I am all hands, strong powerful hands...

Actual e-mails from Ou's President

2007-04-17T23:31:51Z

Sent
Tuesday, April 17, 2007 9:45 am
To
donotreply.edu@buchanan.ou.edu
Subject
Security Alert

TO: Students, Faculty, and Staff

Students, faculty and staff should stay in their buildings or dorms until further notice.

Sent
Tuesday, April 17, 2007 10:16 am
To
donotreply.edu@buchanan.ou.edu
Subject
Security Update

TO: All Students, Faculty, and Staff

The OU Police Department has made a saturated search of the area where a person carrying a suspicious object was spotted. No person with a weapon has
been found. It is now believed that the person was possibly carrying a yoga mat which was mistaken for a weapon.. We should therefore proceed with the
normal schedule. The individual carrying the items was described as a caucasian male of student age partially balding or with short hair and wearing a
yellow shirt. If such a person is seen carrying a suspicious object it should be reported to the OU Police Department at 1911 or 325-1717 or blue phones
should be used. If anyone feels that he may have been the person who was seen and was thought to be carrying a weapon that person should also call the
OU Policy Department to reassure the community.

Thank you for your cooperation

David L. Boren
President

Sent
Tuesday, April 17, 2007 12:00 pm
To
donotreply.edu@buchanan.ou.edu
Subject
Security Update

TO: All Student, Faculty, and Staff

The person apparently seen by the student making the earlier report has self-identified himself. He was carrying an umbrella and not a weapon. We appreciate
his action in identifying himself. We now consider the matter closed. I appreciate the cooperation from the university community in this matter. We
always want to err on the side of caution in a situation like this.

Sincerely,

David L. Boren
President

So, what can I say?

When I stop laughing, I'll figure it out.

A Response to Anti-Cloners.

2007-02-15T08:32:36Z

Most people, usually the uneducated radical right-wingers, take cloning to Science Fiction proportions and used those exaggerated statements to argue against cloning. “Cloning” is a term widely used in Science and pop culture that is somewhat misleading. If you are going to be against cloning, it is vital that you know what you are talking about instead of trying to stop critical scientific advancement on the whim of your unstable child-like emotions uncontrollable due to your lack of education and reason.

There is DNA cloning which has been occurring since the 70’s and is vital for Scientists to find vaccines and mutations in cells by copying single cells in bacterial, yeastal, or mammal hosts. (Clon. Fac.) The second is, Reproductive cloning which is a nucleus of an adult cell and planting it in to a cell that has not yet formed a nucleus. This is how Dolly, the sheep, was created in 1997. (Clon. Fac.) Also, in the case of reproductively cloned animals, only the nucleus is a direct clone, the mitochondria is of the original cell and then develops in another host’s uterus. (Clon. Fac.) The first animal cloned was a tadpole in 1952. (Clon. Fac.) The first human embryo was cloned in 2001, but only divided six times before stopping; a break through, but far from a success. (Clon. Fac.) The third type is, Therapeutic cloning where a cell is copied for a specific organ or disease and harvested outside the recipient then transplanted just in the case of common transplants already occurring today. (Clon. Fac.) This is also far from happening; partly because of interference with testing materials, I.E. church and state are not separated.

Duplication occurs in nature at all levels of life. Every cell of our bodies copies itself; our lives depend on the cloning of our own cells. Whether “souls” are involved is another argument for another time. As it stands today in Reproductive cloning, less than 10% of tested cells are successful in maturing. (Clon. Fac.) Once these cloned cells mature, they have a list of problems with immunities leading to diseases and tumors. (Clon. Fac.) We are extremely far from facing any ethical dilemmas with human cloning and exploitation of full-grown, walking, talking cloned humans. I do think that ending cloning at this point is the equivalent of our ancestor’s opposition to sailing the seas for fear, and religious belief, that they would sail to the end of the ocean and fall in to Hell.

My family and friends have often offered me their eyes, in deep sincerity, so that I would be able to see again. I am young enough that in my lifetime it may be possible for one of them to do that without sacrificing their own eyes.

Cloning Fact Sheet. Human Genome Project. 28, January 2007.
http://www.ornl.gov/sci/techresources/Human_Genome/elsi/cloning.shtml

Lose your arms, gain a monkey

2007-01-19T04:31:23Z

Today, I became aware of one of the most amazing things: monkeys assisting paraplegics and quadriplegics. It was absolutely incredible. The monkey shampoos the master’s hair, opens can, packages, etc. The monkey even unwrapped a TV dinner, opened the microwave, put the food in, shut the door, and programmed it for the correct time.

According to the narrator it takes about 8 years to train the monkey, but they assist up to 20 years. The monkey is just about 9 pounds. The only downside, if it can be called that, is like having assistive dogs, the monkey is about the same amount of responsibility as a small child.

I’m just in awe of the trainers. Oh, and the sweet little monkeys are pretty cool too.

Slipping in to myself

2007-01-16T06:42:30Z

Today, actually this evening, my blindness has taken more effects than I ever expected.

Not being able to see, to concentrate on visual stimuli, I am lost and left to my own created images. What exists in my memory, the way I know where I am and where objects are, is completely dependent upon my concentration and constant maintaining and adding to my working memory. This is as well as I can explain it. I more or less see things even though my eyes do not work. My mind is constantly occupying the other parts of my mind with visual images stored away in my memory from when I could see.

Ronda, one of my best friends that has sacrificed herself to be a wife and mother, confessed that she thought she would go crazy being in her own mind all the time. She said she thought she would slip away in to her own world and lose touch with reality.

It is true that being in your own mind is difficult. Most people think of how I miss the beautiful, the wonderful, and extraordinary. I think of all the ugly, brutal, and disturbing things that exist that I am spared. Side Note: sex is much better blind.

It is possible that what I’m getting ready to divulge has nothing to do with my vision loss, but if it doesn’t, it has at least assisted in my digression. I have been feeling lost, deeply emotional, and unable to concentrate for long periods of time.

I was speaking with my friend, Carmen. I was leaning back in my desk chair and thinking about how it will feel when I slip under my covers and snuggle in to bed. Thanks to my mother, I now have a very comfortable, pillow-top bed. I totally tapped in to the exact moment my body sinks in to the mattress and how much I love that feeling. Well, I said out-loud, “I love you.” I was talking to my bed. Carmen thought I was talking to her and replied that she loved me too. It startled me. At first, I didn’t know why she was saying that to me and then I realized I said it to her.

This isn’t some latent homosexual repression instance, this is me not being able to control my internal thoughts from becoming external expressions.

Later, I was in the shower. I was sudsing my body with some new vegan soap I bought at my friend Tiffany’s boutique. Oh, the vegetable glycerin felt so good on my skin. The warm water, the motion of the water moving down my body, and the feeling of freshness, cleanliness, and softness of my skin once the suds have been chased away. I heard singing, a humming of no distinct song or melody. Three notes in to listening, I figured out it was me. I was singing and I didn’t know how long I had been doing it. More frightening, I didn’t immediately know it was myself. It scared me, it scares me now to be reliving it.

After my shower and putting on pajamas, I went to take my towel to the towel basket in the bathroom. Instead, I walked in to the kitchen and put the towel in the trashcan. Once I lifted the lid, it hit me that I wasn’t putting the towel in the correct place because the basket in the bathroom doesn’t have a lid. I turned around and put the towel in the correct basket.

This is all very startling and disturbing to me. I feel as though I am losing myself, my consciousness. What to do? I don’t know.

Pornography

2007-01-16T01:28:35Z

Pornography
(A modern Sestina)

Everyone has a strong opinion
When it comes to discussing pornography.
Some will claim it to be a necessity for sexual health,
While others see it as dirty – wrong – male violence.
It is currently protected by Freedom of Speech,
But I am confused by that word, freedom.

A person’s Freedom,
“In my opinion”,
Can also be restricted or destroyed by another’s speech
And that is the case with pornography.
The whipping – bondage – choking – rape – humiliation is never violence
To the one in power – the one administering this sexual health.

Oh, this supposed sexual health
Is a highly guarded freedom.
Not much is left for the victims of the violence,
Who in my opinion
Are not just the “stars” of pornography,
But all those affected by its visual speech.

So, what is being said in this visual speech?
As a female, I gathered that to have sexual health,
I must submit – obey – beg to be used like the females in pornography.
By defining gender inequality, it exponentially inhibits my freedom.
By leaving women’s subjugation and degradation to individual opinion
Means that if one person calls it fantasy, somehow it’s no longer violence.

But if I, a woman, were to incite violence
Against white men – against black men or against rich men in a speech,
It would be of popular opinion
That I were lacking in mental health.
I am in no way suggesting that roles should be reversed for there to be freedom,
But I am suggesting arousing non-violent pornography.

The problem is not the form of pornography,
But the content, which is currently humiliation and violence.
Can there not be a compromise of sorts with the freedom
With the sexist and racist speech
So that we all can, at least, have respect for one another’s health?
Or are we going to make “health” like violence, a standard determined by public opinion?

These are my thoughts on pornography and freedom of speech.
I hope some of you will reevaluate what is violence and what is sexual health,
For we have already made a mistake by making freedom subject to popular opinion.

What Is Popular

2007-01-16T00:55:38Z

Should I believe
That I must bow
To an imagined man
Who determines my behavior
As good or evil
And who mysteriously grants salvation
At my submission,
For the reason
That it is what is popular?

Should I hurt myself,
My brain - my face - my hair,
My skin - my breast - my back,
My legs - my knees - my feet,
My throat - My vulva- my anus,
To give pleasure to another
Who finds my pain - discomfort - restrictions
Attractive - beautiful - sexy,
For the reason
That it is what is popular?

Should I live
Under conditions preventable,
While all the answers to life’s questions
Are being hidden by time and censorship,
While the earth is being destroyed,
While those made weak are raped,
While those made poor are starved,
While those made stupid hate and kill,
Because a small few
Benefit from
The submission - the pains - the restrictions of others,
For the reason
That it is what is popular?

No,
I should not.
For there is no God,
There is no Master
Than the ones
I allow
To exist
By conveniently keeping open
My mind - my heart - my legs,
For the reason
That it is what is popular.

Silly Entry

2006-12-27T15:48:04Z

I haven’t written in my journal for two and a half months, thus defeating the purpose of having one. I can’t improve my literary expression if I’m not expressing anything. I have simply been approaching a crossroads, of sorts, which writing about would and will make me acknowledge my current situation.

I used to revel in my ability to be good at most everything, a “Jack of all trades”. Now, I am not trying to sound full of myself or over-confident. I merely have several interests and excel in several things that I am not interested in at all. I just pick up things very easily.

“Master of none.” It is now a problem. Because I am not excellent at one thing, I do not have a clear path. There are so many things I am equally interested in and equally competent in. Oh, what to do, what to do?

I feel as though I cannot make a complex formula of thought in my mind. There is all this traffic and roadblocks, construction, new roads being paved. I am bubbling up to road rage while continually looking for any round-about to save me from the crossroad.

I’m somewhat annoyed because I am always there for people, telling them what to do and how to do it, whether they want my opinion or not. To their chagrin, I’m usually right. Now, I am struggling to wake up, leave the house, write music or journals, and there is no one with words of wisdom for me. Everyone is carrying on as though they can’t tell I’m at the edge of a mid-life crisis. To be fair, I have hidden to some extent; no reason to bring down others. But, those who are most intimate with me, should be a little more helpful. Oh, well, this is the price of being the “strong one”, the “one who’s got it together”, the “one who never cries”.

I feel better just writing this, even though I am not any closer to a solution. Change is inevitable, but I quite enjoyed the period of time where I knew where I was going.

Rain

2006-10-15T18:41:36Z

It is raining right now. I’ve been awake since 5 am when it first started. It is beautiful looking, sounding, and feeling. I love rain. I would love more to have the freedom to dance naked in it, to walk slowly and ponder my life, and to lie down in the puddles with no concerns of cleanliness.

It is when it showers like this that I wish I could be a leaf. It is nature’s bath and I find it so relaxing. Even when the rain is cold, it comforts me, each drop is consoling as it soaks me with its understanding. Oh, but the warm rain or as I call it the “hot rain”. That is the best. It makes me wish the rain could shrink me, encapsulate me, so I can ride the waves as a tini molecule.
At what age did I lose the inhibition of dancing in the rain? When did it become too cold, too strange, too silly? What creature am I that I don’t need the rain?
I feel alive when it rains. Scientifically, I know the pressure changes when it rains. Thus, it relieves pressure off my body. But, damn, I’m inclined to think it more than that. What it means to me, what it is doing for the earth, are some reasons.
There are only two things I can think of that I don’t like doing in the rain: homework and drying laundry. Hee. Okay, there are probably tons of other stuff that isn’t made for doing in the rain, but I can’t think of any right now. Correction, I don’t want to think of any right now. All I can think of is how I wish I would stop typing, stop thinking, and just strip my clothes off, run for the door and let the rain love me. Damnit! There are kids in my neighborhood and our society thinks my naked body would be harmful to them. Note to self, save money for a privacy fence.

In the Mirror

2006-10-11T00:03:14Z

She glides a rose-colored stick across her lips,
Like the women of ancient times,
It is a mark showing she is old enough,
To be captured and violated.

She pulls on a fabric contraption,
That contorts and confines her chest,
Much like a straight jacket trimmed in lace,
Making her look twice her size.

As she slides her skirt up,
I can see her helplessness rising with it,
She struggles with the zipper, fumbles with the clasp,
The cage door is finally slammed shut.

I can no longer see Her,
All I hear now is the clanging of the chains,
Clink, tap, clink, tap,
As she walks nowhere in heels.

Blind Girl's stream of consciousness

2006-10-10T23:48:08Z

HANDS

i am all Hands small but powerful Hands that,
reach for everything always feeling my way,
through life through my living room through my dirty laundry through a bag of M&Ms,
to delightfully discover the imperfections of manufactured symmetry,
my Hands are my eyes seeing all i touch,
seeing softness that others don’t seeing strands of silk seeing hard-water,
marks on silver wear seeing the differences of each white wash cloth seeing the warmth,
of your insides seeing the comfort of a round plump belly seeing playful curls in body hair, and only seeing what i want
my Hands are more like a tongue flitting flirting grazing,
across smooth and rough surfaces probing,
tickling massaging getting a feel a taste, of what is there, out there,
for my Hands to feel,
my Hands are givers takers builders and breakers,
my Hands are all i have but i’m happy,
with them, with them i’ll meet the world,
shake its Hand,
shake its head,
shake its sense of perception, so when i’m in a Mall,
looking at odd-shaped jewelry and the short man snaps,
at me asking me if i am blind, if I can see the sign
DON’T TOUCH THE MURCHANDISE,
and i say yes i am, i was just seeing if there was something,
i want to buy and he says that i don’t look
BLIND,
then i say he may not look STUPID, but he is,
i want to check,
him to see if he feels as he sounds, but at that point,
i don’t think he’ll let me, so i go on,
to other places where my Hands are not prosecuted,
not judged, where there is no fight for freedom but if,
i must fight, i will my Hands are all-powerful,
in that way that they fight for my body your body,
but for themselves as well and i don’t think eyes can do that.

Somewhere Down a Dirt Road

2006-10-10T23:33:44Z

Somewhere down a dirt road,
A road unmarked,
There is the spot,
Where I transformed,
In to the woman,
I am today,

The grass was tall,
And it is still tall
Tall and wild,
The signs, the evidence,
We were ever here,
Are gone,

The trees still hang low,
Shadowing some of the meadow,
Providing covers,
To the other lovers,
That have transformed here as well,

The first time I revealed myself,
To you,
The first time I wasn’t afraid,
And you were finally,
In the place,
You always wanted to be,

Laying on the quilt,
Protected from the dirtiness,
But open to you,
I felt like the grass,
Feeling the rain for the first time,
Like the sand feeling,
The ocean at tide,
When the motion of pounding,
Is beautiful,

And you were so gentle, so sweet,
Your lips were like the leaves,
Blowing across the vista,
All over and uninhibited,

I want to go back,
To that meadow,
Surrounded by forest,
And guarded by wilderness,
But I can’t,
I can’t find it exactly,
Where I am,
Just looks similar.

Maybe, if you would come,
Come along with me,
We could find it,
Together,
Combining what the other could,
Remember and recognize,

But I think the road,
Has been blocked,
By trees,
That fell,
During a tornado.

Remember that,
Big tornado,
That came out of nowhere,
And destroyed everything around here,
A few summers ago?

Will They Ever Learn?

2006-10-05T13:04:54Z

I’m angry with the educational institutions of this country. In 2006, students are still pondering questions that were answered, by Logic, 400 years ago and confirmed by science 100 years ago. In one of my college classes, there are two people discussing reality. One student, let’s call her Suzy, says that she often wonders if the color purple she sees is the same as everyone else. Another student, let’s call him Chazz, replies by telling that he often wonders the same, but has found there to be no answer.

Oh, you dumb fuckers!

I can’t blame it completely on them, they just were not taught the correct information nor taught how to reason. Of course knowing that did not keep me from snickering obscenities at my computer screen.

Color has a light frequency. Each color has a specific, defined frequency. The color purple exist whether humans exist to see it or not. The variable is the capacity of sight that each person has that determines how much of the frequency is perceived. Some may see more red in the purple and some may see more blue. It is still fucking purple and it is seen by everyone because it is a part of the reality we share by existing, except for me, cuz I be blind.

It isn’t a philosophical question, that’s my point. Science has already answered it. Shouldn’t people know that? Shouldn’t that be common knowledge? Why is it even being discussed in college? I’d understand if it was third grade Physical Science class. Maybe, I’m just pissed I’m paying $300 for this class and the big Philosophical discussion is over this bullshit, stupid goddamn bullshit.

Semi-Saggy, Semi-Happy

2006-10-05T04:36:43Z

A problem that weighs heavy on my chest is, um-well, my BREAST. They are either getting heavier, my back is getting weaker, or gravity was on vacation the first few years and is now back with a vengeance. The discomfort is constantly on my mind, or more specifically on my chest. I keep weighing my options and keep coming to the same conclusion that they are just too heavy. Short of cutting them off, I’ve tried every piece of over-priced fabric technology.

The only secret Victoria has is that her bras aren’t worth shit. The lace is rough, pretty, but rough and you can’t buy a bra from her store that doesn’t have an inch or more of padding. I always feel like I’m wearing a pastel colored, bullet-proof jacket trimmed in lace. Not to mention, but to bitch loudly, I am pissed at our demented friend, Vicki, for discontinuing the 32DDs. All her bras are large around the ribs with small to average cups. Then, the, oh so comfortable, underwear destined to stay wedged in your bum, comes in toddler sizes. So basically, the designer for Victoria’s Secret thinks women have large rib cages and smaller hips. Hel-lo crack smoker, we are not upside down pares.

Frederick’s of Hollywood is the opposite. They have the smaller ribbed bra, but they are made for women with boob jobs. Who is a 34FF naturally? That is a freakishly large size that I only expect to find on the internet, by accident, while googling “portable missals”. I can only give the store one thumbs-up for carrying crotchless panties because I like the idea, but have never worn them. I figure if I want to be easily accessed, I just won’t wear any. I’m pretty practical like that.

I’ve tried a slew of bras only available on the internet. Some made from organic materials, some with no back clasp, some with no underwire, some with light weight material and they all provide what they promise, but lack in every other aspect or are the wrong size. I’ve gotten to wear I just wear an athletic bra around the house or nothing at all depending on what my back is up for. If I try to wear an athletic bra all the time, my shirts don’t fit properly. Plus, the damn things make me sweat by keeping my breast so close to my body. I’ve thought about surgery, but it’s just too risky. I keep thinking, if we can lift a man to the moon, surely we can lift my tits.

Is it too much to ask for something functional, comfortable and affordable? Everything on the market these days is nothing short of a non-breathing, padded contraption held to your body by metal underwire and clasps to force your supple, and unassuming, breast in to the shape of a mutated form of a fifteen-year-old. You know the look, perky, nipples facing up and the bulb as round as a cantaloupe. Uh-huh, I am a full-grown, adult woman and I want to look like it. So what, if that means having a little sag or looking a little more tear-drop. I’m not perfect; I don’t want to look like it either, just feel like it by having a comfortable bra, tit sling, zeer, over-the-shoulder-bolder-holder, etc. etc.

Signs That Fall Is Here

2006-09-29T04:49:31Z

First Sign of Fall: Hairy Legs and Pits. As soon as it is cool enough to wear pants with out breaking in to a sweat, I stop shaving. This may seem gross to some, but here are my reasons. Firstly, my hair is soft, cashmere-like, not like dog hair or ape fur that the human male continues to inherit. Secondly, who sees it besides my current significant other? They know the policy when we first hook up: I’ll shave mine when you shave yours. Thirdly, shaving dries out the skin when it gets cold outside; my comfort comes before any beauty standard.

Second Sign of Fall: Clothes Exchange. I have a larger closet than the standard rectangular box, but it isn’t enough space for my entire wardrobe and collection of shoes. There is about a week of transporting time in the Fall and the Spring where I move bags of clothes and shoes from my room in to the garage and bags from the garage in to my room. Picture all five foot of me, hands clinched tight around an overstuffed, full size garbage bag taller than my waste, dragging it down the hallway tugging in one direction, ricocheting off one side of the hall way in to the other; not a free hand to guide my way because the “damn thang” is so “gah damn heavy”. Man, it is hard manual labor to move so many shoes and tank-tops. Once I get one bag in to the garage, I have to pull the other bag, of seasonably appropriate attire, to my room; the whole process in reverse. Gees, I’m a slave to fashion.

Note: Most blind people, including me, navigate their homes flawlessly. It is only when I’m hunched over and physically strained pulling my weight in junk, preoccupied by a conversation I’m having on the phone, or when I’m sleepy that I move around like a ping pong ball.

Third Sign of Fall: thinning Down. Opposite than most people, I slimmed down during the fall and winter months. I don’t mean so much weight that I should do before and after shots like they do in diet scam commercials, but five pounds is five pounds. I don’t belong to a family of “hunters and gatherers”, so the holidays are not a gorge fest. Being that I was given too much radiation as a child, the heat bothers me greatly. When it gets cooler, I feel better and become more active physically and mentally. Hence, I have the energy to write in a journal while going to school full time and working at not working full time.

Note 2: Notice how I slipped in the cancer card? My close friends keep a count of how often I do that.