I always expected to travel with my time that I have right now (a delightful blend of still-insured and not 100% broke). I imagined taking a giant trip of proportions that make you ache and desperately wish for your bed and home comfort again. I was surprised when I realized that these trips (all independently planned) are all congregating around the same time. Its coming together to a five-week-long crazy adventure:
1. Texas Tour. with my sister Petra, her husband Eric, and our friends Nikki and Eric
2. OshKosh, WI for EAA with Daddy and Uncle Ken and cousin Austin
3. Camping in the North woods Wisconsin with Mama and Dad
4. Puerto Rico with the lovely Amanda
5. Chicago (since the deal for PR, only worked if I came/went from Chicago)
Posting will be even more sporadic or non-existent. Expect some back-dated entries when I come back in mid-August.
It'll be awesome.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
The requiste Michael Jackson post
He died and I wasn't moved. I'm not really a fan. I've never been a fan. I think the clearest memory I have of him is fast forwarding through his music video in the beginning of Free Willy.
I'm not saying I haven't heard his music or danced to ABC or Thriller or that I didn't really dig Alien Ant Farm's cover of Smooth Criminal back in the day (I have memories of driving in either Ajay or Dylan's car with that blaring). But his music never meant much to me. My parents, being older, did not bring share any music from the 80s. We listened to vinyls of The Beatles, Loving Spoonful, Steely Dan and Harry Nilsson, and other 60s and 70s greats. So, Michael Jackson's death, though seen worldwide as tragic, doesn't mean much to me, but it did get me thinking.
Who in the celebrity world* would I become very upset over their death?
As I start writing this, I can't picture one person who I would actively cry over or publicly mourn for. Its not like crying is something that is very difficult or unusual thing for me to do, but I really have to think.
I did tear up when I found out about Pinter dying. It was Christmas. I was in New York. I was sad already. Even though his heyday was years before his death, his Nobel Prize Speech was proof enough he still had much in him. I cried when Ann Richards died. I thought she was perfect. When John Paul II died, I was torn up because he meant more to me then than even I knew. But these people weren't celebrities, or rather, weren't celebrities in the common use of the term.
Much of the pain we feel from losing someone, whether we were close to them or not, comes from the inherent what-if possibilities that sprinkle through life. If I had asked him out on a date when we still lived in the same city. If I were to have called her that afternoon. If we had been friends until we grow old.
With the people directly in your life, you miss there every day presence, the quick phone calls you would make in between errands, the giggles and grins that dot your life, those horrible fights that lead to more honesty, those sturdy bastions of advice. You miss the possibility of the continuing existence of your relationship. But with celebrity, all you have with that person is their body of work. And the beautiful thing about many of the modern celebrities of today, is that there work is ever present.
Two months after Heath Ledger died, my best friend and I sat down and watched 10 Things I Hate About You, an old high school favorite. And guess what? It was just like we remembered it. Death or no death, Heath Ledger gave the same performance and will give the same performance for eternity. Elliot Smith songs sound the same, perhaps more poignant, after his death. I can look at a Degas painting, and though, not as readily accessible, connect with him beyond his earthly tomb. They are already entombed in their pieces before they are dead. Persistently immortalized in their art.
But re-reading the list above of people who I did cry over their deaths implies that it doesn't really mean much if you know someone well or not, they can still impact your life. Those people meant something to me, and that's why I cried.
So if Michael Jackson meant something to you, mourn like mourners do.
And perhaps my lack of woe, and (dare I say) compassion says much more about me than the rest of the world.
*celebrity world vaguely being defined as musicians and actors
I'm not saying I haven't heard his music or danced to ABC or Thriller or that I didn't really dig Alien Ant Farm's cover of Smooth Criminal back in the day (I have memories of driving in either Ajay or Dylan's car with that blaring). But his music never meant much to me. My parents, being older, did not bring share any music from the 80s. We listened to vinyls of The Beatles, Loving Spoonful, Steely Dan and Harry Nilsson, and other 60s and 70s greats. So, Michael Jackson's death, though seen worldwide as tragic, doesn't mean much to me, but it did get me thinking.
Who in the celebrity world* would I become very upset over their death?
As I start writing this, I can't picture one person who I would actively cry over or publicly mourn for. Its not like crying is something that is very difficult or unusual thing for me to do, but I really have to think.
I did tear up when I found out about Pinter dying. It was Christmas. I was in New York. I was sad already. Even though his heyday was years before his death, his Nobel Prize Speech was proof enough he still had much in him. I cried when Ann Richards died. I thought she was perfect. When John Paul II died, I was torn up because he meant more to me then than even I knew. But these people weren't celebrities, or rather, weren't celebrities in the common use of the term.
Much of the pain we feel from losing someone, whether we were close to them or not, comes from the inherent what-if possibilities that sprinkle through life. If I had asked him out on a date when we still lived in the same city. If I were to have called her that afternoon. If we had been friends until we grow old.
With the people directly in your life, you miss there every day presence, the quick phone calls you would make in between errands, the giggles and grins that dot your life, those horrible fights that lead to more honesty, those sturdy bastions of advice. You miss the possibility of the continuing existence of your relationship. But with celebrity, all you have with that person is their body of work. And the beautiful thing about many of the modern celebrities of today, is that there work is ever present.
Two months after Heath Ledger died, my best friend and I sat down and watched 10 Things I Hate About You, an old high school favorite. And guess what? It was just like we remembered it. Death or no death, Heath Ledger gave the same performance and will give the same performance for eternity. Elliot Smith songs sound the same, perhaps more poignant, after his death. I can look at a Degas painting, and though, not as readily accessible, connect with him beyond his earthly tomb. They are already entombed in their pieces before they are dead. Persistently immortalized in their art.
But re-reading the list above of people who I did cry over their deaths implies that it doesn't really mean much if you know someone well or not, they can still impact your life. Those people meant something to me, and that's why I cried.
So if Michael Jackson meant something to you, mourn like mourners do.
And perhaps my lack of woe, and (dare I say) compassion says much more about me than the rest of the world.
*celebrity world vaguely being defined as musicians and actors
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
A Letter
Today, I went to church with my mother. Today I was reminded of one reason why I stopped going.
Dear Pro-Life "Abortion is Mean" T-Shirt wearing girl,
Though I am an advocate for DIY fashion, I have to say the tie-dye T-shirt you choose to wear when bringing the gifts up for communion was not only inappropriate for Mass but also a insult to both sides of the abortion debate.
By demoting abortion to a sentence that is so simplistic that the subject can be replaced with any of the following"spitting," "pinching," "stealing cookies," or "saying bad words," you make abortion into something silly. Like when I would kick my sister in the shin, Mama would always tell me "that's mean," because it was something that was simply mean. Its not something I pondered over. Its not something I seriously regretted. Its not something I even would worry about when a bruise arose on her.
When you dismiss abortion down to just a "mean" act, you dismiss both sides' fervent views on the issue. You deny the inherent hardships in people feel when having abortions in America (in other countries, abortions are viewed in very different ways and perhaps don't carry the same stigma). You insult my position because imply that abortions are performed in the same lackadaisical manner that those actions listed above are performed. You weaken your case because you only insist on the "meanness" to the fetus and and take no consideration for the woman the fetus is attached to. Though this is a routine flaw in your logic, and you are apt to compare pregnant women to breadboxes or temporary homes, regardless of her emotional, physical, financial status.
But regardless, I sure you don't want this Issue (with a capital I) to be degraded down to something as menial as slaps and pinches. So in future, if you feel that you must extol your beliefs on everyone around you using fuzzy glue-on lettering I, a vivid Pro-Choicer, would suggest perhaps "abortion is wrong" or "not good" or even (if you are feeling ballsy) "murder."
So dear girl, I would have to ask that in the future you don't wear a shirt that belittles such a wide concept. Speak your mind if you are going to speak it! And please remember fondly this time, these halcyon days, before you seriously have to consider what to do when two little lines appear on a stick you just peed on.
Love,
Ade
Dear Pro-Life "Abortion is Mean" T-Shirt wearing girl,
Though I am an advocate for DIY fashion, I have to say the tie-dye T-shirt you choose to wear when bringing the gifts up for communion was not only inappropriate for Mass but also a insult to both sides of the abortion debate.
By demoting abortion to a sentence that is so simplistic that the subject can be replaced with any of the following"spitting," "pinching," "stealing cookies," or "saying bad words," you make abortion into something silly. Like when I would kick my sister in the shin, Mama would always tell me "that's mean," because it was something that was simply mean. Its not something I pondered over. Its not something I seriously regretted. Its not something I even would worry about when a bruise arose on her.
When you dismiss abortion down to just a "mean" act, you dismiss both sides' fervent views on the issue. You deny the inherent hardships in people feel when having abortions in America (in other countries, abortions are viewed in very different ways and perhaps don't carry the same stigma). You insult my position because imply that abortions are performed in the same lackadaisical manner that those actions listed above are performed. You weaken your case because you only insist on the "meanness" to the fetus and and take no consideration for the woman the fetus is attached to. Though this is a routine flaw in your logic, and you are apt to compare pregnant women to breadboxes or temporary homes, regardless of her emotional, physical, financial status.
But regardless, I sure you don't want this Issue (with a capital I) to be degraded down to something as menial as slaps and pinches. So in future, if you feel that you must extol your beliefs on everyone around you using fuzzy glue-on lettering I, a vivid Pro-Choicer, would suggest perhaps "abortion is wrong" or "not good" or even (if you are feeling ballsy) "murder."
So dear girl, I would have to ask that in the future you don't wear a shirt that belittles such a wide concept. Speak your mind if you are going to speak it! And please remember fondly this time, these halcyon days, before you seriously have to consider what to do when two little lines appear on a stick you just peed on.
Love,
Ade
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