we hold up half the sky

This post is a little past due, but what can I say, school starts tomorrow.

I feel like over the summer I sort of fell out of my zealous pursuit of women's issues. I tended to gravitate towards articles on education or basic current events. And then the New York Times snapped me back to my proper place.

(Tangent: I've realized that a lot of this blog is a reaction to things in the Times. Interesting).

Their Sunday magazine last week was titled "Saving the World's Women." The multimedia package includes stories, videos and photos about the struggles of women in several countries, including Pakistan, Burundi, and Afghanistan. I've blogged in the past about several of these issues, but I give the Times major props for devoting such a large project to the topic.

Also of recent interest to me was Sec. of State Hillary Clinton's recent trip through Africa. A Washington Post article published before her stop in the Congo detailed the horrors of rape spreading through the war-torn country. The article even goes as far as to suggest that U.S. intervention in the country is making the problem worse: we back the increased miliary efforts, which in turn means more soliders "not so much hunting rebels as hunting women."

Many people still fail to see the connections between the Congo and Uganda to the post-Rwandan genocide. And even though some justice is being sought in that country, it's still to be seen what sort of long-term social and political effects will come about. Hopefully we'll see more productive solutions applied to the supposed end of the genocide in Darfur.

nugget

For the past week or so, I've been experiencing an odd phenomenon. Between about 3:10 and 3:45 every morning, I wake up for no reason at all. It usually lasts about 5 minutes, during which I check the time on my phone, look out the skylight in my room to try and guess the next day's weather, and ponder a nugget of information that's usually stuck in my head.

I try to tell myself that this is my brain's way of decompressing from the day before. Maybe one of these nights I'll come up with a magical invention or solve some world issue. But so far, the only tangible thing I've been able to remember was the night I had Rihanna's "Take a Bow" stuck in my head. Clearly helping the world's issues.

move part II: the economy

It was really interesting for me to be taking a macroeconomics course during the economic crash last fall. I would walk into class and hear "the DOW just lost 800 bazillion points" and I had a bit more hope that I would understood what that meant before I left class (this hope usually wasn't converted into reality, but I tried to stay optimistic.) And I knew that a lot of the problems were cause by people buying things they didn't actually have money for, and banks giving money to people to buy things they didn't have money for.

But this also meant that when I went to purchase my first-ever vehicle, it was damn hard to get someone to finance it.

I ended up having to have my dad co-sign the loan, but the risk rate is still based on my non-existant credit score, so my intrest rate is a little outrageous. Even though I'm a college graduate with a more than decent-paying job, with not a penny of debt to my name. I was told I would be better off buying a brand new car. But I DON"T WANT a brand new car, because that would fall into the "buying things I don't have the money for" category. Someone needs to explain to me how making an informed decision and getting reasonable car screws you over.

But yes, I bought a car (pictures coming soon). 2002 Honda Civic EX. Dark blue. Sun roof. Compared to Paco, this is like heaven. Sarah and I drove out to the mall in Towson (the ritzy Baltimore suburb to the north), and part of me wanted to just drive forever. Me, the open road, my best friend, and Jason Mraz live. The perfect Sunday afternoon.

the move: part 1

In the past 72 hours or so, I've gone from living out of two large suitcases to being almost settled in a new city 3,000 miles away from "home." In the process of reaching this settling point, I've been making some observations about the twists and turns of what can at times be an incredibly tiresome and expensive endeavor.

Today's discussion: the shit box.

Most of you are probably familiar with the shit box. We all have them, whether it's from a move, from a hectic lifestyle, or just from having lazy organizational skills. It's that box (sometimes drawer) that holds all the miscellaneous stuff you always say you will need but end up not really missing if you don't know it's there.

My shit box contained all the stuff I couldn't fit in my suitcases that I'd accumulated over my summer in Philadelphia. Some of it my mom sent, some I got the week between Induction and Institute, some just appeared I think from the shit fairy. The shit box even had to be brought to Baltimore by a friend with a station wagon, because the combined shit boxes of me and my roommate were too much for one vehicle (I mean that in the most endearing way possible).

So I got the box back today, and eagerly opened it to start sifting through what I knew to be invaluable items in my Harry Potter-sized apartment; I should've known better. Though I appreciate having my printer and some books back in my possession, I'm not sure if the reflective ruler, empty manila envelopes, or single piece of striped ribbon belonged on the must-keep list. It's been less than two months and already the very large box is overflowing.

Guess this means I need to pick which drawer of the kitchen is going to become the shit drawer so I can put the ribbon in it.