Today I am besieged by insecurity. I have been visited by several people (not spirits, i think) today and wonder what they think of me, working 2.5 hours a day at this ridiculous job. My modifier says it all - they must think I'm ridiculous. How important is it to display ones talents?

My friend from Sonoma just sent me a link to an article about German mischief makers planting flags of President Bush in dog feces. It was gross, but not grosser than its inspiration.

Last night Keith and I visited a friend for a backyard firepit and ceremonial burning of school papers. It was enjoyable, in a low key sort of way. The chief pleasures of the experience for me, the one prone to social paralysis and discomfort, were the fireflies, the lightsticks, the ashy flaming feathers of burning paper, and the appearance of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, reminding me poignantly of other, more comfortable get togethers in the Bay Area. But, I digress. I began this vignette to tell about the awkwardness of politically themed conversations among almost-friends. The awkwardness paralyzes me, and I become cowardly and tense. I am strongly motivated by a sense that something precious rests on the opinions and beliefs of the people around me, and am therefore unable to participate in "mixed" conversations. Republicans, conservatives, even moderates seem desperately wrong to me. I am filled with missionary zeal, which makes for an uneasy bedfellow with my mellow liberal leanings. When I start feeling that some conservatives and evangelicals should be sterilized, haven't I turned into that which I despise?