anti:freeze

My father used to brag about my broken hips, how they had healed so well nobody would guess I ever wore a brace.

"Karrie could leap over a treetop if she wanted to," he would say. "Hell, she doesn't even walk funny."

Except that I did.

____

"Why do they call it breaking news?" I asked my cousin, as we curled under a blanket in the hospital lobby, waiting for word about our grandma. The local news flashed an urgent story about a car accident, and the flashing police lights felt like the headache behind my eyes. We were going on our tenth hour at the hospital.

"Because something has to break before it's news," she said. "Stories are made of broken things."

____

more notes to come

I have been writing (and sometimes screaming) about the brave new world of RFID, surveillance, and electronic databases for years, and most people either shrug, declare me insane, or claim we (the people) possess no power to influence the future.

Folks, you have to start paying attention, because while you were sleeping, our so-called representatives slipped the Real ID Act into a military appropriations bill. If you want your Social Security number, biometric data, driving record, and other personal information linked up to a national database, then you will be happy. If you want anyone with a basic magnetic strip card reader to have access to all this information for their own malicious use, congratulations: today is your lucky day.

Here is what ACLU has to say about Real ID:

"The federalization of drivers’ licenses, and the culling of all information into massive databases, creates a system ripe for identity theft. New standards could place our most private information - including photographs, address and social security numbers - into the hands of identity thieves. Worse still, an independent commission is currently studying the issue of license security, and, if enacted, Real ID would undermine their efforts."

Oh, and by the way, Real ID requires data to be readable by standard card readers, which means any retail store could demand to swipe your ID and mine it for information. Or maybe worse: Any common thief could steal your wallet and read the card on a DIY machine or stolen/purchased reader. Can you say Identity Theft Jackpot?

As if this were not bad enough, some states are considering RFID tags on licenses. Meaning: the state could someday (once readers are installed all over the place) track and log every step you take.

But why would it matter? You ask. After all, you never commit crimes, right?

Consider these recent security breaches:

*In November 2004, a hacker broke into University of Kansas servers containing medical information. (Think: Social Security numbers, insurance records, biological data, AIDS test results, etc.)

*Early this year, hackers peeped into George Mason University servers and spied names, Social Security numbers, and photographs. Victim count: 30,000 students.

*In March 2005, Northwestern University fell prey to a hacker who downloaded names and passwords for 21,000 students, faculty, and alumni of the business school.

*185,000 current and former patients of San Jose Medical Group were exposed when thieves snatched computers.

*98,000 people lost their private data when someone stole a laptop at University of California at Berkely.

*Choicepoint , a data aggregator that "compiles in-depth dossiers of personal information on almost everyone," sold data to "businesses" that turned out to be totally fake. The identity thieves who set up these phony businesses got their mitts on data for approximately 145,000 people. All they had to do was pay the fee.

*Bank of America lost computer backup tapes with information on over 1.2 million customers - credit card numbers of US Senators included.

*Hackers busted into the Lexis Nexis Seisint database, and as many as 310,000 people are at risk for identity theft as a result: Social Security numbers, names, DMV license information, and addresses leaked like oil on the information superhighway. How nice.

It is enough to make me want to move to California , where at least RFID may soon become illegal for IDs, and where consumers have the right to put a security freeze on their credit reports - whether they are identity theft victims or simply wish to keep their information more secure.

**Update: I got the links fixed. They were not working before - sorry!

I love postcards from mysterious, faraway lands I have never seen. Michael said I could share this one with you. Enjoy.

*Update* I just found out Michael published a piece in the LA Weekly, about the Cedar Revolution in Lebanon.

Friday the 13th: I fell so hard I bounced off a curb and whacked my bones twice against rough concrete. Skin ripped. Joints bruised. Blood spattered on my oldest and favorite pants.

My husband and I crossed a busy intersection, and his foot somehow slipped under mine. The fall felt more like a dive: my body propelled upward, with a split-second pause before gravity took hold; the fall straight down, face first and fast. By the time it was over, my chipped front tooth hovered just an inch above the curb. My right elbow vibrated and stung - alternating between electric shocks and stinging numbness. My left knee stiffened from a bruise deep inside the kneecap. My right hip and shoulder burned. And my hands leaked blood down my wrists.

I stood, turned up my palms, and walked home to bandage the wounds.

My husband walked with me, apologizing over and over for the accident while I cried. I did not cry because of the pain, but because I collapsed in a busy intersection, where everyone could see.

I am used to collapse. Epilepsy will do that to a person. But this fall felt particularly brutal: a sucker punch; a kick in the kneecap when I was already down. And with an audience.

Today is the first day I can bend my knee all the way. And I can finally feel my elbow again. Slowly, the chunks of skin torn from my palms regenerate and seal the cuts. Looks like they will not even scar.

***

Friday the 20th: My husband announces that his school is cutting costs due to falling stock values. From now on, faculty raises will be capped at 3%. Health insurance costs will increase 14% this summer. (Figure in inflation and rent increases, and well, there are no more raises. Only cuts.) Which means another year without insurance for me. The costs for spouses and dependents already surpass what some people pay for rent or cars. And most private insurers are not keen on epileptics with a history of migraines, eczema, allergies, and other issues.

I think back to the fall and remember the cars screeching to a stop. What if their tires had rolled over my legs? What then?

At least I have dental. If my teeth had cracked on that curb, I could have them fixed.

***

Saturday the 21st: Quarter After Eight has delayed Volume 11 until 2006 - the volume in which my essay, State Lines, will appear.

I am used to long, unbearable waits. Writers, after all, spend most of their lives waiting: for rejections, for contracts, for late checks, grants, galleys, and magazine copies.

But this news felt as visceral as my fall.

I still feel elated to publish there, but because of this delay, I will be forced to wait another year to send this out as part of a book manuscript. (And time slips so fast. I wrote this essay in 2001-2002, revised it in 2003 for my final manuscript, sent it out in 2003, waited a year to hear from an editor, sent it out again, and it was accepted. And after that, the first editor suddenly wanted it. So by the time it sees print, it will feel old and distant from my current work.)

The essay is about epilepsy and madness, intersections and right angles, chaos theory, volcanic eruptions, and earthquakes. Bridges. Hard falls.

When I first moved here, I avoided the trains. I didn't trust them.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere: emerging from a fog; materializing out of the ether; peeking around a corner.

They watched. They snuck up behind and rushed past. They made the sidewalk tremble beneath my feet.

From a distance, they seemed out of proportion. Unreal. Like toy trains circling a model city. And I began to believe the whole city was out of proportion, too.

Out of proportion to Mt. Hood. To the hills and trees. The bridges over the Willamette.

I still feel a little nervous when one creeps up behind me and rushes past.

But I allow myself to get close. The closer I get, the more out of proportion they appear. Except now, that confirms they are real.