things and stuff pt. 3,478.
I'm both good with structure, and horrible with structure.
I'm an independent soul, and then again, I sometimes thrive like a little hothouse flower in disciplined environments.
At the end of the
day, I both loathe and crave expectations. They drive me to
distraction, but they also give me the drive I need to keep going when
nothing else is pushing me forward.
And so it is when
I blog -- sometimes I need a concrete topic to make a post, and at other
times, I couldn't possibly follow a linear flow if I tried.
Guess which kind of night this is?
I want to write,
but there's nothing in particular to write about. Or maybe there are a
million things to write about, and I can't possibly settle on one.
So I'll just do a little bit of jitterbug prose, if you don't mind. I'm half-asleep, anyhow.
what am I dancing to?
Yep. Here are the last ten songs I dredged up in iTunes:
Now That We've Found Love - Heavy D and the Boyz (good shakin' music)
It's Raining Men - Geri Halliwell (absurd and hilarious - "rip off the roof and stay in bed")
Back in Black - AC/DC (yesssss!)
Seasons of Love - Stevie Wonder and the cast of 'Rent' (die-hard Stevie fan forever)
You Give Me Something - Jamiroquai (always a chair-dancing hit)
Is This All - Jonatha Brooke (bah, I didn't need to cry)
Inside and Out - Feist (there, I can shake it again)
Daughters - John Mayer (crap - crying once more)
Be Here To Love Me - Norah Jones (sob, sob, sob)
Rock and Roll McDonalds - Wesley Willis (woohoo! laughter returns!)
Schizo, as usual. And overtired. And overemotional. Never a good time to make a mix.
When I feel like
this, I sometimes close my eyes and wave my arms above my head like a
gospel choir soloist when I sing along. I disappear into every last
note -- even the stupid ones -- and feel possessed by every beat and
strain.
Well -- except with Wesley. Then I just giggle.
why don't I write about politics?
i was tired of being put right down
by myself for not being what you
thought you had found
pulled hard in two directions by a
desire to learn
and my old affections
when i tried to share my world with you
you could not seem to tolerate
the people i had grown to love
they shrank under your scrutiny,
became the ones you'd hate
why did everything, every little thing
every little thing
with you and me have to be so political?
(Spirit of the West, Political)
This
is a common question asked of the editors here at the Blogcabin, and
few people are ever satisfied with the answer. And they're dissatisfied
for different reasons, too, according to their particular worldview or
partisan leanings.
But I'll tell you anyhow, so you can be dissatisfied, too.
I've always been
interested in politics and government and the exchange of information.
I wanted to be a lawyer for a long time, and before that, a journalist.
I was a student government kind of girl, and a newspaper editor in high
school and university. I always did the announcements over the PA in
junior high (and got detention for a few choice editorial comments I
made about one of the guys waiting to see the principal -- but he swore at me, so it was justice, in my mind). I even got to
read the Varsity news on the local radio station a couple of times!
I was a nerd.
But I loved all of it.
When I went off to
university, I took a double major in Political Science and English in
order to have a wide array of options, from law school to journalism
school. And I still loved it. Heck, I even considered a career in
'public service', aka politics. Eeeek, I know.
I have always been
humanist/activist kind of girl through and through, so I figured I
could drag that sensibility that into a productive role in the field of
social justice.
Uh huh.
Soon enough
thereafter, with some experience (and two grains of actual sense) under
my belt, I decided my role in the social justice sphere would have to
be less policy-driven, and more practical. I couldn't take the
structure and committee-riddled world of the politico.
So I took on the
role of a nonprofit camp director a few years later. So I volunteered with mentoring
teenage girls. So I did my time with crisis line work. So I broke my
heart in the oncology ward at the Children's Hospital. I figured it was
all hands-on enough to be useful.
Through it all,
however, I would argue politics with anyone who brought it up -- I
loved debate as a sideline, and I was always ready to swing my big
liberal bat at anyone who reared a conservative head. You can imagine
how delightful that tendency was, given that I'm really the only one in
my family -- and one of few among my friends -- who subscribes to my
particular set of ideologies.
My mother and
father impressed upon me (rather gently at times, and rather firmly at
others) during that period that people were not so simple as to be
reducible to the sum of their political views, and though I could
disagree with people on some very fundamental issues, I was still
called to love them -- either that, or my humanism was bullshit.
I realize now that
nothing is so simple as we wish we could make it, because some of the
finest, most loving and giving people I know hold views that are
completely polar to my own in some respects.
I'm not about to
agree with them, but I'm not about to despise them or put them down,
either. I'm completely flummoxed by partisan hatred, because it seems
to cause more harm and distrust and division than understanding.
The only exception
to any of this are those people who practice the politics of hate, and
in that case, I don't even need to blog about them. They're evil.
Everyone with a brain knows it, and if you've found their way to my
blog and read this far, I doubt you are the type to think otherwise.
And if you don't think so, you're probably too ridiculous to be
convinced by this format anyhow. You've probably found me with some
creepy search term, and are looking for the naked pictures (how very
disappointing that must be...).
So that all
tempers my capacity for debate a little. Not that I sell out what I
believe, but just that I desire more and more every year to live out compassion on a macro and micro level. I
want my life -- on-blog and off-blog -- to be lived with integrity of
action, not just speech, and that requires a little more flexibility
and goodness than I used to possess.
Anyhow -- to get
to the point, finally -- I am well-educated and well-read in much of
what gets discussed around me politically. I'm a news and information
junkie, a lover of ideological meandering, and a proponent of
impassioned speechifying. But I won't try for that kind of profundity
on my blog.
Why?
Because I don't know
enough. Because there are too many details and angles that I don't
believe I can do justice to in this format. Because I can't condense
it. Because I see the gray sometimes before I see the black and white
now. Because I don't like how trivial serious things become in this genre at points.
On one hand, I studied it all
so much that I lend it too much gravitas now. On the other hand, I am
old enough to know that peace does not always come from winning debates
-- it comes from people living quiet lives filled with good, determined
deeds.
You can guess which I strive to be. Even if I fail a lot.
So I write about
what I know: what is simple, what is inane at times, and what is
completely transparent and obvious to me -- that being, well, me. And I save my politics for making wise choices in my daily activities and contributions.
Also, I don't
actually know anyone else who never writes about politics on their
blog, and I like the whole idea of being unique.
So that's it,
folks. A rambling mess of an opinion on a rambling mess of a subject.
That's another good reason for me not to write about politics, for
heaven's sakes -- I don't shut up!
You've all got it
covered, and I'll leave it to you to challenge and inspire me and everyone else around you. You do a
beautiful, heart-rending job, you know. You should keep speaking out,
and do it proudly, whether I agree with you or not.
I'll just keep on writing about the only thing I really have any real knowledge of, which is my gong show life.
what else am I thinking about?
Gosh.
Going to bed.
Deadlines at work.
My insecurities,
which are many, and revolve around everything from the way I write, to
the rough patches on my skin from a week of stress, to concern that I
will be never be as good at anything as I dream of being.
My loves, which
are many, from certain people who know who they are, to the moms I just
left behind, to my dear friends that I wish I could do more to support,
to an old man I saw walk by my office today, looking alone, small and
panicked. I loved him on sight -- it was odd. But I guess I just wanted
to.
About whether or not I will ever be married.
About whether or not I will ever write something that can be taken seriously.
About how to get in better, kick-ass shape.
About my mistakes.
About my fears.
About my toes, which are asleep, tucked under my butt as I sit in a weird position in my chair.
About what it means to really
put yourself out, and how you can fake yourself into convincing you've
done all you can, even though you haven't even really started.
About the lame content of every email I wrote today. How I said the wrong thing, or said too much sometimes.
About why I am telling you this at all. Cringe!
You out there -- those of you
who may always have been BlogCabiners, and those of you who just
accidentally found me through a web search -- I've got some advice for
you.
Do four things today, and then
let me know how they go: dance to at least one song, wherever you hear
music; give someone a genuine, heartfelt, thoughtful compliment; write
a list of causes you think you should support, and then research how to
support two of them effectively; and write an email to someone that
leads a life you appreciate, and tell them so, whether you know them
well or not.
And know -- truly know for a
fact -- that I appreciate you all, and feel incredibly honoured you
read my ramblings. Who'd have thought I'd ever have more than two
people who'd care about what I had to say?
11:06:08 PM 
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