false-forwards and my thoughts on christmas...

the italic text below was sent to me via a forwarded email message. my comments follow.

The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary.

My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are: Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, "Merry Christmas" to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a Crèche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away .

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the con cept came from that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship Nick and Jessica and we aren't allowed to worship God as we understand Him? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where Nick and Jessica came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.

Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her "How could God let something like this happen?" (regarding Katrina) Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response.She said, "I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives. And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?"

In light of recent events...terrorists attack, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found recently) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK.Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said OK.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with "WE REAP WHAT WE SOW."

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell. Funny how we be lieve what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says . Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing. Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

Are you laughing?

Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.
Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.

Pass it on if you think it has merit. If not then just discard it... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what bad shape the world is in.

My Best Regards.

Honestly and respectfully,

Ben Stein

*********************************************************

this was sent to me by family with the best of intentions. and immediately, this rubbed me the wrong way. on occasion, i have been a fan of ben stein, but some of these sentiments seem unlikely from someone as intelligent and erudite as he is. of course, a little research reveals that these aren't quite his words.

here is the REAL essay:
http://www.benstein.com/121805xmas.html

and the snopes article about it:
http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/benstein2.asp

ben stein DOES assert that america shouldn't be an 'explicitly atheist country.' with all due respect, i don't think it is. yet, america SHOULD be an explicitly SECULAR country...though one founded on judeo-christian principles. and you're not going to hear me grumble about the fact that we have steered far from those principles...that much i don't dispute. but the last time i checked, this isn't a communist state- god is called down frequently in this country of ours... in our courthouses, in our ballparks, and yes, even in our schools. to suggest otherwise is ridiculous. indeed, the right to express one's religious views is, in some ways, more valued and respected than another's right to NOT hear them.

"I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period."

interesting point. alas, this is a democracy, and the rules are created for all, whether they believe in god or not. no exceptions should be made either way. the question so frequently becomes not one of dictating the behavior of those believers, but allowing the same freedoms to those non-believers. to request the removal of all manger scenes and menorahs would be absolutely absurd... but to request their removal from public property is a constitutional right. perhaps we don't mind them, but it is not our right to begrudge those who do.

to address the forwarded message, i don't resent anne graham's response to the katrina question on the early show. in fact, i think it was a rather graceful answer to the question and one that echoes her personal sentiments on the matter. and isn't it lovely that a. that question was asked on national television and b. that she had the right to give that response?

the insinuations that god has abandoned o'hair and dr. spock and whoever else believes there should be a separation of church and state are barely worthy of reply. however, i will say that it doesn't make the most compelling case for a benevolent, all-loving god who (deliberately?) allows his children to be murdered. let it be noted that it's an interesting mix of old and new testament purportedly coming from the jewish stein.

i appreciate stein's remarks about not finding the christmas tree offensive... he is perhaps more progressive than i am, since even i can take offense to the christmas trees being erected the day after halloween. i CAN take offense. i can even protest its erection. i can yell and picket and rally...and isn't that great? and to take it one step further, isn't it great that, if they're on private property, i can be totally ignored?

to be honest, i love all the gaudy christmas decorations and menorahs for many of the same reasons stein relates, but i think the christmas trees lining the shopping mall parking lots are perhaps the best example of all. when "asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong," we should ask not why we don't, as a country, call on god, but on WHICH god we call. and after seven years of working retail, i believe i know the answer. so often, christmas is less about honoring the birth of christ and more about worshipping the material gods. it is about desperate coupon-clipping, cutting in long check-out lines, and breaking your back with multi-colored shopping bags... the feverish rush to get 'something' for 'someone.' in the rare instances that i would get a break in the holiday rush at the jewelry store, i would sit back and watch the throngs of people flowing through the mall corridors, shaking my head at the sad state of a world in which people were running around shopping at 6PM on christmas eve instead of at home with their loved ones... if anything, to enjoy one of the few days we are ALL (regardless of religion) afforded to be together. and yet, with all my dissatisfaction and condemnation, i would quickly forget when i received my holiday pay-check. (and how sad and yet, how typical is that?) when asking our children 'why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves,' we should think about the newest wii or playstation video game we stood in line for two hours to buy... no doubt, two hours better spent teaching and guiding and nurturing them.
i have faith that people can and will do the right thing, if afforded a critical-thinking nature, the right tools, and a little compassion. and i'd love to live in a country in which others felt the same. maybe then, we could call down whichever gods we please together and at all times of year, instead of arguing over semantics less accountable for our country's downfall than the presents under our tree, the money in our wallet, and the issues under our noses. and regardless of whether we disgree about holiday decorations, i don't think ben stein and i would disagree about that.

roasted chipmunk

what's a girl gotta do in order to meet the girlfriend of one her oldest friends?

apparently, poison her dogs. (not the girlfriend's...my own.)

so... if you've done much talking to me recently, you might know that i'm not in the most festive of holiday moods. it just doesn't feel like christmas this year.

in any case, the biggest plans i had for the day was to head out to sugar land to hang out with mom. while there, i was going to help prepare a few things for tomorrow's breakfast. (no christmas dinner for us this year.) and so, i'm hanging out in the kitchen with her while she's cooking some bacon. i sit on the counter and munch on a bagel before i decide it's kinda stale...at which point i open a can of black olives and am eating those out of the can. and suddenly i hear this 'crunch crunch crunch' sound...

and i see fidel coming out of the laundry room. and so, i follow fidel back into the laundry room to see what he's gotten into...whatever it is, it's behind the washer. (i'm figuring that, worst case scenario, he's gotten into some stray dog food that has worked its way under there.) and that's when i see the rat poison.

so, naturally, i freak out. and not a little. (sidenote: never, in my entire life, have we EVER had rat poison anywhere in our house. we were those people who would actually catch mice and let them go on the golf course. mice are among my favorite animals in the world...and mouse traps and rat poison are practically against my religion. i would NEVER expect for that to be an issue.)

so unfortunately, i'm wiggin out on mom...and pacing and not thinking clearly and thus, not knowing what to do. until finally, i have the presence of mind to look up the number for the emergency vet i know. (the one i know because fidel had a bad allergic reaction to a vaccine once upon a time when he was just a tiny puppy.) and i call them... and the lady on the other end of the receiver gets zero points for knowing how to calm someone down under the circumstances.

so, minutes later, i've got both dogs in my lap and i'm speeding to the emergency room... neither dog looking particularly distressed, aside from their concern at my irrational, hysterical behavior. and i get there...and again, the nurses make really grave faces when i mention rat poison... which just upsets me even more. and i fill out all the paperwork and sign all the forms that promise i'll mortgage whatever it is i can in order to pay for this vet visit (which is absolutely nothing, though i may have signed away my rights to my first-born) and they ask me which one ate the poison. and i say 'the one who eats everything,' figuring it will totally be obvious by just looking at them. so...they take fidel. meanwhile, faulkner is getting more and more anxious. and i'm hearing nothing from the stephenson household... which is highly suspect since i get calls from mom every 5 minutes under any other circumstances... my guess at why being that mom is feeling both really upset and very guilty.

and again, i'm getting more and more upset. and i think the nurses are starting to feel a little sorry for me, since they are handing me lots of tissue... and even the lady who is there in the waiting room with her soon-to-be-put-to-sleep cat is trying to comfort me. and adam is on the phone, honestly asking if mom would be willing to poison his cat too, since kat-owen has learned to turn on the faucet and has destroyed adam's bathroom. (adam is always good for the tasteless humor in moments like these.)

so, after deciding that the animal emergency room has got to be the most depressing place on the planet (especially on christmas eve), the nurse comes out and says that fidel has thrown up...and that he has thrown up A LOT of poison. and then, of course, she proceeds to tell me that had i not brought him in, he would have totally died. (was that detail really necessary? i mean, don't we all feel bad enough?!)

this is when mom finally calls...and she is so upset that the next few minutes are spent trying to apologize for freaking out on her, as well as relaying that fidel is fine. then comes the next question: did faulkner get into it, too? can't be sure one way or the other...and given all their frowny-faces and somber warnings about rat poison, i don't want to take a chance and opt to have faulkner treated as well.

so, both dogs are busy puking their guts out, while i'm still sobbing in the waiting room like an idiot... shocking even myself at how worried i am about these two animals (both having appeared perfectly fine before these vets got their hands on them).

when the whole ordeal is over, i bring them home and decide that i'm not moving off my couch this evening so that i can keep an eye on them. and fidel is acting A-OK...but poor faulkner has a more sensitive stomach and is still clearly affected by whatever they gave him to make him throw up. i finally decide i need a snack from the kitchen, so i go to grab some applesauce...at which point fidel, in usual form, starts patrolling the kitchen floor. (and i'm really wanting to smack him, since it is this compulsive behavior that led to the whole incident in the first place.)

a few hours later, i get a call from adam...and he is outside with his girlfriend. (mind you, i have not met her yet, despite the fact they have been dating for months... and this has been very deliberate.) and i'm thinking that, in some ways, it is slightly fortuitous that my dogs were poisoned today, since otherwise, adam would not be feeling sorry for me and i might not have had the opportunity to meet his woman. and at this point, fidel is obliviously playing with his new gorrilla toy, so i figure it's probably OK to leave for a little bit...

so, we go get thai food. at thai sticks... which is the only place that appears to be open at 9:30 on christmas eve. and the conversation runs anywhere from what a jerk mike myers is (she's a casting agent) to what a nice guy deepak chopra is to what movies (not yet released in the movie theatres, but available to us on DVD since she is an academy voter) we will be watching this week. and the music playing starts as some bad tejano version of jingle bells, then changes to what sounds like polish-villager christmas carols to what sounds like 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire.' but...now, get this...it is not in fact 'chestnuts roasting.' it sounds JUST like it...it even sounds like nat king cole...but the conversation dies down for one second and we clearly hear the lyrics "roasted chipmunk" at the point where "merry christmas" usually comes in the song.

seriously.

and we die laughing...despite the distinct possibility we may be in the twilight zone.

but the moral of the story is this:

the day didn't end up so badly. fidel and faulkner are both fine. i got to meet adam's girlfriend. and i will probably get to watch a lot of good movies before anyone else.

so....merry christmas, i guess.

this poem made my day:

Clam Ode

One attempts to be significant on a grand scale
in the knock-down battle of life
but settles.
It is clammy today, meaning wet and gray,
not having a hard, calciniferous shell.
I love the expression "happy as a clam,"
how it imparts buoyant emotion
to a rather, when you get down to it,
nonexpressive creature: In piles of ice
it awaits its doom pretty much the same
as on the ocean's floor it awaits
life's banquet and bouquet and sexual joys.
Some barnacles we know are eggs dropped from outer space
but clams, who has a clue how they reproduce?
By trading clouds?
The Chinese thought them capable of prolonging life
while clams doubtlessly considered
the Chinese the opposite.
I remember the jawbreakers my dad would buy me
on the wharf at Stone Harbor,
every thirty seconds you'd take out
the one in your mouth
to check what color it turned.
What does this have to do with clams?
A feeling.
States of feeling, unlike states of the upper Midwest,
are difficult to name.
That is why music was invented,
which caused a whole new slew of feelings
and is why since
people have had more feelings than they know what to do with
so you can see it sorta backfired
like a fire extinguisher that turns out to be a flame thrower.
They look somewhat alike, don't they?
So if you're buying one be sure
you don't get the other,
the boys in the stockroom are stoners
who like to wear their pants falling down
and deserve their own Gulliver's Travels island.
The clam however remains calm.
Green is the color of the kelp it rests on,
having a helluva wingding calm.
I am going to kill you in butter and white wine
so forgive me, great clam spirit,
join yourself to me through the emissary
of this al dente fettuccini
so I may be qualmless and happy as you.

-Dean Young

this is brilliance. to me.

black or white

along with old compositions, some old blog comments resurfaced today. naturally cautious about arguing hot-button topics, i think this was an interesting discussion on nicholas' blog. you can read the original post here:

http://www.candancealittle.com/2007/04/black-and-white-wrong-and-right.html

the discussion continued 25 comments later, ending with one if my own:

Jenni-beck said...
I have been following this exchange, and while I hesitate to jump directly into the discussion, I will comment on a few of the topics mentioned.

One exchange particularly caught my eye:
"The woman and the man are merely experiencing the consequences of their behavior, an important life lesson. Remember, over 50% of women would prefer to have the baby but have abortions due to pressure from the man or her parents."

As a woman, (and furthermore, as a woman who is acquainted with women who have had abortions), I couldn't disagree more with the above statements. Yes, I will concede that, in the majority of cases, the men and women who find themselves contemplating abortion are indeed experiencing the consequences of their actions. What I take issue with is the suggestion that over half those women would prefer to have the babies in question. First, where can the data be found on which that statement is based? I know Nicholas has already addressed this, and I admit that I will be using a far more emotional argument than either of you. However, I think you would be hard-pressed to validate that statistic, because it is not easily quantified. Due to the fact that the issue of abortion is tied to issues of morality, even the emotions/preferences/mindsets surrounding the act itself are not clear-cut, but similarly, lie in grey areas. The emotional questions lie in the very nature of femininity and a woman's role…and as a result, could be spun into at least a dozen tangential discussions on those subjects. On that note, I will say that it interesting to follow the arguments of two men arguing both sides of the debate, but what is woefully lacking in this discussion is a woman's voice. (I only wish I had more time to address the full discussion.)

Historically, reproduction (and the nurturing of offspring) has, for better or worse, been considered the primary role of a woman. Until the very recent past, women were as valued as the number of children they were able to produce. In some cultures, this remains the case to this day. This is obviously considered neither fair nor right to most contemporary women, but thousands of years of history (and a clearly embedded pattern in human nature and nature itself for that matter) cannot be undone so easily. Given that females host the offspring into life, the burden lies with us. It is for that reason that I oftentimes find it difficult to hear the matter argued by men. The issue, while delving into universal questions of morality, is a uniquely feminine dilemma. Infanticide may be committed by either a man or a woman. With abortion, however, the onus seems to fall on the woman. I digress…

Given the moral implications of abortion, a woman's role in society, and the women's role as reproductive enabler, how can this be an easy question for a woman? Of course, it is not, and thankfully, no one seems to be arguing that point. Yet, I question the ability to objectively define the preferences of a woman who has had an abortion. Think about it. Using Nicholas' war example, what soldier would not state that they would have preferred not to kill? If that soldier's primary function is to avoid killing civilians and it nonetheless occurs, where does the fault lie? Is that the soldier's burden or is it the burden of the state that sanctions the war? Would not that soldier, in retrospect, have a tendency to shift that burden off his or her own shoulders? Without use of that clumsy example, would not a woman similarly prefer to cite pressure from significant others or family as a reason for going through with an abortion? Isn't that only natural given what is at stake? We are only human. Can we really objectively define the appropriate female stance on the matter…especially when it becomes a question of morality and of a woman's very natural function? I do not think so. I am not arguing the validity of abortion; I am merely stating that a woman's feelings about abortion are going to transcend what I believe your average man can understand…with all due respect, of course. Perhaps that is why I find it absurd that we argue such things in our courts: laws that pertain to only half the population.

Anonymous said...
OK!!! my son....you have as usual created a wonderful dialogue with good thinking people....I have always been very proud of the fact that you are an intelligent thinker and I do appreciate that my values and ideas have been influential in your thinking process...after all I was the community health educator for Planned Parenthood of Central Oklahoma for eight years and I taught you well my son....And by the way Neil, the issue of termination and the right to choose for a woman....is similar to the Israeli/Arab situation ( if you would like to start a dialogue on that matter, I assure you it will be as everlasing as the termination right issue.....) But for now I would like for you and Neil to get into a discussion of what is Motherhood....with Mother's day approaching....let me hear some of your ideas about what is it to have a Wanted- Loved child that you can mother for the rest of your life..... Motherhood is a priviledge that no one should take if the resposibility is not present and available, because you can never return a child for credit ...please remember that......
Nicholas you are one of my shinning sons and I am a very proud mother.....I love you...(Nicholas') Mom

Neil said...
Good questions are motherhood. I'm a father - one of the great joys of my life - and I assume motherhood is swell as well. Being a parent is arguably the most important thing we'll do in life.Not surprisingly, I think motherhood begins before the baby's brief journey down the birth canal. Arguments used to justify abortion at, say, 7 mos. could easily be used to justify infanticide (economic conditions, privacy, freedom). Intuition isn't always right, but it often is. Ask an expectant mother what is inside her and she'll typically answer, "My baby." She is already bonding and caring for "it.""Motherhood is a priviledge that no one should take if the resposibility is not present and available, because you can never return a child for credit"Amen! You can give her up for adoption. But you can't un-abort a child. Abortion is forever. People change their minds all the time on important life issues - especially when circumstances change. I am completely in favor of children being wanted. But I am against the notion of destroying those that aren't currently wanted and in favor of changing hearts to want the ones that do exist.

Neil said...

Re. the historical perspective - I think it is interesting that someone like Susan B. Anthony would not have been running a PP clinic - see This is feminism?!

Jenni-beck said...

Regarding the historical perspective and the Susan B. Anthony reference, I don't think the Susan B. Anthony quotes really address the point I was endeavoring to make. First of all, I would prefer to see the quotes in their original context. Secondly, the below quote is working on the original assumption with which I took issue:

"[Is the woman] guilty? Yes. No matter what the motive, love of ease, or a desire to save from suffering the unborn innocent, the woman is awfully guilty who commits the deed. It will burden her conscience in life, it will burden her soul in death; But oh! Thrice guilty is he who drove her to the desperation which impelled her to the crime!"

I noticed that the last phrase was bold. This is precisely the type of statement that prompted my initial response. "He who drove her" assumes that it was not a decision the woman in question made herself. I am not arguing that this is not ever the case, but the supposition that women make that decision under male pressure the majority of the time is, to me, impossible to determine.

I respect Susan B. Anthony's position as a personal one. Due to the fact that this blog quotes her without including any particularly relevant arguments backing her remarks, I see her words as opinion. (An opinion to be respected, no doubt.) However, just because a feminist leader supports one idea, it does not make her words the gospel for all those who champion feminist ideals. It is a complex, pluralistic world...even within specific interest groups. I take issue with the contrary assumption on the same basis on which I take issue with so many religious groups. Prescribing whole-heartedly to a belief-system (whether religious or political) without taking the time to form one's own opinions seems only problematic to me. Does this make the task of law-making very complicated and difficult? Of course. Yet, we would be short-sighted and superficially addressing the issue (or any issue for that matter) if we endeavored to over-simplify and classify things as black or white. Alas, my problem with our current political system. Again, I digress!

Secondly, I take issue with the last statement on that webpage:

". . . abortion is the ultimate male chauvinism. . . . abortion rips off women as much as it rips off the unborn, and allows male chauvinists to run free. " -Rev. John C. Rankin

John Rankin? Not sure I consider him the authority on the female perspective, but I doubt anyone would argue that point. The thing that bothers me about his remark is that it doesn't make any sense to me. How is prohibiting the right for a woman to do with her body what she wants not a sign of male chauvinism? Are we to assume this is the case because sometimes, female fetuses are aborted? My opinion is that is a weak argument.

I also noticed the comments below the blog post.
"The ready availability of abortion also makes it easy for men to not even use birth control: 70% of women who abort were not using it at the time. I really don't see why allowing a man to not use a condom so that he enjoys it more, then having the woman abort so that he doesn't have to pay child support, is anything but the height of chauvanism."

I see mention of birth-control and child-support. Interesting alternatives indeed. The thing that I never quite understand is how oftentimes these alternatives are touted as genuinely easy things to obtain. This idea works on the false assumption that everyone is educated about birth control and is able to easily obtain it. The claim was made that birth control is frequently not used in an effort to make the sexual experience more pleasurable for a man. Does this happen? Sure. Yet, is it not as frequently the case that birth control is either not available to everyone, its use not fully understood, or the need for birth control not fully understood? I am thinking of the dozens of teenagers I knew having sex in high school. (Does this mean I associated with a crowd with lax morals? I do not think so. I think there is quite a bit of premarital sex occurring in all schools, parochial or public, to which many people prefer to remain ignorant.) Do all these kids understand how to use birth control? Do they fully understand that birth control is absolutely necessary to prevent pregnancy? Absolutely not. (I distinctly remember overhearing a teenage girl talk about using the rhythm method. I ask you if your average teenager can understand that.) Furthermore, imagine a teenager whose parents do not approve of her sexual activity. Is that child going to be likely to seek advice or support in obtaining birth control from her parents? Of course not. Will she get that guidance from her school? Probably not…and she shouldn't, according to the conservative viewpoint. Does this mean she won't have sex? No, of course she will. So, what is the right answer?

The greater contention I have with this statement is that it suggests that men won't want to use condoms due to the ready availability of abortions. The fallibility in this statement lies in that I would argue that most men (who don't use condoms) don't think about the resulting circumstances of unprotected sex at all. Most men (that don't insist on using condoms) simply assume that the woman is using oral contraceptives…or they are simply not thinking about it. More often than not, even the responsibility of birth control lies solely with the woman.

On child-support, I find the suggestion that, by not having a baby, the woman is saving the man from having to pay child support (and that it is the ultimate chauvinism) particularly absurd. How many women having both wanted and unwanted babies have a difficult time collecting child- support? Is someone suggesting that, if a man isn't thrilled about having a baby, he might be thrilled about paying for one? I doubt it. I can speak from my own mother's personal experience that child-support is not always easy to obtain, even when the child is wanted. In her case, she never received a cent. (Thank goodness my brother was both loved and wanted!) So, given this set of circumstances, a woman is not only burdened with a child, but with the responsibility of potentially caring for it on her own…in the name of stifling chauvinism perhaps?

The main point that I maintain is not that I support abortion, but that I do not believe men understand very much about the female dilemma. I am not shifting the blame to men. To the contrary, it would be ideal for women who choose abortion for themselves (excepting those few who are pressured into it) to boldly (notice I don't say proudly) take responsibility for their actions. Until they do, they form a quiet faction whose thoughts and feelings are allowed to be misinterpreted and miscommunicated. Yet, this is the root of the debate: an issue of privacy. How can a woman even fully explain that type of choice when the act itself carries such a stigma? Even cold-blooded murderers are innocent until proven guilty. Again, with all due respect, I am convinced that a man is ever going to have the full picture. Does this mean all women agree on these issues? No, and I realize that. However, I would be interested to see how a vote would turn out if women (not politicians with agendas) were left to determine these things for themselves.

mem'ries

stuck at home today, i was cleaning out and organizing some files on my computer when i came across something i wrote 10 years ago for my junior english class. the assignment was to retell a fairy tale or well-known story in the style of an american author. and here is mine:

I saw the green thing in the distance. We walked toward the green thing. We walked toward it through the red flowers. They smelled good. Dorothy held my hand and we walked together. Then she let go and I tripped. I saw red shapes. I tried to stand, and I fell onto the grass with the red flowers. I felt tired and started to cry.
"Stop your snivellin." said the grey man with the ax. "Your stuffings comin out."
I stopped crying and got up. The lion looked at me and gave me a flower to play with. The flower was pretty and I liked holding it. Then I got tired and fell down again. I dropped the flower, and I tried to cry. I opened my mouth and made a noise.
Dorothy came to me. "What is it. Are you hurt." said Dorothy. I tried to say. She pulled me up and put straw in my sleeve. Dorothy held my hand again. Dorothy smelled like flowers. Dorothy held my hand and I stopped crying.
"I'll show you what I can do, my pretty." said the lady in the big black hat. I reached for the place where it was warm. I pulled my hand back and there was fire. Dorothy screamed.
"Put it out." Dorothy said. Her voice was loud. Then my voice was loud. The lady in the black hat laughed. She laughed and laughed, and then she went away.
"Hush now." Dorothy said. "You are alright. I'll take care of you."
"You are alright." Dorothy said. "I have to go away now, but I'll never forget you." Dorothy held me. She didn't smell like flowers and I started crying. Dorothy's eyes got red, and she let go and went to the big red balloon. I reached for her, but I couldn't touch her, and I cried and cried.
"Stop that moaning." said the grey man with the ax. "How can anyone get anything done with you whining all the time." The grey man with the ax glared at Dorothy.
Dorothy pressed my hand and I was quiet. She smelled like flowers. She picked up the flower I dropped and gave it to me. Dorothy yawned. We walked through the red flowers toward the green thing and I got tired. The man with the ax layed down in the flowers and tried to sleep. The grey man with the ax layed down, and then Dorothy layed down. She pulled me next to her. She smelled like flowers. The lion tried to pull Dorothy up. He tugged at her arm, and he couldn't keep her up. Then he layed down and went to sleep.
The birds screamed. The birds flew around my head and I got scared. Then Dorothy uncaught me, and she pulled me from the big stick I hung on, and the birds went away. I liked Dorothy. She was pretty and smelled like flowers.
"Who are you." Dorothy said. I tried to say. "Who are you." Dorothy said. I opened my mouth and tried to say. "You dont have a brain, do you." Dorothy said. I made a sound.
"Dont worry." Dorothy said. "I'll take you with me to the wizard. We'll take care of you." Her voice was like wind.
The wind was cold. I opened my eyes and mouth, and I felt something cold and wet go in. Then my mouth was cold. I looked and there was white on the red flowers. Then the white covered up the red, and I started crying. I couldn't smell the flowers.
"Get up, you idiot." said the grey man with the ax.
"Leave him alone." Dorothy said. She reached for me. "You've got to get up." Dorothy said. "It's too cold for you in the snow." She pulled me up.
The lion was already up. He looked at Dorothy. He looked sad.
I got up and we walked toward the green thing through the white.


I walked through the forest, and the shadows of the trees, casting some sort of divine judgement upon me, appeared to follow me wherever I walked. The wind was cold, and I remembered what I had done wrong. My paws were dirty, and I proceeded to clean them, but I couldn't get them clean enough. They were stained red. The red of poppies. Poppies. Poppies for anyone but her. Courage was not mine. It was the tin-man's. Let him have it. Do you have it? Do you?
I never had it. Because the wizard said he couldn't give it to me anyway. He said if I were to ever have it, I'd have to get it myself he said. He said men lie about being cowards.
The shadows followed me. Followed me out of the forest and into the field. Yes. That's what happened. The shadows followed me into the poppies. That's why she fell asleep. The shadows. No, I remember, the shadows came after the poppies.
I licked my paws again, but they wouldn't come clean. Only red. Red. Red.
Why did she lay down in the field and not in the palace? Why?
And after I watched my shadow on the leaves, I saw it. I saw him. The other lion leaped from the bushes and took his prey. What did I do wrong? I should have killed all of them. I did.
The witch hurt her, but I should have done it. I should have eaten her, but I couldn't. If only I could say Witch. We were all wrong to her. All four of us. But she said get Dorothy out of my land she said.
In the shadow of one particular tree, I saw a red apple. I took it in my paws. I knew it would taste good, but then the red became brighter, and I couldn't eat it. Couldn't eat it. The red. The red on her. Would she have eaten the apple?
I wanted to talk with you I said and he said he knew
he said he knew everything he said
I said wizard, why am I so afraid
and casually he said everyone is
But why am I a coward when I am a lion I said
he said you'll find out some day he said
and I please help me find strength and he strength is only yours to find and I why did she do it and he because it is like a woman to succumb to spells and I why couldn't I stop it and he you tried and I I just couldn't get her up and he I know and I I failed and he she's not your responsibility and I why couldn't I eat her then and he did you want to and I no and he you worry too much and I I only want to be what is expected and he there is your mistake
Red poppies. Red on my hands. Red. Red. Red.


Once a bitch always a bitch, what I say. She should work like me, cutting down apple trees all day long, instead of wearing those damn gawdy-looking, ruby-colored shoes. She goes tripping down that yellow-brick road with that idiot of hers and that feeble feline and expects me to believe in her schemes. I'll drink to that! I don't need a heart anyway. I'll get everything I need when I sell those apples of mine. Still she says,
"But you've got to come with us to see the wizard--"
"What do I need with a wizard?" I ask her.
She thought about it for awhile.
"If you don't have a heart, then you'll never love."
I reply that I don't need love either and that she better stop bothering me or I'm liable to knock her upside-the-head with the butt of my ax. You see, no one ever appreciates the simple fact that I need to work. I need to work all the time, and I don't need to be trapsing off to any damn Emerald Cities anytime soon.
I start to think about the witch, though. She's pretty old. Obviously, the old bag's gonna die soon. Moreover, she can't be too quick on her feet or with that broom of hers. If I were to go with the stooges, I may have myself a chance at the witch and her treasure.
So, I went with them. Mind you, it was irratating as hell. The fool was always moaning and crying and losing his straw-stuffing, and the lion was always worrying about his shadow or his dirty paws or something. I'll tell you something, though. Those paws were more worthless than dirty to me. That lion probably never worked a day in his life, let alone ever killed anything.
As we were making our way to Emerald City, it rained. Of course, you know that rain is just about the worse damn thing that can possibly happen to me. That's my luck for you. But that Dorothy didn't help my luck none too much, either.
I never did get any money from that witch, or even the heart that was promised me. I didn't get nothing at all, as usual. It just goes to show you that you've got to depend on yourself, 'cause no one else out there will be looking after you if you don't. I'm just happy that that girl is gone for good over that goddamned rainbow. Now I can get back to my own affairs.

*********************
it's fairly easy to guess which novel i was imitating. please be kind, as i was 17 when i wrote this...

the sage words...

of mr. joe crump. future rockstar columnist. couldn't agree with him more.
reposted from his blog:

querulous conservatism

In 1962, after losing the California gubernatorial contest, Richard Nixon despairingly remarked to reporters (I like to imagine it with violin accompaniment), "You won't have Nixon to kick around anymore, because, gentlemen, this is my last press conference." Perhaps you are pondering- why would the press be so wicked and cruel as to "kick around" the Republican candidate running for Governor of California? If you are fortunate enough to own a radio, then you might tune into the Sean Hannity Show (or any other conservative talk radio) to satisfy your inquiry. Sean's answer is simply that "the press" or "the media" disproportionately targets Republicans because, being entirely comprised of liberals, it is invested in America's defeat. This line of reasoning is, of course, utter balderdash. That conservatives found the need to establish a right-leaning Wikopedia and Youtube, since the general public is now thought to have a liberal bias, is laughable. Nowadays, one thing that definitively characterizes the right, at least for the most part, is its Nixonian paranoia and antipathy regarding the news media.

True, the left controls most of the newspapers. And, the left will always have a monopoly on the arts- actors, comedians, musicians, and Kanye West. But I think we can all agree that the overwhelming majority of Americans get their news from that wondrous box of meretricious infotainment, where FOXnews reigns supreme. I would be remiss if I failed to mention talk radio, lest they should scream even louder in order to be noticed, where the right dwarfs the left. There are also conservative publications like the National Review, the Weekly Standard, Human Events, etc. In other words, the right has its own prodigious and formidable news media that is, for all intents and purposes, an endless fusillade aimed at the Democratic Party. Respectfully, it might behoove Mr. Hannity's constituency, before they decry the "omnipresent" and "inescapable" liberal media, to consider the innumerable avenues of thought controlled by Rupert Murdoch, not the least of which is FOXnews- "Real journalism: fair and balanced. That's why we're No. 1 — FOX News Channel." But does anyone really doubt that it leans to the right? It is also worth noting that, if FOXnews is, in fact, "No. 1", then they must be the "mainstream media" that the Hannitites bemoan so incessantly. According to Merriam-Webster's online dictionary, the word mainstream means: "a prevailing current or direction of activity or influence." Thus if FOXnews is the most watched news network, as its punditry often asserts, it is also "mainstream." Hannitites are kidding themselves if they think that their champion and his cohorts have aptly labeled themselves the "new" or "alternative" media. It is also more than a little remarkable that Sean Hannity and Bill O'Reilly can complain about the ubiquity of the liberal media and then, in the same sentence, boast their own exorbitant ratings. Let us hope that I don't need to explain why that is absurd.

I wish to stress that it is not the bias that I find irksome, it's the whining. Isn't it possible to be anti-gay marriage, anti-evolution, pro-life, pro-guns, pro-tax cuts, pro-Nascar, pro-small gov't, pro-death penalty, and pro-torture without being so querulous? Stop calling the media "liberal" or "elite" and start calling it what it is, indolent and sensationalistic. To the media en masse, Paris Hilton's profligate behavior is more newsworthy than 9/11 and all the right can do is whine about how they are out to destroy George W. Bush (as O'Reilly asserted in between his softball questions to Mr. Bush in a recent interview). Other than Bush's plan to privatize social security, has the liberal media stopped the Bush administration in any shape or form? Was the liberal media able to preclude the invasion of Iraq or Bush's re-election? No, but the conservative media has been a little more efficacious (i.e. immigration, Harriet Myers).

There are, of course, conservative intellectuals that choose not to blame the messenger. Incidentally, this is one of many distinguishing features that set George F. Will and David Brooks apart from Michael Reagan and Sean Hannity. This immeasurably small portion of the conservative mansion is acutely aware that we do not live in Russia and that everyone, ranging in ideology from the far left to the far right, is free to exercise astonishingly poor judgment when choosing their sources of info. The misinformed dolts on the left are free to imbibe and parrot Rosie O'Donnel's inane blather just as their counterparts on the right are free to trust Mr. Hannity. Many of you make it sound as if you are forced to read the NYTimes and watch CNN everyday when, in truth, you rely exclusively upon Rush Limbaugh's partisan interpretation.

If it's objectivity you seek, I have some discouraging news: Everyone is biased. "Fair and Balanced" is a trite and meaningless phrase that is, what Charles Dickens might consider to be, a "pretense of equity" (Bleak House). The only thing you can do to get both sides of the story is diversify your news sources by venturing outside of your comfort zone- an intellectual calisthenics, if you will. If you are a liberal, read George Will. If you are a conservative, read Frank Rich, or just read for God's sake. The problem today, and the left is equally guilty of this, is that many of us don't actively seek out opposing arguments or points of view. That most conservatives watch only FOXnews and most liberals read only the NYTimes, is truly lamentable. If we're to deal with the challenges we face as a nation, we cannot remain so firmly entrenched in our respective partisan ideologies.

True, there is a liberal media, and a big one at that. But are we supposed to blame liberals for getting jobs in the media and, come to think of it, in academia? Perhaps you should instead blame your fellow conservatives for pursuing career paths apart from the former and the latter. And while you're at it, go ahead and blame them (and yourself) for their monolithic support of Bush in 2004. His presidency will inexorably result in liberal control of more than just Congress. Undoubtedly, many of you have, by now, considered the looming spectre of a Hillary presidency; to say nothing of the "pinkos" she's likely to nominate to the Supreme Court. Then you'll really have something to cry about.

JCCrump 7-10-07

an open letter to my collaborator

i have it. finally.

searching for my next project has been like finding inspiration in a can of split pea soup. but in a moment, it came to me:

i want to explore secrets.

i've been sitting here meditating on things...topics...thoughts. points to discover...points to ponder. things that interest me...things that make my blood boil. things that turn me on. things that thrill me...and things that wrap me up and under like buttermilk crusts.

i find myself checking postsecret.blogspot.com a thousand times over. just for distraction...and it hits me. i am fascinated by people's secrets. not even the sort that people divulge anonymously on some public forum, but with a voyeuristic fascination nonetheless. i want to know the tiny secrets people carry with them everyday. the insignificant and momentous motivations... drawn like a chord from that tiny locked door in our hearts and minds. the secret reason i can't stand the name 'amanda.' or why he has a scrawny blonde fetish. the secret reason he is driven to make his fortune. the reason she looks at pork and thinks of her first boyfriend. or why he cries when he sees his mother's slippers in the closet. the reason my kitchen floor is the saddest place on earth to me.

i want to create a piece about secrets. an exploration, if you will. an expedition. perhaps vignettes. perhaps extracted scenes riffing on the theme...presented together through some loose connections...ties that bind. ties that break. ties that...untie. or unite.

am i sometimes too busy concerning myself with my own secrets to listen to the secrets around me? yes. absolutely. when i stop...when i remain silent, i can usually hear them. i hear them clearly. but i've been creating so much white noise lately. static. internal chaos spit out onto the tabletop and thrust into the room like a walrus in an aviary. my distractions reflected back in on myself. i'm ready for some silence...and then, the hum. the hum accompanying the stifled silence in the air...the suspended sentiments. of others. of myself.

let's do this. i think you know what i want. i think you have the means to show...and feel...what i think...and need. let the hunt begin. who knows what we may find.

sublime

would you like to hear sublime?

listen to chopin's Piano Concerto No. 1 In E Minor, Op. 11: II - Romance: Larghetto.

i've heard it time and time before... but currently, i'm listening to a recording of emanuel ax. absolutely stunning.

the recording is part of a compilation... a rather pedestrian collection entitled 'chopin for relaxation.' i think i may have bought it for my mother once upon a time... and then, subsequently stole it back as soon as i realized some of the pieces were performed exceptionally well.

however, i take issue with this recording of one of my favorite chopin pieces: Etude In A-Flat 'Aeolian Harp,' Op. 25 No. 1.

i used to play the 'aeolian harp.' it was one of the last pieces i learned before theatre distracted my attention from my piano studies. i do not know who is playing this particular version, but it is not how i hear the music in my head. too fast. too casual. too steady.

the first time i heard that piece was in the final credits of 'the turning point,' a movie with shirley maclain and anne bancroft centered around ballet (the other love of my life). in the final moments, leslie brown dances this beautiful solo in front of the footlights to the etude... so graceful and lovely. an orchestral arrangement was added for the movie soundtrack... and it is so very effective. rubato... overwrought... emotional... satisfying.

i fell in love with that piece the moment i heard it. i was a young girl at the time...perhaps 11 or 12. as this predated IMDB, there was no way for me to know the name of the piece without tracking down the soundtrack... which is even now only available on LP. once i found it, tucked away in a pile of records at the dance studio, i begged my piano teacher to play it and fortunately, she complied.

this piece is called an 'etude' for a reason, though i know its difficulty pales in comparison to some of the other etudes. nevertheless, i was still a child and never before had my hands hurt so much while playing. i was unprepared for the cramping and the pain...but it was so sublime. so wonderful. i have no words to adequately express how i felt as i poured every ounce of my being into those 6 pages of rapid arpeggiated figures. i can't begin to explain..........

i was not born with a desire to play. to the contrary, i was forced to take lessons by my mother. the hour of practice each evening was as important as the daily chores... if not more. it took years of being chained to the piano bench before a genuine appreciation took root in my heart. and then, with an introduction to chopin and debussy (romantic and impressionist), i discovered the dormant desire in my hands. i now thank my mother for offering me this gift.

i now know that i am a complete musical whore. i remember that rhythm was always my weakness. the intended played second fiddle to my idea of how it should be played. i saw no reason to learn the rhythm if i had heard it before... i needed only to see the notes, to know where to place my fingers...the rhythm was dictated by the sweep of my wrists, the surge in my breasts. disrespectful to the composer? perhaps. blasphemy? i know. surely i would be denounced by my teutonic peers... deemed tacky and overemotional. indeed. but what came from my fingertips was the purest expression of who i was at the time. innocent, tender, and sentimental. in retrospect, i sometimes long to play as i once did. utterly lacking self-consciousness. it almost makes me cry to think about it. my love of the piano was never about dexterity...only expression. perhaps an interesting parallel (or contrast) to my life.

as i write this, i realize that this must be what self-taught musicians and composers experience... those unable to read music. when the rigid notes and values are written in an unintelligble language, how can one be accused of disrespect? it then becomes 'interpretation.' how fortunate they are to escape the burden of this responsibility, unfettered by rules, staves, and note values. how liberating.

i have never envied other pianists. what i experienced was so personal...singularly satisfying and precious... and thus, invincible. it didn't matter what anyone else thought of my playing. good or bad, it didn't matter. in all my life, my piano was the one thing that was mine... for no one's benefit but my own. i don't mind playing for others, but i play best when alone. perhaps it is my secret.

i ask only that other pianists show reverence for my music... and it is indeed my music now. and will always be as it was ingrained in my heart and memory.

responsibility

i am angry.

i am angry because i have a neighbor who is a complete jackass.

as i sat on my couch with my boys this morning, i thought to myself that i'd like to write about my dogs...how they bring me such happiness. how fidel's little velvet face makes me melt...and their games with the ball or their toy squirrel never fail to put a smile on my face. but then, i thought, 'no one really wants to read about my gushing over my dogs. we all love our animals. i don't need to brag.'

i take pretty good care of my dogs...sometimes to the point of indulgence. they are fairly obedient, with a few exceptions...most evenings when i open the gate to the yard, they do a quick romp to the end of the block and back before i can corral them inside. on the other hand, i can take them to memorial park and remove the leashes with no fear of their running away. still, i keep an eagle eye on them most of the time, and the few times they have escaped from the yard have nearly given me a heart attack.

sidenote: i have a severe weakness for animals. i can proudly say i have never hit an animal of any kind with my car...though i've nearly destroyed cars in an effort to avoid doing so. but in short, i'm a sucker. i get this from my father. as a child, my dad worked in an area surrounded by open fields, and every week, he would bring home a new stray he had caught...probably some dog the family no longer wanted, cast aside on the side of the road. (i will never understand how people have the heart to do this.) having 2 dogs and 3 cats already, we couldn't keep these animals... so dad would bring them not to the pound, but animal rescue centers where, with a contribution, you could prevent the animal from being euthanized before finding a home. so, one doesn't grow up in this environment without it rubbing off. whenever i see a dog running loose anywhere, i stop my car and try to make sure it's not lost and hurt, etc. (poor cynthia has been in the car with me at least 4 or 5 times in the last couple months when i've embarked on dog rescues...most of the time, in high heels. she drew the line the other day when i tried to shoo the raccoon out of the middle of the road.)

all that being said, my neighborhood is overrun with dog lovers. people are ridiculous about their dogs in southhampton. at any point, you can catch 4 or 5 people walking their dogs down north and south boulevards. i love this, though there are slight annoyances. (the dog park down the street is a tightly run ship...you are almost made to feel as though your dogs should pass some kind of inspection before they are accepted within the gates.) regardless, my dogs are very popular in my area, as they are left visible behind an iron gate on a heavy-traffic corner. they like some of the people who pass by the yard and dislike others. (i can't quite figure out the pattern, but i'm confident they are good judges of character.)

all that being said, i have a neighbor who has a dog that closely resembles mine. his is a miniature pinscher and mine are manchester terriers. it is not unusual for me to see this dog running in the middle of the street at night. alone. sometimes, driving home from an evening out, i can't clearly see the dog, and i momentarily panic that my dogs have escaped. i didn't know where this dog lived...if it was a stray...if it had a collar...why it was in the middle of the road. i have stopped many times, worried about this dog, trying to get him to come to me so that i could safely escort him home. aside from that, people have come knocking on my door several times now...asking if my dogs have gotten out of the yard, having just seen this little min pin. i've seen this dog scurrying around in the rain...at night. mind you, it's a small, BLACK dog. if any animal is aching to get run over, it is this one. so, one morning, i saw it running around, and i tried to follow it. (the comical part is that i followed this dog 2 blocks in my nightgown and robe.) finally, i saw it hop up the steps in front of this house around the corner. the man of the house opened the door (that was closed) and calmly let the dog inside, as if nothing was out of order. i was shocked.
'is that your dog?' i ask.
'yeah. i just let her run around the block. she always comes back,' he says.
'you're serious?' i ask.
'sure,' he says.

i am struck dumb. i am so angry, i don't even know what to say. so, i walk off.

today, i get another knock on the door. another random stranger.

'have your dogs gotten out? there is a little black down down the street, and he is limping,' the man says.

my dogs safely on the couch and knowing exactly which dog to which he was referring, i grab my keys and brush past the man, asking him to follow me.

as i walk the two blocks and around the corner, i explain the situation to him. i am livid. i am tired of this asshole letting his dog run around the neighborhood, leaving the rest of us to worry about hitting it. i am ready to give him a serious piece of my mind. and my partner in outrage(mark, who turns out to be another neighbor down the street) is equally ready to punch this guy's face.

so we knock on the guy's door, and he answers... the dog is somehow at his side, having run home immediately. mark explains that the dogs was limping, and the man says that the dog always favors one leg. (perhaps an injury from running haphazardly around the damn neighborhood?) but this time, his explanation is that his dog is an escape artist. he proceeds to explain that they just can't seem to keep the dog inside. he says that other neighbors have talked to him about this. (yeah...no shit.) and again, i find myself so mad that i can barely speak to this idiot. after hearing his pathetic excuse, mark and i walk back to my place, shaking our heads.

the moral of the story: the NEXT time i see this little dog running around (and i walk up to his house to see the door closed), i am catching that dog and instead of bringing him home, i am going to give it to someone who will take better care of it. and to the jerk who lives at 1622 milford, take responsibility for your animals.

me talk pretty online

i am not fond of webspeak.

i appreciate that internet slang saves time...but i have a beef. we use words like 'awesome' and 'fabulous' all the time in our everyday speech, and i am just as guilty of this as the next person. but how many things are truly awe-inspiring? i choose not to get up in arms about this, because these words and phrases are firmly entrenched in our language along with any number of colloquialisms.

yet, the thing that really bugs me: LOL. i can't stand LOL. you might ask why. because! because when i write LOL, i had better be laughing out loud. like...for real. i had better get a hearty guffaw out of whatever it follows. because otherwise, it is a useless phrase. and believe me, writing something stupid and then, writing LOL after it does NOT make it more funny. to the contrary, it makes it LESS funny...or maybe just distracts me...because suddenly, it reminds me of a 13 year-old girl in a chat room. (not that 13 year-old girls should ever be in chat rooms.)

example of unsolicited myspace message from random stranger: 'miss jenni, you seem like a trouble-maker. LOL.'

okay, so i'm not laughing...are YOU laughing? i mean, is that funny? i know they are trying to be cute and flirty...but all they've made me do is think of goofy, socially-inept guys glued to their keyboards AND 'hello kitty.' AND it prompts me to change my settings to private.

men should NEVER use this phrase. repeat. men should NEVER use this phrase.

smileys, on the other hand, are completely acceptable. :)

NYer than you

i vowed that i would not renew my new yorker subscription when my year was finished. why?

1. the articles are too long...7-10 pages a piece at times.
2. it comes every week, leaving me no time to finish one issue before the next arrived in the mail.
3. i'm convinced that the editors don't read through all the cartoon caption entries, as i've submitted countless captions far more clever than those that win.
4. i'm starting to feel both falsely validated (being one of the pretentious, self-important elitists who subscribe) to intensely inferior and inadequate because i can't manage to finish a single issue before either losing interest or getting frustrated by the esoteric ego-stroking evident in the articles (how's that assonance for ya?).

so, the last 4 or 5 issues have arrived with a dustcover announcing the impending doom of my subscription...'last issue before service interruption'...'don't miss your opportunity to stay up to date with the new yorker'...'no more cartoons?' and i've turned my nose up at each issue. 'i can take you or leave you,' i say casually. i toss it aside...to read later...IF i get around to it.

and so, i finally pick up the last few magazines. and there's this great article about the progress in criminal lie-detection utilizing fMRI technology...the area of expertise of the very friend who turned me on to the NYer in the first place. and then, this great article about the music industry's conundrum with the advent of easy downloads...and how it has actually benefitted the classical music portion of the business. (seriously, what layperson actually downloads schoenberg?) and there was also that great article about the new biography on charles schulz. highlights from the book, his cartoon, and his life outlined in the 10-page article, along with personal anecdotes (such as revealing the squawking, nonsensical speech of the adults in 'peanuts' to be reminiscent of schulz's first wife). not to mention an absolutely fabulous short story ('mr. bones') by paul theroux (of 'mosquito coast' fame), as well as a depressing, but fascinating article about babies with colic and the potential long-term effects it has on both child and parents....that i am both tempted and hesitant to share with the million pregnant friends i have currently. but if that wasn't enough, let me not forget the article on elizabeth lecompte...my hero. the OTHER person i want to be when i grow up...julie taymor being the first. (the founder of the wooster group in NYC, famous for experiemental theatre productions juxtaposing classical rep, pop references, and contemporary aesthetics in a dangerous multimedia blitz.) the feature outlining her childhood, her break-throughs, her relationships, and her recent production of 'hamlet'...all along with a great photo. her hopes, dreams, and fears in a 10-page spread.

and i'm annoyed. i'm annoyed because it seems as though the big guns were brought out in my honor. why, just when i'm content to let my subscription lapse into obscurity, i read the five or six best articles all year?! so, is this the MO? is this the grand plan? skate by with filler until my renewal time?

well, damn. you've won, NYer...you've won. my check is in the mail.

cheater

anyone who has heard my description of last saturday's events knows that my little honda is undergoing some surgery at the moment. my poor car had a BIG scratch on its right side...but on the whole, its cosmetic appearance has been on the decline for a while. there's a dent from a friend opening my car door too quickly and too forcefully against a pole in my garage, some scratches on the front bumber where the dealership drive it against a curb, and the scratches on the back bumper where i backed into those annoying rocks with which people edge their yards to prevent parking, (i HATE those rocks) among other things. point being that i've been feeling a little self-conscious about the look of my fairly young car...this is same car that came back from the repair-shop once upon a time with teeny-tiny pockmarks in the paint, making me cry because my new baby had its first blemishes. so, when the rental car employee picks me up in a new aura, i immediately start to notice this sleek, new acquaintance. the adjustable seatbelt height...the ignition coordinating with the radio and the transmission coordinating with the doorlocks...the way i can open the sunroof and trunk with the push of the alarm button. i even like the more subtle click of the tune signal. suddenly, i sense myself starting to lust after this new car...i like it's smell...it's look in the driveway...the way i feel in the driver's seat. and the thing is, i HAD a saturn...and i HATED it. but i LOVE this car. and i am beginning to devise a plan for how i can keep this car, instead of my honda...some sneaky reason why i deserve the upgrade. it seems only reasonable that the garage and the rental place will go along with this plan.

but this afternoon, i made one observation: the aura's fuel gauge. in only two days, i have used over a third of a tank of gas. this is NOT normal. given my usual driving habits, i can drive over two weeks on one tank of gas in my honda. thus, the aura is flawed. and as i am sitting there, embraced by the cushions of this unfamiliar travel companion, i have this overwhelming feeling that i have been cheating on my car. and i genuinely feel guilty. do i admit this infidelity to my honda...or do i just pretend it never happened?

in any case, i miss you, baby. looking forward to having you back.

addicted

so, i just got home from a fantastic show tonight. dashboard confessional. was a solo performance with chris carrabba (singer) and john lefler (guitarist). i grew up with john lefler's little brother and spent a fair amount of time at the lefler household back in the day. turns out pappa lefler was at the performance...was nice to stop and say hello. and the concert was fantastic. i mean, REALLY good. more on that later...

i get home and what's on TV but 'sleepless in seattle.' and i swear, i cannot see that movie on television without stopping to watch it. and every time i watch it, i cry bucketloads. doesn't matter if i see the whole thing or the last ten minutes, i cry...EVERY SINGLE TIME. i LOVE that movie. that's all.

morgan for president

so, i've gotten more and more interested in video commentaries on film DVDs. i especially enjoy listening to the commentary by the directors...getting perspective on why a scene was shot this way or that. what that tiny little prop in the background meant to the scene, the actors in the scene, or even just the crew. the odd costuming choices...or the happy mistakes that become the moments of brilliance. basically, all the little details that don't even hit our register when first watching a film. the first time i really took the time to watch a director commentary on a film was several years ago with 'american beauty.' and the moment i knew these commentaries were invaluable to me even as a stage director was when sam mendes described one of the opening scenes in which lester (kevin spacey) is talking to a client on the phone at work while looking in his computer screen. the scene is shot from behind, so we see lester's face as a reflection on the screen. and mendes was talking about how the text on the screen originally ran horizontally... until he decided to try several narrow columns of text running across the screen. the effect? when you see lester's face reflected in the screen along with the text, he appears to be behind bars... imprisoned. this moment lasts for no longer than 2 minutes. i can't say i consciously noticed this choice when watching the movie, but these details surely resonate with us on a subconscious level. subtle, but brilliant.

so, last night, after getting home from a gala, i decided i would watch the brand new 'special edition/feature' DVD of 'se7en' i just bought. (perhaps not the best movie to watch after a stressful day and right before bed.) in any case, i am now watching the commentary involving morgan freeman, brad pitt, and david fincher, the director. and let me just say that i have always been a brad pitt fan...not because he's attractive (frankly, he's not my type), but because i think he is a really intelligent actor. especially in his smaller roles, he brings a depth of character that is fairly rare...i'm thinking 'snatch' or '12 monkeys.' david fincher is a bit less articulate than some of the other directors i've heard. i knew that he had directed 'fight club,' but what i didn't know was that he started out primarily as a video director in the 80's and 90's. sting, paula abdul, madonna, etc. interesting. suddenly, the opening titles of 'seven' (set to NIN's 'closer') make sense style-wise. still, fincher's very pragmatic approach is interesting to hear. BUT (and this is what makes this DVD worth every penny) morgan freeman is also included in this commentary...and actors, if you haven't listened to freeman talk about character development, you need to. every time i hear that man speak, i am convinced he is a genius. he IS indeed far closer to the character he plays in 'se7en' than one might think in terms of education. the first movies i remember associating with morgan freeman as a child were 'glory,' 'driving miss daisy,' 'lean on me,' and most significantly, 'the power of one.' (if you have not read or seen 'the power of one,' i suggest you do so. amazing story and film.) freeman has always struck me with this profound sense of wisdom and dignity...it's really pervasive in every character he plays. so, back to the commentary...

fincher and pitt are discussing the scene in which sommerset (freeman) puts it together that the murders are associated with the seven deadly sins. and he's listing the sins off his fingers to the others. and the way he does so is so deliberate and elegant. and both pitt and fincher remark on this...as well as the deep, resonant quality of his voice. 'the god voice,' so to speak. and fincher continues to say that he thought freeman was an excellent casting choice for president in 'deep impact'...and that he would vote for him. YES! some of you know i have been saying morgan freeman should run for president for YEARS. is this ridiculous? well, is it any more ridiculous than ronald reagan? ...or the clown we have in office currently? if i could any one person who, on image alone, could have a serious shot at randomly running for political office, it would be morgan freeman. so... why not? morgan for president!

interesting related fincher quote: "I don't know how much movies should entertain. To me, I'm always interested in movies that scar. The thing I love about Jaws is the fact that I've never gone swimming in the ocean again."

best quote from se7en: "just because the fucker has a library card doesn't make him yoda."

off the grid: my new thoughts on immigration

let me preface this blog with the suggestion that some might find it offensive. that being said, i'm very upset. here is why:

today, i was involved in a hit and run accident. i was driving along travis street...a detour i took to avoid traffic on the way to help out with my friend's theatre company's gala. while driving in the far left lane, i get hit by a car to my right as we are crossing west alabama. as soon as i can take stock of what happened, the car had backed up and sped off down west alabama. this happened so fast that i couldn't get a good look at the license plate. not content with this injustice, my temper got the best of me, and i took off on a wild chase to catch up with this bastard. so, i started my car back up and followed him. he managed to get through a red light right before me...so he was quite a ways ahead. i suppose he thought he was safe, but i kept an eye on him as he drove away down alabama. i was able to see where he turned off...at some point, he became aware of my following him and started driving faster. but finally, i was able to trap him between two cars...at which point, i parked my car in such a way that he was blocked and couldn't drive away.

sidenote: i realize this was absolute insanity. had this man been violent, i could be dead right now.

so, he got out of the car. and i gave him a piece of my mind. of course, as soon as i stand up out of my car, my legs start to wobble and give out under me. (shock setting in.) but i am so angry that i will not get back in my car for fear of his driving off again. regarding the man who hit me...hispanic. didn't speak english. driving what appeared to be a fairly new potiac grand prix. all new stickers. we will call this man joe for the sake of discussion.

joe couldn't understand anything i was saying. i told him i thought it was pretty terrible that he hit me and then, drove away. blank stare. no response. fortunately, he wasn't angry. it was only when i told him that i was going to call the police that his ears perked up. 'policia?!'

'si.'

so, i call the police, because at this point, i become increasingly convinced that i am going to be out of luck in this situation. that joe won't have insurance...nor any way to compensate me for the damage done to my car. the whole right side of my car is smashed...what appears to be thousands of dollars of damage. how on earth will joe pay for it? in any case, i want a police report. i speak very slowly and make big gestures of getting his license plate number and pictures of the car. in other words, i wanted to make it very clear that he shouldn't try to leave again. the police operator suggests that i only get his license plate and file a report at the station later. i'm stubborn and don't accept this suggestion. the operator tells me it will be a bit, since there was a disturbance to which several officers were responding. i tell her that's OK...that i will wait. (honestly, i would rather the police potentially prevent someone from getting hurt before they come to me.)

so, eventually my dad shows up, as well as the police probably 30 minutes later. the first police officer who shows up gets all the basic information from me, but is at a loss since she doesn't speak any spanish. finally, a second officer arrives who does. he divines that joe:
a. doesn't have insurance
b. doesn't have a valid texas driver's license
c. has only an expired mexican license

in other words, there is a 95% chance joe is illegal. i ask the officers if he is. one gives me a dry look and said, 'what do you think? but, thanks to our dear mayor, we can't ask or we'll get fired.'

sidenote #2: i appreciate that joe is being cooperative. i also find out that he is only 23...although i would have guessed mid-thirties, as he looks much older. as mad as i am about my car and the fact that i will most likely be paying out of my pocket for something that wasn't my fault, a part of me feels very sorry for joe. he's probably just some young, stupid kid who is scared. however, i don't want to paint him as an unfortunate, as his clothes and car did not suggest that he was financially struggling in the dire sense.

anyways...the police are civil to joe, but ticket him on 3 accounts:
a. moving into my lane and colliding
b. failure to have insurance
c. failure to have a driver's license

i ask about fleeing the scene. the officer tells me that since i actually caught him, they can't ticket him for it. go figure.

at some point, the spanish-speaking officer tells me that joe has mentioned paying for the damages to my car. he suggests i take the offer, but that i be careful about how i handle it. the other officer gives me some 'off the record' advice...that i invoke the name of the police to get the payment from joe. i think it is probably unwise to get falsely hopeful. this was someone who tried fleeing the scene...is it likely this is necessarily someone who will fulfill his debts? in any case, the officer suggests i threaten to show up on his court date. i don't like this kind of game-playing, but i am also not keen on being held accountable for the whole accident. what is the right thing to do?

but the whole matter leads me to my bigger point: illegal aliens. folks, i am as sympathetic to the cause as i can be. i believe immigration should be possible for people of all extractions... from any country, etc. but this can be accomplished legally. i do not suggest it is easy, but can we really be tolerant of people living off the grid? i was just telling someone the other day about my affinity for mexico city. it's irrational, but i would have to say that i prefer dirty, crowded mexico city to any other place i've traveled. why? because i got this incredible rush being there. it was exciting...but profoundly scary. why was it scary? because standing in the crowded zocalo, i had the sensation that i could have been ripped off the street, dragged down a remote alleyway, and NEVER heard from again. in a lawless land like mexico, it is possible to fall completely off the grid. and while terrifying, i was fascinated by this feeling. it made everything immediate and amplified the feeling of being alive...survival.

having come back from mexico city, i tried to explain that sensation to my friends who had never been there. and i failed miserably, since i couldn't compare to anything else i had experienced. it was only when i watched the denzel washington movie 'man on fire' that i finally had any point of comparison. the first scene features someone getting abducted from the zocalo...and THAT feeling of terror is exactly what i was trying to express.

today's experience made me think of things in a different light. there is no easy solution to the illegal immigrant problem. but can we just be lenient? should houston be a refuge for illegal immigrants? i feel it important to stress that these sentiments are not influenced by prejudice. i strongly feel that the ethnic diversity of houston is part of what makes it so special. and furthermore, i have the utmost respect for those immigrants who go through the painstaking process of becoming legal. but had i taken the operators advice today, i would have had an absolutely meaningless license plate number. a license plate number that couldn't be connected to a driver's license...nor any person. why? because there was no driver's license. so, a person like myself is left with absolutely no recourse at all. no way to seek justice. mind you, this was a car accident...what if it had been a rape or murder? how can we pursue someone or punish someone who, according to our records, doesn't exist?

i think we should all think carefully about this situation before we get up in arms either way about the immigration problem. consider how you might feel the next time a 'nonexistent' person attacks you, steals your things, or hits your car and tries to run. i am left torn...not knowing how best to proceed. i have no desire to cause trouble for joe or his family...but should he not have some responsibility towards me? should he not have some responsibility to follow our city's laws, as someone enjoying the benefits of living here?

nothing in this world comes for free. if you leave one country for something better, that, too, comes at a price...should it not be the price of legally calling yourself an american?

houston arts: damn straight

Arts have $600M effect on Houston

Houston Business Journal - by Christine Hall Reporter

Cultural arts may not bring in as much money as the oil and gas industry, but a report released Monday shows the sector is a valuable part of the Houston economy.

"The Business of the Arts: A Look into The Economic Impact of the Arts on the Houston Region" showed that in 2004, the nonprofit arts in Houston brought in $626.3 million, supported 14,115 full-time jobs and generated $69.5 million in local and state government revenue.

Mayor Bill White, at a luncheon, said Houston is one of the up-and-coming venues in the arts world. "We want people 50 years or 100 years from now to talk about the explosion in Houston arts," he said.

The study also found that the 9.2 million people who said they attended an arts and cultural event in 2004 was twice the number of people attending events related to Houston's three major league professional sports teams in 2005.

The 1.6 million visitors to Houston who attended cultural events in 2004 spent $132 million in addition to the cost of their tickets, the survey found.

"Houston is not just a good places for the arts, it is one of the best," said Larry Faulkner, president of Houston Endowment Inc., a philanthropic institution founded in 1937 by Jesse and Mary Gibbs Jones.

"The arts are a powerful business asset and one we need to have for Houston to remain a leading city in the future and to keep its extraordinary economic vitality," he said.
Volunteerism was also a big factor in Houston's cultural events, according to the study. More than 34,000 individuals volunteered for arts and cultural organizations in 2004, contributing more than 650,000 hours worth more than $11.2 million.

Funding for the project, consulted by St. Louis-based AMS Planning & Research, was provided by The Brown Foundation, Houston Endowment and The Wortham Foundation.

4 musings

1. puppies:

so i get email updates from petsmart. i use banfield, the associated vet. a few days ago, i received an email from them entitled,' loving your pet to death.' thinking this was probably some inoocuous sale anouncement, i opened it to read a rather shocking email about pet obesity. apparently, not only are our children getting fat...so are our pets. the email goes on to illustrate the dangers of over-feeding your pets. and so, of course, i start to panic about poor fidel. i have tried to feed him smaller portions, but this is a rather undiscerning animal that will eat anything if he's hungry. (he has spit up full pecans before.) that being said, dieting is easier said than done for my little fuzzy. and even walking is difficult, because i have to take both dogs...and fidel can never keep up with faulkner for very long. so, must i resign myself to this? must i feel guilty every time i give him a biscuit? poor baby.

2. dancing around my apartment:

last saturday, i spent all morning dancing around my apartment. i had the music playing while i cleaned, and one tune just got me moving. and somewhere, mid-shimmy...i got a brilliant idea for an upcoming play project. that's always a wonderful feeling...when some light bulb goes off in your head and you suddenly have direction. i love that moment of sparked inspiration! now, if i could only remember my great idea....

3. stage mothers:

i am not so sure i enjoy stage mothers. by this, i am not necessarily talking about the women who put pressure on their kids to perform. i'm talking about the next level of stage mothers: the mothers whose children already perform and who might go on tour with their children for a given show. i respect the need for a child to be close to his or her mother, but this situation creates a new breed. so, last night, i'm at a party and these children are running around like comanches. screaming and yelling and playing tag in the middle of a reception for our major donors...with expensive glassware in hand and whatnot. and i am shocked...because these mothers just sat back obliviously as their kids wreaked havoc on the party....children aged 5 to 13. mind you, it is midnight! and the mothers are talking amongst themselves like nothing is out of order. and at one point, the children create a hideout near the coat-check and are yelling at one another...and one child screams at the top of her lungs. and i politely ask the kids to keep it down, when this one little girl screams again. it appears as though she is screaming back at me, and i give her a look that would freeze ice. (seriously... these children should really know better.) and thankfully, the girl looked terrified and got quiet...for a minute anyways. and throughout this experience, i come to 3 conclusions:

-touring with these children must be the best birth control method...EVER.

-it is indeed possible for people to be so removed from reality that they have no sense of propriety.

-these children have hard lives ahead of them. god have mercy on the show-biz kid.

4. bjork

this is random, but it must be said. on my drive yesterday, i came across 'dancer in the dark' on one of my mix CDs, and it reminded me of bjork's oscar performance...and the subsequent flurry of fashion gossips mocking her for her oscar garb faux-pas. but you know...i really, REALLY liked that swan dress. and i admire her for being enough of her own person to unabashedly wear it. i even liked the egg purse. so there.

true blue, madonna, i love you

time. i never know where the times goes. this is certainly worthy of another blog at another time...surely one to explain why i've been a little MIA the last couple of weeks. but for today...i'll focus on this weekend. so, i found myself on an impromptu road trip friday night. i needed to decompress from the week, so i didn't mind the time to just focus on the road and drive. i grabbed two folders of my CDs...one containing soundtracks and compilations, the other containing mostly mix CDs i made many moons ago. after singing along at the top of my lungs to the first half of the first rent CD, i realized i was getting hoarse. (side note: i was surprised that i could still remember every single word to every single song...after not having listened to it in probably 6 years. gotta love angsty teenagers and their obsessions.)

so after a little 'rent' and 'chess,' i pop in the 'immaculate collection.' and i haven't listened to madonna in a setting when i was at liberty to think about it for years. but it brought back so many memories. when i was a little kid, i remember having this little pink radio. (ah, the 80's.) this radio went with me everywhere, and audio tapes were the invention of the gods! every weekend, i would go outside in my back yard...inventing stories with my yorkie, recording nature sounds, and documenting our adventures with this little pink radio. this little pink radio was also used for more practical purposes...like recording piano lessons. but most often, this pink radio was my ticket to pop star land. the first 2 tapes i ever remember having were madonna's 'like a virgin' and 'true blue.' my parents didn't buy these for me...i believe i must have confiscated them from my older brother, who was in high school at the time. (it's certainly not the last time i ever confiscated music from my brother. 'no, robert, i don't know where those sting and peter gabriel CDs are.') in any case, i remember dancing around my yellow bedroom and singing along to 'like a virgin,' complete with high-pitched yelps. let it be said that i am sure i am not the first nor only 6/7 year-old to have done that...madonna inspired a whole generation little girls to reminisce about our 'purer' days. and i remember thinking that she looked so pretty on the album cover...and yet, so bad. if only i knew what i was singing about at the time!

then came 'true blue,' and everything changed. in my childlike eyes, madonna seemed a bit more wholesome. for a minute perhaps...and despite 'pappa don't preach.' her voice was stronger, her songs more consistent...and she was now a blonde. this was indeed the beginning of a new era. whereas i only knew a few songs from 'like a virgin,' i memorized every single track on 'true blue.' every single one. i danced the salsa to 'la isla bonita,' imagining myself in some ruffled, off-the-shoulder peasant dress on some tropical island. (san pedro? where's that?) then, there was 'open your heart,' which i firmly believed captured my feelings about whatever crush i had at the time...my rendition of that was particularly heart-felt. and last but not least, there was 'live to tell,' which was one of my favorite songs for many years following. i remember performing my own dramatic interpretation of that song for my dogs and stuffed animals...they were the fortunate audience for a great many of my dramatic endeavors at that age. i used to re-enact TV commercials for them...i was determined i could be more convincing than whichever woman was pushing dawn dishwashing soap or campbell's soup. (did everyone do this? ...or was i just a strange little kid?)

regardless, the point is that, listening to these songs the other night, i was transported back to a time that i remember very vividly. back when my brother drove 'jack,' the white ford grenada. when he was in high school and i, elementary. when i was convinced every molly ringwald/brat pack movie was just like his everyday reality. when i played with 'my little ponies' and lusted after my neighbors 'jelly shoes.' (my mom never bought me jelly shoes...i think she thought they were tacky. of course, i was an odd kid who never asked for things, so i probably never told her i wanted them.) when all my stuffed animals had specific personalities and when i thought barbie was a little slutty. when places like 'federated' existed...and when my brother and i would spend the summer mornings mowing lawns, then the afternoons, at the neighborhood pool. (well, he mowed lawns, and i usually watched.) when garfield was cool and i had a pink rabbit phone, with red eyes that lit up when it rang. when i watched my brother's tape of back to the future everyday and thought leah thompson was the most beautiful woman in the world. when i wrote little stories about rabbits and mice... (i had an obsession with rabbits and mice at the time, due to my love for movies like 'the secret of nimh' and 'watership down.' i would write these little stories and bind them into make-shift books, and my mother still laughs about the earnestness of my 'diane and corey' books...yes, there was indeed a series.) when i wanted to be sarah jessica parker in 'girls just want to have fun.' when i would basically rewrite the story of 'girls just want to have fun'...except with mice and rabbits. (don't ask me how a child's logic works.)

ah...good memories.

i leave you with this, madonna: a tribute to you...

the rainbow connection

rainbows. on wednesday, i was having a very bad day. no, it wasn't due to humberto and the impending deluge...other things were weighing on my mind.

so, i drove home with the expectation of a quiet evening on the couch to calm my nerves, and on the ride homeward, the clouds had parted in one corner of the sky to reveal a rainbow. and i think to myself, 'how can i be in a bad mood or feel sorry myself when i see something like this?'

how can a rainbow suddenly lift my mood? how can the appearance of the rainbow not put a smile on someone's face? why is this?

is it because it happens so rarely? is it because it is beautiful? a natural phenomenon? or is it what rainbows represent? or is it perhaps a reminder of a simpler time in our lives...when we doodled rainbows and suns and birds and hearts with big crayola crayons? (i was just coloring rainbows, per her request, with my dear 5 year-old niece a week ago.)

so, having just looked 'up 'rainbow' via wikipedia, i read:

In Greek mythology, the rainbow was considered to be a path made by a messenger (Iris) between Earth and Heaven.

In Christian and Jewish scripture, the rainbow is interpreted as a sign of the covenant between God and man, and the biblical God's promise to Noah that he would never again flood the entire Earth.

Historically, a rainbow flag was used in the German Peasants' War in the 16th century as a sign of a new era, of hope and of social change.

just what i imagined. it only makes sense that people have associated rainbows with heaven. but why? because they were once unexplainable and thus, attributed to the divine? because they are in the sky? i don't really think so. i see them and it's a different feeling that stirs in my breast...

faith.

when i see a rainbow, i think of faith. i think of my faith. faith not only in the divine, but faith in people...in situations...in things like love and goodness and truth. how can i be a realist (and periodically, a closet cynic) and yet, have so much faith in my life?

when people ask me about my favorite movie, i can say, without a doubt, that it is 'contact.' they are sometimes baffled by my answer as a thespian, as it is not known for being particularly artful. and then, after a moment's thought, they figure it is because of the sci-fi connection...which admittedly, plays a part. but i love that movie because it is about faith. it is about believing something so profoundly in your heart that you KNOW it to be true. to know god exists. to know aliens exist. to know you don't know everything. to know you could be wrong...but that it doesn't matter, because the act of having faith and expressing faith is quite possibly enough in and of itself.

so often, we allow ourselves to be swayed by the everyday trials...the routine...as well as by our fears, our jealousies, our petty concerns. how often are we stopped in our tracks by true expressions of faith?

i was watching the movie 'pay it foward' a little earlier. and dismiss it as sentimental or preachy if you must, but it illustrates such a wonderful idea. the concept is so simple and yet, so profoundly beautiful. to have faith in change. to have faith in people and to make an act in the good faith that the effort, the love, and the generosity will not stop with you. utopian? perhaps. but with only small steps, we may make big changes. it's the little things, as well as the big things.

there is one moment in the movie in which a junkie talks a woman down from a ledge. holding out his hand to this hysterical woman, he tells her that all he could think about was his next fix until he saw her about to jump. and he calmly says, "have coffee with me. you can save me. please...save my life."

yes, this is surely drama made for the movies. and perhaps we won't be saving someone's life. but maybe with that unsolicted smile to the stranger on the street, you have made some small difference. is that something to dismiss? we could all critisize ourselves for not doing more...not giving enough to charity, not volunteering enough or spending enough time in productive service of others...or simply not always being so considerate or kind. but a smile is not so difficult, is it? perhaps these small things might eventually coalesce into something indeed life-changing or live-saving.

[apparently, an attempt to implement this principle is being made by this organization: http://www.payitforwardfoundation.org/get_involved.html]

so, to address my original question...rainbows. to me, rainbows represent faith. and despite the fact rainbows have been explained by science, maybe i choose to believe they are a sign...in fact, on wednesday, i KNOW the rainbow was a sign. knowledge (scientific and otherwise), observation, and pragmatism are certainly valuable. there is no doubt that faith should come with questions...to be sure, it should be the questions that strengthen your faith. and yet, i have faith in my sign. don't let your own magic be taken away...