Cold Mountain

I just recently caught the movie Cold Mountain again on television and was struck by the beauty and haunting quality of some of the music. I had bought the soundtrack a couple years ago, but as it has such a distinctive flavor, I don't listen to it very often.

The soundtrack is simply incredible- including a compilation of new compositions and old folk songs as recorded by popular artists like Jack White and Alison Krauss. One of the standout songs on the CD is "You will be my ain true love," as sung by Krauss. Upon listening to it, I heard Sting's voice faintly singing backup harmony... and as it turns out, Sting wrote it.

The added bonus is that Gabriel Yared (City of Angels, The English Patient) has written all the incidental scoring- which is gorgeous. I highly suggest you take a listen...

The Fidel Fido Diet

I have recently considered the possibility that my dog, Fidel, is not in fact a dog, but rather, a pig. He eats everything- compulsively and without consideration. So, I have decided to create a list of things (of which I am aware) that Fidel has ingested. Instead of the well-known "Stuff on my Cat," I shall entitle it "Stuff IN my Dog."

Stuff IN my Dog:

1. Dog food- This is fairly obvious.
2. Dog treats- Another obvious one.
3. Whole pecans- No, not the actual nut- the whole damn shell and all.
4. The knobs off my cabinet- This is a fairly new development.
5. Trash- Yes, the compost my Depression-era neighbor throws out her kitchen window, much to my chagrin. (Steak bones and all.)
6. Toilet paper- Evidenced by paper shreds strewn around my apartment.
7. Frosty paws- I admit I'm a sucker. Why not have ice cream for dogs?
8. My Anthropologie shirt- Fidel did indeed eat part of my $115 mesh shirt from Anthropologie.
9. Grass- Not entirely abnormal.
10. Pantyhose- Fidel apparently has a thing for nylon.
11. Everything off my kitchen floor- Who needs a vacuum when you have Fidel?
12. My vitamins- I wasn't quick enough in picking up one I dropped.
13. Toy squirrel- And all its stuffing.
14. Rat poison- The reason I spent this last Christmas Eve in a vet emergency clinic.
15. A whole pack of Orbit gum- This is bad. Sugarless gum contains an ingredient that can kill dogs even in small doses. Fortunately, with his cast-iron stomach, Fidel was entirely unaffected.
16. Any food I leave on my coffee table for even a second- I once brought home one of my favorite sandwiches from Whole Foods (Turkey with brie and raspberry jam on Seeduction bread). I left it on my table for approximately one minute while I grabbed a drink in the kitchen. In one minute only, it disappeared. Completely.

To be continued...

Eulogy for my Poet

"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan. "
-Irving Townsend

Faulkner came into my life four years ago and has been ripped out of it all too soon. In the spring of 2004, we travelled to Madisonville to collect Fidel, a five week old Manchester Terrier we had planned to adopt. While waiting for paperwork and vaccines to be completed, little Faulkner (3 months old at the time) courted me with the vigilance of a Shakespearean hero- a pleading look, a rub against my legs, a kiss on the hand. It took all of ten minutes for me to fall in love with him, and it became inevitable that we would be taking two dogs home with us that day- baby Fidel and my poet, Faulkner. He was so handsome and so sensitive- and though I realize it is in our nature to anthropomorphize our pets, I have never known a more empathic creature than my dear Faulkner.

The breeder intimated that Faulkner had been rescued from a potentially abusive situation. Quick to cower and nervous about new people, this was not difficult to believe. His innocent anxiety and eagerness to please tugged on my heartstrings, and I vowed to do absolutely everything I could to make him feel all the love I could manage. Doting on him day and night, I was oftentimes accused of favoritism- an unfair accusation, since my behavior was in response to a need I saw in him. And eventually, Faulkner grew more confident and comfortable in his world.

At the dog park, Faulkner would choose the biggest and boldest dogs as his playmates. Proud and newly confident, he equated himself with the likes of German Shepherds and Golden Retrievers- dogs two, three, and four times his size. He was mischievous. Not particularly interested in playing fetch, he did, however, love the game of taking balls and toys away from Fidel... and he was good at it, being faster and more lithe. Faulkner also taunted his companion by commanding the prime lap space- even when it meant displacing an already settled Fidel. It was standard practice for Fidel's growls to be met with a casual and disinterested glance from Faulkner. Knowing how to endear himself, it was most important to him that he be close to me.

Yet, Faulkner shined most when allowed to run free. I would take him to the wilderness trails at Memorial Park and with no present threat, would let him off the leash to enjoy the woods. He was like a graceful gazelle... sleek, elegant, and effortless. Watching him fly through the trees was perhaps one of the simple pleasures that brought me the most joy in my life. He was leaping with that same natural grace when he fatefully crossed the street in front of a car right before my eyes a few days ago. I suppose it is some comfort that his last moments were spent running free, as he loved so much- his final act of good-natured rebellion and mischief.

As any dog-owner would, I adored darling Faulkner. Yet, I may humor myself to think that I may have been more attached to him than usual. Having weathered a difficult time two years ago, my two dogs were my anchor. They were the family I saw everyday- a constant source of unconditional, unadulterated love and affection. Quick to console with kisses, they helped me through one of the most tumultuous periods of my life. No day meant defeat when I could finally lie in bed as Faulkner wriggled under the covers, sidling up next to me. Cunning and hyper-intelligent for a dog, I have no doubt this registered at least in some small way with him- he was special that way. Faulkner always seemed especially attuned to my emotions... and he stood faithfully at my side until the storm was over- lovingly repaying my initial kindness with kindness of his own.

On the very day I lost him, I spent the morning rejoicing him. With him curled up on my unmade bed, I held him tight and thanked God for bringing him into my life. At that moment, he was like a reluctant little boy, squirming in his mother's embrace- but I know he loved all the attention, for he would come begging for it in its absence. I will forever cherish the memory of that wonderful morning when I could show him, one last time, how much I loved him

Faulkner, you were an extraordinary animal and a dear friend to me- the best kind. Loyal, loving, and sensitive to a fault, I count myself so blessed to have had the great fortune of caring for you these past four years. Your life was a precious gift to me, and your death shall not be in vain. My darling puppy, you have taught me such an important lesson. Both with your sprightly gait and through your untimely death, you have taught me that life is magnificent, yet so fleeting and precious. I find myself surrounded by so many friends and loved ones, so many bountiful gifts, and so much beauty in my life- I promise you I will do my best to appreciate it all and to remind those loved ones of my gratitude with every breath. And with every breath, my dear Faulkner, I will carry a part of you with me.

Faulkner

February 4, 2004 - February 26, 2008

the cyndi/jenni chronicles

she and i amuse ourselves with email banter...

exchange 1:

From: Jenni
Sent: Tuesday, August 28, 2007
To: Cynthia
RE: Is Facebook the new Match.com?

no, seriously. the good ones are all unavailable. i'm not kidding here. either emotionally...or physically (as in, they live in different time zones...or perhaps they hide in jungles)...or legally.

i'm wondering when other women will start to realize this. the answer? a total upheaval of our preconceived notions of love and relationships. we women should stop accepting advances and proposals and such...just long enough until there is an established population of easily identifiable single men. then, we herd them, corrall them, drug them, and subject them to tom hanks/meg ryan movies...just long enough until they understand what it is we want. then, we beat them into submission. and make them like it. then, we pick and choose as we please...maybe some sort of rental policy. except...not like an old blockbuster type rental...more of a netflix rental. as in, we can send them back when we're tired of them without penalty of late fees. but perhaps with the candy, popcorn, and cold drink option. :)

Her response:

A) Legally unavailable? Are you going after 12 year olds now? I suppose if you can't find a good man, raise one.

2) Interesting system you propose. Is there, at any time, an option to buy?

Banana) I wonder what kind of a comparable system guys would propose, if given the opportunity. I think it would be remarkably similar, only replace the tom hanks/meg ryan movies with adult films.

exchange 2:

From: Jenni
Sent: Thursday, August 30, 2007
To: Cynthia
Subject: who's tim
gunn?

her response:

Ah, you clearly have better things to do with your life than watch reality shows on Bravo. Tim Gunn is the mentor on Project Runway (he's also the dean or something of Parson's school for design). He's the most fabulously well dressed older gay man ever. He says things like "carry on" and "sturm und drang."

my response:

i'm over older gay men. even of the fabulously dressed variety. in fact, i'm over gay men in general. you do realize that i work with one straight man in an office of approximately 40? one. and he's the CEO. i'd even question his orientation if he didn't wear big belt buckles and drink shiner out of the bottle. i work in musical theatre for godssake! (jazz hands!) it couldn't get any queenier around here if elizabeth I walked in the damn door.

on the other hand, i AM indeed impressed with anyone who can throw around terms referring to late 18th-century german expressionist movements. and thanks to my music schooling, i didn't even have to wiki that. ;)

her response:

Oh, Jenni Rebecca. You are so educated and clever. ;)

I (only kinda) feel your pain. I was looking around the cafeteria today thinking about what NASA engineers are (incredibly intelligent, generally nice) and what they are not (attractive, socially adept, well dressed). I am wasting my youth on men who actually want me for my mind. How depressing.

my response:

clever? oh pish. thou doth possesseth a keen wit thrice the magnitude of mine own.

to be wanted for one's mind is nothing to sneeze at...it's a comfort when we start to sag in all the wrong places.

regarding NASA men, the fact that they are unattractive and can't dress should be secondary to the fact they can never be fired and probably have decent pension plans. find one with particularly thick bottle-cap glasses...perhaps one getting on in years...and who knows what you can get away with! you see, all of the above never stopped the NASA geeks from walking into the jewelry store at baybrook with astoundingly beautiful russian brides on their arms. i never once questioned the harmony of the universe when i could witness the sweet balancing forces of nature in action. and to take it one step further, these NASA men and their rusky counterparts are doing our dear world a favor. we mustn't get carried away with sharp intellect or a great pair of legs---no! we must do our part to even the playing field for the human race. no more is it necessary for the blind, pocket-protector-donning egg-head doomed to walk this lonely earth alone...or with the adult equivalent of the little girl in lil' miss sunshine. (mind you, i am not poking fun at that little girl---i looked just like her at 8 years old.) no! instead they have their pick of gorgeous, though intellectually confounded women to assist them in upping the ante for the gene pool. we owe them all our deepest gratitude. yay for mail order brides!

...now if only we could manufacture the mail equivalent.

her response:

Ya know, I see your point regarding NASA men, but the truth is that I, too, am a NASA employee and therefore can never be fired and have awesome health insurance, pension plan, etc. I also come with the added bonus of being attractive and dressing well. I guess what I'm saying is - where's my russian bride?

my response:

well, cynthia...you seem to be forgetting the options before you. nowhere does it say you can't have a russian bride. you will just have to go to hawaii or montreal to marry her, that's all.

and PS, i am not a LUSH...luscious perhaps. :)

mi familia loca

my brother and i are in the kitchen. we are laughing so hard we are crying. the rest of the party is still in the dining room...the children have wandered back upstairs. the water in the sink is running, masking the sound of our laughter. we are dumping a full bowl of something down the drain... on the DL. we don't want anyone to see- especially not our great aunt. this is because we are dumping the entire bowl of what she called 'copper pennies' down the drain. indeed, we are destroying the evidence that not a single person touched the copper pennies she made over dinner. (to describe these 'copper pennies,' think of baby carrots swimming in a vat of brownish, congealed cinnamon syrup.)

alas, this is not the first time the family has had to adjust... compensate... act like my aunt's cooking is tolerable. one of my fondest memories of my family is one thanksgiving day, many years ago- i must have been eight or nine years old. we were standing around my grandmother's dining room table- maybe 30 people or more. (my grandmother was probably the most laid-back person i have ever known. always embodying a more-the-merrier attitude, our family dinners would not only include the extended family, but also the friends, dates, and even ex-husbands and ex-wives of all involved. once a part of my family, you never quite escaped.) so, we're all standing around the table in anxious anticipation of the holiday meal. my great aunt had been put in charge of the turkey cooking- now was time for the turkey carving. the turkey is brought in- collective 'oohs' and 'ahs' from everyone. my dad approaches the bird, knives in hand. he starts to cut it and .......................................................it bleeds.

flash forward almost ten years. my grandmother is gone and with her, the big family dinners with the extended family. my parents are divorced. my brother has three children and is also now divorced. my great uncle is gone. my aunt is now married and spends many holidays with her new family. and in so many ways, my family is the picture of dysfunction. nonetheless, i still can't help but count myself lucky to have the family i do.

yesterday, my mother prepared a belated birthday brunch for my father. my god-father was in town, so it made for a nice celebration. neither my brother nor my father were taking up the old family tradition of initiating religious or political discussions over the meal. (the other tradition being discussion of all things inappropriate, to which my grandma would usually shout, "no potty-talk at the table!") seeing that the men were falling down on the job, i took up the mantle and mentioned my recent visit to the new monica pope restaurant: 'beaver's.' (at this point, we can only hope the conversation was going over my great aunt's head.)

after dinner, my godfather (from hamburg, germany) zealously pulls out some sheet music and announces that he should play while we sing happy birthday... which we did. but let it be known that, at the stephenson household, when any one person sits down at the piano, a can of worms has been opened. (my brother and i seriously studied piano, and my father and i have always sung together... that was always the way he and i communicated best.) so, upon insistence from my mother, the piano singalong continued. i scrounged our sheet music collection for anything worthwhile (that i hadn't stolen and left at my apartment) and seated myself at the piano. suddenly, the whole room was tied together in song... a little gershwyn (porgy and bess, then showtunes), some standards, etc. the grand finale being a resounding chorus of annie's 'tomorrow'....shouted at the top of my father's and godfather's lungs and making us all laugh. and i sat there at the piano thinking i could ask for nothing better than moments like that.

once the singalong had concluded, my great aunt insisted that we cut the cake she brought. she explained that it was a greek cake with a coin baked into it, in a similar fashion as a king's cake- the recipient of the coin winning good luck for the year. we were all so full that no one was particularly interested in eating this cake... one that more closely resembled a loaf of bread... AND that turned out to be something she received BEFORE christmas. so, once again, the family was obliged to humor her. and following suit, we all cut large slices of cake, pretended to take a tiny bite, and then claimed to be too full to finish... my godfather was the only one to eat the whole thing, being the exceedingly good sport that he is.

and while i watched the family try to discreetly dispose of their stale piece of greek bread-cake, it was reaffirmed: being a family is not about being picture-perfect... what binds us together is what we endure together.

misadventures in narrative

those that read this blog regularly are probably aware that i've gotten into a bit of fiction writing lately. most things are inspired by personal experiences, but i've used my own life as a point of launch more than as source material for my writing in its entirety. i've hesitated to post these compositions at a public URL, since many pieces have a very personal slant to them. i do not want them confused with my more typical blog entries, nor perceived as diary entries- they are fictional in nature.

however, if you happen to be interested in taking a gander, here they are: www.firstcourseinflight.blogspot.com.

dear miss n. thrope:

i had a conversation last week about misanthropy that has resonated with me. a handful of my dearest friends voluntarily describe themselves as misanthropes, but i must admit that i don't necessarily buy into their seemingly candid self-analysis. this is not due to a distrust of my friends' judgement or awareness of themselves, but rather, the fact that the contrary is evidenced by their behavior... as well as their apparent tolerance of mine. i would call myself an anti-misanthrope. pollyannaish? no. panglossian? no. optimistic? not exactly. my standpoint is misunderstood so frequently that i feel the need to indulge myself...

Misanthropy is a general dislike, distrust, or hatred of the human species, or a
disposition to dislike and/or distrust other people. The term is also applicable to those who self-exile themselves or become loners because of the aforementioned feelings. The word comes from the Greek words for "hatred" and "man, human being". A misanthrope or misanthropist is a person who dislikes or distrusts humanity as a general rule.

so, i can read this definition and understand it. but the question that springs to my mind is 'why?' ultimately, the active and deliberate abhorrence of humanity seems like a terrible waste of energy. however, to take it one step further, it implies judgement. one may infer that in order to cast a definitive and condemning judgement on humanity, one must place him or herself in a position of opposition. and who really has the perspective to fairly do so? who really has the right? is this arrogance in the supreme?

we don't really need to reiterate the atrocities perpetrated by the human race, nor the terrible situations that occur daily...in our homes, our classrooms, our offices, or on the street outside. we don't really need the evening news to drive home the point that we're typically more interested in hearing about the armed robbery that occurred than the random act of kindness that saved someone's life. obviously, a misanthropic attitude is easily perpetuated.

but to me, there's a distinction that must be made between a condemnation of human nature and the recognition of humanity's potential and its capabilities- both good and bad. i do not condone the optimistic dismissal of our faults and negative tendencies, but i would prefer to live in a world in which they were not accepted as the status quo. i have seen, experienced, and learned enough about the reality of the world to know i would rather embrace the positive characteristics we possess as a species.

broadly speaking, in embracing a misanthropic attitude, what reason do we ultimately have to care about anyone? if we are all varying degrees of miserable, what motivation exists for us to strive towards something better? and where is our inspiration? indeed, we would be fighting NATURE. (involving religion inevitably complicates the issue, but this strikes me as an infuriatingly augustinian ethos. it is interesting that among my 'misanthropic' friends, i know only one who actively prescribes to the christian faith. so, if not saved through god's grace from a sinful predisposition, then by who? or what?)

furthermore, if we accept that we are all burdened with a flawed nature, where does that leave us as individuals? if not in an opposing position of judgement, where does the lone misanthrope fit into the picture? how does the individual escape the curse? and if they do not, what renders them capable of rationally judging humanity as a whole, since he or she is included within that whole? as a result, this seems to be a ridiculously solipsistic philosophy. (of course, i suppose the reverse may also be true.) yet, the point is that we suddenly find ourselves trapped within a self-perpetuated, incentive-less hell.

following this line of reasoning, the misanthropic attitude undermines our respect for the human condition. this, to me, is key. if our empathy for others is tempered by our distrust, how does that affect our own behavior? under extreme circumstances, how much easier is it to pull a trigger? to cheat on your taxes? to lie to your spouse? how can the distrusting be trustworthy? and vice versa. again, it's self-perpetuating...until it spirals out of control. and then, with this denigration of humanity, why must we ask how we've been conditioned to value the morbid and sensational over what we dismiss as hallmark sentimentality, the earnest? we are like the romans at the coliseum... and who can blame the religious fanatics for their frantic search for a savior.

to put it simply, i think that's a pretty miserable idea. (and the more i think about these things, the more i sheepishly realize that i am only scratching the surface of any meaningful discussion on the subject.) i suppose that i am some breed of humanist (albeit in my limited comprehension of the term). i'd like to think i possess a respect for the human condition in its breadth: our triumphs, as well as our failings. but more importantly, i have FAITH in humanity, though not necessarily with any certainty or expectation that it is on the right course. above all, i have faith in the ACT of hoping for something better, for i believe that, more often than not, it will yield a positive influence... though no promise of results. i believe in personal atonement through progress- to me, analytical observation is far more productive than judgement. why not own our flaws and move on with the intention of growth? luxuriating in a distaste for others seems myopic, selfish, and short-sighted... and ultimately to the greatest detriment of those who prescribe.

in my 28 years, my outlook on human nature has changed very little, despite the barrage of evidence to erode my faith. i do not presume to take credit for character traits i have inherited or those embedded in my makeup by my parents- surely, both have played a significant role in my development. still, i have never been capable of holding a grudge for very long, for i find that it takes more concentration and energy than is reasonable... and in my experience, more than the act of forgiveness. the act of tenaciously clinging to a grudge implies that i count myself innocent of perpetrating whichever transgressions have been inflicted upon me. and in some instances, that may be true, but i am certainly not blameless- and who am i (or anyone for that matter) to assign a value to pain and suffering? yes, this attitude certainly renders a person vulnerable in a variety of ways, but the choice to forgive should be made with one's eyes open. the simple act of looking inward and empathizing teaches us far more about ourselves than the decision to condemn... and regardless of whether the result is ideal, the lesson nonetheless remains. in either case, i submit to you that the unexpected gifts and lessons (not to mention friendships) are often well-worth the risks.

i think i know my friends. i may not fully understand what they mean when they call themselves misanthropes...but i KNOW they don't practice this variety of misanthropy. so, the next time you're around me and someone makes that claim, i'll be the one grinning....and clapping my hands in anticipation of tinkerbell getting her wings!

dean young, will you marry me?

he may look like a dried-up fruit-cake or a clam pizza, but i'd endure to hear this sort of thing every day...

"Ode to Hangover"
By Dean Young

Hangover, you drive me into the yard
to dig holes as a way of working through you
as one might work through a sorry childhood
by riding the forbidden amusement park rides
as a grown-up until puking. Alas, I feel like
something spit out by a duck, a duck
other ducks are ashamed of when I only
tried to protect myself by projecting myself
on hilarity's big screen at the party
where one nitwit reminisced about the 39¢
a pound chicken of his youth and another said,
Don't go to Italy in June, no one goes to Italy in June.
Protect myself from boring advice,
from the boring past and the boring present
at the expense of an unnauseating future:
now. But look at these newly-socketed lilacs!
Without you, Hangover, they would still be
trapped in their buckets and not become
the opposite of vomit just as you, Hangover,
are the opposite of Orgasm. Certainly
you go on too long and in your grip
one thinks, How to have you never again?
whereas Orgasm lasts too short some seconds
and immediately one plots to repeat her.
After her I could eat a car but here's
a pineapple/clam pizza and Chinese milkshake
yum but Hangover, you make me aspire
to a saltine. Both of you need to lie down,
one with a cool rag across the brow, shutters
drawn, the other in a soft jungle gym, yahoo,
this puzzle has 15 thousand solutions!
Here's one called Rocking Horse
and how about Sunshine in the Monkey Tree.
Chug, chug, goes the arriving train,
those on the platform toss their hats and scarves
and cheer, the president comes out of the caboose
to declare, The war is over! Corks popping,
people mashing people, knocking over melon stands,
ripping millenniums of bodices. Hangover,
rest now, you'll have lots to do later
inspiring abstemious philosophies and menial tasks
that too contribute to the beauty of this world.

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.