Although he may be labeled as out-of-touch in other areas, John McCain was no fool when he picked Sarah Palin as his VP. McCain's campaign was in some serious need of energy when compared with Obama's just prior to the Democratic and Republican conventions, and the selection of Palin was a total boon for the GOP. I think almost everyone can agree with that statement, whether you're now buying Palin glasses or sporting a "Women for Obama" sticker on the back of your gas-efficient Prius. Palin energized McCain's conservative base, generated headlines, further substantiated McCain's reputation as an unpredictable maverick, and made the Republican party look progressive. Those are pretty significant accomplishments that have to do with more things than her gender. Not just any Republican female politician could have been Palin to McCain, if that makes sense.
As with most other things in politics, opinions about Palin are extremely polarized. To many Democrats, Palin's appointment as VP candidate was almost laughable--McCain was essentially pulling a publicity stunt by selecting an attractive, articulate, but inexperienced female to manipulate vulnerable and disgruntled Hillary voters. To many Republicans, putting Palin on the ticket was invigorating proof that McCain is sufficiently conservative and innovative enough to lead and reform the many woes of the 30% approval George Bush party--in other words, they could not be more thrilled.
But, in accordance with my usual manner of thinking, I don't really agree with either side wholeheartedly. I don't dislike Sarah Palin. Categorizing her as nothing but a down-home mother of five who got lucky politically in Alaska is to deny her the attribution of intelligence, raw talent, and political skill that she deserves. However, I think McCain selected her because she had the potential to be a campaign and public relations gold mine--not because she was the best candidate for the position. She gave McCain the bump in the polls he needed; deal with the practical ramifications later.
Disregarding her experience, Palin is, to me, the perfect female politician. She's tough, smart, and confident, all the while maintaining valuable female characteristics. In other words, unlike Hillary Clinton, she is not a "bone shrinker." Somehow, she's managed to acquire the male qualities necessary to succeed in the political world without compromising her femininity. She is the sought-after supermom--cradling her children one moment and leading the office (or state or nation) the next. The pitbull-with-lipstick joke may have been more apt than she realized.
Yet her experience is the sticking point. Being a mayor and governor in Alaska provides limited experience, even when compared with governors of other states with larger budgets, larger and more diverse populations, and with the complex concerns associated with the continental United States. There are some crucial issues upon which Sarah Palin hasn't even a sliver of knowledge. That isn't meant to be an attack on her person; it's simply the truth about what she knows and what she has done. She doesn't know the Bush doctrine, yet emphatically delivers heavily scripted words about Iran's nuclear program? That is problematic. If McCain was interested in gaining a political edge that would be beneficial to him before and after the campaign, should he be elected, he should have selected another female Republican, one with more broad and lengthy political experience. Considering the overwhelming number of problems the next president will inherent from George W., I simply wouldn't feel comfortable with potential that Palin could take the helm.
And honestly, as a woman, her selection feels like an attempt at manipulation of the "weak" female mind (Hillary supporters were not just hungry for a female president) and affirmative action. It would be one thing if Palin hoofed it on her own. Her riding into the White House on 72 year old McCain's coat tails doesn't really look like the glass ceiling shattering to me.
The question is, I suppose, if McCain felt it was politically gainful to select a female VP, why Sarah Palin above other, more experienced female politicians? I said at the beginning of the post that not just any female Republican could have been Palin to McCain. That statement makes complete sense to me on an intuitive level, but it seems to be difficult to substantiate. McCain met her once prior to vetting. Alaska is not exactly a place many of us think about or hear of often. A pro-life woman with a large family and lifetime NRA membership from a rural, backwater town sounds more disaster on a Dan Quayle scale than diamond in the rough. Still, whether or not you like her or think she's truly capable, most everyone admits they underestimated her.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
part 2
As promised, I'm providing small reviews of five more books that you may enjoy. However, despite my lengthy justification for it, I'm scrapping my efforts to describe the mood or style of each book after giving the genre. The descriptions weren't really all that useful, now that I look back on them.
6. The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman (Current events, Globalization): There are an awful lot of uninformed generalizations readily proferred in many lay discussions about globalization, outsourcing, computers, and the internet in relation to the economy. Friedman's voluminous work provides a comprehensive, but accessible, explanation of the development and operation of the leveled playing field of 21st century business. Although Friedman's commentary on the current and future merits of this hyper-connected world may not be unassailable, he certainly gives structure to all of the disconnected talk about closing American factories, Indian Dell Help-Line Operators, and the powers of workflow software. Case studies are the main way Friedman presents sometimes complex, abstract concepts of business; some of my favorites were: the development of Apache open-source software, Indian telemarketers, and a start-up data entry business in Cambodia. According to an MBA friend of mine, Friedman's work is required reading for most upper-level business classes. So if nothing else, you'll feel kinda sorta smart reading it.
7. Shake Hands with the Devil by General Romeo Dallaire (Non-fiction): I decided to pick up this book after watching a film by the same name which followed General Dallaire on his return to Rwanda, 10 years after the genocide. While the film is primarily an examination of Dallaire and Rwanda after the genocide, the book is a detailed, day-by-day account of the operations of the U.N. prior to and throughout the genocide. A Canadian commander, Dallaire was in charge of the UNAMIR peacekeeping force, which, unfortunately, failed in its mission due to the inefficiency of the U.N. and apathy of the international community. The book is difficult to read, not because of graphic accounts of genocide--Dallaire mercifully spares us from numerous descriptions of atrocities--but because of the infuriating truth that the mass slaughter could have been prevented. The complacency, and even complicity, of Western nations was criminal.
8. Blink by Malcolm Gladwell (Social Science): By systematically studying intuition, Gladwell manages to incorporate modern and postmodern ideals into his examination of the human ability to know certain things quite confidently with very little information. In some situations, Gladwell proposes, more and more information only confuses the initial and correct suggestion of our instinct. Intuition enables us to make necessarily rapid decisions in everything from war to marriage to art--a few arenas in which he finds case studies. But in other situations, subconscious bias influences intuition in a manner that is destructive and even dangerous. Through understanding the dynamics of our instinct, Gladwell believes that societies and individuals can appropriately impede or release the power of intuition for personal and social betterment.
9. Piece of Cake by Cupcake Brown (Autobiography): There are plenty of autobiographies out there whose authors experienced pasts filled with dysfunction, addiction, and crime. I'm not sure that Cupcake Brown has produced the best of the bunch, but her story is surely one of the most dramatic and fascinating to read. (And, as far as I know, Oprah hasn't called her onto the carpet for any false details either.) Severely abused as a child in a foster care home and on the streets, Cupcake began drinking, using drugs, and prostituting herself before her
12th birthday. Of course, it only got worse from there. Her intelligence and tenacity eventually enabled her to become sober and successful, but most true stories about people with backgrounds like hers--I wish there were no such thing as a background like hers--don't have such pleasant endings.
10. Gang Leader for a Day by Sudhir Venkatesh (Sociology, Social Science): The only reason I decided to pick up a book with such a sensational title was because, well, Stephen Levitt mentioned Venkatesh in his excellent book, Freakonomics (also something you should consider picking up). As a graduate student of sociology at University of Chicago, Venkatesh naively wandered into a dangerous housing project on the South side to survey poor young black men. He had an extended run-in with gang members upon his arrival, but he repeatedly returned to the community and ended up befriending one of the gang's leaders. I found that the most interesting story in the book was not the naive grad. student in the ghetto, but rather the organizational structure of the gang and of life in the Robert Taylor community. Though certainly unpredictable, Venkatesh reveals that survival in the projects is not random, but determined by an alternative infrastructure and code of behavior, rather than the normative systems of mainstream culture.
6. The World is Flat by Thomas Friedman (Current events, Globalization): There are an awful lot of uninformed generalizations readily proferred in many lay discussions about globalization, outsourcing, computers, and the internet in relation to the economy. Friedman's voluminous work provides a comprehensive, but accessible, explanation of the development and operation of the leveled playing field of 21st century business. Although Friedman's commentary on the current and future merits of this hyper-connected world may not be unassailable, he certainly gives structure to all of the disconnected talk about closing American factories, Indian Dell Help-Line Operators, and the powers of workflow software. Case studies are the main way Friedman presents sometimes complex, abstract concepts of business; some of my favorites were: the development of Apache open-source software, Indian telemarketers, and a start-up data entry business in Cambodia. According to an MBA friend of mine, Friedman's work is required reading for most upper-level business classes. So if nothing else, you'll feel kinda sorta smart reading it.
7. Shake Hands with the Devil by General Romeo Dallaire (Non-fiction): I decided to pick up this book after watching a film by the same name which followed General Dallaire on his return to Rwanda, 10 years after the genocide. While the film is primarily an examination of Dallaire and Rwanda after the genocide, the book is a detailed, day-by-day account of the operations of the U.N. prior to and throughout the genocide. A Canadian commander, Dallaire was in charge of the UNAMIR peacekeeping force, which, unfortunately, failed in its mission due to the inefficiency of the U.N. and apathy of the international community. The book is difficult to read, not because of graphic accounts of genocide--Dallaire mercifully spares us from numerous descriptions of atrocities--but because of the infuriating truth that the mass slaughter could have been prevented. The complacency, and even complicity, of Western nations was criminal.
8. Blink by Malcolm Gladwell (Social Science): By systematically studying intuition, Gladwell manages to incorporate modern and postmodern ideals into his examination of the human ability to know certain things quite confidently with very little information. In some situations, Gladwell proposes, more and more information only confuses the initial and correct suggestion of our instinct. Intuition enables us to make necessarily rapid decisions in everything from war to marriage to art--a few arenas in which he finds case studies. But in other situations, subconscious bias influences intuition in a manner that is destructive and even dangerous. Through understanding the dynamics of our instinct, Gladwell believes that societies and individuals can appropriately impede or release the power of intuition for personal and social betterment.
9. Piece of Cake by Cupcake Brown (Autobiography): There are plenty of autobiographies out there whose authors experienced pasts filled with dysfunction, addiction, and crime. I'm not sure that Cupcake Brown has produced the best of the bunch, but her story is surely one of the most dramatic and fascinating to read. (And, as far as I know, Oprah hasn't called her onto the carpet for any false details either.) Severely abused as a child in a foster care home and on the streets, Cupcake began drinking, using drugs, and prostituting herself before her
12th birthday. Of course, it only got worse from there. Her intelligence and tenacity eventually enabled her to become sober and successful, but most true stories about people with backgrounds like hers--I wish there were no such thing as a background like hers--don't have such pleasant endings.
10. Gang Leader for a Day by Sudhir Venkatesh (Sociology, Social Science): The only reason I decided to pick up a book with such a sensational title was because, well, Stephen Levitt mentioned Venkatesh in his excellent book, Freakonomics (also something you should consider picking up). As a graduate student of sociology at University of Chicago, Venkatesh naively wandered into a dangerous housing project on the South side to survey poor young black men. He had an extended run-in with gang members upon his arrival, but he repeatedly returned to the community and ended up befriending one of the gang's leaders. I found that the most interesting story in the book was not the naive grad. student in the ghetto, but rather the organizational structure of the gang and of life in the Robert Taylor community. Though certainly unpredictable, Venkatesh reveals that survival in the projects is not random, but determined by an alternative infrastructure and code of behavior, rather than the normative systems of mainstream culture.
bookies anonymous
There are two factors that have influenced the number of books that I have read over the last six months. First of all, while I've always enjoyed reading, college didn't really leave me much time to pick up books of my choosing. Even on the rare week that it did, I was tired of reading for class and going back to the library, just for fun, wasn't all that appealing to me. But I slowly accumulated lists of books that I wanted to read once I had the time and the space in my head. Along comes graduation, and I find not only hours here and there to read, but also an intense desire to continue improving my lil' ol' brain.
Secondly, the novelty of my commute on the CTA has worn off. For the first few months, I never brought books with me. I was happy listening to my iPod, looking out the window, watching people, and thinking about life in the abstract. During this period of time, I felt that using public transportation provides enormous potential for fulfilling reflection and even solitude. Even though I still feel this is true, I find I don't have a need for 2 1/2 hours of reflection and solitude every day (the total time I spend in my round-trip commute). Really. I don't. When I started to get bored with my iPod and people watching, I brought along books. Suddenly, I have a 2 1/2 hour block of time that I can use to read. This is a beautiful thing.
So, because of my post-college motivation and the time afforded by my commuting hours, I've gotten to read some great books. If you're looking for a good read, consider one of my ten suggested books that I've read since moving to Chicago. I'm including the first five in this post, the final five in the next. They're in no particular order; don't assume any hierarchy in their placement on the list. After the title, I include both the book's genre and its mood--or, the ideal attitude and desires of the reader as he or she completes the book. Optimistic readers looking for light, humorous fare shouldn't select The Lovely Bones, for example. Incongruities between the book's purposes and style and the reader's mood at the particular time can translate into dissatisfaction of the latter with the former for no other reason than timing. I would hate for anyone to put down a great book and never pick it up again because it didn't compliment the individual's particular reading needs at the time.
1. Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? by Beverly Tatum (Social Science; Detailed, intensive, thought-provoking--not a book that may be consumed quickly): If you're interested in the formation of racial identity, racial tensions, and the complexity of personal and institutional relationships between blacks and whites in post-civil rights movement America, Dr. Tatum's book is an essential and foundational read. She combines her scientific knowledge as a psychologist with her experiences leading racial identity and reconciliation classes; the narratives of some of her students are compelling and the best illustration of the information she presents theoretically.
2. Dubliners by James Joyce (Short Story fiction; brief, unresolved, modern, dramatic, relational, romantic, and literary goodness): The presiding theme of this collection is paralysis, and while Joyce certainly pulls you into the psychological states of these impotent characters, the beauty of the language and the characters' bittersweet reckoning with what is and what could have been won't leave you depressed. His final story, "The Dead," is absolutely magnificent.
3. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold (Fiction; tragic, suspenseful, intense, and all-absorbing read): Although this novel may certainly be a fast read--I completed it in a day--it's not a light one. Sebold vividly describes the rape and murder of a young girl, the grieving processes of her family members as they attempt to reorder their lives after her death, and the girl's own thoughts as she watches from heaven while her family struggles. A rape victim herself, Sebold is brutally realistic about the possibility of achieving justice or normalcy after such a senseless act.
4. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson (Non-fiction; mysterious, historical, easy reading with its journalistic prose): Between its details on the 1894 Chicago World's Fair and the horrific psychopath that haunted it, Larson's book is a 20/20 murder special and History Channel documentary combined. What Daniel Burnham and the city of Chicago achieved at the turn of the century with their creation of the White City is fascinating enough; the Devil lurking in his hotel nearby their triumph makes the book difficult to put down. Dr. H.H. Holmes, the unremorseful serial killer and con artist, was little known prior to the publication of this book, but his perversion easily matches that of any modern murderers. It is a necessary read for Chicagoans and any who appreciate accounts of good ol' American innovation, determination, and calculated homicide.
5. God's Politics by Jim Wallis (Current issues and Religion; intense political and religious fare in straightforward language): As I mentioned previously, Wallis' book doesn't entirely fulfill the bipartisan promises on its cover. Wallis does a better job of articulating the perspectives and priorities of Christian progressives than he does question the Democratic party that he is so obviously a part of. However, if you're a dissatisfied conservative, or a member of the Religious Right who would like to understand the Religious Left, I would highly recommend this book. Afraid of adopting any liberal ideologies? Mix with equal parts of Rush Limbaugh.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
why so partisan?
On my facebook account, I'm listed as a moderate, and appropriately so. Well, actually no. Perhaps a moderator might be a more apt term to describe the way in which I interact with politics. Though my opinions are not nearly so shifty and poll-dependent as many of our political leaders, I often find that I emphasize conservative issues and counterpoints while with Democrats, and liberal viewpoints while with Republicans. Each group, in its sincerest and most admirable form, should be represented fairly to "the other side." It would be nice to have "the other sides"; here's to wishful thinking. I placate my liberal friends by saying that many Republicans recognize and care about the same problems that they do--conservatives just believe in different solutions. To my conservative family and friends, I expose the policies of death and destruction that our "pro-life" President has so readily implemented during his term--Iraq and torture, for example. Almost everyone I talk to about these kinds of things, by the way, is a person of faith. All sincerely claim to allow their faith to influence their politics, as it should; of course, all are partisan, if not rabidly so.
Because this is a source of frustration to me, I eagerly purchased and devoured (no, not literally, you fool!) Jim Wallis' book God's Politics whose premise has become widely known through the '04 newspaper ads that boldly proclaimed: "God is not a Republican...or a Democrat." It turns out that its premise should have been, at least in my estimation, something like: "Christians can be Democrats too." Wallis slaughters the policies of the Right without mercy, and I found myself agreeing with him a majority of the time. And like any naive believer-of-book-premises, I sat waiting, confidently at first, for him to fulfill the promises of the cover and mercilessly shred the policies of the Left. This time never came. His criticisms of the Democratic party were not really policy related. Apparently the only thing they need to do is juice up their speeches with a little Jesus. If Democrats would only recognize the place of faith within the public arena, within social movements, then, yeah, sure, God would be a Democrat.
I closed Wallis' book a little more liberal and a lot more disillusioned with Christians and politics. Just when I thought I had discovered someone, a movement even, of Christians who weren't interested in partisanship, I just found a minority group who flies under the blue flag.
Now, I understand that when it comes right down to it, we must all choose "a side." When I cast my vote in November, I cannot vote for "neither." And I cannot custom-design a candidate. In the end, we all have to make a definitive, and yes, partisan, decision, based upon which candidate most completely meets our standards in regard to policy, experience, and character.
It is not this that I find most problematic; I'm a realist and try to be pragmatic. Some Christians will vote as Democrats, some as Republicans, unless we get a sweet new viable third party (unlikely)--this is the reality of the world we live in. But I wish that our discussions about politics were markedly non-partisan. There are things that Christians should care about that Democrats don't, and things that Christians should care about that Republicans don't. These issues go beyond merely peppering your policy speeches with religious language. It seems that once good, church-going folk select their party line, they focus on the issues that their party gets right in relation to traditional interpretations of Scripture, and are mostly indifferent to the ones that their party has royally messed up over the years. Why can't Christian Republicans admit the incongruence between the war in Iraq and biblical teaching on war and violence? Why are some so zealous to endorse what we have done there? Why are Christian Republicans uncomfortable about addressing poverty within a political context? Why are Christian Democrats closed to the possibility that a large, socialist government is unsafe and ineffective? That the welfare system may not equal "taking care of the poor"? Why don't any Christians at my liberal church recognize abortion as a significant social, if not political, issue? If our core committment is to the teachings of Christ, Christians should be prepared to discuss and address issues as Jesus people first, Republicans or Democrats second.
Healthier, more honest exchanges about political issues among Christians could result not in landslide victories for one party or another, but actual change in the priorities and policies of our politicians. If Red Christians retreat to one corner clutching their two issues, yelling, "These are the most important!" and Blue Christians go to the other with their two issues shouting the same, we'll get to...well, pretty much where we are right now. Jesus really isn't a Republican or a Democrat, and if we can get past some of the partisanshit, er, you know, and dialogue about all of the issues, regardless of the party line, we might start reaching real solutions.
Because this is a source of frustration to me, I eagerly purchased and devoured (no, not literally, you fool!) Jim Wallis' book God's Politics whose premise has become widely known through the '04 newspaper ads that boldly proclaimed: "God is not a Republican...or a Democrat." It turns out that its premise should have been, at least in my estimation, something like: "Christians can be Democrats too." Wallis slaughters the policies of the Right without mercy, and I found myself agreeing with him a majority of the time. And like any naive believer-of-book-premises, I sat waiting, confidently at first, for him to fulfill the promises of the cover and mercilessly shred the policies of the Left. This time never came. His criticisms of the Democratic party were not really policy related. Apparently the only thing they need to do is juice up their speeches with a little Jesus. If Democrats would only recognize the place of faith within the public arena, within social movements, then, yeah, sure, God would be a Democrat.
I closed Wallis' book a little more liberal and a lot more disillusioned with Christians and politics. Just when I thought I had discovered someone, a movement even, of Christians who weren't interested in partisanship, I just found a minority group who flies under the blue flag.
Now, I understand that when it comes right down to it, we must all choose "a side." When I cast my vote in November, I cannot vote for "neither." And I cannot custom-design a candidate. In the end, we all have to make a definitive, and yes, partisan, decision, based upon which candidate most completely meets our standards in regard to policy, experience, and character.
It is not this that I find most problematic; I'm a realist and try to be pragmatic. Some Christians will vote as Democrats, some as Republicans, unless we get a sweet new viable third party (unlikely)--this is the reality of the world we live in. But I wish that our discussions about politics were markedly non-partisan. There are things that Christians should care about that Democrats don't, and things that Christians should care about that Republicans don't. These issues go beyond merely peppering your policy speeches with religious language. It seems that once good, church-going folk select their party line, they focus on the issues that their party gets right in relation to traditional interpretations of Scripture, and are mostly indifferent to the ones that their party has royally messed up over the years. Why can't Christian Republicans admit the incongruence between the war in Iraq and biblical teaching on war and violence? Why are some so zealous to endorse what we have done there? Why are Christian Republicans uncomfortable about addressing poverty within a political context? Why are Christian Democrats closed to the possibility that a large, socialist government is unsafe and ineffective? That the welfare system may not equal "taking care of the poor"? Why don't any Christians at my liberal church recognize abortion as a significant social, if not political, issue? If our core committment is to the teachings of Christ, Christians should be prepared to discuss and address issues as Jesus people first, Republicans or Democrats second.
Healthier, more honest exchanges about political issues among Christians could result not in landslide victories for one party or another, but actual change in the priorities and policies of our politicians. If Red Christians retreat to one corner clutching their two issues, yelling, "These are the most important!" and Blue Christians go to the other with their two issues shouting the same, we'll get to...well, pretty much where we are right now. Jesus really isn't a Republican or a Democrat, and if we can get past some of the partisanshit, er, you know, and dialogue about all of the issues, regardless of the party line, we might start reaching real solutions.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
nothing of note
The past few days I've gotten onto my blog determined to post something new, only to realize that I have nothing in particular to talk about, other than the fact that my Mom and older sister read my blog now. This is a good thing because they are providing me with stable, loyal readership. But this is also potentially a sensitive thing because I would rather not admit all of my imperfections or describe any offensive behavior in writing for them to produce later to my own detriment. Who knows. (And, I'm sure, you don't care.)
Although I'm tired and don't have any new material, I might as well generate another fascinating list for you all to consume. With my rather indolent addiction to composing lists instead of essays, I should probably rename my blog or at least feature a sub-title that pays homage to these ridiculous collections of random fact.
7 quirkiest happenings of late
1. While at the DMV, my application for an IL driver's license was marked with an astigmatism restriction and a desire to be an organ donor, both of which I do not possess. I was fortunate enough to correct the vision mistake, but not the one regarding the use of my organs. After 1 1/2 hours of standing in DMV lines, I decided not to get back in line and to let the chips fall where they may in regard to my organs. Shoot.
2. While in a predominantly African-American neighborhood just West of Wicker Park, a young man threw a piece of fruit at my car as I made a left-hand turn. He was successful in his endeavor to hit it.
3. I am reconsidering my political affiliations.
4. Today, after a snack of toast at the family home of the children whom I babysit, I left nearly half a loaf of Wonderbread on the counter. While I was out of the house, the family dog obtained the bread, shredded the bag, and consumed its contents. I later learned that this was the second loaf of bread he had stolen in that week alone. May the god of dogs have mercy upon his digestive tract.
5. I drank a beer with my grandparents. That's right. My grandparents.
6. Due to the entertainment needs of Bryce and Angelica, I have now adopted a new persona/identity that is known to them as "monkeyman." The monkeyman has yet to be seen by anyone older than 8.
7. I am developing a killer impression of Daniel Plainview in the final scene of There Will Be Blood, sans drool and vodka. "I drink your milkshake...I drink it up!" It is probably the only attention-getting thing I know to do at social gatherings. I need to foster a greater sense of inhibition and dignity.
Although I'm tired and don't have any new material, I might as well generate another fascinating list for you all to consume. With my rather indolent addiction to composing lists instead of essays, I should probably rename my blog or at least feature a sub-title that pays homage to these ridiculous collections of random fact.
7 quirkiest happenings of late
1. While at the DMV, my application for an IL driver's license was marked with an astigmatism restriction and a desire to be an organ donor, both of which I do not possess. I was fortunate enough to correct the vision mistake, but not the one regarding the use of my organs. After 1 1/2 hours of standing in DMV lines, I decided not to get back in line and to let the chips fall where they may in regard to my organs. Shoot.
2. While in a predominantly African-American neighborhood just West of Wicker Park, a young man threw a piece of fruit at my car as I made a left-hand turn. He was successful in his endeavor to hit it.
3. I am reconsidering my political affiliations.
4. Today, after a snack of toast at the family home of the children whom I babysit, I left nearly half a loaf of Wonderbread on the counter. While I was out of the house, the family dog obtained the bread, shredded the bag, and consumed its contents. I later learned that this was the second loaf of bread he had stolen in that week alone. May the god of dogs have mercy upon his digestive tract.
5. I drank a beer with my grandparents. That's right. My grandparents.
6. Due to the entertainment needs of Bryce and Angelica, I have now adopted a new persona/identity that is known to them as "monkeyman." The monkeyman has yet to be seen by anyone older than 8.
7. I am developing a killer impression of Daniel Plainview in the final scene of There Will Be Blood, sans drool and vodka. "I drink your milkshake...I drink it up!" It is probably the only attention-getting thing I know to do at social gatherings. I need to foster a greater sense of inhibition and dignity.
Monday, July 21, 2008
surreal night life
Especially since leaving a conservative Christian university and entering what some term to be the real world, I have covertly, sometimes unconsciously, fostered a sense of pride regarding irresponsible behaviors that I did not engage in during college. To name them here would not only be futile and tedious, it would probably only perpetuate any such arrogant sentiments. Whatever. There are lots of people who didn't participate in such things and there is no reason for them, or me, to run around telling tales of self-discipline and restraint.
The reality is, however, that I live in a city, I'm young, and I no longer exist inside the strict, but necessary, constructs of a Christian university. And I guess I'm somewhat curious. I'm wise enough, and self-aware enough not to "go crazy," as so many of my high school friends predicted that I would when I went off to college. Some people really believe that motivated women who style their hair conservatively have a secret desire to toss away reason with reckless abandon when offered the right opportunity. No, up to this date, I have not loosed my hair and started acting like a freshman sorority girl because some enlightened male gave me cause. For me, exercising new-found freedom consists of no longer apologizing for an occasional penchant for top 40 commercialized rap and drinking a pint of beer at a low-lit bar once a week. But over the past few months, I have managed to make my way into two environments that pushed the bounds of my newly expanded standards of decorum and sophistication.
The first took place about a month ago. Soon afterwards, I wanted to chronicle it on this blog, but never got around to it. Just as well, I guess. Here's the deal: through a former connection at work, I managed to get a large group of friends on the guest list at Soundbar, one of the pretentiously sleek clubs in downtown Chicago. The night was in celebration of a good friend's 21st birthday; apparently she wanted it to be done right. Some of friends decided to plan an evening that was neither a sleazy, down-21-shots-of-vomitous-alcohol evening at somebody's house, nor a staid exchange of gifts and polite blowing-out-of-candles occasion. Primarily, I felt ambivalent about going out to a club, although I guess I was a bit nervous about what to expect.
After dinner all 20 of us walked over to the club to show our IDs and get started. I explored the two floors of the club and laid down $10 for an apple martini. Within 20 minutes I felt like a cliche. I had a black evening dress on, and I was dancing with a drink in my hand, most of it drizzling down my arm. What else does one do in such an establishment? One man had the courtesy to ask me to dance (I politely declined), while others simply felt entitled to come up behind me, or make a grab at my waist. I wondered if women tolerated this kind of thing regularly, or why men felt that because a woman entered a club she was interested in being grabbed by a stranger without permission. Are there different rules? I was grateful for the guys in our group, who managed to discreetly maneuver most such men away. Although I was somewhat put out by this behavior, I was even less prepared for what I saw at the lounge next door.
Around 1 a.m., we left Soundbar and went to the lounge next door. We had VIP access to a partially concealed lounge, which turned out to be convenient as most of our group was shielded from the two provocative dancers, who, among other things, wore large feather boots. While I was beginning to feel like I was having a bizarre out-of-body experience, most other patrons, outside of my group, looked pleased with themselves, slovenly kissing whomever they happened to be with and preening themselves in between dancing. One woman in particular was almost impossible to ignore in the melee of buzzed 20 and 30 somethings. She wore spike heels, an expensive scrap of a dress, and was, in a most focused manner, kissing some dark-skinned handsome man at the bar. This was not terribly surprising--I've seen worse on the train--but I could scarcely conceal astonishment when she turned around and began doing the same with a white-haired 60-something man to her left. Her drunkenness was apparent, but her soul was sober enough to allow her to slump over the martini glass at the bar and sob. Once this spectacle began, the Spanish-looking man walked away, but the older man began patting her shoulder in a way I can only describe as fatherly. He was probably married, his wife at home knowing the truth.
As I watched, the whole scene seemed almost staged--a few minutes from Sex and the City, or some other banal TV program. I felt like I shouldn't be watching, yet I could hardly help it. Do people really live this way? Spend their weekends this way? We left that club soon afterwards; there was talking of going somewhere else, but I think we had all seen enough. By 1 or 2 a.m., things really begin deteriorating at clubs, and at some bars. If you're not drunk, or not hooking up, you wonder why you're there, and begin to feel guilty about witnessing and judging behavior that is drenched in alcohol.
Fortunately, the second time I went out dancing was not nearly so traumatic. I went out to a neighborhood tavern in Wicker Park that features an evening that they title Sheer Magic. Within its dimly lit and limited space, a couple of DJs spin soul/funk music from the sixties and seventies for the fifty people that have somehow packed themselves onto a tiny dance floor. It's way fun, although sometimes I felt strange dancing to the same music that my mom probably did when she was 16. Oh well. My children will probably dance to Justin Timberlake remixes someday and I won't have anything to say about it. Anyway, all of the dancing, and the people, and the fans turned on full blast, and the one beer that I had finished two hours prior left me feeling a bit disoriented and dreamy (that feeling you have after a long afternoon nap) as I drove home around 1 a.m. It was raining on the empty streets, and I was listening to something chill--we'll say something equivalent to Snow Patrol. And at a stop light, some little cross-eyed boy, no more than 14 or 15, appeared next to my car (if you have ever been on Western Avenue at 1 o'clock in the morning in that neighborhood perhaps you have seen him too). He came within 6 inches of my window, looked at my face, and began to shake his cup for change. Usually I turn away, but I couldn't help but stare. The weirdness of it all near paralyzed me; I knew that I was being rude. When I didn't roll down my window to give him money, he extended open palms to the side of his body and began to thrust them up and down aggressively--"Come on, come on"--as if I owed him money. I did nothing but stare at him until the light changed. There was nothing normal or familiar about that night or driving at that hour, alone; as I continued to drive I struggled to integrate myself--little white, type-A, female, conservative, inexperienced me--with such new and odd experiences. Until six months ago I knew nothing, experientially, of the city, night life, the normative practices of other twenty-somethings, sometimes thirty-somethings, or of little boys begging for money at all hours. And though I enjoy the freedom outside of the constraints of my prior environment, I find that I have no desire to partake of normative, twenty-something night life practices. Since most of them seem like they have been getting drunk and getting cozy with strangers for a decent amount of time, I feel like an outsider, and strange for going out only to dance. All of the evils associated with clubs and bars that I was warned repeatedly about in high school youth group--the deadly slippery slope--turn out to be less seductive in nature, and more pitifully boring than generally marketed.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
ungracious and off
I'm not always as charitable as I would like to be. In high school I remember other kids in youth group who thrived off of helping or befriending people who could only take, and never give. Although I was part of a leadership group at a local camp, I never volunteered to help with the week designated for disabled students. I just felt I wasn't holy, wasn't patient enough. Of course I never articulated this; I assumed others innately sensed my inferiority in working with these particular students and therefore never tried to enlist me. I know it's what Jesus would do...give and give to people that cannot repay you, just seem to take and take. If some of my high school friends didn't actually possess the genuine, humble servanthood of Christ, they at least faked it pretty well, something I didn't feel I could do. Fortunately, I've grown up a bit since then; I'm not as frightened, or preoccupied, by the possibility of failing at ideal Christ-like servanthood. I'm just one broken person serving another. And yet, I still find myself surprised and, simultaneously, ashamed at my occasional impatience, my lack of compassion with those whom I serve.
There's a woman at my church who has been needing help with her apartment. It's terribly disorganized and she will be moving soon. I went over to her apartment to help, and within a half an hour, I found myself consumed by the task in front of me and, internally, spiritually, pushing her away. I was frustrated by how slowly everything was going--how she had to look over each bill before throwing it away, how every object was the opportunity for a meandering detailed story, how every photo a lengthy explanation. I was frustrated by the pencil shavings and paper scraps spilled on the floor after I painstakingly swept it with a five dollar broom. Besides the fact that it was late, I was ready to leave. She wasn't aware that anything was wrong, but I was. I was mad at how the evening went, mad at myself for being mad at her. Sorry Christian that I am, I didn't go home, repent, and promise never to feel this way again. I felt justified in my attitude, and, to tell the truth, it was quite easy to slip into the next time I interacted with her, this time in my own home. Why did she ask for more, and more? Why the presumption that I would help? Why the demand for making a list for her when I wanted to enjoy Sunday lunch? This is all terrible, no? She's not a self-sufficient, stable person--you are, Elizabeth...so why the filthy attitude?
I realize that engaging in another person's life is often a messy process; it may be punctuated by moments of frustration or anger. I'm not the sweet blonde girl who talks to homeless women on lunch break...this is to my shame, but, it's the truth, nonetheless. Still, I think I'm realizing just how selfish I can be, even in situations in which I am to be giving. I want to feel a sense of accomplishment, that I have helped, that I am appreciated, that I am not being taken advantage of. I hate feeling used, and pointless, and drained. What I do and do not want to feel when ministering to another person is irrelevant, at least according to Christ's teachings. If I am to give a man a shirt, why not my cloak as well? And if he strikes me on the cheek, am I not to turn the other? The way of Christ is a surrender of self, not a particularly humanitarian fulfillment of it. Christ emptied himself; the least I can do is damn my petty goals and expectations and desire for good feelings when I help someone to clean up their apartment.
There's a woman at my church who has been needing help with her apartment. It's terribly disorganized and she will be moving soon. I went over to her apartment to help, and within a half an hour, I found myself consumed by the task in front of me and, internally, spiritually, pushing her away. I was frustrated by how slowly everything was going--how she had to look over each bill before throwing it away, how every object was the opportunity for a meandering detailed story, how every photo a lengthy explanation. I was frustrated by the pencil shavings and paper scraps spilled on the floor after I painstakingly swept it with a five dollar broom. Besides the fact that it was late, I was ready to leave. She wasn't aware that anything was wrong, but I was. I was mad at how the evening went, mad at myself for being mad at her. Sorry Christian that I am, I didn't go home, repent, and promise never to feel this way again. I felt justified in my attitude, and, to tell the truth, it was quite easy to slip into the next time I interacted with her, this time in my own home. Why did she ask for more, and more? Why the presumption that I would help? Why the demand for making a list for her when I wanted to enjoy Sunday lunch? This is all terrible, no? She's not a self-sufficient, stable person--you are, Elizabeth...so why the filthy attitude?
I realize that engaging in another person's life is often a messy process; it may be punctuated by moments of frustration or anger. I'm not the sweet blonde girl who talks to homeless women on lunch break...this is to my shame, but, it's the truth, nonetheless. Still, I think I'm realizing just how selfish I can be, even in situations in which I am to be giving. I want to feel a sense of accomplishment, that I have helped, that I am appreciated, that I am not being taken advantage of. I hate feeling used, and pointless, and drained. What I do and do not want to feel when ministering to another person is irrelevant, at least according to Christ's teachings. If I am to give a man a shirt, why not my cloak as well? And if he strikes me on the cheek, am I not to turn the other? The way of Christ is a surrender of self, not a particularly humanitarian fulfillment of it. Christ emptied himself; the least I can do is damn my petty goals and expectations and desire for good feelings when I help someone to clean up their apartment.
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