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"Don't take offenses,
Come to your senses,
Your confidences straddling fences"
I guess I'm not much of a Christmasy person. I don't know if I ever have been, certainly not recently. Last year I did a bit of informal research on the traditions of Christmas- essentially a deconstruction- through which I learned many things... it did have the side effect of nearly destroying my faith... but that is besides the point.
Most Christmas traditions in America, Canada, and England have been implemented since the 1820's or so, for a time under Oliver Cromwell celebrating Christmas was outlawed in England, Christmas was also banned in New England for a while, the Continental Congress actually met for over 50 years on Christmas day without a mention of Christmas in their records, and so on. Apparently, prior to A Christmas Carol it was a fairly common thing for people to work on Christmas Day. Even in allowing time off around Christmas, companies are counting on an economic boon. I guess that hasn't really changed. In France in the 1950's, after the American cultural invasion due to the reconstruction, some monks got asignificant amount of press when they hanged an effigy of St. Nicholas. I thought that was particularly amusing.
Cromwell thought that the celebration of Christmas ought to be outlawed since it was essentially a Pagan and Catholic (Dear God!) holiday. Ivan says that I probably ought not take advice on such points from Cromwell. I sort of went through a "you can deconstruct the meaning out of anything" phase.
it personally offends me a great deal when I go into a store and Christmas music is playing. Not because there ought to be a culture that ignores Christmas, but rather because it is a manner of marketing. I don't doubt that there are studies done on which type of music should be played in a store to make the customer more likely to spend money. It isn't a celebration, it's a calculated decision. In America, this means that it is socially acceptable to trample someone to death in order to save 5$ on Wrangler jeans and continue to shop. Perhaps that is due to herd mentality though.
Something I wrote last year, when I was writing a very cynical Christmas album. You see, I really don't get this stuff. Christmas just makes me feel like a hypocrit
I remember as a kid,
watching the news round Christmas
Russian Cards to Santa Claus,
Asking for boots for their Grandmas
We all agreed that it was sad,
Then went back to the Christmas we planned.
Christmas buying season's begun,
Let's stampede to the big screens.
Hope they come with financing,
This deal's too good to be missing.
If some get trampled under foot,
At least they died for the greater good:
God wanted me to have this.
In spite of this, today by no fault of my own I woke up early, and started doing random things on the internet. I started to listen to Sufjan Steven's Songs for Christmas. Then I saw some ham in the fridge and decided to make myself an omlette with brie and bok choy. It was very tasty. Then I went in the next room and found some candy cane cookies that my mom made a day or two ago. I was lookiung out the window, drinking maple tea and suddenly I felt somewhat Christmasy. It is an unusual feeling for me.
I don't usually like Christmas music though. I guess I don't really 'get' it. I must admit though, I do have a rather formative connection between 'Como on Ring Those Bells.' I think the idea of listening to Christmas music this morning has to do with my near idolatry of Sufjan Stevens more than anything. I don't think it really counts as idolatry though, if he is actually God incarnate. Seriously though, that man makes me feel things I never thought possible. I'm going to keep that last sentance as awkward sounding as it is. I didn't really mean it to sound sketchy though!
Merry Christmas! Also, I'm amused that facebook is advertising a video of a "Naked Bike Ride" to promote environmental issues to the right of this text box as I write this. | | |
| I was going into my sister's room today, because that's where I keep my guitar. Since she has moved out, there are a few boxes of old junk that are being kept there. When I went to get my guitar, I looked into this box, and sitting near the top, there was this old toy there, and it made me smile.
Perhaps it has to do with my subconscious: I don't remember ever playing with the toy, but I know the toy, and I know I must have played with it. I must have played with it lots.
It is two suns that are connected with each other and spin like cogs. It makes a rattling noise. Both of the suns are smiling and look really happy. Maybe that makes me happy. I think I just remember being happy around it, when I played with it and probably stuck it in my mouth.
For some reason, there is something markedly therapeutic about playing with it now.
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| While I have my suspicions that there are very few of my loyal readers left, that is alright. I suppose I've had a good run with blogging, and I also suspect that it will not be a constant habit of mine anymore. It is, however, always nice to have someone read your thoughts.
Something that's been on my mind: a cousin of mine died a few weeks ago. This is a sad story, if you didn't get that from the title. I don't think I ever met her... my uncle married a woman to whom she was born in a previous marriage. Still, my parents drove down to Missouri for the funeral. They learned some things about her life.
My cousin used to have a husband who wasn't a kind person to her. They ended up getting divorced. She had a hard life, apparently and it was pretty miserable in general. She ended up meeting a new man, who was in the military. She told him "I don't care if you love me, I just care if you're nice to me." But he was nice to her and loved her too.
And they had a child, who is still very young. (I think my aunt is going to help take care of her, because it seems like the last connection to her daughter) But her husband, although he loved her and was nice to her, was away on a third tour of duty to the war. He was away for most of their marriage. After she had the child she got sick. I'm not sure with what. The doctors kept saying that she would get better and not to worry. But my aunt didn't know if she would. She told the husband that she ought to come home. After a month or so in the hospital, she suddenly got worse over three days and died. Her husband was still at war.
Here's a poem. I don't think there is very much to it, but I think it sounds nice. It's a nice poem.
Communion At St Margaret's, Winnipeg
I walk forward with my row,
Between the choir singing
And kneel before the priest
To receive the Eucharist
Voices shake the building,
I feel it in the wood
Christ's blood warms my heart
And makes me mindful of my mood
Holy church seldom visited:
(the jouney is too far)
Did Christ really walk in England?
Would we be better if he were?
Old wood floors, cracked drywall,
Opulent stained glass,
The people shuffle softly
In our communion mass
But halfway through the lay,
the choir must have ceased
leaving only sounds
of slowly walking feet,
people's lowered voices,
whispers, silly children's shouts
In our sacred shuffle,
There was no greater sound.
Brother Peter sits there silently,
Frustrated with life
To want to break and burn the pews
Out of anger, out of spite.
But I kneel and pray and listen
in a manner not like before.
I neither yearn nor worry,
My heart has been made whole.
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| I'm in a class about the beat poets. This post is titled this as a reference to a novel by Burroughs, which I read an excerpt from. There are other reasons too. Perhaps I was inspired.
For the last few months I've had this joke: that I've been a news junkie-- and junkie is a surprisingly accurate description. Unlike junk, (opium or any derivative thereof) news is available for free. And often, when I have free time, I'm unable to stop reading it or watching it.
I've stopped drinking coffee in the mornings- at least caffeinated. I've switched to Yerba Mate. It reminds me of an old joke- "I used to be a herion addict, now I'm a methadone addict." That applies to other things in my life as well.
When I moved my computer downstairs in an attempt to cut myself off from the internet, I mostly changed the mode of internet. I started reading news more and neglecting my blog.
So I'm trying to cut myself off from the news. It really doesn't do much for me... I'd be much happier reading a book. And there are lots of things at home I've been neglecting- like how my room is really messy. Pretty much all I do there now is sleep. It's kind of sad. But when I started reading news heavily, second semester last year or so, it was good, and definitely improved my reading skill. I didn't read much at the time. I should really apply that to textbooks though.
I also read some posts by Garrison Keillor on Salon.com. I guess they would be considered blogs, or something like that. Plainly stated american naturalism, with a heavily leftist political slant. He describes what is going on in the world well, and quite matter of factly. I think he is the inspiration for this post.
Another author, I can't remember who, said that a writer will kill for a good audience. I like writing here, and if they haven't all picked up and forgotten about me, I think I have a pretty good audience. It's small, it's quiet, but this is what my writing calls home. I think that makes sense.
I went to Borders today and read though WANTED. It's entirely different from the movie in terms of plot. About the only thing that they kept the same was that the main character shoots guns. It was interesting and entertaining though... albeit bloody and coarse. So was the movie. I saw it on Jon Stewart's recommendation- that you go in expecting an action movie... but then you start watching it and are simply blown away by the craziness of the stunts. That sounds pretty accurate to me.
And I bought a book- The People's History of the United States of America- which will apparently change my life if I get around to reading it. I really intend to. I'm turning over a new leaf. There are so many things to read though. Like textbooks. I really intend to be a better student this year. I was also somewhat inspired by looking at things for law schools-- Not that I want to go to law school, but it helps me gauge what my GPA should be around. The median gpa to get into Lincoln is 3.64. I suppose that's motivation.
When I was a kid, my mom used to gush about all the potential that I had as a student. I don't think that she was just biased. She said that the only kid that she met that had more potential (or at least more wasted potential) than me was my best friend Joe. But now that we're older, we're disaffected college students. Sometimes I say that I'm as brilliant as I am lazy-- and that is alot. Other times I say that "lazyness is next to godliness."
Still, we've both grown up. We've transformed from balls of academic potential into smart, witty, eccentrics. We're people. The type of people that make other people look at things differently. We make life more interesting. Maybe I say that to justify the strange things that I often do. Still, they make me smile and laugh when I think of them.
Sometimes I'm somewhat clueless. And this summer I had an identity crisis and I'm just beginning to find out who I am a bit. I have no idea what I want to do in life, although I constantly get good ideas of what to do. I'll probably just end up living life until I die. I don't have any further plans than that. (Looking over that last sentance, it seems rather obvious, but funny. I'm keeping it.) Maybe I'll be a lawyer, a professor, a musician, a librarian or a communist leader. I'm really not sure yet. But at this point, with a lack of my feet on the ground I feel like I could be anything. Maybe even the wind.
Now I sound like a kid again- "When I grow up, I want to be the wind." I think that's an admirable sentiment.
Sometimes I look for identity in things- like my mom's old bike. There is plenty to think about there. My chacos too, which are expensive hiking sandals. An old friend of mine said that chaco owners make friends with other chaco owners, just because of how chacos are. I thought they were cool, and I was bought the image. I don't go hiking nearly enough, and I feel a bit hypocritical sometimes when I wear them. But they are also for pretty much everything.
But today, walking back from Borders, just as the heavy rains had cleared, it felt like a bit of a hike. It felt nice to get wet from the rain too, on the way to Borders. Then I walked back to UNO, and walked through the pep bowl. On the way, the sun came out, and it felt as humid as the tripics.
There's another joke I tell- I was walking with a few kids at UNO and one said something about how people think he is weird because of something or other. I replied that people think I'm weird because I walk through the pep bowl.
And that is exactly what I did. I walked through the pep bowl, with my chacos. I thought about how when I was young I knew more about the types of plants than I do now, that I spent more time outside, and that now I don't appreciate nature as much as I should. Meanwhile, the earth and grass, sopping wet, made a squishing sound underneath my sandals. I felt like a kid again.
Cheers.
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Today at work, there was a woman who came into the library crying.
She said she wanted to print something, so I went to help her. She went
to login to her email--it was from a Russian site. That was when I
realized why she was crying. I got a copy of the email that she
printed. It talked about how the conflict in Georgia was quite
different than what was being reported. Here are some excerpts.
"Let me be perfectly honest when stating that this conflict is a
deliberate act of aggression towards the Georgian people. Russian
airstrikes have hit several civilian targets many of which lie far away
from any zones of conflict. Refugees are filling the streets of Tbilisi
quickly creating a crisis of food and shelter in the capitol city."
"Dear friends, I never thought I'd come to ask for this, but this is a
desperate plea for help. As I write this Russian planes headed toward
my beautiful hometown of Tbilisi, in Georgia. My parents, the nicest
and kindest people on earth, are sitting next door, holding each
other's hands and I don't know how else to protect them. There are
100,000's of other people here who are defenseless against one of the
world's largest military powers. Three days now I watched scores of
innocent civilians killed by Russia's brutal expansionism. Please
spread the word, ask your governments to act, spread this message, and
perhaps you can save a human life today."
And I looked at the Big Picture section from the Boston Globe. It is
always well done. This one is rather disturbing in parts. http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/08/war_in_south_ossetia.html
It made me remember an interview with an ex KGB agent that I listened
to on NPR once. He talked about how after the fall of the Soviet Union,
he felt that he could no longer work for the FSB because it went
against his ethics. Essentially because the organization no longer had
accountability and was a bad place to work.
He also said that the cold war never really ended from the Russian
perspective. However, they were forced to take a break because of the
economic conditions at the time. Russia's economy is much stronger
now...
I suppose, I don't really have an definite point to what I'm writing.
Just some things I'm thinking about. I'm entirely skeptical that timing
the invasion to coincide with the Olympics was accidental. Both sides
accuse the other of ethnic cleansing and breaking the ceasefire. The
Georgians accuse the Russians of looting, bombing civilians and setting
up concentration camps. On the other hand, I don't believe that Russia
recognizes Georgia as a country.
We live in a world that is often sad and seemingly always incomprehensible.
And now, a very good quote. It's good enough, at least for me that it
makes me feel optimistic about life. And this is only part of it:
"The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very
nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out
for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is
reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men,
women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture
and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not
despair".
The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the
bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men
will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people,
will return to the people and so long as men die liberty will never
perish."
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