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I feel like there's been a weight lifted off my shoulders this morning. I know it's only temporary, but excuse me while I relish the weightlessness of the moment!
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I think my lack of sleep tonight induced a realization. This morning, I watched the early morning news shows. Thanks to my insomnia, I was treated to the perky and always annoying-this-early-in-the-morning Katie Couric and other hosts of her ilk. Of course, the news on everyone's lips was last night's Oscar ceremony.
Now, in the past, I've been what's known as a movie fan. Make that an avid movie fan. I'm the one who makes sure to watch all the best picture noms and then predicts who'll win and then who watches the entire Oscar fiasco, from start to finish.
This year, though, I didn't.
I only had time enough to check out one of the best pics (Finding Neverland), and I only caught a few minutes of last night's ceremony before getting bored with it and turning it off. Somehow I just couldn't bring myself to watch it -- and this was despite the Chris Rock wild card the Academy was hoping to lure viewers like me in.
Also this morning, I found myself getting annoyed at the level of coverage the awards got in the news. Of the first half hour of news (from 6-6:30), over half of it was dedicated to best/worst lists, cheesy interviews, and clips of the show -- not to mention the always-entertaining (note: sarcasm) acceptance speeches. I even found myself rolling my eyes at one of the speeches -- now, when you can actually notice yourself rolling your eyes, that says something. This eye roll was inspired by the Best Actress winner, Hillary Swank, who I usually like. However, her "I'm just a girl from a trailer park" line was a little too much for this girl.
I'm finding myself bothered by the fact that a news story of a car bomb that kills over 110 people in Iraq gets sidelined by shots of women in backless dresses and expensive jewelry.
That's entertainment for you, I guess.
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(I've posted this before, but it's been playing all night in my head)
Reflecting Light
Sam Phillips
Now that I’ve worn out, I’ve worn out the world
I’m on my knees in fascination
Looking through the night
And the moon's never seen me before
But I’m reflecting light
I rode the pain down
Got off and looked up
Looked into your eyes
The lost open windows
All around
My dark heart lit up the skies
Now that I’ve worn, I’ve worn out the world
I’m on my knees in fascination
Looking through the night
And the moon's never seen me before
But I’m reflecting light
Give up the ground
Under your feet
Hold on to nothing for good
Turn and run at the mean times
Chasing you
Stand alone and misunderstood
And now that I’ve worn, I’ve worn out the world
I’m on my knees in fascination
Looking through the night
And the moon's never seen me before
But I’m reflecting light |
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My latest literary victim is General Romeo Dallaire’s book Shake Hands with Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda. It’s on loan to me, and it’s coming highly recommended by several of my friends that have already read it. Not too long ago I watched the CBC showing of the documentary of the book. I was very impressed by Dallaire in that film, and I’ve been looking forward (if that phrase works in this case) to reading his thoughts on this horrible chapter in human history.
This is a book I know that I won’t enjoy. In fact, I’m reading it with a sense of dread. I know, beforehand, that its contents will devastate me. And yet, I know that I need to read and encounter this material. Somehow, I feel like I have a responsibility to be educated about these global matters. Reading these atrocities in a sense gives the victims a voice, and then allows me to spread their story to people who would otherwise look the other direction, or simply change the channel.
I’m at the part of the book right before the actual genocide begins. It’s been a frustrating experience, reading Dalliare’s thoughts. I’m not necessary upset with him, but moreso I’m upset at the indifference and inaction the Western world and UN showed UNAMIR (United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda). Dalliare details the many times proactive action could have prevented some of the atrocities that took place in those bloody 100 days.
Rwanda was on nobody’s radar as a place of strategic interest. It had no natural resources and no geographic significance. It was already dependent of foreign aid just to sustain itself, and on international funding to avoid bankruptcy. Even if the mission were to succeed, as looked likely at that time, there would be no political gain for the contributing nations; the only real beneficiary internationally would be the UN. For more countries, serving the UN’s objectives has never seemed worth even the smallest of risks. Member nations do not want a large, reputable, strong and independent United Nations, no matter what their hypocritical pronouncements otherwise. What they want is a weak, beholden, indebted scapegoat of an organization, which they can blame for their failures or steal victories from.
Worst of all, I suspect that these powerful nations did not want to get involved because they had a firmer grasp on the threats to the success of the Arusha accords than the rest of us. Certainly France, the UK, China, Russia, and the United States, the permanent five of the Security Council, all had fully equipped and manned embassies in Rwanda, including both military and intelligence attaches. . . Between human and signal intelligence on the ground and worldwide space- and air-based surveillance systems, these nations either knew in detail what was going on or they were totally asleep at the switch. I firmly doubt they were asleep.
Sometimes I know that my emotional qualities are more of a liability than an asset. I know that I let certain things “get” to me a little more than other people. On this issue, especially, I feel not only a sense of helplessness in the situation – but I also feel a sense of guilt over what could have been done versus what was not done.
I know that by reading this book, none of the victims will be brought back to life – but I also know that by reading this book I will remember their story, and will not sit by quietly when something like this occurs again. |
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Good things going on in my life right now:
- 10 pages of good material on my Introduction. It's amazing how much better I feel about myself and my abilities to accomplish this degree when I actually sit down and write. I know, that sounds pretty simplistic, but it's quite a thing to sit down and compose something coherent from nothing. Onto the scary literature review.
- So much reading material in my life. He just loaned me Shake Hands with the Devil and the latest copy of the Atlantic. Add that to Famous Last Words, Killing the Buddha, and God's Politics. And yes, none of these are thesis-related.
- I'm not so worried about my visa expiring in September. I got married to a wonderful Canadian 2 weeks ago, and I'm going to apply for dual citizenship within the next couple of months. It's amazing that I came up here to Canada with certain academic goals in mind, and I ended up finding my soulmate and truest love.
- I found this book for a class I'm taking for only 6 bucks, online. Hooray for big words.com (one great site for finding books online)
- And a few random things: my car is running okay lately -- no major problems to fix. The snow is starting to melt outside and I can walk around without my ears or other extremities falling off. The weekend starts tomorrow. I'm spending time with friends tonight -- first watching Survivor, then out for drinks at a local pub. My little sister met Tori Amos yesterday and she promised to take a picture of her for me.
Life's just good. |
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anyone lived in a pretty how town
e.e. cummings
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then) they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
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Spamusement: Poorly drawn cartoons inspired by actual spam subject lines.
My personal favorite: "sometimes your life experiences are better than a post graduate education"
Finally, spam can serve some entertaining purpose.
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The world is indeed ending -- I give you the Bible in text messaging, R Father N Hvn: Up 2 D8 Txts Frm d Bible.
Via Ship of Fools. A couple sample passages:
Hpy RU por; da kngdm is yrs! Hpy RU hngry; U wl Bfild! Hpy RU sad; u wl lol! Hpy RU whn ppl h8 U Bcos of da Lrd! B gld&dnce 4jy Bcos a gt prz is kpt 4U in hvn. (Luke 6:20-23) Nthing can sepR8 uz frm Gds lv. Dth cant & lfe cant, angls cant & dmns cant. Worries 4 2day & 2mrO cant - evn da powZ of hll cant kp hz love away. (Romans 8:38-39)
And my personal favorite:
j:.( (John 11:35, "Jesus wept.")
Genius, that.
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Hunter S. Thompson shot himself Sunday. Thompson was not a religion writer, but he was surely a religious one. He put his faith in the explosive power of revelation and set about dynamiting all that he found unholy, most of which tended to be that which the rest of the world found very holy, indeed. He was, in his way, a pious writer, dedicated without compromise to chronicling the unending jihad between American myth and American corruption. He relied on what new agers might call "spiritual guides," cut-rate Virgils such as Oscar Zeta Acosta, the "Brown Buffalo." And he wrote like the Bible's last John, exiled to Patmos, dreaming of apocalypse and rambling on in feverish prose meant to suggest the end of the world through sanctified hyperbole. There were precedents for his work, but not in the last couple millenia. And his imitators are legion, and awful. His legacy is a generation of vipers, nasty little would-be gonzos lacking not only the wit but also the less-noticed moral fever with which his best writing sliced arteries. No one should try to write like Hunter Thompson. But every journalist -- especially those of us mucking around in the intangible swamp of "religion" -- ought to read him. He wrote American scripture.
In 2000, The Paris Review interviewed Thompson. "Almost without exception," the journal noted, "writers we’ve interviewed over the years admit they cannot write under the influence of booze or drugs–or at the least what they’ve done has to be rewritten in the cool of the day. What’s your comment about this?"
Thompson's reply: "They lie... Did you interview Coleridge? Did you interview Poe? Or Scott Fitzgerald? Or Mark Twain? Or Fred Exley? Did Faulkner tell you that what he was drinking all the time was really iced tea, not whiskey? Please. Who the fuck do you think wrote the Book of Revelation?"
via The Revealer. |
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Don't feed the trolls -- it only makes 'em grow.
It's remarkable how much individuals with only four-letter vocabularies have a tendency to elucidate some of humankind's more baser qualities. I don't have consistent web access right now, so I missed most of the show yesterday (and onto early this morning). Ah well, I suppose it's one of those perils of blogging -- you put yourself out there, people think they know you, and that gives them license to go wild with assumption and criticism.
It's funny though (ironically) that someone who finds this website such a waste of time will spend nearly 24 hours trolling it. Anyway, in the future, just ignore people that are tacky -- I do.
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The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm
Wallace Stevens
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there. |
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You know it's been a loooooong time since you've been at school when you're back and it feels just odd.
Last week was Spring Break/Suicide Week (depending if you're a glass half full/empty kind of person) and I was fairly hit-or-miss the week before that, attendance-wise. Now, though, there's no excuse why I shouldn't be here -- hitting the books and all that. My thesis ever looms, and it's time that I actually address it.
I think I've lost count the number of times I've tried to psyche myself up to tackling this academic obstacle. I'm sure if I were to scroll back through the last couple of months, I'd find several instances of where I swore I'd "buckle down" and actually get going.
Maybe the whole point of graduate school is to break you down completely, in terms of any intellectual confidence you may possess. There are days where I feel like this degree is accomplishable, and that I actually belong in this environment. Then there are days like today -- cold, gray, wintry days and thoughts where I think I could be making a living wage doing anything else other than what I'm doing. I sometimes wonder if I can piece two sentences together, much less 100 competent pages.
I think I may be waiting for some divine determination to take over and propel me to finish. Maybe I should stop looking for that and actually start writing the damn thing. Now there's a concept.
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Another Saskatoon blogger 'do is over. Success! If you're in the area and you missed it, well -- you missed out on some good conversation, tasty beer, and the secret about myself I have yet to blog. Ah well!
This picture courtesy of RandallThe attendees:
It's something else to meet the names and faces behind the posts. And for the nay-sayer sociologists out there that say blogging can negatively affect socialization -- well, they obviously weren't at the F&H tonight. The friendships and relationships I've formed because of my blogging hobby are irreplaceable.
More pictures of the night here and here.
Til next time!
UPDATE: Nathan has his "unflattering" set of photos here.
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Mmm, nothing sweeter than ...
Fox & Hounds, tonight at 6. Muchos gracias to Nathan for the sweet gif.
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| 50 gmail invites, up for the asking. Who wants one? |
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 So my small-screen debut is over. Last night the local CTV station aired its story on blogging (or as the announcer pronounces it, "blawwwing").
I was originally worried about it, as the promo made it sound a bit nefarious and negative. But the story itself wasn't bad at all -- basically it was an introduction of what blogging is all about. Not exactly cutting edge, but I was pleased with how it turned out.
It was a bit surreal watching myself on television. The first line caught on camera was of me looking at my laptop, and saying "Who knew I had so many Bush supporters reading my site?" That was amusing. I sounded fairly articulate, and there was only a slight instance of over-lipglossing on my part.
Randall has a rather kind review of it (with more screenshots!) here. Marc, Jeff, Chester, and Theresa all mentioned the news report, too. It even made it on the infamous Small Dead Animals page and the CTV news team was inspired to start a blog of their own.
Not a bad experience, though I think I'll stick to watching the news on TV rather than being on it.
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She's baaaa-ck.
My experience in Alberta was sandwiched between only slightly-traumatic trips betwixt Saskatoon and Edmonton.
Highlights:
- 4 takeoffs and landings
- one bullet-holed windshield of airport shuttle van, over-scented with cheap bad aftershave
- 14+ passengers in a 11 passenger van (including a family of 4, a honeymooning couple, one slightly kooky man in a parka, a guitar player from Dublin, and mother and dreadlocked goth daughter).
- one omniscient shuttle driver
- a hotel reminiscient of The Shining, complete with ever-stretching hallways (pictures soon to follow)
- a jacuzzi tub larger than the floorspace in my apartment's bathroom -- which, incidentially, leaked
- one crabby late-night waitress at Denny's and a red-satin shirted manager
- Mallratting it at the "largest mall in the world"
- attending amusement park in said mall (complete with rollercoasters, topsy-turvy rides, and a "space shot.")
- non-stop eating (including an amazing food-court crepe and some tortellini here)
- an extended visit at a huge Chapters, where I picked up this gem that is sure to find excerpts on this webspace
- finally, returning home from trip, exhausted, only to find NO electricity in my apartment.
It was a fun trip, overall. At some points you just have to laugh when unexpected things go awry. Reading week is nearly over, and real life is scheduled to start back in full force on Monday. (ugh) |
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Off to Edmonton for a couple of days with my favorite person in the world.
Plans: relaxing, lots of window shopping, and maybe a rollercoaster or waterslide.
Highly doubtful blogging forecast.
ttfn! |
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If thou must love me, let it be for naught
Except for love’s sake only. Do not say,
“I love her for her smile - her look - her way
Of speaking gently, - for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day” -
For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may
Be changed, or change for thee - and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry.
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love, thereby!
But love me for love’s sake, that evermore
Thou mayst love on, through love’s eternity. "If Thou Must Love Me"
from the Sonnets of the Portuguese
Elizabeth Barrett Browning |
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While I'm catching up in the blogosphere world, here's some graphics for the next blogger meet:
I'm partial to the second graphic, but I thought the boys may find it too grrrly. The Fox and Hounds pub is on Warman Road, right off Circle Drive. Hopefully this'll be a better venue than the last. It's early enough that we may miss the crowds. Email or leave comments below if there's any serious objections to the time and place -- otherwise, see ya there!
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I think the experience of losing your faith, or of having lost it, is an experience that in the long run belongs to faith; or at least it can belong to faith if faith is still valuable to you, and it must be or you would not have written me about this. I don’t know how the kind of faith required of a Christian living in the 20th century can be at all if it is not grounded on this experience that you are having right now of unbelief. “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief” is the most natural and most human and most agonizing prayer in the gospels, and I think it is the foundation prayer of faith.
Flannery O'Connor (fellow Savannah girl)
From a Letter to a Student
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Speaking of inanity, I was inspired to write about this after watching Conan O'Brien last week: Living Ad Space.
We recruit people of all nationalities and ages to promote your product by placing temporary tattoos, and/or permanent tattoos on their bodies. The permanent tattoos are only placed on arms and the temporary tattoos can be placed almost any where on the body. Just think you're at the beach and you see a guy surfing, you wonder what kind of board he is carrying, next thing you know he turns around and on his back is a tattoo that says ABC Surf Company, so you go up to him and ask about the company. "Word of mouth" advertising at it's best. Ever wonder what club all the women are at? Just check out that advertisement tattoo on her arm. Are you a company that could use that kind of exposure, let us know we can help. Yikes. The guy on the show had tats all over his arms, and is still looking for more sponsors. Now there's some visual (and cultural!) rhetoric for you.
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Long time, no real blog entry!
Much going on in the personal life. Much good, in fact. I'm working up some courage to maybe post about it, some day. Until then, on to the trivial and political -- two areas I can never get enough of.
Someone from CTV emailed me this weekend and sent me the radio promotion for the Saskatoon blogging news story -- to give it a listen, click here. You'll hear a bit of my squeaky voice (talking about politics, of all things!), an announcer's interesting way of over-pronouncing "blogging", and some nefarious-sounding sociologist naysaying the blogging phenomenon.
It'll be on Thursday's 6pm newscast -- which, incidentially, I'll miss. I'm going to Edmonton for a couple of days and won't be back until that evening. Hopefully someone will tape my big local television debut for me.
It's actually quite ironic that I'm being interviewed for blogging -- especially considering how light my actual posting has been, lately. Life gets in the way (and not necessarily thesis work). I love working on this site when I get the chance, but when other things come up, I don't necessarily feel the obligation to post inane things. I just wait until the inspiration comes to post inanity!
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Sonnet 116
William Shakespeare
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. |
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After a leisurely supper with one of my best girl friends and watching a lovely French film, I couldn't find my keys.
Anywhere.
We looked in the theatre, the coffeeshop, the streets.
They were hanging from the trunk on the back of my car. Off one of the busiest side streets in Saskatoon. My keys, hanging. For three and a half hours.
Oy, I'm absentminded nowadays. Please temper your incessant mocking with some kindness for me. Thank you, God, for not letting my car be stolen.
Oy.
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Oh, and speaking of Star Wars --
The One Man Star Wars & Lord of the Rings trilogy is playing in a couple weeks at the Broadway.
I am so there.
I saw the one man LoTR this summer at the Fringe, and it was amazing. Apparently, George Lucas has hired Charles Ross to tour around the country and perfore the Star Wars play in prep for his next fiasco film this May.
If you're around Saskatoon, and love these movies, you should totally check this show out.
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I woke up this morning, listening to the CBC tell me of Darth Rice's address to French Intellectuals (everytime I think of her, I hear the Imperial March playing).
Oh, to be a fly on the wall in THAT rhetorical situation. Talk about tough crowd! Am I the only one terrified that she's now the face of American diplomacy? Oh Colin Powell, I miss you already.
Don't get me wrong, I'm very excited that a woman is holding this top position in the administration -- Madeline Albright is one of my political heroes ... but Condi Rice is one scary neo-conservative, and I don't want her voice representing my own.
(four more years, four more years...)
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Happy Fat Tuesday, everyone.
Tomorrow marks the beginning of Lent. I've never celebrated (if that's the right word for it) this religious holiday. Maybe it's that occasional nagging conventionality for religion that's resurfacing in me, but part of me wants to go to a service tomorrow, and actually give something up this year.
I'm not sure what I'd give up. It's supposed to be something that you enjoy -- so I was leaning towards fasting from chocolate for 40 days. Granted, my friends and family may be the ones suffering the most from my choice (chocolate deprivation can be a scary thing), but the more I think about it, the more I'm wanting to try this ritual/tradition/practice out.
I'll keep you posted on how it goes.
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List of things I'd like to do, if I had the time (and/or money):
- Go see The Aviator, Hotel Rwanda, Sideways, The Life Aquatic, A Very Long Engagement, Million Dollar Baby while they're still in the theatres
- Clean and reorganize my living space into some semblance of order
- Work on my thesis and actually make some headway
- Spend some consecutive days being lazy, without something big looming on the horizon.
- Blog interesting entries again (I'm sure you're wanting this, too)
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Alright. So, based on the replies and comments I've gotten so far, the next Blogfest for Saskatoon and surrounding areas will be on Saturday, February 19th.
The place is still to be decided. We've got Ozzie's on Idylwyld, Fox and Hound's on Warman -- and any other venue suggested -- fire away, else I'll decide arbitrarily. :)
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As I type this, my car is stuck in snow (up to its front wheel-wells) in the front of my house. Smart girl that I am, I thought parking in the front would prevent any resulting stuck-ness. Alas, as with many of my calculations, I was mistaken.
So later on tonight I can look forward to digging it out. Fun.
We've had tons of snow in the last 3 days. We went from spring-like melting weather to full-scale drifts -- hence, the stuckness of my car. The timing of this is simply incredible, for reasons I won't get into here.
Isn't it funny how so much good can be happening in your life -- and then there's a couple of hitches, and then it all seems to be screwed (or at least jinxed?)?
I think I may just be tired, pissed off at my stuck car, and just cold.
Winter, be over already. I need Spring.
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"The attempt to secure justice, peace, and democracy by 'force' seems reasonable enough until we realize, first, that this noncommittal word stands, in the circumstances of our age, for activities which can hardly fail to result in social chaos; and second, that the consequences of social chaos are injustice, chronic warfare, and tyranny."The Olive Tree
Aldous Huxley, 1937.
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On the recommendations of several friends, I just finished watching CBC's The Passionate Eye's rebroadcast of Shake Hands with the Devil: The Journey of Romeo Dalliare.
I'm at a loss.
800,000 Rwandans brutally killed within months, while most of the Western world sat on their hands and looked the other direction.
This documentary follows the UN General (Canadian Dalliare) as he returns to Rwanda, 10 years after the genocide. I'm still processing the images, and trying to wrap my head around the many ways this genocide could have been curtailed or prevented.
Earlier tonight I was lamenting at the lack of kindness or helpfulness people possess nowadays. Whether it's going out of your way to offer someone a ride home, or simply opening the door for someone behind you -- I don't understand why some people hesitate before helping someone else out.
I suppose the same goes for world-wide issues. It was incredibly difficult for me to sit through this documentary tonight. There's images there that will be burned in my brain forever -- but somehow I know that I need to bear witness to these events and actions that take place in the world. I shouldn't change the channel and opt for a rerun of a cheesy sitcom, just because I don't like the feelings of guilt (and helplessness) that pervade me when I learn about shameful events of human history.
It's my responsibility to bear witness to these -- and make a concerted effort to show kindness, when and wherever possible. If that means temporarily inconveniencing myself, then I should do it. If it means I'm the only one stepping up, I should do it without complaining. If it means bringing up difficult conversations when it's easier to sit back and say nothing, I should speak up. And that's just what I intend to do.
Sometimes, though, this world and its injustices are more than I can handle.
EDIT: Jordon has a collection of links related to Dalliare and the Rwandan genocide here.
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Wow. I really must be distracted nowadays -- for the first time since I was 10 or so, I missed the State of the Union address.
Ah well, I'll just go read the transcript of it online and dissect it from there. That way, I won't have to worry about the incessant (and usually unnecessary) posturing applause.
I'm up late tonight, so maybe I'll be back with my two cents.
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From "Dehumanizing People and Euphemizing War"
by Haig A. Bosmajian
[This essay compares the language used by Hitler in exterminating the Jews to the metaphoric language and "jokes" made by Reagan in the 80's when dealing with communism and other issues. The essay itself was written over 20 years ago, but its lessons are even more apt today.]
To remove the moral obstacles to such a course [killing other human beings], leaders, both political and religious, euphemize killing and the weapons of destruction and dehumanize the potential victims in order to justify their extermination. To some, the metaphors may appear to be harmless stylistic devices used by government officials to emphasize a point of view or an argument; they may appear as oratorial ornaments. However, such metaphoric language is more than ornament, affecting people's conceptual systems and thought processes, influencing how they perceive others, and determining their political views and behavior.
Not only is destroying other human beings rationalized and justified through metaphorizing them into creatures, into microorganisms needing to be eradicated, but moral obstacles are also overcome by euphemizing the weapons of destruction and the pain, suffering and death that their use would bring. The brutality and inhumanity of our policies and practices are hidden behind euphemisms.
Our political and religious leaders, as well as ordinary citizens, must be persuaded to refrain from dehumanizing people into viruses and cancers residing in an evil empire which Scripture admonishes us to destroy. The euphemisms of war must be exposed for what they are -- words and phrases that fool us into accepting the unacceptable. Dehumanizing the "enemy" and euphemizing the weapons of war and war itself is a deadly combination that, unfortunately, has historically been successful in defending the indefensible.
"War on Terror." "Shock and Awe." "Operation: Iraqi Freedom." "Desert Shield/Storm." How many others can we add to this list?
The language used by the Bush administration is justifying its brutal proactive policies is just begging for rhetorical analysis. If I wasn't already mired in procrastinating on my current thesis study, this would be one topic I could find myself working on. It's ripe for analysis -- if only considering the infamous talking points most of the administration likes to parrot out at various press conferences.
Next time you watch the US media, count the number of times "the enemy" is dehumanized in order to justify actions that are indefensible. Notice how many times the issues of civilian and societal destruction are avoided. It's shaming.
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Speaking of good times, here's the 2005 Conservative Women Calendar -- featuring shots of Ann Coulter, Condoleezza Rice, and Dr. Laura.
Perfect for that hard-to-buy friend, while offering excellent target practice for darts of all varieties.
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I'm vicariously living through my undergrad rhetoric experience (again) by keeping tabs on Dr. Nordquist's English 5730 website.
If it wasn't for this class which I took in the last semester of my undergraduate career (and his enthusiasm for rhetoric), I wouldn't be here today in my current course of study. Who knows where I'd be -- I could be stuck in a dead-end English Lit program somewhere ("not that there's anything wrong with that").
For an especially good time, click here and peruse the links and ideas posted in his notes section.
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Whilst lunching with another Saskatoon blogger today, we stumbled upon an idea --
Who's up for another area Blogger Meet?
We were thinking to have it some time the week of Reading Week (aka "Spring Break" or "Suicide Week", depending on your mood at the time). That means sometime the week of February 14-19th. I'm out of town February 15-17 -- and I'd like to be there, so how does
Sunday, February 13
Monday, February 14 (pshaw on consumeristic days of love)
Friday, February 18
Saturday, February 19
Look for everyone? The pub du jour seems to be the Fox and Hounds, on Warman. It'll be less crowded on a non-weekend day, but we want PA bloggers to come out, so we're open to the weekend as well.
What do y'all think? Speak now or forsake your pint of Canadian beer (yum).
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Happy birthday to Langston Hughes (amazing African American poet)
Boris Yeltsin (usually drunk Russian leader)
Sherman Hemsley (aka George Jefferson)
Pauly Shore (aka wea-sel unfunny comedian)
Don Everly (half of the brothers)
Clark Gable (he of the slicked hair and Southern gentleman role)
Terry Jones (Monty Pythoner)
Lisa Marie Prestley (princess of the King & ex of noseless wonder)
Brandon Lee (the Crow)
Oh, and to me (stuck in a rut graduate student in Saskatchewan). I'm 27 now, which seems to be the wasteland of the 20's. At 25, you're a quarter of a century. At 26, you're out of an age bracket (18-25). And at 28/29, you're that much closer to 30 ... 27 is just by itself in its significance.
And even though I don't necesarily buy it, there's this:
IF FEBRUARY 1 IS YOUR BIRTHDAY: Recent inspiration and uplifting experiences have given you a new lease on life as idealistic Neptune passed through your area of the zodiac. With your sympathies aroused, there may have been a shift of focus in your life. Watch for opportunities to make important progress and receive a helping hand in April and August. Make important plans for the future and watch them unfold as promised in 2005.
Funny enough, some of that is true. We'll see how the rest of 2005 pans out.
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