words, words, words
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If I begin to detail myself here, will you understand?
P. I am me
Q. I don't always know exactly who that is
R. I am Quaker
S. I like words and playing with them
T. I like genmaicha tea
U. I like the word napkin more than most others
V. I spend time walking my neighborhood
W. I cook rice often
X. I sleep well most every night
Y. I eat large amounts of fruit and vegetables
Z. I munch, sleep, write, create, cook, bike, watch, walk, listen, hope, learn, drink, live, breathe, touch, know, question, taste, copy, read, stare, carry, talk, dance, finger, try.
raisin@gmail.com
albums:
Magnetic Fields: 69 Love Songs
Erasure: I Say, I Say, I Say
Depeche Mode: Black Celebration
The Beach Boys: Pet Sounds
Marvin Gaye: What's Going On?
David Bowie: Hunky Dory
George Michael: Listen without Prejudice
George Gershwin: Porgy and Bess
Yo La Tengo: And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out
songs:
Wild is the Wind: Nina Simone
Come Undone: Duran Duran
Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini: Rachmaninov
My Funny Valentine: Chet Baker
Feeling Yourself Disintegrate: The Flaming Lips
This Must Be the Place: The Talking Heads
Hyperballad: Bjork
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Tuesday, December 31, 2002
One last day of 2002. When's the next year we'll have a palindromatic number? This time last year seems like such a mercifully long time ago. It's hard to imagine how depressed I was the early months of this year. I can thank my last boyfriend for helping me out of that. I haven't spent a year in such thought for a long long time. haven't I grown this past year? I remember last year crying to the Rent song about how do you a measure a year. I would love to hear that song again, but the tape I had it on broke. this is not the place for tears though, not sitting at work. I could cry and cry, just to relieve myself of some of the stress I've had recently. yeah. I don't know if I've ever had as many tears as I have had this year. in some way though, that simply means that i've been expressing myself more than I ever have, less afraid to cry, more willing to share myself with other people. it helps you know, sharing yourself with other people, trusting them. I never knew that. but wow, how people have surprised me lately. the strength they lend me, the love they give me. this past year. one year is a long long time, and January first is hardly a dividing line for me. It's just a calendar date. just another change from night to day, like all the other ones out there. somehow, I've learned in the past year and some, that all things are unique, that every person is different and amazing, and a loss to us when he or she dies. A day, too, then, holds value beyond what we can understand. I can't spend all my time on it, can't focus on just the passing of a day. I'm not even sure we can spend enough time on the passing of one life. but maybe we can help keep lives around for another day or two. or another year.
10:37 AM
Not sure what to do with New Year's Eve tonight. probably just take my clothes off (courtesy of Bran Van 3000). or maybe hang out with my church friends. so many possibilities. i don't like spending much money on new year's though. the night usually isn't worth it. so maybe i'll do something low key and go out this weekend. i'm just glad i only have an hour or two at work until thursday.
I'm still trying to relax after yesterday. I didn't sleep well last night and am still feeling nervous about nothing in particular. maybe i do need to relax tonight! at least i have silly putty to keep me company. metallic silver color, even.
people said such good things about me yesterday at the hearing. I'm not sure I deserve it all, but I appreciate it, no doubt. maybe I'll start believing in myself more. wouldn't that be nice?
10:22 AM
Monday, December 30, 2002
so much has happened over the past week, my wonderful trip to south dakota to see Emily. My shoes are beautiful - i'll try to post a picture soon - my spirits are higher, christmas is finally over, and i have too much chocolate to handle.
more importantly, though, I had my hearing today over my conscientious objector claim with the Air Force. everything went very well. My lawyer was very nice and very knowledgeable (I had only talked to her on the phone and over email previously). The investigating officer, Major X, was incredibly friendly, concerned, and understanding. my witness from the Quaker meeting was fantastic in her ability to summarize Quaker theology and my role in the meeting. The two officers he chose said good things about me - my former boss said he would have rated me excellently had he written me a performance report and my friend brian supported me very nicely. my lawyer said I did a good job answering questions - mostly from her. She had grilled me the night before on all possible questions, and when she finished her questions during the hearing, the major only had a few of his own to clarify things. I wasn't nearly as nervous as I could have been, and although I'm certainly tired and glad it's over, I'm pleased with the result. The Major did say he felt my claim was valid and saw me as sincere. he will write that in the report this week with a positive recommendation, and we'll send it up after I review it in about a week. It will easily take two to three months, but it looks good so far.
thanks so much for your concern and care, well wishes, and love. I feel so blessed and loved by so many people, so strong in what i'm doing because you have all backed me up. i'm going to take a nap now because today wore me out.
3:45 PM
Monday, December 23, 2002
The New York Times Magazine published an article, Quiescient Objector, by Troy Melhus. This is the first article I've seen published about conscientious objection. Unfortunately, it's about a man who should have objected during the Gulf War but didn't, instead got out on a medical discharge. I would love to see something about a more current event. Still, it's nice to see some press about it. I wrote them a short note about what I'm doing, reserving my name so I don't get any extra attention. I am so glad to see others who agree with me on a national level.
I'm off to South Dakota to visit my friend Emily tomorrow. Strange, it's going to snow here but not there. I'm missing out again. But I can foresee much fun happening while I'm up there. We might paint a pair of my shoes, hang out with her puppets, see beautiful sunsets, visit all kinds of random places and people. one never knows, but I'm bringing my camera.
Merry Christmas!
10:06 AM
Friday, December 20, 2002
Minneapolis ranks 11th in the creative class index done by Richard Florida. Whether or not you believe that a city's creative class furthers its growth, it's nice to know that someone has already done research on how much diversity a city has. Does that settle my decision? It stregthens Minneapolis' case, but of course, San Francisco ranks number 1. I'm pretty sure Toronto is up high as well. So why Minneapolis. Snow. That may honestly be the biggest reason. I could choose Denver, but I've been there before, and that's a really conservative state. San Francisco would feel as if i'm spoiling myself, giving into that california dream that I tried to break from when I asked to leave. It would be so easy. Is easy bad? I've always believed so. Why else did I go to USAFA? Last time I was in San Francisco, I let myself admit that I really really wanted to move there. Why was I trying to keep that secret from myself? Is it because so many gay men want to move to SF and you dont' want to be like everybody? (yes) Is it because you are scared of letting yourself dream too much (yes) Is it because you'd be embarrassed to return to California as if you're abandoning the midwest (yes). Then again, there are great reasons to move to Minneapolis. It's cold, there's a thriving community of all sorts there. It's beautiful, and I have loved it since I saw it the first time when I was maybe 12, driving to a canoeing trip to Canada with my dad. My friend Emily plans on moving there soon, and she's already taught in Minnesota, so she knows what strings to pull. Is this like choosing broccoli over french fries? somehow I feel more responsible if I move to Minneapolis, like I'm adding to them, whereas SF would just absorb me. Even Emily told me Minneapolis needs me more than SF. Maybe this is a step towards Toronto as well, which seems to difficult to do immediately, when I don't even have education credits. I want to move to both places. People tell me this is the best time to move to SF because the rent is actually reasonable. Minneapolis will always be there. So will SF, and when I was there last, I was way too young anyhow compared to most people I met - why not wait five or ten years? but this is my golden age, right? this is my first chance to be free, out of the military, out of my parents' grabbing hands, out of control.
Still, this is a minor worry. I'm just focusing on this because I cant' do anything about the other worry, leaving the military. that, and everyone wants to know, what are you doing? where are you going? i don't know. i don't know. i don't know.
10:39 AM
Wednesday, December 18, 2002
I probably didn't explain myself very well in my last point, caught up in the emotion of it all. frankly, I don't feel like it right now. Sleep sounds much more desirable. In fact, I'm too tired to have any meaninful discussion with myself. i have way too much Christmas junk to do before I get to sleep. bah humbug.
3:54 PM
Tuesday, December 17, 2002
As much as I love Lord of the Rings, I had a terrible time reading the books. The anti-war feelings that began to grow in me over last winter while I read those books clashed sharply with LOTR's thirst for violence and killing all the 'evil ones.' I hated the simplicity of Tolkien's characters, either good or bad, only a few lost people like Saruman who changed from one side to the other. Every orc was a bad orc, and nobody cared if they died. I couldn't help but relate this to Iraq - that the only thing that mattered in that country was to kill Saddam, no matter if all the iraqis died. They weren't worth anything anyway, right? Nobody I've spoken to about this understands my point of view, that Tolkien was an enemy of progress who always looked back to what once was with the idea that it will never be as good then. But through all three books, you come across ancient monuments of the prior civilization, the huge statues that guarded the way into man's lair, all built by dead hands because nobody living could do that any more. That kind of thought sickens me. It says that all the progress we have made is worthless, that the very fact I can walk down the street holding hands with a man is worthless compared to the beautiful cathedrals people once built. I love cathedrals, too, and I marvel at what we used to do. But look at what we can do now. Look at how many friends i have across the country that i communicate with daily. i wouldn't have many friends if it weren't for all these people. Is the internet not a beautiful cathedral itself, built in the most egalitarian manner where everyone can add a brick to the mortar? It has done so much for us, and while it carries its own sources of problems, I am so much happier with it than I was before. I don't disagree with the naive charm of a letter; i still write them all the time. But I would never give up email for its immediacy. This article, in Salon.com fully searches the world Tolkien was glorifying, and how contrary it is to our future. Here's a great paragraph: "Obsession with either past or future can almost define a civilization. Worldwide, most cultures believed in some lost golden age when people knew more, mused loftier thoughts and were closer to the gods -- but then fell from grace. Under this dour but recurrent worldview, men and women of a later, coarser era can only look back with envy, hearkening to remnants of ancient wisdom.
Recognize this motif? It drenches every page of "Lord of the Rings." It is the old classic, the eternal verity -- the worst of all human clichés."
another: "Or, as Lev Grossman put it in his Time essay:
'Popular culture is the most sensitive barometer we have for gauging shifts in the national mood, and it's registering a big one right now. Our fascination with science fiction reflected a deep collective faith that technology would lead us to a cyberutopia of robot butlers serving virtual mai tais. With 'The Two Towers,' the new installment of the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy, about to storm the box office, we are seeing what might be called the enchanting of America. A darker, more pessimistic attitude toward technology and the future has taken hold, and the evidence is our new preoccupation with fantasy, a nostalgic, sentimental, magical vision of a medieval age. The future just isn't what it used to be -- and the past seems to be gaining on us.'"
"Instead of railing against "evil," try to understand it. That's always been the best way to defeat it."
This all makes me sound like a liberal lover of all people. but wait, I am, and if I read about the life of Jesus correctly, so was he, a lover of the thieves and the prostitutes, the people who had lost their way. He understood them and helped them, instead of condemning to die like much of the religious right would like to do.
Is there enough empathy and love in us for everyone? even those who hurt us, use us, attack us? I hope so. I have to find it in myself first.
12:08 PM
Monday, December 16, 2002
St Louis has a marathon in April. I'm considering racing in the half version. I have attempted half marathons in the past, but I got thwarted every time. Once, the race coordinators told us the day of the race that they had shortened the trail run to 11 1/2 miles because people got lost when they made it 13.1. Another time, my knee started bothering me, and I took time off to let it heal. I even trained for a half-ironman which includes a half marathon as the last leg, but I didn't do that because i got mono two weeks before. So even though this would be my first half marathon, I have trained for them before. I haven't trained for a race since summer of last year. I miss it. The 5k I raced in on Friday (i placed 3rd) was a good reminder of how much fun I have at races, even if it's sleeting and I know nobody there. I think I'll start training now, and if all goes well over the next month, I'll make it official by registering. I just want to have a good month of solid training before I commit myself to something I may not want to do. Yes, this is normal for me, a way of decision-making that puts it off until the last minute, a way of seeing too many conflicting possibilities. It's a wonder I ever do anything, and always a slow process.
Two weeks until my hearing. I would explain more about the hearing and what would happen, but I'm not entirely sure. I will be questioned, but I don't know if I'm bringing witnesses, and I'm pretty sure I don't have to prepare much of anything. I'm not even sure if there's a judge or jury, just that there will be an investigating officer and that it is not an adversarial trial. I'm not too concerned, actually. I'm not sure if this is overconfidence, a sense of peace, or a feeling of having kept my hand in the hot water so long that my nerves stopped telling my brain about the pain. I know that running and biking have always been a way to clear my head, and I think that re-introducing one of them into my life could be excellent therapy.
by the way, peaches still give me a sugar rush, and I break out in laughter, as if it were a rash.
1:46 PM
Sunday, December 15, 2002
Jhames, you've forced me to write another blog. A 2002 collection? As much music as I might buy during one year, I don't always buy new albums, so it's hard to compile something from just the past year. if I were really up to it, I would compile a list of music that affected me in the past year, regardless of when i bought it and how old it is.
Still, here is a list of albums that did come out in 2002 that I love:
The Flaming Lips :::::: Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots (yes, this is first on my list for a reason)
Ladytron :::: Light and Magic
Cassius :::: Au Reve
Kinky ::::: (untitled)
Joan Osbourne :::::: How Sweet it Is
Sigur Ros ::::: ( )
The Roots ::::: phrenology
Meshell Ndegeocello :::::: Cookie: the Anthropological Mixtape
Dot Allison ::::: We Are Science
listen in
12:02 PM
I've had so much goodness lately. Another quick visit from A, good food (yes, that includes the take-out chinese we ate at home on michael's futon), the 5k I ran on base Friday in which I placed third and which reminded me of how much I love to race (maybe I'll do the half version of the St. Louis marathon in April), the visit to the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts built by Tadao Ando, and on and on. Today is a make-up day. I have missed so much time with my notebook that I need to write many things. Blogging never really counts for me. Sometimes I do say interesting things, but it all comes out too quickly - I type too quickly to really set down my thoughts. Writing with pen and paper is my favorite way to explore my head. So I'll think a lot today, cook for the week, play some jazz - Chet Baker is keeping me company right now - lounge around and try to decide where to go for Christmas. I'm not too excited about it, actually. Both possibilities (my brother or my friend Emily and her family) seem far too difficult. But then, the prospect of flying makes me want to just stay home. I'm not afraid of flying, I just don't like the incredible hassle. I much prefer to pack up my car and drive, but only if it's under 6 hours. mmm, yeah, i could really use a long drive, sitting in my car and thinking, singing to the music, dreaming, and watching the road. would that my brother lived in Tulsa instead of Oklahoma City. It's two hours closer. and prettier. happy middle of December, hope your shopping is farther along than mine.
11:27 AM
Thursday, December 12, 2002
Thanks to the so many people who have been supportive of my conscientious objection decision. The Quakers, my religious community, wrote a wonderful letter of support for my upcoming hearing. I feel so loved:
"Stephen has been worshipping with us for the past two years. The decision to explore conscientious objector status came after much searching and prayer. He requested a clearness committee, a process used by Friends to make serious decisions, that met with him to discern his feelings and beliefs. We are convinced of the sincerity of this decision and support him. His position on war and violence is an integral part of his Christianity. We believe that his decision to leave the Air Force is a spiritual leading coming from a principled position that war is contrary to the teachings of Christ."
I knew, of course, they would support me, but how powerful it is to see that in writing, to be able to show myself, always the doubter, yes, you have many people behind you, many people to lean on, who strenghen your decision.
I don't believe choosing CO is necessarily religious. Although my decision does come from my religious beliefs, I know that many people object to war based on their own philosophies and ethics, which fortunately, the Air Force recognizes as well. I am glad that all kinds of different people object to war, regardless of their faith. I hope we encourage people to think about their own support and involvement with war.
12:41 PM
Wednesday, December 11, 2002
yes! I measured 11% body fat today testing in the Bod Pod, an air displacement machine. That means that the ten pounds i gained while working out last winter and spring and which never left me over this summer of swimming and running are still muscle and not turned to fat! i still feel like a big boy at 205 lbs, but if it's only 11% fat, that's great by me. I will never get under that unless I return to doing triathlons like i used to. Even then, it's not guaranteed, and there's really not much difference between 8 and 11%. Quite happy then, like one of those, "I'm taking care of myself" feelings.
3:32 PM
I love walking into a music store and hearing something you love and would never expect to hear. I was at Borders, which i wouldn't even consider a music store, last night, hoping desperately to find a Betty Hutton cd for my mother since it's not available anywhere. From the loudspeakers, I heard The Flaming Lips new album, "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots." How? Who? What a surprise! I got a chance to talk to the staff guy, who had actually put the cd in, so we had a good chat about the band, their last album, the way they're able to dress up in animal suits during the concert and still say something more important and long-lasting than most bands i know. The song "do you realize?" still haunts me from when I first heard it playing from my record player. But to hear it at Borders? i love such random juxtaposition of worlds, the highly commercial mainstream store playing the indie bizarre little band from Norman, OK, where my brother went to college and I probably should have followed. But now I'm here, and somehow still listening to The Flaming Lips. Different though my life might have been, it might have turned out somehow the same.
12:45 PM
Tuesday, December 10, 2002
Yes, I've taken Meyers-Briggs tests before, but I had always forgotten how they explained me. I took it again, and I'm grateful for their explanation. Funny, instead of feeling special for being an INFP, only 1% of the population, I feel wrong for being different. What times in my life have I not felt wrong for being different? As a kid, I read instead of playing sports. As a teenager, I hated the sport I played, football, wishing that I could somehow like it. I never liked girls and couldn't explain to myself why. In college, I was just bizarre compared to the rest of the USAFA clones, my music, my words, my sense of being. I almost sort of fit in when I found the gay crowd after college, but even then, I had strange habits. By that time, I had begun to count myself as good for being different though. Most of my life, I have wavered back and forth between being proud of my differences or seeking to hide them. I hid so much from my parents, I got to be an expert early on. And now, have I learned much? hide the fact that you dont' fit in with the military, hide the fact that you're interested in this or that, dont' let even your friends know about your family, etc. so many things I wouldn't tell people about because I felt so incredibly different. I suppose most of us have that problem to an extent, but I'm glad to have someone (yes, you know who you are) finally point out the fact that I have long not loved myself enough because I'm so different, trying to mediate myself to the norm while still hoping to stand out.
iNFp is what they made me out to be, a healer idealist. "Other types usually shrug off parental expectations that do not fit them, but not the iNFps. Wishing to please their parents and siblings, but not knowing quite how to do it, they try to hide their differences, believing they are bad to be so fanciful, so unlike their more solid brothers and sisters. They wonder, some of them for the rest of their lives, whether they are OK." I never had a more solid brother, but I only fit my parents mold when I forced myself into it and pretended I liked it.
"Then, when iNFps believe thay have yielded to an impure temptation, they may be given to acts of self-sacrifice in atonement. Others seldom detect this inner turmoil, however, for the struggle between good and evil is within the iNFp, who does not feel compelled to make the issue public"
Yes, yes, and yes to this. I remember how I used to chastise myself for masturbation in high school. I would force myself to do all sorts of mental tasks for punishment, would think that every ill in my life was deserved because of what I was doing. Even now, I know well how to punish myself, and I can't tell you how often that means I eat a very boring plate of food, keeping one chocolate bar in my cupboard for months because I'm ashamed to actually eat it.
wow, self-realization. Can I take some of this, factor it into my life, change and grow?
1:01 PM
I don't think there is anything much better than sleep. I know that so many people say you can sleep later or that they'll just take caffeine, but I'm a sleepaholic. it's better than food, drink, most of my friends, even sex most of the time. i don't think there's much that i would rather do. or rather, i know that sleeping enough makes my whole life five times better than it is. it's like a bonus pack in some adventure game where it increases your health, your wealth, and all the red to green bars that you have to watch. if death is just a long sleep, i'm not very afraid.
8:32 AM
Monday, December 09, 2002
i felt that panic again this morning. that "I'm going to work again" panic where my weekend was so good i forgot who i was, that i'm not really allowed to feel so free and comfortable. Putting my uniform on, i still felt felt half alive, and the two worlds clashed, military and civilian. i forgot to breathe, couldn't quite see out of my eyes, and my stomach cramped. I'm disappointed actually. Although I'm not sure what over. I used to have this problem quite often, once, maybe several times a month back in Sacramento. I'm not sure if I learned to breathe, or if I found a way to reduce my panic. I haven't had many of those mornings at this base. Maybe I just haven't felt very free on the weekends until this past one. Or maybe it was that my friend A. is here in town. Waking up with someone has always been difficult, knowing I have to put that mask on while he is still present. yeah, i'm getting nervous just thinking about it. I thought maybe I had learned how to conquer this paranoia, thought I had grown out of it or stronger than it. No, I will have to wait until I am gone, until I separate from the military. I can't be stronger than this, can't let go of my paranoia because I still have reason to fear.
9:00 AM
Thursday, December 05, 2002
snow, cold wind, winter, december. all these things should cheer me up, have cheered me up for moments, but then other things drag me down. maybe i just need to go outside more often and see it, feel it. the hard worlds of buildings we've developed around us work too well. but i had a run yesterday, yes, i ran while it was snowing, had that cold wind in my face with snot running from my nose and snow under my feet. but when i turned around, the wind was with me, and i felt my body heat working as if turned on high, suddenly warmed like someone's body next to mine. and then, it was quiet, and the snow muffled even my footfalls. yoko ono said, "listen, the snow is falling." All the times in Colorado I used to watch the snow fall out my window, for twenty minutes on end, staring at the snow falling on the trees, the hills, the cars, and lightposts. oh, don't even take me back to those times. i can't handle that emotion right now, it's too good for me, too powerful to remember how the snow fell like a haven on top of my accursed school. all my problems smothered with snow, and i somehow floating on top of it as if i were wearing snoeshoes, drifting through the flakes, turning whiter and whiter. no, it will never snow that much here, but at least it's winter, and I can put my scarf and coat on before walking outside, can love the heat of the car as it warms up, layer my bed with blankets upon blankets. the snow covers everything, doesn't it?
1:53 PM
Tuesday, December 03, 2002
Song list for Emily's cd:
"A Day of the Week"
Party Weirdo ::::::::::: Moloko
I'll Be Around ::::::::::: Joan Osborne
Sudden Stop ::::::::::: Percy Sledge
Shine Like Stars ::::::::::: Primal Scream
The Sun Rising ::::::::::: The Beloved
Eight Years Old ::::::::::: Ben Lee
In The City In The Rain ::::::::::: The 6ths
That's Not Me ::::::::::: The Beach Boys
She Thinks She's Edith Head ::::::::::: They Might Be Giants
Indigo blues ::::::::::: LLORCA with NICOLE GRAHAM
Believe ::::::::::: gusgus
French Lessons ::::::::::: Metrovavan
Feeding yourself dis ::::::::::: Flaming Lips
Love's Theme (Saint Etienne Mix) ::::::::::: PIZZICATO FIVE
Toujours L'Amore ::::::::::: Dimitri from Paris
20 Years ::::::::::: Cassius
Bug Rain ::::::::::: Looper
Waiting [Reprise] ::::::::::: George Michael
anybody interested?
9:45 PM
Monday, December 02, 2002
I went to bed early last night, wanting sleep, not wanting to deal with life. of course, i had a bit of difficulty falling asleep while thoughts of my mother's latest harsh words about applying for CO replayed in my head. What should I have said, how will these words haunt me? And then, whiskers tickled my nose; my rat Susie had managed to jump onto the bed without me paying attention and she found my face soon enough. Thanks Susie, for the reminder of all the love out there, maybe not from the expected sources (as Bjork might say), but from all kinds of people, animals, and sometimes just the world at large. Sometimes, you don't even have to look.
6:13 PM
Sunday, December 01, 2002
Mother,
i wanted to send a copy of my application for conscientious objection because I wanted to try and explain why I am doing this. I wasn't sure that you and I would talk about it enough over the phone for you to understand. i have spent more time and effort on this application than i have on anything in a long time. It doesn't explain everything, but it may give you a better picture of my reasons. I know my decision does not fit with the way you hoped I would live my life, but I feel strongly that I must do this; i have no doubt that God is leading me in this direction.
I love you very much and I hope we can both learn to accept each other for the choices we have made. i have thought and prayed over this decision more than any other, and I cannot be more proud of myself for following what I feel is right. I miss you, but have felt intimidated to see you very often, afraid you will judge me too harshly. Maybe, in that, I am judging you too harshly, that i am not giving you a chance. Again, i hope we can solve that problem. Please read my answers to the Air Force's questions. I hope in some way you can understand why I chose to act on my beliefs and live more honestly.
Love, Stephen
3:55 PM
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
Salon.com published a fantastic article by Adrienne Crew detailing the life of a Black African Princess, her own and that of Condi Rice. I found the political reference interesting, but I loved how she explained the cost of being dutiful, to someone else's idea of duty. I know, I know, I've done it too. I have much more to say about it than i have time to reflect on now, although it jibes with what I wrote most recently here. Below is my favorite quote from the article. Salon.com was kind enough to print my letter to the editor about the article as well.
"It hurt to disappoint my mentor when I left my high-flying law firm. I knew that ditching the firm was not the action of a dutiful daughter. But I had begun to reexamine my BAPtitude, realizing that the price of maintaining it was too high. BAPtitude can become an insidious mask -- not unlike the one in poet Paul Laurence Dunbar's "We Wear the Mask" -- that conceals the wearer from herself as well as from others. Like some twisted take on a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale (say, "The Red Shoes"), that mask of perfection and poise wears you, instead of you wearing it. "
4:24 PM
I need to write down so many things. My thinking lately, the developing of these ideas have led to so many memories and realizations of who I was, why I am now, and hopefully how I can be. I need to spend hours with my notebook, working through these ideas. All about my dad, my youth, my fears, and my walls. I said before that I have trouble with walls, didn't I? yes, I have quite a few of them, all too high now. The defense mechanisms I used to keep me safe from my dad are now blocking good relationships. A friend told me this how many years ago? but I didn't understand, didn't know how to change, didn't know how to even see myself. Mirrors just don't work very well. I'm glad to have this coming out, and hopefully this Thanksgiving weekend, I will have many hours to sit and write, to explain myself, to search myself, before all this gets lost, before I make crucial mistakes again. I can learn, can't i? If I can build walls, I can tear them down. I don't know what will come of it. The last time I began to write about my dad, I couldnt' stop from crying. This time I'm stronger I know, but I don't expect to be over any of it. Silent all these years, as Tori Amos has said to me. This is when I'm making up my mind though, this is my best chance to change.
Ok, I'll explain a bit, because I know I'm being cryptic. What problems with your dad? How do they relate to what you're doing now? See (powerful word, because how many of us do actually see?), see, most of my life I've done things for my dad. sometimes it was because he lied to me, told me that I would never get to college without a football scholarship. So I played football for him, thinking that i was doing something right by doing sacrificing for my dad, no matter how much I hated it, dreaded it every day of fall. So I went to the Air Force Academy because it was free and it proved my dad wrong, that I didnt' have to play football in college. And although I knew I had feelings against violence from when I was eleven and twelve, I learned to ignore them through the casual violence of football. And because nobody ever reminded me that the military was all about killing, not just serving, I never connected things that I should have connected. As I told my brother, I wasn't doing too much thinking on my own back then. My parents and my society wanted me to do certain things, so I did them. And isn't that good to give yourself up to others? Hmm, I thought those were valuable traits at one time, but I don't any more. And while thinking about my dad's lies, and why I never knew myself, I began to think of how I used to hide from him, how I learned to shove everything down inside me so that even I couldn't find it, so he could never mock it, never make me feel ridiculous for something that was important to me. And he was proud of me for playing football. I might have even forgiven his lies had he not tricked me into signing certain documents that got me recruited for football to the Academy. Can you see my horror when the Academy tried to put me on the football team, saying that I was recruited, that I had wanted to play football, that maybe I wasn't really good enough to get in at all, but because I played football, maybe they would let me in? And then I remembered my parents coercing me into signing that piece of paper, saying it didn't mean anything, that I wouldn't have to actually play football, that it would just help me to get in. The facade of my dad's lies fell down that day, and I never believed him again. But I stood up for myself to the football coach, told him i didn't want to play, that it was a mistake, and never spoke to my dad of it.
And and and. There's a lot more here, a lot more that I must dig through, to understand the effects, to understand my reactions and how it still paints my life a certain color. Bring me my notebook, my therapy, my tell-all, my understanding page and soul-searching pen. Bring me epiphany but most of all, bring me solutions, ways to overcome this past that I wish didn't still haunt me.
9:53 AM
Monday, November 25, 2002
I am turning in my application for conscientious objection today. This is the beginning of the formal process and the investigation. I've labored over the questions on the application for a long time, and I can't say I've ever written anything more taxing. I don't know that it's my best work, but I think I finally said what I needed to. I'm including the first answer here, to the demand: "A description of the nature of the belief." There's plenty more, and all of it is too formal for my taste, but I hope it serves its purpose. How do you translate emotion into a formal document? I hope I have shown what moves so strongly inside me. There's still too much of me that says, no, don't let it go! What if they mock it, what if they shame you? I will ignore those pleas as best as I can. I can't keep it all in forever.
"I believe I should never seek to take another person’s life, regardless of the short or long-term goals or circumstances. I hold all human life to be sacred and feel I have no right to choose death for others. I cannot agree with the argument that American lives are worth more than the lives of those we have currently deemed as the enemy. I respect and love all people, as much as I possibly can.
According to the teachings of Jesus and his establishment of a new covenant, we are to love our enemies, do good to those who hurt us, and pray for those who spitefully use us. There is a part of God in all of us, and I must respect and respond to that part with love. My own conscience tells me that no matter how strong I am, I have no right over others’ lives. I feel there are other, less deadly ways to achieve peace than relying on the armed forces as a deterrent and safeguard. I cannot support combat, which inevitably leads to the deaths of people on both sides of the conflict. In order to follow these beliefs, I feel I cannot remain a part of the Air Force."
12:48 PM
Friday, November 22, 2002
I'm posting something I wrote last week, when I couldn't get online. i think it's worth putting up, even if late.
One of the bravest things I have ever done happened a long time ago, twelve years, when i was a freshman in high school. Towards the end of the year, the freshman football team had moved near the varsity team while maintenance people worked on the old showers. None of us wanted this, knowing the threat of being too close to those old jerks. The coaches were supposed to protect us from th is kind of dealings, right? We moved our stuff, proceeded with our gym time during the football hour at the end of the day. We were getting ready to go one afternoon when what we had been holding our breaths over happened. Afew upperclassmen, and not very big ones, walked over and decided to pick on my friend, Robertson, I think was his name. i spent most of my football time with him, talking about the hope that a plane would crash onto the field so that we wouldn’t have to practice for a while. Neither of us were really the football type and shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I can’t say he and I were close because my friends were not football players, but we certainly spent some time together. And yes, he was a bit wimpy - much like I would have been had my dad not engineered my body through a weight program (my brother called my frankenstein’s monster). I can’t remember much about what they did to him, probably called him a few names, pushed him around a bit. I didn’t want to, but I intervened anyway, or at least, stuck myself in the way, telling the guy he shouldn’t pick on him. I probably looked like a dork, even though had I been more aware of myself, I would have known I was bigger and much stronger than the guys. In response, one of the guys picked me up from behind and just held me there for a second, let me go and walked away. I was embarrassed, both from being held in the air by a smaller guy and because I had just saved my friend some annoyance (most anything that caused me to stick out embarrassed me then). It was the only time I’ve ever had anyone attempt anything over me. My friend and I never talked about it; we just went our way as if it never happened. Once the year ended, he and I hardly talked again. He quit football as I should have done, but I went on to start on varsity my sophomore year, at least for the first few games, earning the car my dad had promised.
I heard Sigur Ros live last night. I had only heard one song by them, but I had heard such good press and had such a good feeling about them, that I decided to go to their concert, taking my boyfriend along with me. I felt like that was the first time I had ever heard music, their sound so affected my life. The sound was expansive, oceanic, in the way it ebbed and flowed, the way the singer screeched like a whale, the way so many different parts fit together to make one phenomenal whole. The filled the room with passion, unbelievable contemplation of sound. The first song, I started crying to. It’s beauty pulled out my sadness, welcomed it, held it in its warm embrace and said, let it go, let it all go, that universe you’ve been holding on to, as if you could carry it in your arms, let it go. And when I let it go, the music swirled through my head, through my hair and skin, through my innards like a spirit of hope. They sounded like Radiohead and Spiritualized in their ambient water-like noise, but they had more passion and beauty than I’ve ever heard. I could hardly breathe while they played, shocked and stunned, absorbing all I can, remembering now more the feeling than I do the music, just knowing that it altered my view, made me long for more. We don’t have words for that music, just emotion.
5:15 PM
Thursday, November 21, 2002
I can't answer all these questions, all the questions that might come up in my future interview to determine if I am serious about conscientious objection. I cannot prove to the Air Force that I am right, nor do I think I have to. But there are a lot of questions, there are a lot of fears that I have, about what they might ask me, about how I might have to justify myself to them, because I am at their mercy. How can anyone make up their minds in this matter, completely? How can you know all there is about it, so that you erase your confusion? I have never been able to erase my confusion, have instead had to learn how to live with it, how to use it to my advantage, to say, look, I cannot be of one mind about this, cannot present myself as if I agree with everything that I have ever done or ever will. If that's crazy or insincere, than I am, because I don't know how else to be. I am taking a risk that this is the right thing to do and hoping I can survive any attack on it. I could and will think about death and war for the rest of my life, but i don't have any hope that I will actually solve even the fight that's in myself. I'm relying on trust right now, trust in the voice inside of me that says do this, do this, and I will take care of you. I have nothing stronger in my gut than that, although it feels a stronger compulsion than any I've ever come up with in my head. So I am doing it, rather blindly, hoping to have strength and answers when I need them, hoping that somehow I will manage beyond where I am now. No, not blindly, don't think I haven't thought about this for the past year, all the time, during the drive to work, lying in bed, sitting at my computer, running, running, running. I am not blind, but certainly without good vision. I would never trust myself anyway, not to make a decision this big. If it were just my head making this decision, I would have said no, I don't believe you. I can last through whatever the Air Force gives me because I don't trust my head, not the troubled thing that can't even decide what to make for dinner tomorrow or whether to get a cable modem over the dial-up I have now. I used to think I was so cerebral, so rational. No, I can't be that anymore, not when I feel these things through my stomach, extending through my body with an energy I can never match. No, I've taken this step not because I think I can reason it out against the world's best thinkers, but because I know beyond any doubt that this is what I have to do. So this is what I'm doing.
7:17 PM
So many things on my mind now, too much time since I last wrote, and how do I catch up with myself? There's too much to just talk about, too much to go into. I will say though, that I am doing well, that people are being more respectful than I had expected, that i feel better about myself than I have in a long long time. Essentially, the conflict that began in my head when the towers fell last September is beginning to feel almost resolved. I am dealing with it in the best way I know how, and although I may have a few more months of my current job, I am well on my way out. No, I don't know what I'm doing next, no, that doesnt' bother me. There's too much good going on in my life for me to complain. I can't believe it, dont' even know how to look at myself now, but I feel stronger, more competent, more myself than maybe I have ever been.
Hopefully, I'll be able to say more soon, without the last delay. I have things to say, and this is such a good place to say them.
11:00 AM
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
A couple of days later now; it seems a week or two later. Long days of stress. I never meant this blog to turn into a journal of my life, and i'm not sure I'm going to let it become that. But i can't exactly talk about about flowers today. Still, I took a run today during lunch, through the base, on one side of the flight line. A beautiful day today, strangely warm for the middle of November, but something I needed and greatly appreciated. I ran in just my shorts, not really needing a shirt even though most others i saw had on long sleeves and pants. I ran, and I watched the clouds, the hewn corn fields, the asphalt running path, sang a song in my head, turned around after 12:33 minutes. It was all the same. No matter how much i say my world is fundamentally different, most things aren't. A run still feels good, and the world still has clouds, fall, sunshine, and life. It's just the world people have created that has changed, the military, the town who seems to be talking about the splash I made, my own world in my head. I don't have that much power after all, and thank goodness for that. I'm tired though, yet strangely confident and strong. I know I am finally doing what I am supposed to do, no longer running like Jonah. I don't know if I can save Ninevah, but maybe that wasn't my goal. Maybe I have responsibility for myself first, and then we'll see. Then i can speak all I want, and who knows what I might say?
5:20 PM
Monday, November 11, 2002
I spilled it. I opened my mouth yesterday and I talked like I have never talked before. I spoke at a Veteran's For Peace rally here in St Louis. I was so proud of myself-I told my story, the audience responded to me, I felt like I had said something important. And then the tv crews wanted to talk to me. I told the first crew no, I don't want to talk, don't need my voice to be heard so loudly. But somehow, after enough questions, I started answering them, now to two different crews plus a radio man. I don't know why, but it felt good for them to be so inquisitive, to ask me all about what I was doing. It felt good to just talk about it, because I have hardly talked about this to anyone. Maybe for the first time in my life i did what I wanted to do without hardly considering the consequences. Is that good? In some ways, yes, it was good becuase it showed that I could talk, that I had something to say. But what about my life and the consequences? oh, oh, oh. i don't know what's going to happen, but it's going to be a whirlwind at work when I go in tomorrow. i'm scared like a basic trainee, having no idea what's going to happen. yes, I have a lawyer, but she doesn't know all of it, so many things could happen now. but they're not going to beat me, are they? nothing I said was prison material. I just didn't need to be so loud. Who knew I could be so loud? I think I lost a few pounds yesterday from not eating and worrying.
I look forward to when I can laugh about this and say, wasn't I brave? wasn't I showing strength I wasn't even aware of? And oh, wasn't I nervous? I hope I'm brave, and not just a fool.
write me, tell me you love me, i could use it now more than ever.
9:58 AM
Saturday, November 09, 2002
the sun comes up every day. i'm still not used to it.
6:37 AM
I'm going to do this, i'm going to do this, i'm going to do this. Yes, I have mentioned it before, and have tried to motivate myself to do it before, but now I am actually going to do it. Tuesday, I am handing my commander a statement of conscientious objection, asking for removal from my position. I don't want to be in the military at all, but that will expression will come a bit later - I plan on writing a longer statement about the whys and wherefores, not just the wham, here's my new thing. I can't fathom yet the implications this will have on my life. I know this means I may have to start looking for a job soon, something I've never done. I know this means I need to decide where I will move to since I don't consider St Louis to be a permanent home. But I also know that this is going to severely impact the interactions i have with people i work with here, and some of my friends as well. Most of my friends have been supportive, but just like when I was coming out, I told the easiest ones first. Soon, all these guys I've worked with for the past year and a half will know. I don't know how to deal with that. I don't consider any of them friends, but who wants to make enemies? Maybe I'll be hovering closer to the Quaker meeting in the next couple of months, knowing I already have their support and friendship. Maybe I will have long, difficult conversations with many people I know, forcing me to express myself in ways I never have.
Where's my strength at? Some of my thoughts right now, I don't even trust to put out here. But then, I don't know hardly any people who do actually read this site, so why not? It's fashionable to talk about the universe instead of God, but I've never felt that made sense. I don't think it matters--God is the universe in many ways, but I just don't feel like I can talk to the universe. Although I have certainly heard stuff, and know that my strength comes from what I have heard, or felt, or suddenly began to know, a more powerful realization than an epiphany because it didn't come from myself but from outside. And whether that's the universe talking to me or God talking to me doesn't matter. Since I was young, I equated God with love, and I am very comfortable with the idea that love has said these things to me, and that I am claiming conscientious objection out of love, not selfish love that only claims those closest, but love for all. When I say God, I mean love. My strength lies there, that this love will always exist and always stay inside me, and I will always try to follow its direction.
2:24 AM
Thursday, November 07, 2002
I've been saying that word too often lately, the one that doesn't really describe what I would like it to. soul. I'd rather the word simply mean the kind of music I'm listening to, the Percy Sledge with plaintive voice. But I've used it to describe those inner parts that nobody has ever seen, only felt in ways most of them can't describe. Don't play with that word, something tells me, just like you shouldn't play with anyone's soul, shouldn't approach it with anything but all your depth. But what is a soul? It's a space that defies our understanding, the only potentially everlasting part of us, if forever exists. It's me, unlike this body that only represents me. But words don't work well, do they? And a soul isn't something you can describe, only something you can feel.
10:18 PM
I have never been a radio listener ("and they grow up, prisoners, all their lives, radio listeners!" - REM), and forget sometimes that people actually do listen to the radio, do allow others to program their ears instead of going out to find what they like, out of the myriads of songs and artists who constantly produce like rabbits. When such people ask me where I find my music, I hardly know how to answer them without saying, everywhere! Isn't it everywhere? Every magazine, newspaper, and independent carries music reviews of what's new. Almost every cd store lets you listen to at least some of their music before buying it, everyone has friends who could share music they grew up with, or heard at a concert. Maybe they just don't love music like I do, don't have it constantly spinning in their heads, filling their ears and their souls with thought, poetry, beats, passion, and sadness. "Do you like american music? . . . they didn't know that music's in my soul" -Violent Femmes. If anybody wants to hear a good song, ask, I'll tell you what I know.
10:03 PM
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
How long how long will I slide
Separate my side I don’t
I don’t believe it’s bad
Slit my throat
It’s all I ever
some Red Hot Chili Peppers lyrics for your soul
Today I need to forget about all that stuff, forget about elections and losses, reasons and changes. It's nice to sulk at times, but not when you'd really just rather cry, knowing that you're holding on to things that you have no control over. So instead I'll talk about what is still good, whatever i can find around me.
1. The moon tonight is a tiny sliver that will grow for the next two weeks. The ends curve halfway around the orb that's just visible in the twilight
2. Music sounds even sweeter when you're depressed
3. I still have plenty of food in my fridge
4. I'm looking forward to the Sigur Ros concert next week
5. Music, books, and DVD's at the library are still free
6. The world itself has lost none of its beauty, even if I can't see it right now
7. The small wound I gave my thumb last night while trying to fix the fridge will heal
8. I have no shortage of paper or ink
9. Bananas are yellow, unlike most other foods
10. Combat boots are comfortable
6:15 PM
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
My ideas, I told Peter, are my babies, and I have long kept them from the dangerous conversations around me, afraid they may be perverted, twisted, changed from how I developed them. Many times, I sit in the middle of a conversation offering little. Not because I don't think I have something meaningful to contribute, but because I am wary of those around me. I can't always focus on what others are saying; most conversations hold little relevancy to my life; or maybe the ideas that swim in my head hold little relevancy in their lives. I've had enough speeches, enough people taking my time to tell me their ideas, mostly in the form of lectures. What preaching can I do that will be any better than what others had to say? I hate people wasting my time, so I refuse to waste other people's time, never sure how to tell when my comment might actually be helpful or welcome. Not willing to risk it, I'll stay quiet. If you really want to hear from me, you can ask. And then I will tell, then I will tell you so many things that I can't believe how much I have just told, letting go of ideas and pasts as if they were meant to be shared, as if I trust you. Maybe I do trust you, when you ask, when I know you are interested. Someone let me know recently that we only act out of fear or love; there is no other choice. I haven't yet concluded over that yet. But when examining my life, I see that so much of what I do is acting out of fear, and so I am leaning towards believing that there are only two choices, and that I far too often choose fear as my guide. Even what I said before, up there, is out of fear, isn't it? Fear that you will trounce on my ideas, that I cannot keep them safe if they are outside of my head, because I have so little control over anything outside of my head.
7:58 PM
I got to vote today! Yes, I'm excited about that. It was much easier this time. Last time I voted in California (my first time), and I was awfully confused for a while. I figured it out, I think. I felt like a grown-up though, walking into the school and voting, seeing all the other people walking in and out of the school, voting. I guess I'll never feel fully adult until I'm out of the military. They babysit us too much. Or maybe it's just that I can't pick out my own clothes.
I feel like I live in my own private world of voting. The people I work with never ever talk about it, whether they don't care or just don't talk about it, I don't know. I don't want to talk about it with them because I know I hold a minority viewpoint, and I don't want to discuss why. I consider none of them friends, so it doesn't matter much to me what they think. My other friends talk about it occasionally, but not with the fervor running through me while reading the news online. Did people ever discuss news? Do they now? It seems like a lot of people just don't pay attention. But then, I normally feel alone with my thoughts, rarely get to discuss them with others, so I know I don't have a good understanding of what others talk about.
Yes, I would appreciate mandatory voting, having the threat of a parking ticket type fine placed on me for not voting. I wonder what in the world might happen if we all voted?
6:41 PM
Monday, November 04, 2002
How angry I get now when I read about politics. How impotent I feel to make any difference. What about the poor, what about disenfranchisement, what about all the money spent on campaigns that could be used for good purposes? How did we get this way and how can we change? How do people not see through the lies being spread? How do we ignore the people around us? I can't hardly think. This kind of reaction does nothing. I can't focus on anything but anger and negativity. I don't know what will happen tomorrow in the elections, but I know it won't be enough. Words are not enough.
11:22 PM
Sometimes we all need a bit of advice. And sometimes we just don't want to be cheered with it.
feel my despair
but wait, this one is more interesting: 
No, sacrifice doesn't seem appealing, but isn't that valuable? Some of us have to sacrifice, maybe all of us have to sacrifice something. How better to show our love for others than to give up something we love? But then, who seeks out opportunities to sacrifice themselves?
5:03 PM
Friday, November 01, 2002
"He'd prided himself on how undiscovered he was, how secret, how remote. What a fool he'd been." Clive Barker wrote that, although it could have been from anybody. We all know that nobody can teach us anything new, thanks to Michael Cretu's Enigma. But somehow we relearn the same things, or run into the same walls until we climb over them. I ran through a word association test last night and found that I have trouble with walls. and sadness. yes, both words make me pause, and therefore, the test said I have trouble with them. Is that true - if I pause to think about something, that means I have trouble with it? It it doesn't make me pause, it is worthwhile? I've hidden all this stuff for years, definitely felt pride in how little people knew me. Yes, fool. Proverbs says all these things about fools, but when does it talk about love and giving and sharing of yourself? I guess they saved that for the New Testament, for the new society Jesus tried to move us into. What a fool we thought he was, most of us still do. I can't take an honest look at what he said and did without thinking how foolish it seems, how provocative his intentions still are, how amazingly different and unfoolish it must be. How I've always longed for people to know me though. Bryan Duncan used to sing, "you carry your heart in a box / with all of your dreams / still hoping that somebody knocks / to share your extremes. / Someone could enter your life just with a smile; / someone could carry your heart / all of the while." yes, yes. I've always known that was true and have always been waiting for someone to knock. But why leave that responsibility to someone else, as if I am nothing but a victim, a lazy loner? Isn't it my responsibility to reveal myself, to be courageous and say, this is me, come take a look, whether you like it or not, this is me. If I am completely honest all the time, then I have nothing to hide, right? Oh, but I've always loved hiding, used to dream about hidden rooms in the attic, places I could go to escape, always wanting someone to stumble onto them and suddenly love me for all of my strangeness, for all the parts that I hide too carefully. But I've become practiced in my hiding, and I've become so good, that I know people can't read through me well. I can't even read through me. all my trouble with walls and sadness. haven't I said this before? haven't I said this before?
7:05 PM
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
We want to be more,
more than just our own time.
We want to cause events;
we should be the beginning or the end,
never a dot in the middle.
We want control and power and ecstasy,
as if it belonged to us;
our daydream worlds recognize us,
Laud our abilities and ideas
or else they cannot see our greatness.
Who is content to be who they are?
People have told us since we were young,
You will mean something;
people will listen and know you.
We believed these plans, easily.
Maybe if we were more,
more than our dreams,
we would be enough.
yes, enough.
but nobody ever stops craving.
Then we can do nothing but love,
which is never more nor less,
which was, and is, and will be.
we must find love to satisfy,
to relieve our wanting.
11:42 PM
Time shortens, night lengthens,
light plays, steam escapes,
highways flow like rivers and
corn stalks bend towards ground
under the fall's grey clouds.
Tell me i'm not a secret anymore, that I can walk in the open without the fear i've always had but instead with the confidence of a madman, saying what I feel I need to say. Speech is liberty, and we all know what to choose without liberty.
Anyone can say nothing matters, give up and stop trying. But maybe everything matters, and we don't know how to comprehend everything. All of it, every news report, every stinky baby, every morning. I hate to say it, the sacred and the mundane entertwine together, the double helix. somehow it matters. we have to figure it out, and not let it drown us.
6:14 PM
Monday, October 28, 2002
Until 22, I was all mind, studying, reading, focusing on my brain alone. When I turned 22 and came out, I was all body, loving both my own and those around me, trying to forget that I had been all mind. Now I'm working on my soul, the part of me I might have once denied having. A friendly blogger said he thought guys who don't cry have no soul. I only remember crying once before 22, and I had forced myself to cry over some guy I knew I would never see again. That wasn't soul, that was selfish. So I guess I can't expect my soul to open to me, much less anyone else, after only a year of looking for it. My brain might understand what I need to do, but the rest of me takes a while to catch up. I've never much liked the word soul but I have no other word to describe the part of me that exists on a separate plane from my body, whether inside it or outside of it, I don't yet know. I could call it spirit, but if I did that, then I've been trying to nurture that since I was five, focused on being a good Christian since I can remember. And as much as I remember that effort being good for me, I never understood what I was doing and how to involve more of myself into my understanding. How can you understand God when you don't understand yourself? The Quakers say there is a part of God in all of us, but you have to listen to yourself first. Emotions? No wonder I've never had many of them. They don't come from your brain or your body. But all this is ok, and I have no use for looking back in regret, just to analyze what I did so that I can do better. There's a part of me growing that wants to recognize the metaphysical world, that wants to listen to what I have never heard. I've become very familiar with tears. I don't fear them any more, and don't encourage them. They remind me that I am alive, and that I can feel, no matter what my brain and my body may tell me.
7:55 PM
Sunday, October 27, 2002
Spend more time crafting friendships than you do garnering lust. That's what I'm hearing inside, that I'm all too eager to go out to some bar to be ogled rather than spend time with good people, getting to know them, understand them, share myself and listen. A lesson I knew long ago and then forgot. So teach me again to remember what I used to know. See, I've paid more attention to trees and buildings than I have people in this city. Yes, I love the trees and the buildings, the parks, and the sidewalks, but when am I going to love the people, not just hope they love me?
7:09 PM
Thursday, October 24, 2002
I'm starting to love my apartment, starting to feel like it's more home and more comfortable than anywhere. I remember feeling a bit of that in my Sacramento apartment, but almost none of it in my last apartment here in St Louis. A couple of months though in this new place, and I am quite comfortable. Especially recently, I have had a few more visitors see it, and spent time in the evenings at home instead of always wandering around town. I still have trouble with the concept of home though. Yes, this is as much home as I have; I would call no other place home. Still, I'm not completely satisified that this home. It feels so transitory, knowing that I will leave in less than a year. Should I care? I know that my home will most likely lack other occupants for quite some time. I can't expect to find any kind of family in the near future. But regardless of other people, I can still have a home, right?. Maybe it matters that I have easily accessible friends. Maybe it has something to do with how much time I spend in it, or what I do there. Maybe it depends on how much of me it represents, if I can overcome the rented feeling and make it something of mine, or if it will always remain a bit foreign. I've also learned that I can feel comfortable almost anywhere, wandering a park, enjoying a coffee shop, or driving in my car. these somehow are the same feelings of home, that I am me and doing the things that make me happy. Isn't that enough?
7:16 PM
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
I am still listening to Joan Osbourne's recent release, though it is not playing. Her voice and interpretations of these soul songs have snuck into my life, tuned to me because I need them, their solace, passion, and calm. She sings with just enough grit in her voice, a bit of gravel perhaps, like when my friend Bippy jumped off of a swing thinking I would catch her but instead fell on the ground when I couldn't hold on. She pulled dirt out of her teeth for an hour afterwards. I can hear it in Osbourne's voice, revealing she too has been dropped in the past and has hit the ground because she gave her trust. The electric guitars, the horns, the music together still works through me, turning How Sweet It Is into a lonely ballad, and War, What is it Good For into a quiet protest, demanding an answer from each of us, not just from the politicians who we so conveniently blame. I didn't know all of the songs, but I will now, loving them as they work into me, calming me, comforting me, reminding me of pain. A few other albums have done this, have been so poignant when I bought them, that they stick in my memory as a piece of healing for that moment. Yo La Tengo's "And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out" played when my dad left me before his visit was over, too furious about my sexuality to even talk to me about it, when my parents turned their disgust on me and opened up more pain by including my grandmother into their derision of me. The songs of Percy Sledge still bring back memories of the guys I have separated from, the hurtful feelings that I still feel I caused, unable to stop myself or to even explain my cruelty. Bjork's Vespertine sounded like a holy church bell during my depression last winter, when I finally woke up to death everywhere and couldn't handle such weight. I invited them in to my head when I needed something I couldn't explain, and each cd's melodies flooded through me with their own healing. I am glad for them, thankful for their help. I am glad to let Joan Osbourne in now.
5:49 PM
Tuesday, October 22, 2002
Seems like I dreamed on the way to work today, with the wind blowing through the car, Morcheeba's first album playing, passing all the fields. So many heavy subjects, so much everywhere, so few of us doing anything substantial. Last night I read for an hour or more, something I haven't done for a long time, lost in the book, remembering how books used to be my best friends and understanding why. They never asked for anything but the time it took to read them. They were their own world where I just stood by, watching. I would like to do that again, not spend my time cooking, driving, cleaning, planning, or any of these adult realities, just stuck in nothing. I know that the blessings of adulthood are the freedoms we have, to go where we want, to cultivate friends, to decide much of our own lives. But of course, we also gain responsibility for taking care of ourselves. In some ways, taking care of ourselves is enough; many people hardly get that far. But when you have taken care of yourself, met the needs of shelter, food, and money, you have to step out of yourself and try to benefit those around you. I know I'm doing almost none of that right now, focused on my own needs and my own priorities of restructuring my life.
After college, I recognized a need to just take care of myself, to enjoy life instead of suffer through it as I did during my four years at the Air Force Academy. I felt comfortable being selfish, living alone and away from people. I kept telling myself that time would have to end, but I haven't been able to give it up yet. Since September 11th of last year, though, I have not been able to enjoy it like I used to, when I reveled in my life. Fine, better to have an event that knocks me out of my habitat than to continue going nowhere. It's been a year now, and I haven't changed much. Seeds are growing, and I'm about to take a very important step. I need to take many more steps, to realize that I can no longer act alone in the world, that I avoid people to the point that I have become greedy in my affection and my time. Maybe I can change.
6:46 PM
Saturday, October 19, 2002
I didn't know he was the poet laureate. 
Funny, I just learned recently that America still had poet laureates. I thought we did away with that before I was born. Apparently, Howard Nemerov, a St Louis native, was poet laureate sometime in the sixties maybe. But Billy Collins is our current poet laureate. I thought I was alone in loving him. He's pictured to the right, next to my notebook, as one of my favorite things. I've never loved a poet more than him, except for maybe William Carlos Williams. I picked Collins out of a shelf of poetry at the independent store on Market St, near the Castro in San Francisco. I think the night I picked him out was the same night a small Asian man invited me over to watch a movie at his place with his friends. I can't remember why I declined to join him. So it's nice to find a NYTimes article on him, although it would be nicer to actually meet someone who knows Collins' poetry. But then, I'm not sure those people actually exist, not sure I have enough hope for that. Still, I love him, and I keep a book of his by my bed, just in case. He makes me laugh, makes me want to write, makes me think and dream and pause over life. I would have paused today, had I been able to, driving into work through Illinois, watching the slope of the fields curve to meet the trees, colored a bit by the playful fall. Even the ferns change colors--i didn't notice that last year. Soon I will be able to see my favorite evergreen more clearly when I drive to work, no longer blocked by the leaves on the other trees, although it stands taller than the rest of them and is always easy to find. That drive is beautiful, and it feeds me everyday I drive it. And that is Collins' essence, able to describe such wonders of everyday life with such honor and humility that he elevates them to great parts of our lives, worthy of remembering and pausing. Fall is when I went to hang on to the world and say, stay, stay where you are, dont move too quickly, i just want to watch for a while because I know it's all going to change so fast. all going to change so fast.
ok, so i just learned that William Carlos Williams was also appointed Poet Laureate but did not serve the post. all the things i don't know.
4:51 PM
"The problem with being afraid is if it makes us do things that actually increase our risk." NYTimes article "When Risk Ruptures Life." Yes, I think that's what's going on in the world. America is afraid, and so we're doing things to cover up for and tend to that fear that actually decreases our security. But I'm not a political scientist.
4:30 PM
Friday, October 18, 2002
What I'm eating now:
Asian cabbage soup if I have to give it a name. I started by boiling some water and adding chopped cabbage, dried shitake mushrooms, fresh ginger, fish sauce, soy sauce, and rice vinegar (gave it too much tang, won't add that again), fresh basil, tofu (some creamed in the blender with almonds and basil, and some chunked), green bell peppers, and sauteed garlic and onions. The creamed tofu mixture gave the soup a nice dirty look and texture, so the broth feels more substantive while the cabbage and the mushrooms give a nice bit to chew on.
8:34 PM
Let me just sleep, sleep away these fears, sleep away these times, until a better time arrives. Or can that happen? Are we as humans doomed by our own mistakes to live in difficult times? Seems so. The speech my colonel gave to us today furthered my resolve to take what little action I can to prevent my involvement with the nasty future of war. I dread the role I'm taking, dread having to stand up for myself, to claim what I think is right, but what so few people will back me on. I know I will have to lean on people I have not tested yet, people who I have stayed away from for one reason or another. I know that I will have to lean on myself, gather courage from a place that has not been much exercised. I don't want to sip from this cup, but unless I want blood on my hands, unless I want to avoid what I know is right, I have to take that sip, willingly. Nobody will ever coerce me into doing right. But I would rather sleep, rather give up on this, have no desire to stand up in front of people. The thought tempts me and scares me at the same time. I think I have waited long enough.
I've been haunted lately, attacked by faint memories, sinister feelings of deja-vu, of past uncomfortable dreams that make me sick in my head and stomach. Haunted by these images, as if they connect me to a world I don't understand. Where is this world; why does it haunt me? How do the vague triggers of these episodes relate to the actual problem? I wanted to blame these on my fears around the world, wanted to say that since I had made up my mind to do something, they would go away. They did, for a time. Have I waited too long, have I sat on this decision trying to cover all of it's ground, see every angle lest I act rashly? Or is this a haunting I can't understand, a feeling that has no connection to me or my stresses? Is it merely a symptom of my stress, my emotions creating an outlet because I have not opened one up myself? Maybe all of these is the answer, that I should attend to my emotions like I never have before, that I should finish my deliberation and get to what I must do, that I should open myself up to let go what I am holding so tightly. I know I can't handle this if it continues; the panic will break me down. But somehow I have hope that I will take the necessary steps, that I will feel my way through this situation. I can feel the hope growing, even though it makes no sense and seems a mockery of the tragic events around the world. But no, instead of a mockery, it's the only way to overcome the tragedies of the world. Just like revenge only creates more revenge, hope creates more hope, and if I can muster hope in myself, then maybe I can inspire it in others. And if I have trouble with my own hope, look to other sources who can inspire me, those from the past or the present, or maybe even the future. Gil Scott-Heron sang to his daughter how much he loved her and how she kept him hoping "good things for tomorrow." His love for her created that hope. So who do I love? Who's future is worth this hope, that I have to take steps to ensure its brightness? Faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love.
7:33 PM
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
quiet surprises me.
9:34 PM
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
There's a beautiful piece of forever changing art hanging above us. The sun's rays played near the horizon as i ran tonight, flitting through clouds, darkening, coloring, even lightening the sky as they left us. The moon had already risen on the other side of the world, a nice moment of duality combined, reminding us that no matter how often we try to separate the world into halves, the two sides converge on us, meld, one circle crossing the lines of another, creating that unnamed geometric shape, a curvy diamond that nobody really knows what to do with. As usual, i laughed quite a bit during my run, at the sky, at my random thoughts, at my joy in being outside running, at all the cars driving by, at life. Today's the first day in several that I've done anything worth remembering. I've been so dull lately. That sun woke me up though, reminded me to live and to watch. I have more to do with my life than just sleep and eat, fortunately.
9:59 PM
Monday, October 14, 2002
I read a poem of mine last night. it needs reworking before i do anything else with it. surprisingly enough, I liked it. I'm becoming aware though that I'm the only one who understands these things. That is, if I write a poem, of course i'm going to understand it. I can see all that lies behind it, that I didnt' tell. Yes, it helps to have some distance, but I've been reading my own words for years now. And really, nobody else has. I guess the only way to find out is to let people read my things. Maybe that's the secret point of writing this blog. or maybe i just feel like being noticed here and there. I also noticed in my poem that when I let go of the poetics and just told the story, i wrote more convincingly. It wasn't strained or difficult like the first two stanzas which need serious help. Does that mean I should write all future poems in such a prose-like way, or does it just apply to this poem? I don't see the point of structure for it's own sake. My favorite kind of dancing is just doing what i want, spinning around the floor. I don't feel like learning anything complex. My favorite kind of cooking is playing on old ideas that I have in my head or that I find in a recipe book. Those meals turn out the best for me, when i'm not following anyone else's dictates (I made a fresh pesto today with almond, basil, tomato, olive oil, tofu, and buttermilk - it turned out all creamy without being fatty). So maybe I'll keep writing poems that are just me talking, give them enough structure to be poetic, but not so much that I'm faltering over the process.
I caught the arch today, driving by downtown, stopped by a long red light. I've always seen the reflection there, in the buildings, but never had my camera. This time, I tore open my bag to grab for it, and snapped a shot well in time to check it out before the light changed. maybe tomorrow i'll go there on purpose, find more reflections of that giant curve. I'll post the picture soon, i promise.
6:09 PM
Sunday, October 13, 2002
Every day I put my uniform on, I wonder why I chose to in the first place, how I am in this strange world. I chose it, nobody drafted me into this service. But yes, service is the word I saw, too. I saw the military as a great big fence around the country, one that deterred anyone from attacking us, one that would keep us safe just by being there. How noble, how just, how sacrificial. But in some ways, I still aspire to that, to the point of being willing to stand for my country. I have no doubt that as Americans, we have many many freedoms and possibilities others don't. Even still, I don't have a full concept of what other countries are like, though I have visited them. In none of them was it as easy to get what you wanted as it is here. I know I went into the Air Force with naive presumptions, and nobody asked me to consider the price of having to kill someone else. Furthermore, I know that as a communications officer, I will most likely never have anything personal to do with killing someone else. I have lost the sense of honor, but I would still like to serve, would like to think that putting on my uniform somehow helps. Because I put on my uniform, does it mean that I am willing to kill? Does it mean that I support what the Air Force does around the world? Does it mean that I too am arrogant and selfish like my current leadership?
It may not mean any of these things. It may mean that I am simply finishing a committment I made to spend this much time in the military, right or wrong. It may mean that I am in the middle of a decision process to determine my role in life. It may mean that I don't quite know what I can do, or what I should do.
6:04 PM
Saturday, October 12, 2002
The letter n.
narwhale, nothing, never, napalm, nut, Narnia, noodle, nerve, nag
north, Nostrodamus, narcolepsy, nasty, nest, nibble, nighttime.
why I am awake at 5:18 on Saturday morning, I don't know. But U2's War is spinning under the needle, and my stomach grumbles. Time doesn't always make sense, and my bed isn't always useful.
new, natter, negate, numerous, ninth, nice, Nestor (main character in Nintendo magazine's comic strip), net, nampla, neither, nebulous, nimble,
and of course, napkin
5:25 AM
Thursday, October 10, 2002
The clouds and fall weather,
songs of death and life,
of peace and life
so sweet and calm over me
running through the sky over me,
in my head, dulling the bright sun
displaying their own way,
their blues and purples,
greys whites and pinks,
pulled edges, flawed roundness,
seeming weight and metamorphoses,
pull tears from me like doctors
pulled blood from the sick
to remove their ill tempers
and cleanse what blood remained.
my insides burn without consuming,
churn as if they hold the string of a kite
waving in the sky, colored against that sky.
Perhaps I am seeing what I shouldn't,
walking on ground I should hallow.
10:08 PM
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
I visited the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts again today, with my friend Vincent (listening to Cassius on the way). Japanese architect, Tadao Ando designed the incredible concrete building, which is more impressive than the art, even though there are distinct spaces where the art feels as if the artist designed it for that space. The first stun happens on the waterfront. A small outdoor patio extends between the two lengths of the building but is cut off by a long expanse of shallow water, covering small rocks. The water and concrete form your horizon as a smooth mirror, an unnatural peace. You can sit on the carved stone bench and watch the water ripple a bit, or stare back into the building with windows that on the right only show the feet of visitors walking by. The water looks like it goes on, over the wall, but it stops, level with the concrete border, on the opposite end of the building. Back inside, there is an enormous stairwell decorated by a long rectangle of black and then blue on the opposite wall, directing you downwards, carrying you down the dramatic steps, large enough to be on the outside of a capitol building. My last favorite part of the foundation lies outside, the Richard Serra sculpture of what looks like rusted metal, with an dark orange tint, a leaning spiral, leaning in and out as you walk to the middle, disoriented by the lack of vertical surroundings. In the center, all you can see is the sky, extending from this rusted orange circle. I have long thought of the sky as the largest piece of beauty we commonly know; Serra's structure celebrates that passion. What is life for, but celebrating?
7:50 PM
Tuesday, October 08, 2002
Yes, Saddam Hussein may be capable and willing to kill Americans. I still have to love him. Even Hussein loves the people who love him. What I know is that I should love even my enemies, anyone who wants to hurt me, namely every human. In my mind, that means not killing them, no matter what they have done or what they may do. I recognize the inherent risk of my own death and those around me. None of that would compel me to think it's right to kill someone else. I know this is so against modern society that it seems lunatic. But how is wanting to save lives lunatic? I can't say what the world should do in this situation, to thwart any possible danger from Iraq. I see countries like Switzerland who is neutral, and nobody has attacked them in a hundred years. Aren't they doing something right? If we didn't have vital interests in other countries, would we be so vulnerable? Again though, I don't have enough education to supply my own solutions. I know that I too need to wean myself from the complications of oil. Like the rats of NIMH, I need to be more independent, stop taking from the system which has caused so many problems. My first step is to say that I will focus on love, loving everyone around me. Sometimes love is easier when done from a distance, and I need much practice. So this start will be to stop my involvement in a killing machine and to remember that I cannot blindly insult those who decide this is worth their lives. I am making this decision for myself, and not for anyone else. Were someone to judge me, I am afraid they would not look very kindly on my past. I must reserve judgement of those around me, hoping to escape their judgement of me. One step, although this seems like the most frighteningly giant step I could possibly take. Help me take it, won't you?
8:38 PM
Monday, October 07, 2002
I listened to Lauryn Hill's unplugged album again today, am still listening to it now. This world hates truth doesn't it? I have never heard a more honest album, have never been asked to look at so much truth. It helps me to see my own life, to see my own dishonesty, all the dishonesty around me, in all of us. Of course the critics didn't like this album, how could they handle it? She doesn't care what they say, what they'll ever say. She's not singing to entertain, she's singing to proclaim. And oh the honesty I need in my life, every part of my life. We all do, and there are consequences for it. Look at what Jhames has had to do, because he put too much truth out there. People can't handle it, but they need it, I need it, all the honesty I can dig out of myself. If i become so honest, my world will have to change; it needs to change, and though that change frightens me, I have to face it, to know that this change will invigorate and further me, will force growth into me. That is the sun that's finally showing through after such a long winter.
1:22 PM
Sunday, October 06, 2002
Rep Mike Thompson, D-Calif, said this after his recent trip to Iraq: "I met a woman who worked in the gift shop of the hotel where we were staying. She said she was 25 years old, this will be her third war. The only hope is the bomb doesn't hit her house, and if it doesn't she'll get up in the morning and go to work. It was quite depressing to hear how so many people had resigned themselves to that, because their living conditions are already so terrible. Health care is poor, education system's poor, sanitation's poor. It's a perfect petri dish for breeding terrorists. That's the whole deal in that part of the world. If we don't figure out how to break that cycle, and give people some hope, we're always going to be fighting terrorism . . . I served in a war that saw 58,000 American boys die in Vietnam. If we go into Baghdad, a whole bunch more are going to die. It seems to me that if any of us can do anything to avert that, it's our responsibility -- it's our duty -- to do that."
How Bush can be so anxious for this fight, I don't know. I don't understand the thirst for blood, nor do I understand people who emphasize anything but the importance of human life, ours and theirs. Can we save these lives?
8:07 PM
Haven't done much today besides think about my emotions and enjoy the weather. This city looks so beautiful under heavy clouds. I think midwestern clouds may be the best I've ever seen. Where else do you get more variety of sky than here? They weren't moving much today, just stuck there as if waiting to be painted, explored by my mind. I love the tints, the way the clouds approach the trees on the horizon. I loved the Yaz playing in the car today, "midnight, it's raining outside. you must be soaking wet" I had to drive further today, to get around some traffic, and I was surprised to see some bogs or swamps by I-70, mucky fields of water and small trees, all bright green from the algae. I do just want to look, would rather wander around doing nothing, escaping myself by enjoying this world. I ran today, three or four miles around my neighborhood, down to Lafayette Park and around it a few times, grass and sidewalk, brick and stone houses, breezes, asphalt, curbstones, the seeds from the trees on the ground, the morning glories out the back of my apartment. stretching on my back porch, staring at the brick house. just staring.
4:58 PM
Saturday, October 05, 2002
I like that word, goat. It conjures up silly animals that chewed on my fingers at a farm my brother's friend ran. Reminds me of John Barth's novel, Giles Goat-Boy which was funny, bizarre, a mockery, exploitation, and celebration of Joseph Campbell's A Hero with a Thousand Faces. I can just see that shaking little tuft of hair, white or grey like some kooky old man.
9:08 PM
Underworld's new cd is surprisingly good. I think I like it better than their first two, which says a lot. There is much reflection in the music, tore me between staying inside to listen to it or running outside to enjoy the seductive coolness of the day. This is fall. Yes, I saw it on the way to work today, some of the leaves almost ready to change, the fields of growth some form of bright green or maybe yellow, orange. I never know, with my colorblind eyes. But somehow I can still see the beauty in those curvy fields lined by trees. Who knew Illinois could be so beautiful, when the sun isn't burning and the air isn't steamy, when the corn droops from the excesses of summer. I daydreamed of painting a large tree, playing with the fall colors because I don't know what I actually see, can't describe it to you. maybe I could paint it though, meld the colors to make something like fall, at least to my eyes. This is when I most want to have wings, to fly over the crop fields, see all the things you can't see from a car, be on top of things instead of just beside them. what views for my eyes, for my camera. When I daydreamed of flying in my four-wheeler as a kid, I never cared about being able to see the world better. Then it was escaping or reaching distances more quickly. Now that I have more solitude than I can handle, escaping isn't such a beautiful idea. But looking, looking, looking, all i want to do anymore is look at everything around me. I can't handle judging yet, I haven't seen enough, don't care whether this is better or worse, I'd rather find the beauty in what's in front of me. and oh, what's in front of me. the asphalt on I-64 when you exit at 14th street glitters in the sunlight. the stop sign at Lami, one street down from me, is crooked. the Flaming Lips still sing about love and death on the cd my brother mixed for me. and I still wonder what my ambitions for life are.
5:54 PM
Friday, October 04, 2002
I walk here sometimes
shirtless, after an evening out,
This bridge over I-44
the repaved Route 66
(not quite as glamorous)
which ends maybe 200 yards from here.
I have to see it, the twin lights
of each car or truck
the possible exits,
turn to see it
begin westward.
I have to hear it
rushing rumbling roaring,
wheels and engines and asphalt.
I feel it, through the bridge,
the breeze and pistoned heat.
I start to sense it
imagine the drivers
and passengers, travelers,
the goods in the semi
or family minivan.
I have driven this, too.
I change, become one of them
a car
dog in the backseat
wanderer;
the movement carries me,
each car a drop of water,
the road a Mississippi.
After too much,
after too much,
I return to myself.
It feels good to stay still.
1:47 PM
Thursday, October 03, 2002
Clinton. I never knew what to think of him while he was in office. I didn't bother. I was too good for politics and had barely started to care about anything beyond my world. As we got closer to the end of his eight years in office, I read many many reports about what he had done, or had helped get done. I was impressed. This guy seemed like he cared about someone besides himself, and that's rare. My whole outlook on politics changed, and I have no time to document that. Salon.com just posted an excellent speech Clinton made in England yesterday, to the Labor Party conference. They miss him more than we do. It's an impressive speech. Nothing seems easy anymore, and I think he is someone who recognizes that because the world is difficult, and multidimensional. One approach may not always work and you should be willing to look at other solutions, find the compromise and combination of ideas which will work. Amazing. Of course, looking at so many solutions can lead you to inertia. They all look so tempting . . . But I'm glad he's still talking. I'd like to hear more from him. not to mention his wife's future.
5:38 PM
Wednesday, October 02, 2002
My boyfriend comes back today (he's gonna save my reputation), after three months in Europe, i.e. Munich, Dubrovnik, and Zagreb. I'm still getting everything ready for him, mostly for his birthday which was monday. I can't believe he's coming back; I got to the point where i almost believed he wasn't going to, that October was just too far away from July to even imagine. Summer doesn't last forever, thankfully. But three months, what has happened to each of us in the past three months that we haven't shared? I wrote him many letters, and had fun taking them to the post office to see them stamped and swept away to another country. What a marvel that a letter can travel to such places wih only an address and less than a dollar. But did the letters convey myself? No writing ever accomplishes that much, does it? I suppose it doesn't matter. We had years before he and I met to develop ourselves. What difference does three months make? I am worried more about myself, though. There's no doubt I'll have to make room in my life for him again, and no matter how excited I am to have him back, everything will change. I want things to change. I want to share so much more of myself with him, that for some reason we never got around to. I can imagine so many good things, but not all of it can happen. questions, just questions.
1:03 PM
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
Summer's over. It's October, and although the heat will remain for a bit, all the mad growth and heat is gone for this year. Yes, this starts my favorite parts of the year. I have hated summer for the past four years, but I'm doing my best to accept is. The heat angered me, like a slap in the face. After escaping unending summer heat in Colorado for four years, I didn't know how to face it again. The warmth reminded me that I missed Colorado, that I was going to sweat, that I had to do more laundry. It made life more difficult, too hot to run or bike, the car heat after a day in the sun, the longer hours of sunlight, the trouble sleeping at night, all the extra things going on. And in Sacramento, I knew that winter would never really come and give me the cold I love. I have found joys in summer though and am trying to learn more. Lynda Barry's comic strip this June helped remind me of summer days as a kid, when the heat didn't matter much, when I focused on the better parts of summer.
Summer was experience, wondering around the world around you, watching, observing, figuring things out. I found the stick insects that blend into the tree, rolly pollys that would curl up in my hand, afraid of my intrusion. But if you waited long enough, they would open up again and crawl on your hand. Lightning bugs, and pools, more play time than any other season. of course, I spent many days reading inside, ignoring the outside world. But Barry reminded me how to pay attention, how to explore the new things that are in your backyard. Different ways to experience everything that you've already seen. We played games too, on the trampoline mostly, where the world was cushy and bouncy. You could defy gravity a bit, spinning and flipping. maybe the world is just a playground.
Summer's over though. And I have spent much more time this year, re-learning how to enjoy it. Now the real fun comes, when fall keeps me outside as often as possible, when rain makes me stare out the window, shocked that water just comes out of the sky. Shocked at how much the world changes, every day.
6:16 PM
Monday, September 30, 2002
The plea of marxism, that capitalism rips off the average person and bows down to the elite class, holds much more sentient value today than perhaps ever before. I know that people have been thinking this for the last century, but I know the American public didn't buy it, and held it as an irrational idea. Personally, I never thought about it. I figured our country was so easy to love compared to everywhere else that capitalism must be the obvious choice. That's not so easy to believe anymore. I know part of the change is within myself, now that I see more about what goes on in the world. With our summer of the revelations of decadence, I'm not sure who can argue wholeheartedly for unabashed capitalism. Yes, it looks pretty from the outside, but there are many people hurting right now because of what corrupt people were easily able to do, and probably are still doing without being caught. On the other hand, the relatively large middle class has wonderful lives here in America. We can easily have so many of the things we want, we hardly notice what others might be missing. I think my move to St Louis opened my eyes more than most anything, where poverty is rampant, and I drive by apartment complexes riddled with need.
I don't claim that I know enough about this subject, but I can feel the hollowness in our president's words to leave no child behind. I see children being left behind every day and nobody having the power or the will to change it. I never realized how privileged I am, still probably don't understand how easy it was for me, still is for me, to make my living. I hope at least this summer will show many people that american capitalism needs a lot of work, and that everyone has a responsibility to help those around us who are in need.
9:02 PM
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