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69 comments?! What a great welcome home gift! :)
I've been traveling now for over 12 hours, my mind is total mush. Luckily the Customs officials were almost pleasant and I got through that ordeal relatively unscathed.
While I was en route to Minneapolis, I was reading through Sue Monk Kidd's book The Dance of the Dissident Daughter -- and after reading the first 100 pages, I found myself stopping and composing a journal entry on the spot. What follows below is the result of that 31,000 ft rambling and reflecting.
I'll be back tomorrow when I'm conscious to comment on those 69+ comments.
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Awakening.
(5:00 pm EST) I’m at 31,000 feet in the air, somewhere over Indiana (I think), on my way to Minneapolis. I’ve been reading Sue Monk Kidd’s book Dance of the Dissident Daughter – and I can’t wait another moment until I start journaling what I’m coming across. So here I am – laptop in hand, with only 78% left on my battery power, hoping desperately that the power will last long enough for me to write down what’s on my mind and heart.
This book. I can’t even begin to describe my reaction to it. It seems as if it’s been written specifically for me. Lately I’ve been so thirsty inside – it’s as if I have this great spiritual thirst inside that has long been neglected. For a long time, I put aside all my feelings of spirituality – mainly out of a self-protection reflex, I think. Internally I felt so badly wounded by the actions of people, spiritual leaders even, who I loved and thought loved me (and my family) back. And after we were so badly betrayed, I transferred much of my hurt onto the Divine – rather than making the people that caused the pain the ones actually accountable.
It took me almost 2 years, but I’m pretty much over all of that. Which brings me to now – to my spiritually thirsty heart. Before tackling Kidd’s book, last month I read Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner. Admittedly, I initially picked up this book because I was intrigued by the similarity of its title to my weblog title. This book outlines the transitions of a woman from the world of orthodox Judaism to Christianity. I’d highly recommend it! As I read that book, I was amazed at the similarities between the author and myself in our journeys of faith. She’s also a member of the academic world, so she knows firsthand the problems encountered in clashes of the mind and spirit. We also have similar interests in our reading choices, and there were times that I could have sworn she lifted a page or two from my own personal life.
But even as much as I enjoyed reading that book, I still couldn’t bring myself to completely agree with her evangelical views of Christianity. I’m finding that my faith is moving away from the evangelical, convert-and-save-as-many-sinners-as-you-can type of faith to one that is more contemplative. I’m not willing to subscribe to the beliefs that the Bible is the sole inerrant word of God – nor am I willing to say that Jesus is the only way to the afterlife.
Just mentioning those two views of mine probably places me in the “heretic” category of many people I know back home – people that I have looked up to my entire life, and people who don’t understand me or the transition I’m going through now.
Which brings me back to Kidd’s book, Dance of the Dissident Daughter. You know, I was immediately drawn to that name – mainly because I feel as if filling that role nowadays. I’m the daughter that has moved 2500 miles away, I’m the one who’s selfishly pursuing her own academic dreams, as well as the one who doesn’t check the “Christian” box on her spiritual survey anymore.
So far, I’ve only read the first section of Daughter – entitled, “Awakening.” After reading the first page, I quickly discovered that this is the type of book that requires a pencil in hand – marking down the passages that stick out to me. Skimming over what I’ve read, I don’t think I’ve gone 2 pages without underlining, starring, or writing on a page’s margin.
Before I move onto the second chapter, “Initiation,” I wanted to record what I was thinking about its first. Sue Monk Kidd grew up in the Southern Baptist tradition. She was married to a Baptist minister/professor and had 2 kids. She wrote for a Christian magazine, and was known for her books of Christian literature (I’ll haveta look up what specifically she wrote). When she was around 38 years old, she experienced her “awakening” to the Divine Feminine – and this book is the recorded experience of that journey.
There is so much within these first 100 pages that I want to mention – but I know that I could never do them the justice of experiencing and reading them for yourself, so I’ll try to hit the highlights of what spoke out the most to me.
For my entire life of being in the Christian church, I’ve had issues with the ways women are treated both within the Bible and in the Church itself. Serious issues and reactions I buried deep within my heart whenever I was told to swallow my negative reactions and “have more faith” or to accept the submissive role the Bible lays out for me. Kidd has had similar problems, and I think it’s these passages that reverberate the most with me.
Christianity, by its very nature, is a religion that is male-centered. It’s a belief system that is “named, shaped, and directed” by men. Read this:
At church girls fare no better. A young girl learns Bible stories in which vital women are generally absent, in the background, or devoid of power. She learns that men go on quests, encounter God, and change history, while women support and wait for them. She hears sermons where traditional (nonthreatening) feminine roles are lifted up as God’s ideal. A girl is likely to see only a few women in the higher echelons of church power.
And what does a girl, who is forming her identity, do with all the scriptures admonishing women to submission and silence? Having them “explained away” as the product of an ancient time does not entirely erase her unease. She also experiences herself missing from pronouns in scripture, hymns, and prayers. And most of all, as long as God “himself” is exclusively male, she will experience the otherness, the lessness, of herself; all the pious talk in the world about females being equal to males will fail to compute in the deeper places insider her.
YES. Exactly. How many times have I cringed at these sermon series outlining “great men of faith?” or sung the words of “Faith of our Fathers?” Just how many hymns sing of the great faith of women like Deborah, Ruth or Mary? Not many.
How many times have I silenced myself whenever I’ve deeply felt this inequality? Too many, unfortunately.
Kidd goes on to describe what she calls the “feminine wound.” This is created whenever we internalize the experiences that label women/femininity as “lesser than.” I think this happens more often than we realize – both within the culture of the Church and the larger culture that surrounds it.
As she uncovers these deep feelings of inadequacy that she’d long condoned within her faith, she goes through a type of crisis – one that I totally can relate to. She writes:
Mostly, I didn’t want to believe I could have been wounded by my own faith. I didn’t want to acknowledge how it had relegated half the human population to secondary status and invisible places. I didn’t want any of this to be true.
Again, been there. Usually whenever these feelings start to swell in my heart, I immediately try to contextualize or even trivialize what I’m feeling. Kidd did that too:
Trivializing our experience is a very old and shrewd way of controlling ourselves. We do it by censoring our expressions of truth or viewing them as inconsequential. We learned the technique from a culture that has practiced it like an art form.
How many times have I silenced myself for fears of being labeled as “one of those feminists” or been afraid to speak aloud for fears of being laughed or scoffed at? Kidd goes on to set six categories of archetypes that women often place themselves in order to deal with the patriarchy that surrounds their everyday live. These are: the Gracious Lady, Church Handmaid, the Secondary Partner, the Many-Breasted Mother, Favored Daughter, and the Silent Woman.
Obviously, the one that spoke the most to me was the role of Church Handmaid – and this quote specifically: “I think that sometimes a childhood place can lean so heavily on your growing up that later, when you are grown, you find it has become part of your internal geography. This church was such a place.” Not only does this quote explain my internal struggles in justifying my new spiritual path, but I also think it explains why I took my betrayal at SCC so personally.
Here’s another point that I think Kidd makes very effectively. When she defines patriarchy, she’s very careful to point out that the enemy here isn’t all men or masculinity itself. She writes that “It’s important to emphasize that patriarchy is neither men nor the masculine principle; it is rather a system in which that principle has become distorted.”
Yes. She goes on:
In a similar way we’ve accepted the widespread attitudes and effects of patriarchy as givens. They are so much a part of the world, we start to thing that’s just the way reality is.
Sound familiar? It reminds me of the same reactions I get whenever I start to rail against unethical labor practices and sweatshops. It’s the old defeatist argument that I CAN’T stand and won’t accept. You can make a difference, because all it takes is for you to stop and make a stand. Even a little stand is better than none.
But back to this spiritual struggle. Kidd writes that “[f]orming an honest feminist critique of our own faith tradition is not an easy thing to do. Betrayal of any kind is hard [Ed. don’t I know it!], but betrayal by one’s own religion is excruciating. It makes you want to rage and weep. It deposits a powerful energy inside.”
She’s preaching to the choir at this point, as far as I’m concerned. I know exactly what she’s writing about. How many times have I gotten disapproving side looks for a bumpersticker on my car that reads “Goddess Bless” and then felt the need to apologize? Why should I feel anxiety for believing that there can be a divine Feminine force in our universe? I shouldn’t, but I know that my culture is partially to blame for these feelings of inadequacy – feelings that are fostered by the patriarchal notions of distrust of the feminine and a hostility toward anything outside the Judeo-Christian norm.
Toward the end of this opening section, Kidd writes about the moment when she decided that she could no longer subscribe to the main tenets of the Baptist faith. She decided to leave that church, and to pursue a different spiritual path.
This is probably my favorite passage encountered so far:
This is a stupendous moment for a woman – when she decides to live from her own inner guidance. It is, however, excruciatingly hard for a patriarchal daughter to accomplish. She may have to do it, as I did, in stages.
What is held over her head is condemnation, even damnation. We’ve been led to believe that leaving the circle of orthodoxy means leaving the realm of truth. Typically the church has considerable stake in our staying tin the orthodox circle. It knows if we claim ultimate authority as something in ourselves, as some inchoate voice in our own souls, it has lost all power over us. We have rendered ourselves independent, outside its control. We have stepped out onto our own path. For some reason it scares people senseless.
It [terrifies] me just pondering it.
I changed the “terrified” to the present case “terrifies” because that’s exactly how I feel sometimes. I know that I am questioning the very foundation of everything I’ve ever been taught – but I also know that I could never go back to the old ways, short of a lobotomy of the spirit.
(I’m at the end of four pages on WordPerfect, and am now running dangerously short on battery juice. I should cut this off, soon.)
I’ve decided that I’m going to stop silencing myself. Do you remember, last week, when I remained silent when racist/homophobic jokes where going on? I don’t want that to happen again. Granted when a situation like this happens, I will use discernment, so I won’t always be flying off the handle – but I’m not going to silence or dismiss these passions (“misdirected” or not) that mean the most to me.
It’s time for me to speak up – and in the process, maybe break a couple cages. It’s a thought that is both exhilarating and terrifying – not to mention a little lonely.
Descending now.
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No scary Conservative government for Canada, doo-dah, doo-dah.
Liberals win Minority!
Yay, no scary Bush-like Harper hawk running the government.
Whew.
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As promised, here is a post about a new book I'm adding to my official list of favorite books of all time. It's a privileged list -- and despite what you may think (and already know about my voracious reading habits), it's fairly exclusive.
The newest member is Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. I picked up this book yesterday afternoon -- and finished it this morning. I was enraptured, absorbed, and intrigued simultaneously. It's the kind of book that you want to read at a breathtaking pace -- but then again you're dreading coming to the end of it. It's that kind of reading experience.
Even now, I miss some of the characters I encountered as I turned the pages. Golden's language is at once exquisitely metaphorical and divinely effortless.
As I was reading it, I could literally envision the story unfolding before me. It'll make a great movie, and it looks like one is in the works for 2005.
Okay, enough gushing. Onto some of the passages that forced me to stop and underline -- so I wouldn't forget 'em.
We lead our lives like water flowing down a hill, going more or less in one direction until we splash into something that forces us to find a new course.
-- I really like this passage. I love how it's so visual, it makes me think of all the times I've watched water flow in gutters, and then added various obstacles to make the water change direction. When I apply this metaphor to my life, I can think of specific people and experiences that I've encountered that have forced me to change direction -- and while it was difficult, I don't regret the place it has put me now.
"Waiting patiently doesn't suit you. I can see you have a great deal of water in your personality. Water never waits. It changes shape and flows around things, and finds the secret paths no one else has thought about -- the tiny hole through the roof or the bottom of a box. There's no doubt it's the most versatile of the five elements. It can wash away earth; it can put out fire; it can wear a piece of metal down and sweep it away. Even wood, which is its natural complement, can't survive without being nurtured by water. And yet, you haven't drawn on those strengths in living your life, have you?"
-- This quote doesn't even need commentary, it's just good. I love encountering quotes that make you stop and read them over again.
I'd never understood how closely things are connected to one another. And it isn't just the zodiac I'm talking about. We human beings are only a part of something very much larger. When we walk along, we may crush a beetle or simply cause a change in the air so that a fly ends up where it might never have gone otherwise.
And if we think of the same example but with ourselves in the role of the insect, and the larger universe in the role we've just played, it's perfectly clear that we're affected every day by forces over which we have no more control than the poor beetle has over our gigantic foot as it descends upon it. What are we to do? We must use whatever methods we can to understand the movement of the universe around us and time our actions so that we are not fighting the currents, but moving with them.
-- This passage is similar to the first quote about water's direction. It's spiritual -- in a way that could fit in to many belief systems at once. I'm still processing it.
...And now my favorite quote of the book:
From this experience I understood the danger of focusing only on what isn't there. What if I came to the end of my life and realized that I'd spent every day watching for a man who would never come to me? What an unbearable sorrow it would be, to realize I'd never really tasted the things I'd eaten, or seen the places I'd been, because I'd thought of nothing but the Chairman even while my life was drifting away from me. And yet if I drew my thoughts back from him, what life would I have? I would be like a dancer who had practiced since childhood for a performance she would never give.
-- Ouch. Been there. Somehow this quote spoke more to me than I can communicate, even now.
But now I really should start packing, considering my flight leaves at lunch tomorrow.
Next stop, Saskatchewan.
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Georgia's Jewel and a Castaway Wannabe-Canadian.
She returns! To Savannah, at least.
Just got back from a brief trip out to Jekyll Island, a beach about an hour and a half from Savannah. I only got to spend a day and a half out there, wish it could have been longer. (Pictures here)
But I have lots of packing and rearranging to do before I can head back north tomorrow. I only packed one suitcase -- but with all the books I've acquired, I'm going to have to borrow another! Ah well, one can never have too many books.
Speaking of which, I just finished one amazing book that I'll most more about later tonight.
For now, I'm buried in laundry and last-minute errands. |
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Well, I did it -- I went back to my parents' (and I suppose my own) old church in Savannah.
For those of you that don't realize this already -- this place fired my dad 2 years ago and I have had a hard time getting over all the betrayals and two-facedness that has occured since then.
But I'm getting better about it -- really, I am! I thought by visiting this place, and seeing for myself how its developed, then maybe I could put it all behind me.
A map, in case you get lost in the buildingAnd maybe it has. For one, I won't name or link the "church" in question -- I'll just make up a pseudonym for it ... let's see. I'll call it SaddleCreek Christian (a hybrid name of some of those other mega-churches). For short, I'll call it SCC.
My parents have been in town for the past week, raising support and meeting with those people who support them finanically. It's been interesting for them too, coming back "home" -- especially to a church that rejected them earlier, and now -- while they are supported by SCC -- they were still passed over when the church listed the different missions they supported in a glossy brochure.
Anyway, when they went to SCC last Sunday, a woman came up to them -- and cried and cried as she hugged them. Why was she so emotional? Maybe it was because my parents represent a different time for the church -- a time when numbers didn't dictate the way services were ran and the goal wasn't to become the largest church in the Southeast.
But I digress. It is interesting though, to think about the ways things have changed at SCC. Back when my dad was on staff, there were 3 ministers (and 1 secretary). Nowadays -- there's over 90 staff members and "coordinators." There's a coffee shop, a book store, and they even have their own brand-image -- complete with SCC bumperstickers to label your car or polo shirts to wear out golfing.
Other things have changed as well. While there may be 90 something people on staff, one problem the church faces is a lack of volunteers. This seems odd to me, considering they're running over 3000 people in services per weekend. But then again, maybe it's not so odd -- considering the fast-food, consumeristic faith that is being fostered within the walls. Why serve as a volunteer, if you can attend a well-scripted, entertaining hour and 15 minute service each week?
But back to my experience tonight.
 It was an interesting experience -- it was only the second time I've been in the new sanctuary since they've moved. The worship time was short, and while the place seemed pretty filled (I was in the back, of course), it didn't seem like anyone was singing. One of the songs we couldn't even sing along to, it was so performance oriented (as the worship leaders sang it and we mostly listened).
Some things haven't changed -- apparently only men can still lead worship and serve communion. The sermon tonight came complete with a multi-media skit performance preceding it. And in case you couldn't see the preacher well enough, there were flat-screen TVs on either side of the sanctuary offering closeups.
Sure enough, time came for the service to end -- and soon I was walking back to my car in the massive parking lot ... which had its 9 parking sections labeled as the different fruits of the spirit (seriously!).
What did I learn after this experience? Well, my insides didn't explode and I wasn't struck by lightning when I entered the building -- so that was a good thing.
I also realize that I'm not that upset that my dad is no longer a part of that church. The way SCC is now is not at all like the church I grew up in -- nowadays, it's a polished business whose goals are based more on the Willow Creek model than the New Testament. I don't want my dad or my family associated with that. My parents are way happier, and way more appreciated, working for next-to-nothing in Virginia than they ever were here in Savannah. And that's too bad -- SCC is missing out on something, in more ways than one.
So I'm not really that viciously angry anymore. Granted, I'm still waiting on that karma train to stop on by and wreck havoc -- only now I'm not the conductor. I'll let someone else take over.
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Did the tourist thing today in downtown Savannah. Here's the customary photographic evidence.
It's been a busy week. I may need a vacation to recover from my vacation!
Ahead this weekend -- beach all day tomorrow, Summer Waves on Sunday, Jekyll Island all day Monday, flying home on Tuesday.
Whew.
Last call for souvenirs from the States. I've done pretty well on my list, methinks.
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Caption me! (found in traffic today)
Come and worship at the The First United Church of Honda.
Open to Imports of all ages.
Who said faith here is commercialized? |
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My Baby Loves A Bunch Of Authors
Moxy Fruvous
Well you should see my story-reading baby, you should hear things that she says
She says "Hon, drop dead, I'd rather go to bed with Gabriel Garcia Marquez"
Cuddle up with William S. Burroughs, leave on the light for bell hooks
I been flirtin' with Pierre Burton 'cause he's so smart in his books
I like to go out dancing
My baby loves a bunch of authors
My heart's so broke and bleedin'
Baby's just sittin' there doin' some readin'
So I started watching some TV, played my new CD player too
She said "Turn it off or I'll call the cops, and I'll throw the book at you"
All this arguing made me get dizzy, called my doctor to came have a look
I said "Doctor, hurry!" She said: "Don't worry, I'll be over when I finish my book"
I like to go out dancing
My baby loves a bunch of authors
We've been livin' in hovels
Spendin' all our money on brand new novels
So I got myself on the streetcar and it drove right into someone
The driver said: "I was looking straight ahead!" but he was reading the Toronto Sun
So my honey and me go to a counsellor to help figure out what we need
She said: "We'll get your love growin', but before we get goin' here's some books I'd like you to read"
I like to go out dancing
My baby loves a bunch of authors
Lately we've had some friction
'Cause my baby's hooked on short works of fiction
So we split and went to a party, some friends my girl said she knew
But what a sight 'cause it's authors night and the place looks like a who's who
Now I'm poundin' the Ouzo - with Mario Puzo
Who's a funny fella? - W.P. Kinsella
Who brought the cat? - would Margaret Atwood?
Who needs a shave? - he's Robertson Davies!
Ondartje started a food fight, salmon mousse all over the scene
Spilled some dressing on Doris Lessing these writer types are a scream!
I like to go out dancing
My baby loves a bunch of authors
We'll be together for ages
Eatin' and sleepin' and turnin' pages
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So. I'm finding that this blog is rapidly digressing into my personal soapbox for political and religious issues that I find interesting. Well, so be it! After all, this is my own little amusement park, but you're more than welcome for the ride -- as long as you don't mind the bumps and dips. (just don't label me a dip)
So, dear reader, tonight I give you a collage of rants, including (but not limited to): more reasons not to re-elect the incompetent who is serving in office today, another reason why I'm not drinking milk, and the latest focus of my coveting.
- Bush Claimed Right to Waive Torture Laws: President Bush claimed the right to waive anti-torture laws and treaties covering prisoners of war after the invasion of Afghanistan, and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld authorized guards to strip detainees and threaten them with dogs, according to documents released Tuesday.
This is my country setting an example for the rest of the world.
- Study: Toxic Chemical Found in Cow's Milk: Young children and pregnant women who drink milk from California cows may be exposed to unsafe levels of a toxic chemical used in rocket fuel, according to a new study by an environmental group.
I'm not preggers, but I'm all for avoiding drinking rocket fuel in my cereal. Yuck.
- U.S. Amends Report to Show Rise in Terror: Significant acts of terror worldwide reached a 21-year high in 2003, the State Department announced Tuesday as it corrected a mistaken report that had been cited to boost President Bush's war on terror. Incidents of terrorism increased slightly during the year, and the number of people wounded rose dramatically, the department said.
Whoops. Remember when the Administration proudly announced in April that we were "significantly" winning the war on terror? Rather, label that report as "marred by significant errors." What else has been changed to make this guy look good?
- My little sister is over in England somewhere right now. She's off on a 3 week backpacking holiday with her honey -- so I figure I'll just have to live vicariously through her fotopage as she criss-crosses Europa. She's not on a bad start, but until she gets some real pictures to be jealous over, go look at her pic with Big Tom (offa Survivor). She ran into him while she was still living in Tennessee.
ttfn.
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Shutdown Season: Willow Creek Community Church Will Close its Doors for the Summer
From The Holy Observer
SOUTH BARRINGTON, IL – In perhaps the most extreme example to date of churches halting ministries during the traditionally slower summer months, Willow Creek Community Church – one of America's prototypical mega-churches – has decided to close its doors until after Labor Day.
"The church leadership took a look at where attendance and giving were last summer, and when you look at the numbers, the case for closing shop just makes a lot of sense," said Willow Creek Senior Pastor Bill Hybels. "For years we've been trying to justify the expense of operating throughout the summer when schools are closed and people are on vacation. We just couldn't do it any more. If people are going to put their spiritual growth on hold until September anyway, why should the church fight it?"
While weekly services and other regular ministries have all been canceled, some special, summer-specific programs like summer camps will still go on as scheduled.
"It's not like the church will be disappearing off the face of the earth," said Church Administrator David Widener. "We're still having the big Third Day concert, along with any other events that traditionally bring in a good amount of money. Plus we'll still have a pastor on call at all times just in case anyone has a spiritual need that absolutely can't wait until September."
While many churches have been putting Bible studies, choirs and other portions of regular church life on the back burner during the summer for years, this may be the first example of a church scheduling a complete shutdown.
"I see this as part of a trend of church attendance as we know it taking a serious dip around the world, and not just during the summer months," said Robert Holmes, president of the Center for the Study of World Religion – a London-based religion think tank. "With so many media options out there for people to get their spiritual enlightenment, the practice of church attendance is in real trouble. Mark my words. This is a harbinger."
Not surprisingly, Hybels doesn't see it that way.
"Willow Creek has been setting trends for the rest of the evangelical community for decades," he said. "When we started changing the way we do worship and outreach, you had people acting like it was the end of the world. Now they're all doing the same things. This is going to strengthen our church. The money we save by shutting down over the summer will go toward reaching people for Christ during the rest of the year. When other churches see how this benefits us, shutting down for the summer will soon become as common as church names that have nothing to do with God or Christianity."
Despite the detractors, Widener is almost giddy about the concept of saying a fond farewell to summer services.
"No more bloated air conditioning bills for a room that's only half full," he said, eyes gleaming. "All that money being saved for God's kingdom and not being wasted on a scant congregation that would rather be on vacation anyway. It's a beautiful thing."
Love it.
Think of The Holy Observer as a churchified Onion -- with headlines such as "Bush to Fundamentalists: I Hath Need of Thy Vote" and an advertisement for The Passion: "Director's Cut 4-DVD set, Unrated Version! The version the Jews really don't want you to see! With extra hate-spawning footage and interviews with actual guilty Jews!"
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Are you down with the G-O-D?
The movie of 2004 that Christians need to check out is not Mel's two-and-a-half hour tome -- but rather Brian Dannelly's satire Saved!.
Good movie! But before I digress into my impressions of it, let's review the definition of satire:
A work that blends a critical attitude with humor and wit as well as with the intention of improving human institutions or humanity. Good satire is not only funny, but thought provoking. Satire is a necessary stylistic weapon that is carefully aimed to inspire social change.
 Saved! is biting in its criticism of Americanized Christianity. It focuses around the lives of students in American Eagle Christian High School -- with a special focus around the life of Mary, an 18 year old in her own dilemma that eventually makes her an outsider pitted against her former "Christian Jewel" friends.
So much of the movie rang true for me, with my background of growing up in a church and youth group. The film shows the classic case of academic Christianity clashing with the realities of the real world. Mandy Moore plays Hilary Faye, the perky, beautiful, prayer-circle-leading antagonist who is clueless when applying her faith to the world around her. She'd rather abduct her best friend for an intervention/exorcism and literally throw a Bible at her -- than take the teachings of the text and apply them in a loving way. When confronted with a schoolmate who's gay, she vehemently prays that God will cleanse him of his despicable ways -- and isolates him rather than accepting him for who he is.
For some Christians that I know, that's an easy trap to fall into. It's easy to be judgmental of another person -- especially when you've got no experiential knowledge to fall back on. What do I mean, exactly? Well, it's easy to say that someone who's gay is willingly "living in sin" and makes a choice to be that way -- when you've never been friends with someone who experiences that. Or that it's easier to be viciously Pro-life -- until you know what it feels like to have an unexpected pregnancy or know someone else in a precarious situation.
In my opinion, more meaningful conversations will be inspired by watching this film than by watching Gibson's The Passion. Churches really should be buying out theatres and letting their members in to see this film -- Though I doubt that'll happen. Instead, I'm sure many preachers will use their pulpits as resources encouraging their congregations to boycott this film -- which will ultimately mean the very people who should be watching this film won't be.
Which supports dear Mr. Swift's comment that "Satire is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally discover everybody's face but their own."
Alas.
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Happy Solstice everyone. Here's a cosmic picture to celebrate.
Some links to help with the celebration, and to lighten the mood in here:
- The NY Times review of Clinton's book. Excerpt: "Unfortunately for the reader, Mr. Clinton's much awaited new autobiography "My Life" more closely resembles the Atlanta speech, which was so long-winded and tedious that the crowd cheered when he finally reached the words "In closing . . ." The book, which weighs in at more than 950 pages, is sloppy, self-indulgent and often eye-crossingly dull — the sound of one man prattling away, not for the reader, but for himself and some distant recording angel of history."
Yep, looks like I'll have to peruse this tome at Barnes and Noble. I'd buy her book before I'd even consider buying his.
- A collections of geeky fonts, including Asimov, Buffied, Gilligan, and Punch Label. Other font collections include Star Wars, Star Trek, and Babylon 5.
- Ray Bradbury, author of Fahrenheit 451 demands apology from Michael Moore. "He didn't ask my permission," Bradbury, 83, told The Associated Press on Friday. "That's not his novel, that's not his title, so he shouldn't have done it."
Bradbury isn't the least of Moore's critics -- Move America Forward has launched a campaign to convince theatres not to carry this "anti-American" film. Sheesh.
On the other hand, Roger Ebert wrote a good article this week about his impressions of Fahrenheit 9/11. Ebert and I agree on the sketchy fact-gathering done on Bowling, and he thinks this film is stronger in terms of what facts it presents. I'll see for myself, June 25th.
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My superhero power -- the ability to isolate, be it myself or others.
Tonight I had supper with some old friends. Sitting around the table at Carrabbas, I first listened to them gush about their friend's newest car acquisition, a BMW 525i, for about 10 minutes. From there, being the the social-adept person that I am, I transition onto my latest social cause -- sweatshop and unethical labor practices.
Not a smart move.
Looking back on it, I should have known better. I mean, not three minutes before, I listened to them gush about this new purchase. I suppose you could say that our priorities are different. We get passionate about different things. For them, it's belongings -- be it this BMW or the pair of Old Navy pants they snagged for 6 bucks. Even before I immersed myself in No Logo, I wasn't really driven by my particular possessions.
But I ignored the rhetorical situation surrounding me, and I went on for about 15 minutes -- talking about everything from sweatshop labor to the effects of brand marketing on our culture today to issues of public space being confiscated by various corporations. Meanwhile, one of them looked at me with a rather glazed look the entire time. The other tried to convince me that competition and profits are good things -- while ignoring issues of living wages and work conditions. It's not exactly a fair argument when you compare profit-seeking here in the comfy confines of the US versus the third-world conditions of most Export Processing Zones.
Anyway, I left the conversation feeling a bit sheepish. It's not like I was trying to brow-beat them into what I believe strongly about -- I just get passionate about it. But as far as isolation goes -- I ended up feeling like I separated myself as the geeky academic, and unwillingly outed them as ignorant hicks. This was NOT my intention at all.
Or maybe *I* was the one outed in the situation -- outed as a bookish idealistic academic who wants to invoke social change at any cost. That's probably the more likely scenario.
But there was something else that bothered me tonight. There were two inadvertent comments made in conversation that I took offense at -- one that was a little racist and another that smacked of homophobia. Granted, they were "said in fun," but they still really rubbed me the WRONG way.
So again, I was stuck in an awkward place. Inside, I'm reeling -- but outside, I didn't know whether to cause a scene and call them on it, or to just let it slide. Maybe I'm a coward, but I opted for the latter. Of course, now that I'm thinking of it, I'm wishing I'd said something. But since I already alienated myself earlier this evening, I figured this battle wasn't one worth fighting.
And now I'm rationalizing, I know.
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[What she said:]
When we start looking to corporations to draft our collective labor and human rights codes for us, we have already lost the most basic principle of citizenship: that people should govern themselves. As we have seen, Nike, Shell, Wal-Mart, Microsoft, and McDonald's have become metaphors for a global economic system gone awry, largely because, unlike the back-door wheeling and dealing at NAFTA, GATT, APEC, WTO, MAI, the EU, the IMF, the G-8, and the OECD, the methods and objectives of these companies are plain to see: workers and foreign observers alike understand very well what they are up to. They have become the planet's best and biggest popular education tools, providing some much-needed clarity inside the global market's maze of acronyms and centralized, secretive dealings.
By attempting to enclose our shared culture in sanitized and controlled brand cocoons, these corporations have themselves created the surge of opposition described in this book. By thirstily absorbing social critiques and political movements as source of brand "meaning," they have radicalized that opposition still further. By abandoning their traditional role as direct, secure employers to pursue their branding dreams, they have lost the loyalty that once protected them from citizen rage. And by pounding the message of self-sufficiency into a generation of workers, they have inadvertantly empowered their critics to express that rage without fear.
But the fact that brands have led us into this maze does not mean we should look to them to lead us out. Nike and Shell are shiny new doorways opening onto the much more complicated and less glamourous world of international law. And though it won't be easy, and it won't come quickly, we will find our way out as citizens, on our own. We may feel a little like Theseus, clutching his thread as he entered the Minotaur's labryinth, but nothing else will do. Political solutions -- accountable to people and enforceable by their elected representatives -- deserve another shot before we throw in the towel and settle for corporate codes, independent monitors, and the privatization of our collective rights as citizens.
It is a dauting task, but it does have an upside. The claustrophobic sense of despair that has so often accompanied the colonization of public space and the loss of secure work begins to lift as one starts to think of the possiblities for a truly globably minded society, one that would include not just economics and capital, but global citizens, global rights, and global responsibilities as well. It has taken many of us a while to find our footing in this new international arena, but thanks in large part to the crash course provided by the brands, we are closer than ever before.
No Logo: Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies
Naomi Klein
n o l o g o . o r g
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Carrie isn't nearly as scary as I remembered it -- it's more infuriating than anything, I think. Poor Sissy Spacek. Who wants to go to prom with a guy who's hair is better than yours, anyway?
In other news, just when you thought the Reagan coverage had reached its boiling point, I now give you his portrait in Jelly Bellys.
Oooh, Carrie is about to blow her top! Must watch the chaos.
EDIT: Okay, on second thought, she's a little freaky with those bug-eyes (does she blink at all?!). Her blood-soaked dress and fire in the background doesn't help her image much, either. That said, her mom is WAY scarier.
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Of Dirty Politics, Farmer's Markets, and Satirical Films. (how's that for a title?!)
I can't believe the Conservatives of Canada have sunk this low. Tories retract child-porn accusation: Campaign turns ugly with Conservative claim Martin supports child porn.
From the article:
The federal election campaign took on a bizarre and ugly tone today, after the Conservative camp quickly withdrew, then mistakenly reissued, a news release that suggested Liberal Leader Paul Martin favours child pornography. Then the release came out with a toned-down headline.
Martin reacted angrily against Conservative Leader Stephen Harper: "This is personal. I'm a father; I'm a husband. He crossed the line and he should apologize."
Harper offered a half-hearted mea culpa, saying the headline on the initial release was too strong. "I've had them re-issue the heading," he said.
But he didn't apologize for anything else.
Most of this stems from the bill BILL C-12: AN ACT TO AMEND THE CRIMINAL CODE(PROTECTION OF CHILDREN AND OTHER VULNERABLE PERSONS)AND THE CANADA EVIDENCE ACT.
This article explains what Bill C-12 does. From article: In a legislative summary, the federal government says that Bill C-12 keeps a defence for artistic material dealing with people under 18 and sexual themes that "serves the public good and does not extend beyond what serves the public good." It goes on to define the public good as being "that which is necessary or advantageous to the administration of justice or the pursuit of science, medicine, education or art."
So -- you can see that the Conservatives' claim that Martin "supports child pornography" isn't really the case. What is the case is sneaky and dirty politics -- with the Conservatives purposefully releasing a false headline and taking over an HOUR to retract it. How is this going to endear the Canadian public, again? Oh wait, maybe this is a good thing after all -- maybe those handful of people who were actually considering voting Conservative may be so outraged that they'll cast their vote in another direction. Let's hope, anyway.
But I won't dedicate an entire blog post to this maddening political gesture. Today I went to the Dayton Farmer's Market with the padres. I did fairly well, all things considered. I bought 3 books for a buck -- Three by Flannery O'Connor, The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, and Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. I tried my first Birch Beer, bought my very own deck of Dutch Blitz, a burlap bag for groceries, and a Free-Trade purse/bag made by a girl in Kenya. I even convinced my parents to start buying Free Trade Coffee.
I'm going back to Savannah tomorrow. My parents will be staying in town with friends, and I'll have a chance to catch up with some more friends & professors, plus I'll get to go to the beach! I'm looking forward to it.
I'll also check out this film, Saved! -- a satire about a Christian school. It looks pretty vicious, but with a good message. It's already gotten *quite* the outcry, so you know I have to check it out for myself. I'll be sure to write my review of it here.
And now, Carrie is on TV. I think I need a good frightening before sleep tonight.
ttfn.
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Is it me? Well, as close as this silly portrait maker will allow, perhaps.
There's a sign you've been online a bit too long. You start making pictures of yourself on Japanese websites. To bed with me.
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I'm watching Sex and the City with my momma. She's never seen it before, and now they're playing it on TBS -- sans all the really good parts, of course.
In honor of that, I give you the Sex and the City quiz:
 You scored 40% Miranda
You chose many of the same answers that Earth Sign-like Miranda, the cynical but pragmatic lawyer, might have chosen. Just like Miranda's had a tough time deciding whether to give in to the affections of Steve the Bartender, you don't give your heart up to just anyone. Miranda shies away from a relationship with Steve because he's 'just' a bartender, not something more conventionally ambitious or stable. Those with powerful Earth Sign qualities -- characteristics associated with Taurus, Virgo and Capricorn -- are cautious in love and seek stability and status over nearly anything else. Earth Signs provide a steady, realistic attitude and they can bring order out of chaos. A little-known Earth Sign fact: Incredibly sensual, you seethe beneath that smart, expensive business suit of yours, yearning for intimacy but hesitant to give up your material needs, your career ambitions or your responsibilities for a passionate moment that might not turn out the way you'd hope.
 You scored 40% Carrie
Your answers peg you as a Carrie-type, much influenced by the Air Sign qualities associated with Gemini, Libra and Aquarius. Like confident Carrie, a sex columnist, you're curious and perceptive, always seeking answers and never satisfied with the superficial. An Air Sign influence can lead to indecision and an avoidance of tough issues, like with Carrie and her on-again, off-again attachment to Mr. Big. Forward-thinking, incredibly intelligent and witty, you just exude quirky charm. You'd be utterly bored by someone who's just a pretty face or hot body -- though you don't mind looking and flirting! You're more turned on by an equally smart and funny mate, someone who challenges your mind and makes you laugh. You love to talk, so you need a good listener who's open to playful and eccentric ideas about love and lovemaking.
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I'm through with No Logo. I've given my one Nike shirt to my little sister. I couldn't bring myself to wear it anymore (and now I can't believe I bought it in the first place. It was on clearance -- which I guess makes it worse?).
Anyway, here are some websites I've picked up and will be following:
 - The Clean Clothes Campaign: "The Clean Clothes Campaign tries to involve all sorts of consumer groups (ranging from young consumer groups to rural womens' associations) by organising different forms of education and actions." Here's their page on current campaigns/appeals for consumer action.
- McSpotlight: "McDonald's spends over $2 billion a year broadcasting their glossy image to the world. This is a small space for alternatives to be heard." The site behind England's McLibel trial of the 90's -- and a site full of reasons to avoid MickeyD's -- not that you need them.
- SweatshopWatch.org: Based in California, this website offers a pretty good faq.
- UNITE! (US Union of Needletrades, Industrial and Textile Employees) & Labour Behind the Label (the UK version). Both sites have lots of information about various sweatshops and campaigns against unethical labor practices.
- Campaign for Labor Rights: Grassroots Mobilizing Department of the U.S. Anti-Sweatshop Movement. The most impressive website for information concerning sweatshops, boycotts, and other mobilization type actions.
And now, a note from our extreme sponsors:
The Lead Pencil Club. "The Lead Pencil Club deplores the amoral, mindless, commercial frenzy of our age that is driven by an ever-increasing array of electronic gadgetry and is reducing us and our children to glassy-eyed soulles [sic] ciphers." Also from the site: The Lead Pencil Club was founded in 1993 by Bill Henderson, publisher of the Pushcart Press. Members of the club refuse to use e-mail, fax machines, and voice mail. They communicate with pencil and paper only. "We will favor the lead pencil ... responding immediately to the greatest computer of all, the human brain."
Heh. Two ironies are jumping out at me. First of all, the Lead Pencil Club obviously doesn't believe in spellcheck, either -- hence the "soulles." Secondly, don't you just love that a Luddite-ish group has a webpage?! Pretty funny. I'm a big pencil-using fan, but I wouldn't classify myself as bad as this. Not yet, anyway.
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Found in my inbox this afternoon:
Anyways, I wanted to let you know that you are allowed in our country until Sept 30, 2005. I am hoping this is what you wanted to hear.
Woohoo! I'm legal in Canada for another year and a half. I was just a little bit worried about it, while I was 99.95% sure everything was OK -- there was that obscure chance that an Immigrations official could deny my Visa extension.
But now I'm official -- at least for this next 18 months or so.
Onto maybe a permanent resident application? Who knows?
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Painting Pictures of Egypt
Sara Groves
I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me either way
The places I long for the most
Are the places where I’ve been
They are calling after me like a long lost friend
It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much
The place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
It wasn’t milk or honey
But then neither is this
I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacked
The future seems so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I've learned
And those roads closed off to me
While my back was turned
The past is so tangible
I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy to discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
Caught between the promise
And the things I know
If it comes too quick
I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
If it comes too quick
I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
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Laura finally put up her Winnipeg photos, which also include a way better group shot of us rhetoric heads from the conference. In this shot, we're not grimacing as much as the one my camera took.
I'm working on a presentation for my parents. Cheap and geeky labor.
ttfn.
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Just to clarify the its/it's conundrum I referred to earlier -- from Chapter 1 of Eats, Shoots and Leaves, "The Tractable Apostrophe:"
To those of you who care about punctuation, a sentence such as "Thank God its Friday" (without the apostrophe) rouses feelings not only of despair but of violence. The confusion of the possessive "its" (no apostrophe) with the contractive "it's" (with apostrophe) is an unequivocal signal of illiteracy and sets off a simple Pavlovian "kill" response in the average stickler.
The rule is: the word "it's" (with apostrophe) stands for "it is" or "it has." If the word does not stand for "it is" or "it has" then what you require is "its." This is extremely easy to grasp. Getting your itses mixed up is the greatest solecism in the world of punctuation. No matter that you have a PhD and have read all of Henry James twice. If you still persist in writing, "Good food at it's best," you deserve to be struck by lightning, hacked up on the spot, and buried in an unmarked grave.
Methinks that she is the ultimate Grammar Avenger.
Anyone else up for joining the Apostrophe Protection Society?
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Now here's someone I'm more akin to:
I think I'll dress up like her for Hallowe'en. Now all I need is that special ogre in my life to complete me.
More silly pictures of our afternoon at the movies here.
Oh, make sure to check out The Stepford Wives. It's a fun little show -- more satirical than horror, but infinitely quotable. A fun afternoon matinee experience, anyway.
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D'oh. It never fails, I buy new books and end up splitting up my time reading them at different rates. It's like my own book buffet, I think.
This is from the introduction of one of the newest conquests, Eats, Shoots and Leaves:
Either this will ring bells for you, or it won't. A printed banner has appeared on the concourse of a petrol station near to where I live. "Come inside," it says, "for CD's, VIDEO'S, DVD'S, and BOOK'S."
If this satanic sprinkling of redundant apostrophes causes no little gasp of horror or quickening of the pulse, you should probably put down this book at once. By all means congratulate yourself that you are not a pedant or even a stickler; that you are happily equipped to live in a world of plummeting punctuation standards; but just don't bother to go any further.
For any true stickler, you see, the sight of the plural word "Book's" with an apostrophe in it will trigger a ghastly private emotional process similar to the stages of bereavement, though greatly accelerated. First there is shock. Within seconds, shock gives way to disbelief, disbelief to pain, and pain to anger. Finally (and this is where the analogy breaks down), anger gives way to a righteous urge to perpetrate an act of criminal damage with the aid of a permanent marker.
Ask any of my close friends/family, and they'll concur that I am a grammar stickler and outspoken vigilante particularly when it comes to apostrophe abuse. Oh, and don't get me started on the whole it's/its debate.
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Is there an official disorder for individuals that excessively buy books & read? If so, I've got it. Bad.
Tonight I bought 3 new additions for my bowing-with-weight bookshelves. The latest finds:
- The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf. It's a pivotal book in most women's studies courses, and I've already encounted excerpts of it from several books I've already read. The back of the book describes the beauty myth as "an obsession with physical perfection that traps the modern woman in an endless spiral of hope, self-consciousness, and self-hatred as she tries to fulfill society's impossible definition of 'the flawless beauty.'" Should make for an interesting read -- and will (quite possibly) make me even more unbearable and opinionated.
- Eats, Shoots, and Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by Lynne Truss. Grammar sticklers unite. I skimmed her chapter on apostrophes, and she won me over. It's not often one finds an entertaining book on the ins and outs of grammar. I'll be sure to excerpt some of the more amusing sections on here.
- And finally, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter: A Woman's Journey From Christian Tradition to the Sacred Feminine by Sue Monk Kidd. Of course I'd buy this.
Now the hard part is putting these into the hierarchy of other books I need to read.
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Ignorance/Bliss. Knowledge/Harder Choices. Choose one.
 I'm currently finishing Naomi Klein's book No Logo: Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies -- and I'm feeling ever-more convicted about my consuming, name-brand lifestyle. And I'm not just talking convicted in the slight wincing kind of sense ... I'm talking an altar-call convicted.
Her book is divided into 4 sections -- No Space, No Choice, No Jobs, and No Logo. I'm at the tail end of the third section -- and with each page that I turn, I feel more sick at the abuses of the third world that we, here in the first, commit (and condone) so we can be content with our Nike sneakers, trendy Gap sweaters, and extra-hot Starbucks lattes.
Which leaves me in an awkward place. Personally, I love buying clothes at Old Navy. I'm a sucker for a Toffee Nut Latte at Starbucks, ordered as pretensiously as I can. But now I don't think I can go to these places and order/shop the same way again. Granted, all of this started after watching The Corporation, but now I think I really want to take action. I'm just not sure where to start, besides feeling sick at this worldwide abuse.
Klein's final section of the book is supposed to address the different ways people have ad-jammed and stood up against some of these injustices -- maybe I'll start finding my inspiration there.
Yet part of me still can't help wishing that I didn't have all this information. It would be so much easier to ignore what's going on elsewhere in the world and still go out and buy my jeans dirt-cheap. I could then drink a tall glass of milk, without thinking of all the Bovine Growth Hormones and other nasty artificials that are present within it. I could read the Bible and not question its validity or the way it's parsed pieced together as canon. I could just not think.
But that won't happen -- and despite my pitiful laments above, I really would not want it. I like the fact that I can question and not take things at face value. While it's frustrating, it also makes reaching that decision or belief all that more meaningful.
It's late now, and I'm seriously lacking substantial sleep. Here's some links to discuss amongst yourselves:
- A new documentary, Michael Moore Hates America: (found via Ryan) It's an interesting concept -- a filmmaker who doesn't agree with Moore's conclusions or politics attempts to track him down for an interview ... Michael-Moore style. And Moore refuses! Not that I necessarily agree with this filmmaker (or Moore, for that matter), but it's interesting to see the reversal of roles going on here. I'm not sure I'll buy the rah-rah America argument of the film, while I'm sure I will enjoy seeing Moore get a taste of his own medicine. Funny how Moore, who works so hard to establish his ethos as the approachable, down-home, all-American guy suddenly doesn't have time to face a critic for an on-camera interview. Sorta makes all those other folks that ran away from him in his other films (CEOs, celebrity spokespeople, politicians) seem more like HIM than us ordinary Joes.
Anyway, it's late and I'm still pondering my reaction to this documentary. You can check out the movie flyer and faq for your own opinions.
- Oh, and Naomi Klein apparently has her own semi-blog/online article collection going on at nologo.org. There's a great collection of essays, a FAQ that attempts to answer the big question, and other nifty goodies to explore when you're not sleep deprived.
ttfn.
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Home Sweet Home?
Well, in Virginia, at least. Home is an interesting concept to me, especially nowadays. After living in one place for 12+ years (Savannah), my parents now live 10 hours away in the mountains of New Hope, Virginia. So whenever I come "home" to visit, it's a place that I'm unfamiliar with, while furnished with familiarity. Granted, it's easier this year than it was last year -- and I realize that I probably sound like the biggest baby, but there's something to be said about the comfort of the house you grew up in. It took a year for me to be able to drive by my old house in Savannah without feeling a certain pang in my heart.
Anyway, another LONG trip today. Almost another long 12 hour day. We did well on time, right until we reached Charlotte, North Carolina -- then we hit the mother of traffic jams. I think we went 1 mile in about an hour and a half. I could have tiptoed faster than our car was moving on the interstate highway. Eventually we pulled off and detoured, but as result of that traffic diversion, our 9.5 hour trip ended up almost being 12.
But I'm here now. And that's a good thing.
So right now there's my mom and dad, my sister and her hubby, and me (ye fifth wheel). Not to mention my sis's 2 cats, my mom's cats J.J. & Lucy, plus our dog Spot. (but no partridge in a pear tree. yet.)
All of us in a little country cottage, less than 1000 square feet, with one bathroom. Oh yeah, there will be some family bonding this week.
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Ang took this picture!VOTE
for the next
Miss VietCanada
Me and Ang's friend Thy is running for Ms. Viet Canada. Click here to vote for her. I know some of you (not to name any particular "rat bastards") have already commented on how cute you think she is -- so go vote as often as you'd like.
Tomorrow I'm off to the mountains of Virginia!
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Me & my best (and probably longest) grrrlfriend, Heather.
It's funny how things have reversed for us. Growing up, I was always the "conservative," straight-laced one. She was the "wild-child," liberal, slightly crazy one. Now that we're "grown up," we've taken over the other's high school/undergrad persona.
She's the dutiful wife, with an adorable little 2 year old daughter. She's Republican (but I don't hold that against her), and she's settled down as a military wife, complete with a house and a garden.
I'm the one who lives 2500 miles away, in graduate school, living a rather unsettled life. I'm not attached to any thing or one, and people down here still ask me if I've "found myself yet."
But -- we're both happy, living in our own separate spheres. And despite the fact that I can only see her a couple times a year, it's the kind of friendship that always picks up where ever we last left it.
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You're The Only One
Maria Mena
Well I saw you with your hands above your head
Spinning around, trying not to look down
But you did, and you fell, hard on the ground
Then you stumbled around for a good ten minutes
And I said I'd never seen anyone look so dumb before
And you laughed and said I still know how to turn you on though
You're the only one who
Drags me kicking and screaming through fast dreams
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I need
And I probably forgot to tell you this
Like that time I forgot to tell you about the scar
Remember how uncomfortable that made you feel?
See you're not what I expected
But you're the only one who knows how to handle me
And you're such a great kisser and I know that you'd agree
You're the only one who
Drags me kicking and screaming through fast dreams
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I need
I hope you can forgive me for that time
When I put my hand between your legs
And said it was small
Cuz its really not at all
I guess there's just a part of me that likes to bring you down
Just to keep you around
Cuz the day you realize how amazing you are
You're gonna leave me
You're the only one who
Hold my hair back when I'm drunk and gets sick
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I need
You're the only one who
Drags me kicking and screaming through fast dreams
You're the only one who
Knows exactly what I need
Exactly what I need
Well I saw you with your hands above your head
Spinning around, trying not to look down
But you did, and you fell, hard on the ground
Latest song heard on the radio that I liked. She's sorta like Alanis, before she sold out.
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I knew there was a reason I wanted to skip outta the airport for NYC. "Wicked: The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz" is playing on Broadway.
One day.
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In other news, I got Joss Stone's Soul Sessions for the low low price of 8 dollar tonight. It's a good album, and I already feel more soulful after only one listen.
Tomorrow I've got a date with my best friend Heather to visit The Tea Room and will get to play with her little girl all afternoon. Can't wait!
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Whilst stranded at Newark Liberty yesterday, I bought 2 dvds for the keen price of $20.
I walked away with Ghost World and Bull Durham.
In the dungeon that was Gate 87, I sat and watched a youngish, very cute Kevin Costner deliver these lines (which consequently made me weak in the knees):
Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.
And despite the fact that Kevin Costner was the one delivering the lines, it was still a powerful moment.
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The Cruel Edges of the World
By Andy Crouch
Christianity Today, June 2004
Last year Thomas Nelson made a splash with Revolve, a glossy version of "the complete New Testament" wrapped in a brightly colored clean-teen magazine, complete with cute models, dating columns, and makeup advice. Teenage girls—who told Nelson's researchers that "the Bible is freaky and we don't read it"—finally had a Bible they could call their own. (Or half a Bible, anyway, since it's hard to call the New Testament "complete" without the 39 books that its own writers constantly quoted.) Those girls, or their parents, made Revolve a bestseller. Once again, through evangelicalism's trademark fusion of mission and marketing, the Word had become fresh.
I thought of those teenage girls when I heard the story of Elizabeth.
Elizabeth is in her late teens. She has shy, laughing eyes as she tells her story on videotape to a patient interviewer. Like the teenage girls who are the target audience for Revolve, she grew up praying, trusting God, and hoping to go to college.
But Elizabeth, the daughter of Christian parents, grew up not in America but in a small village in Southeast Asia. When Elizabeth was 16, a relative in her village said she could find a well-paying job in a neighboring country. Eager to help her family and earn money for college, Elizabeth went with the woman, who handed her off to traffickers who shipped her across the border.
There Elizabeth was forcibly confined to a brothel, where for about $250 a man purchased the right to take away her virginity. She was held in the brothel for seven months, where she was raped by customer after customer.
Elizabeth could easily still be in the brothel—as hundreds of thousands of girls are worldwide—if investigators from International Justice Mission (IJM) hadn't rescued her and persuaded local police to raid the brothel. When they arrived, they found that Elizabeth had written on the wall in her own language: "Ps 27:1. The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life. Of whom shall I be afraid?"
There were dozens more Scripture verses on the wall of Elizabeth's room—or, more accurately, her cell—all written by hand, taken from the Bible she read when not being forced to serve customers. But Psalm 27—describing the psalmist's trust in God even though "evildoers assail me to devour my flesh"—was what Elizabeth's rescuers saw and remembered.
American Christianity is a curious thing. We have our Extreme Bibles, our Christian rock operas, our Revolve—ingenious attempts to make Scripture relevant to affluent people who are largely insulated from this world's wild beauty and poverty.
And then we have organizations like IJM, which I serve as an unpaid senior fellow. For eight years, IJM has mobilized thousands of young people, as well as lawyers, law enforcement professionals, and diplomats, to intervene on behalf of girls like Elizabeth, along with other victims of oppression. In the world where IJM's clients live, the stories and promises of Scripture are as real as a dimly lit brothel wall and a suddenly unlocked door. It's a world where specialty Bibles are neither available nor necessary.
Indeed, great advances in demonstrating the Bible's relevance rarely come from the restless minds of marketers. They come from people who dare to obey what they read. The Great Commission seemed like a relic of a distant apostolic age until the pioneers of global mission actually started making disciples of all nations. Amos's call for justice was relegated to the backwaters of the "minor prophets" until Martin Luther King Jr. led a campaign of Christian nonviolence.
Now activist organizations like IJM and diplomatic ones like the Institute for Global Engagement are discovering God, as IGE founder Bob Seiple says, "on the cruel edges of the world." On the cruel edges of the world, there is no need for elaborate explanations to bring a distant biblical text closer to our lives. Rather, when we go to the cruel edges of the world, we bring our lives closer to the text. When someone like Elizabeth writes, "The Lord is the strength of my life," it is not in a manner of speaking.
We live in a society that drives publishers to create a profusion of Bibles for people who consider a profusion of options their birthright. But in the end, the Bible is not a makeup mirror, casting a flattering soft light and showing us mostly ourselves. It is a window into a larger world—Elizabeth's world—full of tragedy and hope. The world where God's Word becomes flesh. No batteries required.
Sorta puts it all in perspective, huh?
I just read an article that a Bible for Elvis fans is in the works. And don't forget that Becoming, the Revolve-like Bible for young women, is coming out later this month!
Thanks to Jennifer for sending this link.
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Saw waaaay too much of this yesterday.
12+ hours of sleep later, and I feel almost human again!
I posted some pictures of Newark International airport here.
I'm here in Savannah until Saturday, then I'm off to Virginia for at least a week. So until Saturday, I've got professors to meet for coffee, friends to catch up with, and a beach to visit. I've already had a couple glasses of sweet tea, some Chick-fil-a, and had a visit (just in time for the semi-annual sale!) to Bath & Body works.
And I haven't been home a day yet.
Did anyone catch The Daily Show last night? They mentioned Savannah on it! It's a little crazy down here with the G8 summit going on. Turns out that I'm here too late to participate in any protests -- not that there were any real protests to begin with. Everyone here was so paranoid about any terrorist attacks that they seriously restricted any free speech -- plus it helped that they held the actual summit on an island that is only accessible by 1 bridge (while also being the 3rd richest zip code in the country).
Ah well, it's probably a good thing. Now I won't have to worry about any discriminating pictorial evidence whenever I run for President.
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14ish hours later, I'm back in the land of humidity and sweet tea.
A bath and a warm bed and long summer's nap awaits.
More later!
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So far I...
- Have gotten about 2 hours sleep from the night before.
- Have gone through THREE security checkpoints, having to empty out my backpack of all technological goodness each time.
- Was confused (and identified) as a high school student on an Educational Field trip tour
- Waited for my plane in Minneapolis to be fixed for an hour, then sat on the tarmac for another 45 minutes for no apparent reason.
- Arrived in Newark International at the precise time my flight from Savannah was leaving -- of course located in the terminal farthest away from my arrival gate.
- Was greeting in New Jersey by smoggy skies and the lovely odor of human B.O. (it's gotta be in the 90's F / 30+ C)
- Am cursing myself for not getting that WiFi card BEFORE I left Saskatoon. I'm paying too much for this 15 minutes of blog-venting.
- Now am waiting for a 7:30PM flight -- with me not arriving in Savannah until almost 10PM. This is after I've been in airports since before 5AM.
Needless to say, I'm crabby. Part of me is just tempted to catch a tram out to the Big City, considering this is the closest I've ever gotten to NYC. It's just not the same having to squint through the smog in order to catch the cityline.
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Yay, Fahrenheit 9/11's trailer is back online.
As much as I hate to (begrudgingly) give Moore props, I can't wait to see his latest. Hopefully he won't be as sneaky with editing & facts as he was in Bowling.
June 25th!
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So busy. So ready to be home, once again.
I've been running around all day, finishing up a massive To-Do list of things to accomplish before leaving the country tomorrow.
Good news discovered today: Apparently this summer I'm getting paid twice as much from the University as I originally thought. This makes me one happy (and more financially secure) grrrl.
Bad news discovered today: Some people are apparently talking trash about me behind my back. Not cool. Granted, most of it is probably in good fun (I hope), but it still doesn't make one feel great hearing that YOU are the latest topic of gossip. Maybe it is a good thing I'm going away for 3 weeks.
List of fun books I'll be reading while home:
-- Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
-- Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
-- No Logo: Taking Aim at the Brand Bullies by Naomi Klein
-- A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
-- The Pagan Christ by Tom Harpur
List of school/thesis reading I'll tackle:
-- The Image: A Guide to Pseudo-Events in America by Daniel J. Boorstin
-- For Shame: The Loss of Common Decency in American Culture by James B. Twichell
-- Continental Divide: The Values and Institutions of the United States and Canada by Seymour Lipset
-- Several articles on Symbolic Convergence & Fantasy Theme criticism by Ernest Bormann
-- Anatomy of Criticism by Northrop Frye
Phew. Ambitious lists, no? Most of the weight in my luggage will be these babies!
Even so, it'll just be nice to be home again! There's nothing like that familiarity of your hometown, I'm convinced. And I think three weeks is just long enough for a good dose of it.
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Molly made the wrong choice.
Every grrrl needs a Duckie . Fortunately for me, I can think of a couple guy friends in my life that I'd be lost without.
Also fortunately for me, none of these said friends have New-Wave hairstyles.
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Somehow it's fitting that my 2,000th 1,200th post concerns my President and his inaptitude in speaking extemporaneously.
While I ate my supper tonight, I caught the 10-minute interview of Dubya with Tom Brokaw on NBC. I'm sure if anyone was with me in my apartment, they would have found it quite entertaining. I have a rather nasty habit of talking back to the screen when I disagree with the garbage that is being strewn my way. And, as you'd have it, the President was full of it. Literally.
I'm amazed that there isn't a larger public outcry against what this man (and his cronies) have gotten our country into. And if I hear another uncontested term thrown my way ("freedom," "liberty," "war on terror" etc), I'll scream. Literally. At the screen.
How can we ever win a war against a noun? That's one point I'll agree wholeheartedly with Michael Moore on. He addressed that very point in his latest book, Dude, Where's My Country?. It's impossible to fight a war against TERROR. Wars are fought against countries, regimes, and people groups -- not obscure nouns that are loosely defined for our own purposes.
ARGH. Now I'm all worked up. Any guesses on one of the activities planned for my trip home next week? Making sure everything is lined up for my absentee ballot for November 2nd. Yeah, it's only one vote, and Georgia is pretty much a shoo-in for GWB, but this displaced American will make sure her little voice is heard.
Someone told me today that "Knowledge is a dangerous thing Becky, if you were ignorant you wouldn't be so upset." I know that's true, but I've never made a good sheep.
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I'm Only Happy When It Rains
Garbage
I’m only happy when it rains
I’m only happy when it’s complicated
And though I know you can’t appreciate it
I’m only happy when it rains
You know I love it when the news is bad
And why it feels so good to feel so sad
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down on me
I’m only happy when it rains
I feel good when things are going wrong
I only listen to the sad, sad songs
I’m only happy when it rains
I only smile in the dark
My only comfort is the night gone black
I didn’t accidentally tell you that
I’m only happy when it rains
You’ll get the message by the time I’m through
When I complain about me and you
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour your misery down, pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down pour your misery down
Pour your misery down on me pour your misery down
Pour your misery down
You can keep me company
As long as you don’t care
I’m only happy when it rains
You wanna hear about my new obsession?
I’m riding high upon a deep depression
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me
I’m only happy when it rains
Pour some misery down on me ...
Rainy day Sundays are the BEST.
[nap time]
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While Ang wrote about the wonders of this stuff months ago, I can now also affirm that...
Strawberry Soy Milk is one yummy beverage.
I'm not typically a Soy fan, but while I was in Winnipeg -- using our free breakfast coupons -- I discovered this drink for myself. And I'm not disappointed.
... while I am finding that it doesn't work well as a cure for insomnia. Ah well.
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| PARENTAL | | ADVISORY | GRRRL MEETS WORLD CONTAINS
EXPLICIT LYRICS |
From Go-Quiz.com
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Blogger Street Cred
Yeah, I still get the occasional eye-roll whenever I mention the fact that I have my own weblog.
But it turns out that the Democratic National Convention not only has its own blog, but is also saving press passes specifically for bloggers for this year's convention.
You can apply for a press credential, and maybe have a first-hand opportunity to cover the event. If I wasn't so far away (Boston is a ways away from Saskatchewan), you can bet that I'd apply. Why not?
I will, however, be home in time to protest the G8 conference in Georgia. There's an opportunity to report something on my webspace a little more substantial than quarter-life crises and other forms of graduate student angst.
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Pop quiz, everyone. Leave your answers in the comments section below. No copying others' work, use a #2 pencil, and completely fill in the circle for your answers.
1. Who are you?
2. Have we ever met?
3. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
4. Describe me in one word.
5. What reminds you of me?
6. If you could give me anything, what would it be?
7. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
8. Are you going to put this on your weblog and see what I say about you?
9. What do you love like a fat kid loves cake?
10. What makes you come back here?
Today's meme du jour brought to you by Todd & Adam.
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Night Thoughts
(from Night the First) by Edward Young Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep!
He, like the world, his ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes:
Swift on his downy pinon flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear,
From short, as usual, and disturb'd repose,
I wake: how happy they, who wake no more!
Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave.
I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams
Tumultuous; where my wreck'd desponding thought
From wave to wave of fancied misery,
At random drove, her helm of reason lost:
Though now restored, 'tis only change of pain,
A bitter change! Severer for severe:
The day too short for my distress! and night,
Even in the zenith of her dark domain,
Is sunshine, to the colour of my fate.
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Are music lists indicative of one's mood?
Right now, my list consists of Ben Harper, Beth Orton, Cowboy Junkies, and Mazzy Star.
You fill in the blank.
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How I spent my summer vacation.
So far, I haven't completed much -- as far as the reading & preparation goes for my thesis project. I'm assuring myself that I'm still "recovering" from my Winnipeg trip. Fact is, I'm just a terminal procrastinator.
Some things I've been meaning to post, but just haven't gotten around to:
-- Don't get enough political commercials & stump rhetoric in the 10-month election season? Don't fear, PC game The Political Machine is here! Now you can be the campaign manager for the candidate of your choice, and go through the tedious process of becoming the most powerful (and despised?) leader of the free world. And you thought the Sims was scary!
-- I just watched St. Elmos Fire for the first time tonight. It was just one of those brat-pack nights, I also have Pretty in Pink to watch sometime before its due next Friday. Good show, but it makes me wonder where is my pivotal 20-something film for nowadays? All I'm stuck with are American Pies, Euro Trips, and Tom Green fiascos.
Best line (given by the dreamy Rob Lowe, of course):
Jules, y'know, honey... this isn't real. You know what it is? It's St. Elmo's Fire. Electric flashes of light that appear in dark skies out of nowhere. Sailors would guide entire journeys by it, but the joke was on them... there was no fire. There wasn't even a St. Elmo. They made it up. They made it up because they thought they needed it to keep them going when times got tough, just like you're making up all of this. We're all going through this. It's our time at the edge.
Maybe that explains (to a certain extent) these ups and downs I've been experiencing lately. If I were pressed to name a pivotal film for me nowadays, I'd probably have this one at the top of my list. But you probably knew that already.
-- While we were in Winnipeg, we stopped at the evil sugary store Sugar Mountain, who boasts it's "110% sugar" and that it's "recommended by 4 out of 5 dentists." Talk about sugar rush, the whole store was nothing but familiar and obscure sugar choices. I bought 4 items: Lotsa Fizz, Turkish Delight (couldn't resist the CS Lewis allusion), the Australian candy bar Violet Crumble ("it's the way it shatters that matters!"), and some Razzles ("first it's a candy... then it's Gum!").
-- Speaking of sugary substances, I so need to get back into a workout schedule. I'm a little wary of getting back into a schedule -- and then having it all thrown off by going home for a month. Alas.
-- My weekend looks blissfully empty. I'm rereading Harry Potter III, just because I need an escape and I wanted to confirm that it's my favorite of the series before indulging in the film later this week.
-- Oh, hey. Before I beat up myself further for my slackness today -- I'll mention that I did complete some laundry and clean up my disaster area of a room. It's these small accomplishments that make up a slacker grad student's life.
-- Tomorrow is the BIG GAME. Now all I have to decide is whether I'll venture out to watch it or if I'll remain in hermit-mode.
ttfn.
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Didja hear that?
It was half of Saskatoon and all of Calgary yelling after the Flames won Game 5 in overtime.
Onto Calgary, so we can cinch the Cup at home on Saturday night!!
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I went to Winnipeg and all I got was two lousy kidsAfter a long nap this morning (and into the afternoon), I think I may have recovered from my trip to Winnipeg. I was getting close to the zombie mode due the lack of sleep, the long road trip, and several other factors. Hopefully that'll turn around now.
Pictures of the trip here.
My paper presentation went okay. Everyone else said it went well, but I wasn't as happy with it as I would have liked. Granted, I don't know what exactly I was expecting, but the more I practiced/reviewed my paper beforehand, the more I disliked what I had to say. I just see that there's so much more I could examine and that much of what I said was painfully obvious. Ah well.
After my presentation on Tuesday I had lunch with a member of my thesis committee and a couple other people from the conference. They gave me a bunch of really good ideas of different directions I could take my paper/thesis, and were overall very encouraging. I had my first bison burger, as well. It wasn't bad at all.
Since the sun finally showed up on Tuesday (after days of consecutive rain), we played outside all afternoon/evening. We went out to Winnipeg's Forks, the place where the Red and Assiniboine rivers join. Yes, it was a definite "tourist trap," but it was still fun. Lots of green grass to walk on and various parts of the park to explore. And of course, I documented it all on my fotopages.
Wednesday consisted on a very long, drawn out roadtrip back to Saskatoon.
Today was sleep. My room is a disaster area, so I should go and clean and laundry it -- but I'm thinking I'll get my book and take a nap before soccer practice instead.
ttfn!
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Without you, today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's.
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Invisible Girl.
Maybe it's because I just heard a presentation on Ellison's Invisible Man, but lately I've been wondering what it would be like to be a nameless, invisible girl. Today at supper, I felt sort of invisible. The conversation around the table was about subjects I have absolutely no knowledge of -- so I couldn't even fake participation. And it was interesting to just sit, surrounded by people, and just listen. It was like I wasn't there, and it was a little surreal (and lonesome).
My presentation is tomorrow. I'm not really that nervous about it, should I be? I'm just ready to have it behind me.
I think I'm going a little stir crazy, going from presentation to presentation -- and then back to the hotel/dorm room. It's not supposed to rain as much tomorrow, so maybe I'll get some chances to explore Winnipeg, without getting soaked.
Maybe I'll review my notes one more time before bed.
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