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I spoke at Choice USAapos;s Southern Reproductive Justice Training Institute on Friday night in Chapel hill, I was talking about accessing abortion and my fund. It was pretty good, very smart group of people. But the BEST part is that I got to meet one of the women who started the Incite Womenapos;s Health Clinic in new Orleans, and also a Reproductive Freedom Community Organizer for the ACLU who is based in Jackson, Mississippi. They were AM-AZHING we talked all night in the ACLUapos;s reps room about reproductive justice and a lot about race (they were both African American) and it is making me think hard core about my own racismapos;s. I am really working/thinking/conceptialzing my racism. I think I havenapos;t really worked on it in a long long time. I think that maybe I will write more about this later.

But, ACLU rep wants to start a fund in Jackson And I met two awesome girls in Atlanta that are seriously thinking about starting a fund I am SOOOO excited. I told them I would help them out in anyway that I could. The one woman from atlanta is a part of Sistersong and Spark (which are both organizations that I am in love with) and whom I also met at the SONG conference in Septmeber, we talked about being doulaapos;s there, and now it is even MORE in my head. I am really hoping to get with the Spark people to see if we can figure something out together to get trained and start programs in our cities/states.

I am really excited with where I am as far as activism goes. I think living in richmond is hard, because I really donapos;t have many friends who actually DO anything, instead who just like to talk about doing something, or make zines and blog entries without actually putting much other effort into their passions. Which, I think zines and blog entries are an amazing way to talk about issues that are really important, and I myself use them as an outlet often, I just wouldnapos;t be happy stoping there, and honestly, itapos;s kind of disapointing that many people I love and respect are. I have been thinking about this a lot, and while, I am certainly not the moral authority on what counts as activism and what doesnapos;t, or what is enough activism and what is not, I really am struggling with my community. I like social networks and find value and importance in them, especially as a queer woman, but I also think that the revolution isnapos;t going to be brought on by only doing what is fun and feels good all the time. I know that not everyone is able to do 30 hours of non paid activism a week, and I wouldnapos;t expect that from anyone, but I think if you can, you should, especially if you talk about politics/the world all the time.

I mean, I feel like I talk about the world and fucked up shit ALL THE TIME with my friends and other people I have interactions with. And yet, the ONLY time I really talk about DOING anything about it is when I am a TRYING to get people to do something with me (or talking about PLANS to do something with people), at an RRFP meeting or when I am talking to anyone who does not live in Richmond. When I go to conferences, I feel so refreshed and excited and PUMPED because I am able to compare what other people are doing in their towns, and really, isnapos;t that the point of a conference, obviously to raise awareness but also to PUMP YOU UP to DO something? I mean, on Friday night, ALL we talked about was what we do or did. Which, honestly I am completely blown away by what some of these women have done, and you know what else? I sometimes forget all that I have done, which maybe I needed to have be told to me, to keep me going. It felt SO good to be in a room of really really active activists, who wanted to do more.

So, I guess that is what is going through my head right now. I think I probably could be perceived as being a know-it-all asshole in the last part of this entry, and right now, I donapos;t care. And, maybe, well no, probably, I donapos;t see A LOT of what goes on in my community, but I do for the most part know whatapos;s going on in my smaller community and I feel like itapos;s important to feel like criticizing the social networks we create is an important part of becoming better as a whole. And once again, I do not under any circumstances, feel like I am perfect, or better then anyone else, but I canapos;t help the feeling of isolation in a supposedly active community of people who want a better world.
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cold static x

I have written a poem since my freshman year of college. I would usually write to get my feelings out of my head and onto something else. Lines will come to me while I am walking around the city or just hanging out in my lab. I am going to start writing again. I have been coming up with some great lines and it is about time I started jotting them down.

School is great I switched labs and I am so glad I did. The lab I am currently in uses flies as their research animal. It is a really small lab. There is the PI, a post-doc, A tech and me It is a really young lab and they have so much stuff going on. My 1st lab rotation wasnapos;t for me and I needed to change it fast. Luckily, the lab still had an open slot. It really was a blessing.

I really miss everyone back home. I expected that, but I am dealing with it much better now. I also want to say that everyone needs to be careful. After living in the Bronx,I now alot about the demographics. Out of all of the 5 boroughs, the Bronx has the highest rate of HIV infection. The borough president and the hospitals in the area are really trying to address the issue. I am finding it hare to fathom the size of the matter. The Bronx has over 1.4 million people and they are trying to inform everyone about the spread of the virus through the various communities. I will admit it, I am worried. Will anything they do work? Will it all end of being wasted man hours? I hope not. This epidemic is spreading in our own civilized nation that has the means to stop it. How did it get this bad? I did my service learning at the HIV prevention center and I saw them do more testing and food baskets than actual "prevention" The time of handing out condom packets is nearing itsapos; end. There needs to be something more drastic. I donapos;t know what it is, but until then Iapos;m gonna try and do my part. I am looking into some potential volunteer opportunities and will wait to see if any of them pan out.

Protect yourselves and each other. Be safe and make wise decisions

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Letter Set #13

9-OCT: Got their Class As/Bs today. They also got their berets. He said he didnapos;t look the way he looked in it with his eye protection or his BCGs on. Heapos;s hoping theyapos;ll let him wear his civilian glasses or his contacts for graduation. They are to have a 6 mile foot/field march that starts out their 3-day FTX. Itapos;s supposed to rain, but everyone is hoping it wonapos;t. Monday after that will be the PT test. The PT test and Victory Forge (7 day FTX) are the only two (big) things left before graduation. Heapos;s excited about graduation. One of the females in his platoon will most likely be in his AIT at Fort Leonard Wood because she is also an 88M.

10-OCT: Second night of the 3 day FTX. Learned about IED detection and reacting to enemy fire. He said the reacting to enemy fire part was fun.

11-OCT: The 3 day was ok. They learned about IEDs, reacting to enemy fire, how to enter and dismount a 5-ton, practicing throwing grenades, searching vehicles and people, and entering and cleaning a room. Overall, it was ok.Once again, he writes, the reacting to enemy fire was fun. LOL This coming week he says will be busy as hell. Theyapos;re doing Victory forge and they heard their PT was changed from Monday to Thursday. He says he may not have a lot of time to rite in the next two weeks and he may not get mail as often since everything will be crazy busy.

Letter Set #14

13-OCT: It was a long day. They did a dry and blank fire run of a fire team movement for practice for the next dayapos;s live fire run. His team was ok, but everyone needs more work.The biggest issue seems to be that each DS seems to train the method differently, so then later when they are with another DS, theyapos;re yelled at for doing the "wrong thing" even though this is how they were trained. His battle buddy, SPC White, may have to restart from week 3 of BCT. PVT Gydesen, another platoon member, fractured his hip during the 3-day doing sniper pushups, so it looks like he will have to leave for 4-6 months, then come back and restart. It sucked that this happened 17 days before graduation.

14-OCT: They did a live fire version of the fire team movements with 5 man teams. They ere told they did well and that my beloved was an aggressive team leader. YAY He said it was really freaking fun and he had an adrenaline high for like an hour afterward. Basically, hat they had to do was go down to an area where they had to cross two roads. Then they were "attacked" by a line of enemy fire (popup targets and gun sounds). They had to neutralize that line and drive through it. About 100 meters out they were hit with more enemy fire. This time it was from a bunker with a 50cal and small arms fire (popup targets outside the bunker and a real 50cal inside the bunker firing blanks -- remotely controlled since they were firing live rounds). He had to organize his team to neutralize all fire from within and without the bunker and have two team members advance their line to clear the bunker. This meant, while they were putting rounds down range, they had two from his team flank left and A-line themselves with the bunker. Then he had his M203 gunner fire two smoke grenades into the bunker. Whe he got the signal from his bunker busters that they were set, he had his line lift fire (that means stop for those not quite keeping up on the jargon). The bunker busters got up to the bunker and tossed a frag grenade ("firecracker" training grenade) into the bunker. Once the grenade went off, the bunker busters made sure the bunker was clear. Once that was done, he had his line pick up and drive through the bunker area and meet up with the bunker busters. So, that was that. He said, of course there was more to it, but he didnapos;t feel like writing it all out. He said it was fun. He says that tomorrow will be grenade throwing...first training "firecracker" grenades, then live (but less powerful) grenades. Thereapos;s a rumour that their 7-day might be cut down to a 5-day.

15-OCT: This letter was mostly answers back to my letter. He is asking me to purchase an inexpensive (but not cheap) laptop for him to take to AIT with him and to bring it down to family day. Originally he was going to have me bring down his laptop, but he doesnapos;t want anything to happen to that one since it has important data on it (mainly, business stuff...that would really suck come tax time if we didnapos;t have it).

Letter Set #15

15-OCT: Today as grenades. With the exception of all the waiting, he said it was ok. The actual throwing of the 4 grenades (2 practice, 2 live) went really quick and was over faster than he could appreciate the coolness of it. SPC White was transfered to a new company today...so he does have to restart from week 3 with another company. Heapos;s a little bummed that he was unable to get contact information before he got transferred, but it happened when they were off doing the grenades. In total, there were 3 soldiers who had to restart, so when they got back from the grenades, they found their bunks stripped and lockers empty. Good news, my honey was able to score the bottom bunk. He has a new battle buddy assignment now, SPC Irizarry.

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Blacker than i was.
thorough enjoyment with best.
lunch comprised sesame oil instants.
astronauts flew me to the moon,
lousy hardcore made me come back down to earth.
SAMarcella knocking balls,
coincidence brought pakleng.
tbh cutting of the cake of the brat,
blood shot up to new temperatures,
role-played a chinese swordsman on tft.
pillow hug til morning.

sunshine greeted me at one p.m.
or more like, the light of my room
eternal neckache.
instant-mee-goreng-filled-tummy,
problematic iphone.
@#$

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blepharospath

HEY BABES. MY LAPTOP AND HP IS CURRENTLY UNDER REPAIR AS I CANapos;T RECEIVE ANY SMS NOR ABLE TO CHECK EMAILS. (I CAN LOGIN TO EMAIL BUT I COULDNapos;T VIEW) .

FROM THE LAST CHECK, I SAW MANY OF THE BUYERS EMAILING ME, BUT I COULDNapos;T READ.
Iapos;M NOT SURE IF YOU BABES HAVE GOTTEN YOUR ITEMS.
BUT THEREapos;S ONE PARTICULAR MAIL WHICH I CAN CHECK.
THE BUYER HASNapos;T GOTTEN HER ITEM.
Iapos;LL ALWAYS HAVE A SNAPSHOT OF MY PARCELS TO ENSURE Iapos;VE WRITTEN THE CORRECT ADDRESS.
Iapos;VE SUBMITTED THEM TO SINGPOST. AND THEYapos;LL GET BACK TO ME ASAP. Iapos;LL ONLY BE ABLE TO REPLY YOU BABES ON MONDAY. THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
HOPE YOU GUYS GET TO SEE THIS

FOR THOSE THAT NEEDS TO REACH ME URGENTLY, PLEASE CONTACT MY BOYFRIEND AT : TERENCECHUA84@YAHOO.COM


SORRY AND THANKS AGAIN.



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Carol: Oooh, this isnapos;t coming out.
Carol: Iapos;m scrubbing and scrubbing, and itapos;s staying in.
Carol: I think itapos;s set.
Carol: Itapos;s like...what does Lady MacBeth say?
Me: Out damn spot All the perfumes of Arabia could not sweeten this little hand.
Carol: ...
Me: Or something like that.
Carol: I didnapos;t expect you to just, you know, spout it off like that.
Me: Well, itapos;s one of the parts I remember, from my favorite Shakespeare play. So there you go.
Carol: Itapos;s still not coming out...

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cynthia sykes

Weddings And Funerals
Inspired by Shakespeareapos;s Hamlet. October 2008

-
i
-

He had not come to the funeral.

The priestrsquo;s chanting was muffled and foggy behind the miles of black veil. She stared straight ahead and watched the slight sway of the delicately embroidered roses inches from her eyes, wondering vaguely what was causing the movement. The air in here was charged, humming with electric dissent ndash; perhaps it had become solid and was clamouring for her attention with the rest of the dissatisfied congregation that kept turning heads her way. They had also noticed and knew.

Her sonrsquo;s eyes had not left his fatherrsquo;s casket ndash; it was clear that the only absence he felt hammering at his gut and dragging on his limbs was the one he shared so much with, his name and blood alike. She glanced over at him, reaching out a slow hand to rest on his arm as one of the priestrsquo;s murmurs made him close his eyes hard and hunch his shoulders against the world.

He was crying tears for them both, she had realised early on, and once again she felt distant frustration at that undeniable fact. Perhaps, she speculated darkly, she would have been able to mourn were her mind not so damnably preoccupied ndash; and she hated him for it, she realised with a blink, hated him for making her think of him when she should be praying for her husband, hated his haunted eyes and gruff, scarred face deep with shadows for emerging in her mindrsquo;s eye exactly as they had appeared before her two days ago the morning after they had told her that her husband ndash; his brother - was dead.

Irsquo;m sorry, he said, his dark eyes serious and sad.

She had looked up at him from where she stood cupping his horsersquo;s muzzle in her thin hands. It was almost strange, looking up at him ndash; in the past year hersquo;d spent in court, shersquo;d grown used to their similar heights and her greater weight, subconsciously enjoying the slight physical advantage she held over him after being so used to her husbandrsquo;s bulk. It was rather comical sometimes when they were engaged in a spirited argument to be able to stand on tiptoe and meet his gaze with a sceptical raised eyebrow, but there was no humour in this occasion and she knew it. Are you, my lord?

Her sonrsquo;s arm shifted beneath her hand ndash; she blinked and realised the congregation was rising without her. She felt for her offspringrsquo;s silently proffered hand and stood slowly, closing her fingers around his cold, smooth ones in an unconsciously protective gesture as the unfamiliar volume of a hymn pierced through the fine netting of the veil to strike harshly at her ears.

He had not come, and she realised she was angry because she had been expecting him to. That lasting pressure on her cold, uplifted hands, the brushed warmth of a kiss, the hard electric stare he had given her as she waited breathless in the frozen silence of the stable before spurring his horse and riding off without another word ndash; that stare had promised a return as much as it had abated her demand to know why he would choose to flee the day after his brotherrsquo;s death. He was just as confused as she.

ldquo;Mother.rdquo;

They were outside the cathedral, following the torchlight of the murmuring funeral procession to the mausoleum. Her sonrsquo;s face was pale but hard and determined in the winter darkness, mirroring a mix of his fatherrsquo;s stubborn resolve with a hazy trace his unclersquo;s unnamed, blurred sorrow.

ldquo;You mustnrsquo;t marry again. Promise me.rdquo;

And as much as she protested, excused his bold, forward insistence as blind grief, scolded, eventually promisedhellip;she could not erase his dark, burned eyes looking back at her from her mind.

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