield, even with the screamingly misplaced atrium and the disappearance of Chris the friendly bartender from Concourse C, because for a year and a half being at Hartsfield meant being home and with the boy for a few precious days. I love the steely, too-clean, upscale, self-consciously modernist Terminal One at JFK, and I'd probably love Eero Saarinen's TWA terminal if I got to see it. I love Heathrow with its cheerful black-on-yellow signs, and I love the sunken food court in the nice part of LaGuardia, and I can even love DFW, one of the most unlovable airports in America, because the boy and I spent a lovely hour playing rummy at one of its gates just after Christmas 2001.

I don't love Charles de Gaulle, though. I respect it, but I don't love it.

My father got to take a business trip to China in 1998; he now claims to have arrived in one of the last planes to fly into Hong Kong's old airport and have left in one of the first planes to depart from Chek Lap Kok. Lucky man.

I'm doing some traveling over the next two weeks, but to no new airports. One of my hopes for 2003 is that I get to meet some nifty new airports. There are very few sensations like getting off the plane for the first time in a new city and the rush of excitement from the different people, different language on the signs, different ads, different chain stores -- it's nice to be in an airport you know, but it's definitely not the same.

  posted by Jessica @ 11:13 |



Regarding the last post, and general will-we-or-won't-we be at war talk: my thoughts are getting less and less coherent on the subject, and I'm enjoying the arguments less and less. I spent a very nice weekend hanging out with old friends and new ones -- last night we were gaming late, very late, late enough that people got punchy and funny, and I generally like seeing new friends get punchy and funny for the first time. And there was no discussion of getting anyone's war on. It was all silly and ephemeral, and it made me happy.

This morning I woke up, went to the computer, went to this blog, and felt my mood start to sink. Either way -- go to war, not go to war -- I see potential for disaster. And I know my arguments are starting to spiral in on themselves.

I know, I know -- participatory democracy, if you're not outraged you're not paying attention and if you're not paying attention then what are you doing, other than staring glass-eyed into space? But, frankly, staring glass-eyed into space would be more productive for me at this point.

I feel guilty, now -- I usually do; I ought to be fighting the rhetorical good fight for the cause I think best. But I simply don't know. If we go to war I'll support my country and my president and I'll pray that we're not sitting in a handbasket bound for hell. If there's more I should be doing . . . there's always more I should be doing, just like there's always something to feel guilty about, but I think the world will go on without my agonizing.

Parents, this is why you should not tell your children that they are intelligent and amazing and will grow up to do wonderful, world-changing things -- because they will harp on such praise long after it ceases to have any bearing on the situation at hand.

  posted by Jessica @ 13:15 |



Ana Marie Cox, former Suck editor, now has a blog, in which she asks the strangely simple question: Why are we at Code Orange, anyway?

The whole Code Orange alert has gone completely over my head; there isn't a bit of duct tape or bottle of water to be found in the apartment. You'd think I'd be piling up, since I'm one of those who've been saying for a while that it's a question of where and when, not if, the next terrorist attack will be, regardless of whether we end up fighting in Iraq or not. I just don't see a terrorist attack as something you prepare for. If I really wanted to defend myself, I wouldn't be shuttling between two of the larger and better internationally known American cities.

I suppose the question would be: how could I be relatively cynical about the administration's use of Code Orange signals and yet still in favor of the war? Ampersand has a retort (not aimed specifically at me) for practically every argument I've trotted out so far: war won't necessarily end the destructive sanctions -- in fact, we could have the ultimate worst-case scenario: war and Saddam and sanctions. Nor will it necessarily lead to a stable, democratic Iraq, because said Iraq might not necessarily be America-friendly -- in fact, it would almost certainly not be in ten years' time (nor would a stable, democratic Iran). Nor can we necessarily assume that the war will be quick and relatively painless for American troops or Iraqi civilians. So why go to war at this point?

Unfortunately, one of the answers is "Because we've been saying we will for months now." I've seen that line of thinking ridiculed -- geopolitics should not be a game of chicken. But a country that talks tough and doesn't follow through looks very, very vulnerable on the geopolitical front. Donald Kagan, in On the Origins of War, discusses this at length in relation to Athens and Sparta. I don't mean the moral dimension here; I'm talking self-defense.

Look at it from the point of view of a prospective America-bomber. You look at what the 19 of September 11th did. Then you look at what's transpired in the 17 months since: the Taliban were pushed out of Kabul -- but they still control good parts of Afghanistan; Osama bin Laden is probably still alive; anti-American sentiment around the globe is more visible than ever; Israel is isolated and desperate; North Korea is suddenly boldly talking about nukes. For all the posturing and bluster and froth . . . there's still not much reason not to carry out your plan. If anything you might be more motivated, now that you're been harrassed by the INS a few times.

To bring down Saddam at this point would at least mean there are some consequences to threatening the United States. If we actually brought him down, that is. It most likely wouldn't make a dent in al-Qaeda or other international terrorist groups, who probably severed their links to Saddam months ago, nor would it win the US any friends in the short- or medium-term, nor is it likely -- it's possible, but not likely -- to bring about a stable, economically viable, relatively not corrupt, democratic Iraq. But the alternative, to slap Saddam on the wrist -- with more sanctions, with diplomacy, with anything short of force -- while simultaneously trying to pretend that Kim Jong-il doesn't exist? This is the hyperpuissance that gets the world so steamed? Somewhere, Margaret Thatcher is laughing. Or crying.

I don't sound very pro-war, do I? Mr. Green is going to remove me from his Cool Girls list, and My Secret Agent Lawyer Man will go find some other girl to flirt with. I'm starting to think we're damned if we do go to war and damned if we don't. The people of Iraq are also damned if we do and damned if we don't. We can actively get blood on our hands, or we can just hold our hands out and wait for the blood to drip.

I think the best thing for me to do is take Neal Pollack's advice and shut up. There's a use of the duct tape for you.

  posted by Jessica @ 12:32 |



Meet Laura Antoniou, woman with a girlfriend, self-described pro-war liberal, and (like me) an Ian Buruma fan. Cool. (Via Vodkapundit.)

  posted by Jessica @ 10:55 |



So your boyfriend is very funny
And so are your cats
And today I thought of you
'Cause there's going to be this new show, Earthlings,
And Kate Moenning will be on it.
Remember? Jake/Jacqueline?
From Young Americans?
The Steel Drums of Non-Gay Love?
Yeah. That.
Nobody remembers that show, just the recaps.
So I think you should recap Earthlings
Even after your book comes out
And you're all famous and shit
And you say you're just Pamie from the block
And then say, "That's old now, isn't it? Damn. I'm old."
But seriously,
I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you more at the wedding post-party
But things were weird and I was drunk
(Apparently things were weird and people were drunk all around)
And I didn't get a chance to tell you
I hope good things continue to happen to you.
Happy Valentine's Day to you too.

  posted by Jessica @ 17:54 |



There are times to hate evil. And then there are times to simply step back and salute evil in all its surprising, devious, brilliant evilness.

Meet Sonny Perdue, transformed at a stroke from a bumbling would-be small-town principal to the kind of archvillain you bow to before trying to kill him.

Here's the deal: Perdue wants a referendum on the state flag on March 2, 2004 -- the day Georgia votes in the presidential primaries. (Keep in mind that in Georgia, you don't have to be registered in a party to vote in that party's primary -- you can just show up.) There will be two questions. Q1: Do you want to keep the current flag, yes or no? Since the current flag is pretty much universally despised, that will probably be a no. But your vote in Q1 can only count if you vote in Q2: Which flag would you choose as a replacement -- the 1920-1956 flag or the 1956-2001 flag?

Well, the pre-1956 flag, you might say, since that gets rid of the awful Confederate battle symbol. But if the pre-1956 flag isn't modeled after the Stars and Bars, I'm blind. In fact, the 1920-1956 version is a not-too-distant descendant of the first official state flag, which is explicitly modeled after the Stars and Bars.

So, you either have to vote for an aesthetic monstrosity, or a Confederate symbol. You can't opt out. You can't vote for any other flag. You can't vote to just bin the idea of a state flag altogether. Either way, Sonny Perdue wins: if the current flag wins, he can say he delivered the right-wing battle-flag champions what they wanted; if either of the two proposals win, the Confederate heritage is restored, and he can say it was the will of the people. Perfect! Evil!

That is, if Herr Perdue's proposal passes the Legislature. Which it well might. I almost hope it does. I haven't gotten to see such splendid evil so up close and personal since the first season of The Amazing Race, or the death of the Mayor.

  posted by Jessica @ 13:40 |


Linking to this for my Teach-for-America alumnus reader. Warning: City Journal is cranky conservative, and the article is pretty much right in line with their editorial tone.

  posted by Jessica @ 10:27 |


Continuing along the Willow/Kennedy lack-of-chemistry theme, Iyari Limon (the actress who plays Kennedy) reveals that she wasn't really "in the moment." But some of her coolest friends are gay! No, she actually says that. Either that, or someone was trying to make her look horribly stupid: I also love fiction that has to do with witches, fairies, vamps, etc…. is there a word for that? I probably should know.

Sometimes finding out more about an actor pays off, and sometimes . . .

Yes, I'm biased. Point and laugh all you like. But part of the reason why I became a fan of Amber Benson in the first place was that she's an exception to what seems to be the general rule: there aren't that many mainstream Hollywood actresses that co-write comic books, write/direct/produce their own films, co-write/direct an animated series for the BBC, and so on. Even if she never does another creative thing again, just working with the studio that created Dangermouse renders her eternally crushworthy, far as I'm concerned.

  posted by Jessica @ 10:02 |


I can't believe I'm the only person mildly obsessed with t.A.T.u., the fake lesbian Russian pop duet. Well, me and Rob Walker, apparently. Come skulk in the dimly lit corner with me, Mr. Walker. But really, where are all you salacious bloggers? They're Russian! They're making out! They're wet, and in schoolgirl outfits, and born during Reagan's presidency, and making out!

They're apparently not actually dating each other, by the way. Or maybe. Or maybe not. They're being coy, which is either a testament to their handler's devotion to his ideas of "pedo-pop" or refreshing, at least compared to say, Kerr Smith yelling, "I'm not really gay! No, sir! Gay? Ick!" for all and sundry to hear. (And all and sundry's response: "Dawson's Creek is still on the air?")

Of course, I'm of about six minds as to the fake lesbian Russian pop schoolgirls. On the one hand, I'm all for more women making out on my television screen, and since the Memento Mori DVD is relatively hard to get as Korean DVDs go, t.A.T.u. is pretty much it for fulfilling the desperate-girls-in-love-and-plaid-skirts quota. And "All the Things She Said" actually sounds like it could be about two teenage girls in love and freaked out about it. (It could also be a summary of the first two-thirds of Memento Mori, minus the cool, observing third girl. Memento Mori is a brilliant film, by the way.) And, hell, they have more chemistry than Willow and Kennedy. (The Moscow Times says that they kiss "as passionately as two aunts." Sadly, that still means they have more chemistry than Willow and Kennedy.)

On the other, it's so exploitative as to be almost parodic -- wet! Russian! teenage! schoolgirls! kissing! They make Posh Spice look like Simone de Beauvoir. It only feeds into this whole idea that female-female love is just another peep show, to be either admired if the women are hot, or ridiculed if they're "dykes." Even when there are only women's bodies in the picture, it's the men's eyes that make the difference.

And seeing as how my boyfriend looooves it when I tell him about my girlcrushes, I'm not exactly one to talk. He swears he's just trying to make sure I'm not going to leave him for a woman, but what gay woman would take my sexual flip-flopping seriously? I like boys! I like girls! I like boys and girls! But I'm faithful! But I'm not! God almighty.

If female homosexuality were no big deal, if there weren't this element of male gaze and male power to depictions of girl-girl action, then we could dismiss t.A.T.u. as subpar Europop and me as just a flake. But we haven't reached that point yet.

On the third hand (fourth? fifth?) I've seen, online, younger women who are so, so glad to hear a song like "All the Things She Said." And just like I would have been glad to have Willow and Tara (if not Willow and Kennedy) around when I was 13, so I might have secretly watched the video over and over and over again.

  posted by Jessica @ 17:30 |



Because y'all love me so much, you can help me out: Who sings the song "Chocolate and Strawberries"? The lead singer sounds a little like Sarah Cracknell, but it's definitely not Saint Etienne. I thought it was the Sundays; I was wrong.

And as for my ill-fated lyrics quiz -- answers in the first comment for this entry.

  posted by Jessica @ 15:45 |


S. T. Kerrick doesn't sound like he'd know a Hong Kong flick if Sally Yeh stuck a semiautomatic up his butt, so he probably wasn't the right guy to review Shanghai Knights for the National Review. The clue? "[Jackie Chan] worked for so many years in the Hong Kong movie industry, a very different place . . . " and that's all the background Kerrick can deign to provide. No King Hu, no wuxia films, no one-armed swordsmen or Shaolin fighters or monkey/drunken/eagle fighters or any sort of context whatsoever for this idea of Jackie Chan as an action hero more American than the Americans.

"Chan is known, among aficionados of the martial-arts film, for his innovations in fusing action and comedy," Kerrick writes. Ehhhhhhh. Somewhat. Not alone, he isn't. There's Drunken Master and its sequel, yes, go Jackie. But it's hard to discuss his "innovations" as if he always worked alone, instead of with Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao; his collaborations with them -- Dragons Forever, Eastern Condors, Wheels on Meals -- probably did as much to establish his reputation as his solo work, and if anyone should get the credit for "innovations" there it's Sammo Hung, who has served as director and/or action director more often than Chan has. (He directed both of those, plus The Victim, Encounter of the Spooky Kind and its hopping vampires, The Prodigal Son, and Pedicab Driver, to name just a few.) Then there's the Yuen Clan films of the late 1970s, which are more strictly in the "kung-fu" tradition than Chan's, the Aces Go Places series of the early 1980s, the action-comedy-period-drama Peking Opera Blues, none of which featured Jackie Chan. Hell, you might argue that Chow Yun-fat, who crossed over from star of silly frothy comedies (Eighth Happiness) to bloody Triad battles, was more innovative than Jackie Chan, who started out in action films and never really left. Put it this way: it's not easy to picture Jackie Chan going from pure comedy (Eighth Happiness, again) to martial-arts (Swordsman) to comedy-horror (A Chinese Ghost Story II) to modern Triad pathos (As Tears Go By) to modern drama (July Rhapsody) -- that's Jacky Cheung, and acting isn't even really considered his main career!

Impressive? Yes. Innovative? Not all that much. Part of a much larger and more complicated film picture than Kerrick can apparently begin to grasp? Certainly. But Jackie Chan is cheerful and Harrison Ford is not, and somehow this proves that "relativism" has sucked the life out of American culture. All it proves is that Owen Wilson is bloody funny. (Notice that Kerrick can't even be bothered to mention the Rush Hour films or The Tuxedo.) And if Kerrick's argument were really true, wouldn't Chan's films bomb and Jet Li's more somber American work be more successful? But Kerrick thinks he can pick Jackie Chan up out of any context whatsoever and plop him in the midst of a labored, nonsensical, snippy argument. Please, National Review, stick to Francophobia. Don't try talking about Hong Kong films again until your writers can at least tell Shaolin Soccer from Kids From Shaolin at fifty paces.

  posted by Jessica @ 11:43 |



Coffee is a lovely thing. I woke up cranky and now I feel much less so. Talking with a sympathetic co-worker helps.

I wrote another scene yesterday, which I expected to come by fits and starts but actually flowed rather smoothly. I'm now (finally) up to the part that was in the first draft, which means I'll be rewriting these particular adventures of Chloë and Pete for the third time in four years. I thought I could get away with a good deal of cutting and pasting of what I'd already written. Now I don't think so. They're on very different terms with each other (and pissed off, separately, about different things) now than they were in the second draft, which was in its turn very different from the progression of things in the first draft.

I haven't forgotten about the people on my book list, though I haven't been in touch with them for a while; partly because I don't want to admit how shockingly slowly things are going, partly because I haven't heard from a lot of them in a while either. It's a little disturbing when you hand someone your baby and he (or she) drops out of sight. (On the other hand, he might send you five pages of comments, as Larry did. If you're looking for a beta reader, Larry's a good 'un.) It's one of those tasks I've been putting off -- mainly because I want to ask people to destroy their copies of the second draft, and I doubt they'll actually do it.

  posted by Jessica @ 09:50 |



Happy birthday, PejBlog,
Happy birthday, PejBlog,
Now enjoy it, you link whore,
Happy birthday, PejBlog!

  posted by Jessica @ 09:26 |


We want a rock!

But not all of us get one.

Brooke did. Or will. Mazel tov! Go congratulate her and Scott.

Now, who gets prosthetic foreheads on their real heads?

  posted by Jessica @ 15:09 |



I don't know if Lileks has ever been to Atlanta. I think fans of his need to start a Get Lileks to Atlanta fund, because the piece he writes on downtown is going to be so much fun. John Portman, run and hide.

Of course, define "downtown." Most people in the metro area can't; and if they can, they can't find their way around the various color-designated Turner Field parking lots, much less the one-way-only challenges of Courtland Street, Ellis Street, and so on. Is "downtown" by the State Capitol? Is it Fairlie-Poplar? Is it by the Fox Theatre, or is the Fox still in Midtown? What about Peachtree Center? Or Underground? Why does New York, with so much less space, have room for Rockefeller Center, but Atlanta's downtown's two major shopping malls are both underground? And what do we make of the fact that of Atlanta's landmarks with any history to them -- the Varsity (near Georgia Tech), the Big Chicken (way the hell up in Marietta), the Fox -- the only ones anywhere near downtown are Auburn Avenue and Margaret Mitchell's house? (Now there's a juxtaposition for you.)

Atlanta: the City Too Busy to Know Where Its Downtown Is. One of the funniest developments of GraftFest '96 -- i.e. the Olympics -- was that they put all the events downtown, or relatively close to it, and built Centennial Park downtown, and then were surprised when people actually went downtown. This is not a joke. I was working a part-time summer job at Lenox Square Mall, which is in trendy Buckhead rather than downtown, and got laid off three days into the Olympics because Lenox, with the rest of trendy Buckhead, was deserted. The natives couldn't understand it. Even Anne Rivers Siddons, who wrote a book titled Downtown, probably didn't understand it.

This is one of the things I find so intriguing about Atlanta -- the concept of "city" is so completely different from the traditional concept of city. John Portman actually designed buildings and landscapes to prevent people from walking around. (Again, no joke. Read the last chapter of The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces for the two brief paragraphs on the anti-social anti-life of Atlanta's urban spaces.) It's part downtown as a reflector of '70s-era crime fears -- white-flight-related, drugs-related, economy-related, race-related, all that and more. This is the city where only two of ten counties voted to let MARTA in, and three of the naysayers have since had to come up with the funds for their own transit systems. Every so often Atlanta panics a bit and starts talking about "sprawl" and traffic issues, but really it hasn't figured out yet whether it wants to be a "city" in the traditional sense, where the suburbs feed the city, or the other way around.

Also, I would personally pay to take Lileks to the Mall of Georgia.

  posted by Jessica @ 09:56 |



I refuse to give up on the lyrics quiz yet. Instead, hints! I'll tell you how I found the lyrics that haven't been guessed yet, and maybe that'll help you understand my apparently-much-more-obscure-than-I-figured tastes.

Lyric #1: Found on the compilation Billboard Top Hits 1975, on which the artist has two songs.

Lyric #2: My good readers Philippe and Melissa both got this one: "Watching the Detectives," by Elvis Costello & the Attractions.

Lyric #3: I don't own the album: my (Oklahoma-born, Texas-raised) boyfriend copied a bunch of this band's songs for me. I do own the lead singer's first solo album, released last year.

Lyric #4: Admittedly one of this band's more obscure songs, as the lead singer for this song hasn't performed on any of their more recent albums. But still, I figured other fans in the blogosphere would get it.

Lyric #5: Found this one on a double CD featuring the group's early EPs. The group has a documentary coming out about them sometime this year.

Lyric #6: Philippe almost has this one, getting the artist (Suzanne Vega) and the album (Songs in Red and Grey) but not the song title.

Lyric #7: I'm on the record as loving this band far too much. This is off their third album, which I think was the last (or perhaps next-to-last) one before they all split up to do solo projects. (And I never got to see them live. Sad.)

Lyric #8: The most challenging lyric in the quiz; found on the Rhino Doo Wop Box. The song is the sequel to two other songs, "A Thousand Miles Away" and "500 Miles to Go."

Lyric #9: Probably the second most challenging lyric. I first heard this song when it came out, about 1987 or so, searched for it for years, and finally found it via Napster; the group was apparently much more successful in the UK/Europe than in the US.

Lyric #10: I thought this one might be hard, but Philippe got it: Prefab Sprout, "Life of Surprises."

Let's see if that helps.

  posted by Jessica @ 12:50 |



Love the slack!

Which OS are You?
Which OS are You?

That makes me happy, even though my work computer is Windows 98 and my personal computer is Mac OS 7.5.3.

  posted by Jessica @ 12:32 |


The Happily Married Man of Vodka is blogging Powell's speech live, starting here. I've got a feed up from MSNBC (or had, until a minute or so ago). Lots and lots of detail about how Iraq has evaded or tried not to cooperate with the inspections team, so far.

Vodkaman has been firmly in the invasion corner for quite a while now. I'm watching and wondering, if I had a loved one in the army, would I be willing to put him or her on a plane and think it might be the last time, for this? And I can't say for certain that I would.

It'll be all in the UN's hands after this.

  posted by Jessica @ 11:37 |


On and off I've been trying to read The Challenger Launch Decision by Diane Vaughan for a few weeks now. My father bought it, and I took it off his shelves because for a little while I was obsessed with the Challenger disaster. I was home sick from school -- I was in second grade -- the day the Challenger exploded; I read articles about it; I even had a picture of the astronauts up by my bed for a time.

I say "trying to read" because the book is half management theory and half sociology and thus heavy going. Vaughan basically argues that that the engineers and managers who agreed to launch Challenger weren't deliberately concealing information that might have led them to think twice about the infamous O-rings, nor did they push ahead without recognizing the O-ring risk. Rather, she says (if I follow her correctly) that NASA procedure was designed to allow for a series of tradeoffs and "acceptable risk" -- "acceptable risk" being part of NASA vocabulary since the very beginning of the shuttle program -- and the level of risk that was acceptable slowly rose, and was institutionalized, over time.

I don't think the reaction to the loss of Columbia is going to be the same as the shock and anger that followed Challenger. Columbia was an old spacecraft designed for an outmoded idea of space exploration. On the radio today I kept hearing people say, "We have to go up again," which heartened me -- perhaps this will lead to more research into safer, stronger spacecraft.

It's an interesting book. But I don't think I'm going to be able to pick it up again for a few days.

  posted by Jessica @ 20:25 |



Kurt Vonnegut in an interview:

    And those now in charge of the federal government are upper-crust C-students who know no history or geography, plus not-so-closeted white supremacists, aka “Christians,” and plus, most frighteningly, psychopathic personalities, or “PPs.”

The man's just spouting off. He's performing. Present him with a Gerard Manley Hopkins poem and he'd probably laugh and say he didn't mean to say that all Christians are white supremacists, just Bush and company.

The comments section, however, is, frankly, a little depressing: about one in every five posters mentions smugly that Bush was a C-student at Yale (because Vonnegut brought it up). Let me tell y'all something: I had a 3.71 GPA at Swarthmore. This was not because I was all that and a bag of chips in the brain department: I knew quite a few people who were smarter than me and had less impressive GPAs. This was because (a) the humanities, in general, give easier grades than the sciences -- I took all three of my science courses, in three different departments, pass/fail, and barely passed all three; (b) my grades received for my semester at the Université de Grenoble were translated into As, giving me an artificial boost; (c) I stressed quite a bit over my schoolwork when I could have been relaxing and having fun. Is the high GPA proof of my smarts, or proof of my ability to work to the point of neurosis?

I shouldn't be reading comments online. This was part of my mega-post below, my problem with the emotional pull into politics, and the denigrating into name-calling: You're a fascist idiot! Yeah? Well, you're a cheese-eating surrender pussy! It's a surreal world where Christians are white supremacists, Bush should be impeached if he goes to war, Bush should be impeached if he doesn't go to war, and everyone thinks everyone else who disagrees is either insane, stupid to the point of retardation, or both. Yep. We're handling the awesome responsibility of most powerful nation just great, we are.

  posted by Jessica @ 01:21 |

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