Occassionally I get spam in Chinese, Korean or my favorite language, which is, ¿Ø?ø?Æ?º. ?!¡¬??µ?µÓµÓ ¿œ.

I like to forward them to my co-workers with notes like:

"Hilarious....read to the bottom of the e-mail, I swear you won't regret it...

¿Ø?ø?Æ?º. ?!¡¬??µ?µÓµÓ ¿œ›¿?¿?Œ ªÁøΫœ¥¬ ¥Î?Œ?–¿« «¡Œ±?•¿ª¿Ø«œ?Ì ¿÷?¿¥œ¥Ÿ. ??µÁ «¡Œ±?•¿? ¡§«?¿ª ±?¥ÎŒ ?ªÁ«— ?տñ‚ ?ßÆø° º?¥…¿? µø¿œ«’¥œ¥Ÿµøæ» ?Ò°?› ?ßÆø° « ø‰«œ?Ⱥ!=µµ ªÁøΫœ¡ˆ ¯«fl¥¯ «¡Œ±?•µÈ¿ª ? µÓ«–ª´´ ?Áƒ• øε¿?"

It ocurred to me, though, that for all I know, I'm e-mailing out links to hard core porn or mail order bride catalogues...whoops.

Just for today, I'll think twice about my actions.

It is possible to have a sexual release without the burden of money, prestige, and power. The fleshlight is the answer.

In order to distract myself from the onslaught of flu symptoms in 90 degree weather, I had a long conversation with my co-worker Marco about the importance of like-minded political views vs. personality in intimate relationships. I have in the past (for some reason) attracted alpha males with radically different political views than my own, and while it certainly brought out some of my own less than attractive chararasterics of being unable to have fair, open-minded discussions, I can't really say that it's the thing that drove any of my relationships apart.

I hold fast to the belief that the deal breakers in relationships are never ginormous things like alcoholism or infidelity, but tiny indiscretions. For instance, if someone is struggling to carry something and Hombre does not jump up to help....dealbreaker...done. Not wiling to accompany me on family get togethers...1/2 dealbreaker. Not offering to help carry dishes...1/4 dealbreaker. Support Bush...1/8 dealbreaker. See how that works? The importance of like-minded political views are far beneath high-concept qualities like kindness and consideration. (This is a far cry from the days when I actually found, I'm embarrased to say, absolute jerk-off behavior attractive and justified it with a lunatic's understanding and total neglect for my own well-being...but I digress.)

I suppose my unwillingness to value political like-mindedness is impacted by the fact that I have known some real giant A-holes (men and women) whose political beliefs I totally agree with 100%. And while I wouldn't mind watching them work their issues out in screaming matches on Talking Heads Shows, I wouldn't want to live with them. I think Americans take politics to an insanely personal degree and (as all the screaming matches on Talking Heads Shows attest to), it makes it scary to espouse your beliefs, unless you're swiming in the mainstream or are some kind of psychotic zealot. I think in the end what really makes people scared of disagreeing is the fear that they won't be respected, acknowledged, or even heard. Which brings me to the real important element in any relationship which is respect and understanding. And if life has taught me something it has taught me that some personalities just can't do things like look outside of their own minds...not to judge these people. We can't all be Jesus or Buddha or Nelson or Oprah, but I'm talking about every day interactions.

Just for today, I understanding in relationships over political differences.

I'm just curious about what kind of revolution France would have had in 1789 had the masses tried "working on their own issues" or "better feeling thoughts," or "loved and prayed," the aristocracy, or gone to therapy or a support group so that they could bring the "solution" to the fascists. Had anyone paid attention to condescending patter about unconditional love, inner peace, working on yourself, and ignored silly human physical issues like poverty, disease and gross material inequity, would any revolution have taken place? Would there have ever been any slave uprisings? Would women have fought for the right to vote? I mean, sure, I believe that love and forgiveness lie in my own heart, and sure I know that cable television and a $80 t-shirt from Anthropologie will never fulfill my soul (I think...), and sure I have many lifetimes in which to work out my relationship to my human needs (assuming that when we die we have a choice about jumping into another body suit...which to me sounds about as fun as going through junior high again...but I digress), and sure I believe that manipulating other people into changing their behavior won't ever put me at peace...

BUT THAT SAID...great oppression begs for a revolution, am I wrong? I mean sure people participate in their relationship with their oppressors, whether it be their spouse, boss, government, or hard drive, but is peace ever begotten by patronizing and silencing gut human emotions and gut human needs for food, freedom (and I use that word sparingly because it gets thrown around in a lot of STRANGE WAYS as of late), and expansion?

It's just seems like the difference between working on inner peace and lying dormant filled with repressed sound and fury, while the neo-fascists dictators, spouses, and office mates walk all over you is only a matter of perspective.

Just for today, I reserve the right to forego the New Age solipsistic drama and fight back in the real world.

I am fairly convinced that I have dated several guys who went through some Jedi Knight courses secretly held at the Learning Annex. With a wave of their hand they practice their mind tricks on me by giving me different version of, "These are not the droids you're looking for." Most often it comes out as "I am not the problem here," or "Your feelings are crazy."

Just for today, I am wary of mind tricks deployed by poorly trained Jedis.

There are those (so I have heard) who extort from their companies, fabricate stories for major publications, violate stock trading regulations, and get nothing more than extra-fabulous PR...but get stuck in a California intersection right before the light turns yellow, or fail to see the brand new sign that says "No Turn on Red," or wait before a pedestrian has planted both feet on the sidewalk before driving through a crosswalk, and the state of California shall reign bloody hell on you and your bank account!!! There are no transgressions (lying, cheating, stealing) for which I have suffered more than for failing to properly read street signs in the city of LA.

That said, I am not the first to notice that our prison systems are not filled with people who have committed offenses such as breaking silly laws about insider trading or staging mass scale wars based on highly suspect stories about mysterious objects being capable of creating "mass destruction" (can we get anymore dramatic?) ...The point is there is no such thing as equality or fairness when it comes to Americans response to wayward behavior, it's all really a matter of where you fit in to the story of American life and if you have a decent stock portfolio to dip into for those days when you lose your driving vigilance.

Just for today, I observe the laws of the fascist state of California.

The good thing about having experienced different relationships, in a variety of different manners, is that I've learned a thing or two about code language based on oft repeated phrases that I have heard or have said myself. The following might serve as a dictionary/guide based on one woman's experience.

"I'm still hurt from my last relationship." = "Open to non-commital sex."

"I really want to be your friend." = "Come join my harem!"

(If the response to this is negative, the previous comment is followed by...)

"So, if you don't want to be friends, was our relationship just sex to you?" = "Are you saying that my harem isn't good enough for you?"

"I need someone who can accept me for who I am." = "You're WAY too much work."

"I think you have issues with sex and intimacy." = "It's my way or the high way."

Just for today, I can be of service by interpreting relationship code.

There are so many different ways of looking at the world, it's enough to drive any lost soul insane. The Course in Miracles says that anger is never justified, but psychotherapy believes that anger is how we set boundaries. The Esther-Hicks Abraham philsophy says that life should be nothing buy joy and abundance, while Buddhism belives that suffering is a necessary part of life, and we should refrain from striving for material comforts. The St. Francis prayer says that we should give that which we would want to receive, while Al-Anon states that we can only give after we've put ourselves first...Vegans and health freaks say we should do away with meat, sugar and flour, Christine Northrup, and everyone else says that health or disease is all in our heads...Agape and a Course in Miracles says that our lives are a projection of our thoughts, while 12-step espouses relinquishing all thought to a higher power. A therapist I met with says that I need to go to psychothearpy twice a week to work through my intimacy issues before I can have a relationship, meanwhile my other therapist says that it's all a matter of finding "The One."

One thing is for sure, recovery and self-help has rendered me a useless member of society.

Just for today, I say fuck it all and do what I want.

If there is one thing I've learned about love and dating in thirty-two years of vibing with the opposite (from me) sex, it's to never, ever entertain a cavalier attitude about my male companions. I don't care how small a role I think someone might be playing in the epic saga of my sometimes fabulous, other times pathetic love life, it has been shown to me on more than one occasion that, once the dust has settled and I'm living in the land of Emotional Clarity, my perspective on what I call my most "significant" relationships, really changes. In the throws of endorphins, God knows who I'll erect a statue to. But after the chemicals have died, it all seems to shift around, like some Sex and the City Kaleidescope, and the guys who stand in relief in the story of my life aren't the ones I necessarily had some mad adolescent Tiger Beat passion for, or even spent a lot of QT with, but the ones who just kind of hung out with me, genuinely listened to me, and seemed to care.

Ever since I was old enough to have a crush on Gopher from "The Love Boat," boys have been my drug of choice...The fantasy that Ralph Macchio was going to rescue me from the barren emotional landscape that was much of my childhood hasn't entirely unhinged itself from my psyche (a fact which is complicated by the fact that Ralph doesn't seem to physically age...though I haven't seen him in some time, so I don't know...anyone?). I wasn't really born with the genetic make-up for a stable commited relationship, so the fact that any one of them show any promise of that is surprising. While I'm sometimes embarrassed, sometimes proud of the fact that it's taken me a long time to find...well, no one to share my life, I do know that I treat the whole unending process with more respect and I know that if I ever do make it to the world of Adult Relationships in one piece, I won't be fakin' it with some giant rock and white picket fence (though - just FYI - I do want a giant rock.)

The point of all this is...I'm becoming slightly mature.

Just for today, I can respect my "process" in love and dating.

It's so easy for me to feel like a little kid again. But not in a free-spirited, joyful way, more like a traumatized, please-don't-be-mad-I'm-sorry-for-whatever-I-did-let-me-fix-it kind of way. Which makes it really hard to have a relationship with someone who expresses more than one emotion. I don't care if I haven't seen the person or spoken to them in the last decade, I still feel that I have something to do with their neurotransmitters and serotonin levels going on in the brain of said person in that particular moment. And what makes it worse is that knowing this doesn't keep it from happening. I can say the affirmation, "I am not responsible for other people's feelings," all day and night and I'm still a ten-year-old trapped in a 32-year-old's body.

Just for today, it's OK to feel like an adult child.

I don't watch scary movies because if I do I'll wake up in the middle of the night and lie frozen in fear of seeing the heretofore quiet spirits living in my apartment. But a part of me still want to see Dawn of the Dead because I might get some tips on how to get along better in modern American society. I don't mean to diss on every day zombies who aren't actually dead yet, but just annoying to be around, (because I did spend the morning in a Cadbury egg/Marshmallow Peeps stupor without the ability to form an intelligible sentence), but I still think I prefer the undead kind, to those just on planet Emotional Shut-Down.

Because unlike terrorists, or LAPD in riot gear, or criminals, people without access to their feelings are truly the Scary People to me. Maybe I'm just paranoid (which, as the saying goes, doesn't mean people aren't out to get me), or it's just taken me a long time to awaken to the truth of a capitalist society, but I'm really an easy victim for those with less than Christian motives because I never see it coming. Someone can so much as say, "I'm goin' to take you down, bi-otch!" and I'll still be shocked when I'm flat on my back on the floor.

I know all I can do is love people out of their zombie like trance, because I try to duke it out I'll surely turn into one of the masses.

Just for today, I can love zombies.

I would like to make a public apology to Mr. Tom Hanks for saying that he has lost his mojo. I am no one to judge the degree of mojo any human being is carrying at any particular moment (like weight or gas prices, it is constantly in flux), and, more importantly, I don't know how much mojo I'm working with myself at any given point in time in my "career"...

I mean let's face the facts...I work in an office. I breathe stagnant air while I make love to my G5 and dream of overpriced Thai Iced tea and powdered donuts. I google my and my high school boyfriends' name four times a day. I avoid office parties and eye contact like Bambi running from the hunters. I have dreamed of winning an Academy Award since I saw Sally Field say "You like me, you really like me," because I admired her ability to publicly self-actualize. Not to diss on myself, I have done lots of great, brave, courageous things in my life and I am proud of who I am and my great potential...I'm just saying that it doesn't take a lot of mojo, on an hourly basis, to check my e-mail, organize my Itunes, and update my Friendster profile...so who am I to talk?

And, Tom, if you're still mad, I'm going to go see your movie tonight (Lady Killers) and deep in my heart I'm still kind of jonesing for Kip Wilson (even if you haven't played him for twenty-some years.)

Just for today, I can lovingly make amends to Tom Hanks for commenting on his mojo.

After reading this excellent blog about how the entire population of the world can be divided into either Pirates and Ninjas, or Elves and Dwarves, I have decided that there's nothing better to do with my time than discovering new blanket categories in which to shove the innocent denizens of the world.

Unfortunately, I haven't found a very neat one...but here goes. People fall into two categories; Tom Hankses and Bill Murrays (I know this is a white/male paradigm, but I'm too tired to put on the feminist gear).

I have been kind of anti-Tom Hanks lately (and by lately I mean the last ten years). Now I know there is nothing more personally destructive than to denigrate high powered super stars, but this is different, it's personal. I was in love with Tom Hanks when I was thirteen after watching him rock the sit-com world for two stellar seasons on "Bosom Buddies." Tom Hanks was a teenaged girls dream guy; sharp, charmingly unguarded, but beneath the nice-guy exterior he was filled with mojo and we all knew it. He has since done some fairly decent work, but nothing really lives up to the "Bosom Buddies" days in my nostalgic opinion, and I'm kind of bummed. The teenaged girl in me wants the quick-witted, anything for a laugh guy back, and is really nauseated by his awards speeches. I don't care how many Academy Award Winning Meisner Induced performances he's given...if you ask me, he lost some of his mojo. I won't blame fame and fortune...it just happens. One of the lesser celebrated tragedies known to human kind. Shakespeare never wrote a play about losing your mojo, but it's worthy of compassion, nonetheless. (I'm sorry if you're reading this Tom Hanks...um, you can still get it back...it's so easy to sit in quiet judgement from a cubicle).

On the other side of this poorly executed paradigm, Bill Murray has gained in mojo over the past few years. He seems more courageous, vulnerable, and expressive in his later films. Maybe fame and fortune has given him courage, but since I can't blame that for making Hanks lose it, I can't credit it either.

A lot of older women seem to gain mojo, (maybe it's easier to take chances and be yourself when you're age bracket bores people), and I think Carrie Fisher (Princess Lea is hilarious), Judi Dench, and Cathy Bates got it goin' on.

You can't put a price tag on it and it transcends race, class, popularity, brains, and happiness. As we travel through life some people gain it (Murrays) and others lose it (Hankses).

Ok, so this isn't working as well as the Pirate/Ninja paradigm, but there you go....

Just for today, I will be careful to monitor my mojo.

It's become pretty clear that my notions of intimacy don't lend themselves to, well, intimacy. Togetherness for a five hour stretch (two hours spent in a movie theater), followed by a week of e-mailing (breathing space) doesn't bode well for life-long co-habitation...What am I afraid of? I guess I fear that at some point after five hours of togetherness with an S.O. (significant other) one of us will turn on the other like said other is demon spawn.

I tried to buy stamps from the stamp machine today when it rejected all of my money; bills, coins, everything. I turned to the long line that had formed behind me and expressed my plight like the earnest victim I am. They all looked at me in irritation for holding up the line, as if the stamp machine had a personal investment in rejecting my coins, and not theirs. I looked at them as if to say, "People, we're in this together! Don't you see?! This machine does not see me as separate from you...we are all one in the God's stamp machine world. Help me so I don't have to go upstairs and get different coinage you demon spawn!" What I got was blank stares...demon spawn, all of them (a pretty diverse group to, see the demon spawn comes in all shapes, sizes and races). Nobody bothered to dig through their purses for change or bills that they could exchange for my reject change and bills. So, I made a big show of holding up the line by continuing to plop in my reject change, just to annoy them. Yes, that's how juvenile I am...I punish people for not doing what Jesus or Buddha or Deepak or Oprah would do.

How does anyone that juvenile experience intimacy? By calling those who irritate her demon spawn? I'm surely not ready for loving togetherness that exceeds a five hour stretch of conscious non-movie, TV, or sleep time.

Just for today, I can accept my issues with intimacy and my need to demonize God's demon spawn.

One things for sure, Americans aren't winning any popularity contests. In case I had any doubts, it's pretty crystal to me now that the world is not feeling very pumped about the U.S.

Not that I blame anyone in their vitriol. If you ask me Jack in the Box (or, as it is called in Australia, Happy Jack), Pizza Hut, and McD's are coercive, if subtle, forms of terrorism. Forget about the food, they're just scary to look at. And I think there's an insidious oppressiveness in formulaic Hollywood movies where all the character's have neat little revelations and the plot ties up into a perfect package, when all the revelations in the world don't seem to tie up the loose ends of my life (and, boy, do I have revelations...like right now). And watching American sit-coms that aren't well-written is just watching abusive relationships with no awareness (or recovery).

I can deal with living in America because I have a hard shell of cynicism to protect me. It's OK, for me. I'm vaccinated against the effects of a fast food, truth-bending, media blitzing culture, I can tune it, out and process it, like flour. But imagine if you grew up in a more gentle, creative, culture, that embraced the notion that we live in a vast, mysterious, and diverse world?! Then it would be really terrifying. How would you deal with Ronald McDonald or Barney? You might really get their freakishness in all it's glory. It's sort of like the effect of sugar and alcohol on Native American and Aboriginal populations who never experienced it in their diet, when they did it was devastating...

Still, it's kind of a bummer to feel that I'm somehow part of a culture that's wrecking thoughtless havoc on the world. I suppose I can take more political action to ease my guilt, but in the end, I have to own that I have some thread of American arrogance in me...how could I not?

Just for today, I feel slightly bummed about being an American.