fuel for the flame

I’ve refrained from forming words regarding the election since the candidates have been chosen, and the circuses have ensued full swing. Why add any other voice to the choir—the unintelligible drivel of lipstick, pigs, and (false) sexism will just drown it out anyway.

Perhaps I’ll always be gullible, but I continue to be surprised by the noise to which I wake up every morning. The amount of outright bullshit that we are fed under the guise of ‘nourishment’—sensationalist headlines offered to us as ‘breaking news’. I watch and read these ‘news’ stories and ‘interviews,’ I hear about the games campaigns are playing—and yes, McCain/Palin I’m talking about you—not allowing the press to talk to Sarah Palin until they show her ‘deference.’—and I am outraged. Why are we not calling these people on their games? This is a woman who very likely could be president, we do after all scrutinize vice presidential candidates because of the clear and present danger that they could ascend the throne, as it were. Sarah Palin is not running for beauty queen (anymore), she is on the ticket as the potential leader of the free world—a very broken, corrupt and unjust world, but The. Free. World. Nonetheless. And her ‘people’ want the press to show her deference? How much confidence does that show in their candidate? If they were truly confident that the woman who might lead us is capable, then they would welcome the scrutiny, welcome the questions, welcome the opportunity to prove themselves. Rather, they are hoping that her gender and her ‘pretty’ will fool us all and will be enough to cover up her vast and scary inadequacies and utter incomprehension of who We are, what the Constitution says, and even the conception of “God’s task.” I ought to know by now the limits of the intelligence of the voting populace. Yet, I keep hoping… “Surely they’re not buying this.” I watched both conventions (okay, one more than the other), but how do we look at an overwhelmingly old, white, male, homogenous gathering of Americans, and think, yes, they understand me, they understand my neighbor, they understand the ‘tired, the poor, the huddled masses.’ They don’t. And the garbled response to straight forward questions, the muddled justifications for earmarks, war, and wealthy privilege, should prove to us anything but ‘straight-talk’ and ‘maverick’.

But somehow they’ve duped a good portion of us. Judging by the microcosm of public opinion represented by Facebook, Sarah Palin’s record on leadership corresponds very little to her ability to lead. But rather her identity as a pretty, Christian, mother is all we need to know. Since when do we assess who understands our country and is best equipped to lead it based on with whom we’d rather grab a beer? I don’t care if I’d rather ‘hang out with’ the Obamas over the McCains (though, incidentally, I would), but I care about what Obama cares about, and hope for my country what Obama hopes for my country, and believe in the kind of collective responsibility and public welfare and justice that he does.

A couple of links for you (thanks Traci):

Some fact checking. Also, of course, check out this. (the link wasn’t working–but it was supposed to go to www.factcheck.org)
She says it better than I could
A slideshow from Alaska

lump.

I cry every time I come back. It usually starts as a lump in my throat about a day or so before my scheduled departure. The first one, or two, or ten times the reasons for the rising and the welling were obvious; what I was leaving behind, versus what I had to return left me justifiably mourning, terrified, angry. But now, still, the lump remains, the tears still brimming. The ‘why’ a little more evasive. I hesitate to write that to not sound dismissive of my home that does exist in Waco.

I guess at its most simplest, it continues to be a matter of what I leave and to what I return. It all seems so much more complicated now; love is not involved on one end, and what feels (felt) like misery has retreated on the other. But this feeling of imminent dread manifests every time I’m set to board a plan back to Waco, which clearly is not at all a true reflection of the life I have and the friends that are my family in Waco.

But still, I battle this constant feeling of restlessness.

I almost left. Almost turned my back completely. And did not decide to stay in Waco and at Baylor lightly. I chose this place, this life, this program–chose it multiple times, and do have faith that I belong where I am, doing what I am doing. I feel lucky to have a faith community and to have good friends. That restless part of me–the part that continues to refer to Waco as “home for now”–grabs hold when I travel away, when I’m in place that feels more like me, and with the people that know me and have become a part of who I am. This makes me realize that in some way I am a little less myself in this restless time. Though I can’t fully explain it, I suppose being restless and being ready for the next thing is ‘normal’–so normal it’s cliche.

In spite of it all, every time I return. And find another part of me in another place to call home.

serendipity

I bought my ticket to go home for Christmas. After debating the dates in my head and with my dad–do I use Waco as my starting point, but not come home until Christmas Eve, or do I save some money, leave from Dallas and have a few more days home? If I waited and left from Waco it would certainly be “easier”: free parking, a 10 minute drive to the airport, use less gas, don’t have to bother any other people with my plans, blah blah blah. But there’s the stress of traveling on a holiday (or holiday-eve). If I leave out of Dallas it saves some money now, and I’ll get to be home for a bit longer. (“Get” to be home–as if that were the main objective…ha. But I digress.) So I was looking at the flights and it would have been the same price to fly out on either Dec. 20 or 22 (but not 21. Go figure.) Either way I figured I’d come back on the 30th. Back in time for Waco-Rockin’-New-Years-Eve. I chose the 20th. No real logic.

That was this morning.

This afternoon the hidden logic revealed itself. I checked the mail and the lone item in the box was Over the Rhine’s Live From Nowhere, volume 3. At long last. I knew it would be later than promised. For good reason. And I knew they promised something ‘extra special’. They did not slack this time. Enclosed with my copy of the album was a ticket for me and one guest (or me, my spouse, and my children. cool.) to come to the Christmas “gathering and acoustic performance” in Cincinnati. December 21. I did not know OtR’s schedule when I bought my ticket. Nor did I know that I would get in for free. I will be home in time for the show, and I will bend over backwards to be there. (Which, after yoga today, is much more a threat than a promise.) Now, who gets to be my ‘guest’?

Thanks Karin; Thanks Linford. See you in December.

motivation

It is hot. Duh. Hot. Tomorrow at 4 p.m. it is going to be 104. At least. And, really, this is nothing new. One hundred degree (all day) heat has been pretty much the norm this summer. Not that one gets used to ‘normal’ around here.  Instead of using negative words like ‘oppressive’, ‘ridiculous’, or ‘disgusting’, to describe our environs, I’m using the term ‘motivating’.

Texas heat motivates me to get out of Texas. I’m going to Scotland.  I have frequent flier miles. And friends in Scotland. So I’m going.  I cashed in the miles, and got my ticket for November. I’m going to celebrate Thanksgiving in Aberdeen with good friend from seminary, Alisa, and hopefully also see Donovan, another dear PTS friend–I’m either going to make him come up to Aberdeen, or give in and go down to St. Andrews for a bit.  I hear murmurings of other misplaced patriots in the UK.  My passport has been lazy and needs a workout. So, yeah.

The hotter it gets, and stays, the more I realize that I have to get out of here. The summers here are just not good for me (or my interactions with others). Perhaps that sounds a tad dramatic, but consider it reverse Seasonal Affective Disorder. I need some rain, some grey, some clouds, some cold.  Therefore, my logic tells me that excess heat equals motivation to finish comps, write dissertation and find a job as far north and as close to water as I can possibly get.

as if i needed another reason…

another Texas city remarkably wasteful…

music (again)

This post about music can at least be blame on someone else–Ashley Gill made me do it.  She begs to know what my favorite summer music is

Normally, I would have a pretty stellar playlist to pull from, but, truth be told, this summer has been odd and overwhelming and stressful.  In ways I could not have necessarily predicted, so I think a lot of the music I’ve had on repeat is probably more in the Autumn category.  I’ve listened to a lot of Band of Horses, Redbird, the FInches, and (of coures) Hem and Iron & Wine.  A few summertime (re)discoveries include Tilly and the Wall, Mates of State, and Josh Ritter.  They’re pretty summer-full, at least the first two are.  The Fleet Foxes seem a bit over-hyped, but I still love their album and their harmonies, and their winter-wear during concerts in Texas.

Though someone bothered that I don’t have a go-to summer list, I did make my dad a compilation album of which I am rather proud.  So I’ll share that list:

“Gospel, For Now”
1 & 2. “Run Devil Run” & “The Big Guns”–Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twin
3. “Your Long Journey”–Alison Krauss and Robert Plant
4. “One Voice”–The Wailin’ Jenny
5. “Muddy Hymnal”–Iron & Wine
6. “We Shall Not Be Moved”–Mavis Staples
7. “Take This Bread”–The Felice Brothers
8. “Everlasting Arms”–Fret Not
9. “Be Thou My Vision”–Gathering Miriam
10. “By The Mark”–Gillian Welch
11. “Holy Ground”–Luka Bloom
12. “Glory Bound”–Martin Sexton
13. “Failed Christian (Ash Wednesday Mix)”–Over the Rhine
14. “Glory”–The Acorn
15. “I’ll Fly Away” (slow version)–Gathering Miriam
16. “Finlandia”–Indigo Girls (please read lyrics)
17. “Swing Low Sweet Chariot”–She & Him

the first step to recovery.

This is so cliche.

The past–what, now–year I’ve waffled back and forth between typical left political righteous indignation, and twenty-something overdone apathy. The whole primary-season fever never really hit me before this election cycle. Previously it has felt borderline ridiculous to send ourselves into a tizzy between candidates within the same political party. I suppose that is basically indicative of the significant weaknesses in our two-party system, the results of which pans out to be a matter of semantics and the equivalent of a bar fight–only in suits and on really nice carpet: basically no one remembers what we’re fighting about, or who said what first.

But now that the primaries seem over (admit it, Hills, it was over a while ago), I can show my cards. (It reminds my of watching sports with my dad when I was younger. He would ask me–who are you rooting for. And I, ignoring his lazy grammar, would respond: I’ll tell you when it’s over.). I started off a rather lackluster Edwards supporter. Mostly because of his looks, but also because of his stubborn focus on poverty in the US, I suppose he made me nostalgic for a campaign about which I’ve only read (and watched some black-and-white footage)–Bobby Kennedy. The assassination, and consequent end of Kennedy’s 1968 campaign, from all that I can gather (with the disadvantage of not having actually lived through it), marked a significant change in U.S. politics and its social climate. Thurston Clarke is excerpted in the previous issue of Vanity Fair, and the article is amazing–long, but amazing. In it, he quotes John J. Lindsay, a Newsweek reporter, on the RFK campaign trail, who said: “the reason [he's not going to go all the way] is that somebody is going to shoot him. I know it and you know it. Just as sure as we’re sitting here somebody is going to shoot him. He’s out there now waiting for him And, please God, I don’t think we’ll have a country after it.”

I think we’re still trying to get our country back. And I pray to God that might actually start to happen.

The cover story in the current (June) issue of Esquire (yes, I said Esquire. Actually, go get this issue and read the whole thing; it’s that good.). I’ve already read the article thrice. I felt like, finally, someone is talking about Obama in a way that resonates. Here is a candidate that looks, sounds, and seems like the answer to the devastation and desperation we’re in–or denying we’re in. But, yet the cynic (from whose p.o.v. Pierce writes) wonders if it’s all just too good to be true. The problem with Obama–with all the candidates, really–but especially with Obama, who preaches of truth and hope and unity, is that he offers ‘absolution without confession’. The situation we’ve found ourselves in, with war, oil, energy, food, hunger, poverty didn’t just happen to us. We–our nation, our policies, our complicity–has gotten us here, and we’re not going to get out of it–not in any permanent sense of solution–without making real change. Not just change in administration, but real change in attitude, in lifestyle, in consumption, in perspective. And Obama can talk of change, but again with PIerce’s admonition that we cannot have absolution without confession.

The cynic doesn’t want to despair. The cynic doesn’t want to give up. (And here I’m just going to retype from Pierce’s article) :

Most of the damage was in plain sight in 2004, when Barack Obama became a political star by giving a speech in which he told America what a great country it was, and what great people were in it, and then the country went out and reelected George W. Bush anyway.

And so the cynic wants to believe. But after eight years (or four decades, depending on your scope of history), we need convincing:

Convince me that I’m wrong. Convince me that there’s enough left that’s worth saving. Convince me that there are enough people left who care enough to save it.

(apologies to those of you that already read this with some editing errors)

a new age bracket?

I’ve been saying things lately, wondering if my sub-conscious is attempting to help me prepare for the impending and undeniable late-twenties….

Things like, “give me a minute, I need to put on my face.”

and, “Oh nothing, just toodling around on the internet.”

and, “it’s back from vacation and straight into the office…”

oh crap.  what summers used to mean…

I think I’ll start tuning in…

(from a recent episode of 30 Rock, which I am currently watching.  In the library.)

Alec Baldwin: Kenneth, if Mr. Bright here told you to vote Republican would you do it?

Kenneth: Uh, no sir, I don’t vote Republican. Or Democrat.  Choosing is a sin, so I always just write in the Lord’s name.

AB: That’s Republican; we count those.

spring tunes

Okay, so it’s been a week.  Or a month. Or a semester.  I have officially sat in my final class as a student (at least an enrolled student in a required course).  There are lots of thoughts, a good bit of news.  But some other time.  And hopefully soon.

In the meantime, because I love mixtapes/cds/compilations–Enjoy my latest.  Here is the track listing.  I know I sent some out, and others I want to send out.  I need to refuel on blank discs, and if you really really really (like, really) want one, let me know. (Allison, I know I owe you multiple discs.  It’s on my May Resolution list. Promise.)

HEB Spring Mix.

1.    Legs – ZZ Top
2.    The Revolution Starts… — Steve Earle
3.    Polite Dance Song – The Bird and the Bee
4.    Let It Ring – Amy Ray
5.    Merry Happy – Kate Nash
6.    Sunshine – Decemberists
7.    Can’t Believe a Single Word – VHS or Beta
8.    Against All Odds – Phil Collins
9.    Ain’t Got So Far To Go – David Byrne
10.    Wednesday (Contra La Puerta) – Mike Doughty
11.    Coffee’s Cold – Abigail Washburn
12.    Will You Return? – Avett Brothers
13.    La-Da-Da – Basia Bulat
14.    With Arms Outstretched – Rilo Kiley
15.    Plasticities – Andrew Bird
16.    Change is Hard – She & Him
17.    Apples & Oranges – Dogs Die in Hot Cars
18.    Saturday Morning – Eels
19.    Ashes and Wine – A Fine Frenzy
20.    It Was a Beautiful Car – M. Ward
21.    Flume – Bon Iver
22.    Forever Young – Bob Dylan

Maybe, also eventually, I’ll write up some liner notes.  If y’all are lucky.