Gratitude (Psuedo-Pantoum)

If I carried my mother’s songs
with me, know
for every mistake I made
there were others I didn’t.

With me, know
I filled darkened hallways with sparrows
though there were others I didn’t
silence, I left in my Father’s house.

I filled darkened hallways with sparrows.
In places yet to burn
Silence housed in my father.
It all sounds like drowning.

In places yet to burn
Always keep hands closed, hair parted.
It all sounds like drowning.
Of course my parents loved me!

Always keep hands closed, hair parted.
I’ve been given sufficiently.
Of course my parents loved me,
I carried my mother’s songs.

*Snap Snap*

I came across an excerpt of a article on 'christian hipsters' by Brett McCracken and i was like A-FREAKING-MEN! :

"The new generation of “cool” Christians recognize that copycat subculture is a backward step for the Church, but unfortunately the alternative requires a creative trailblazing for which most are far too tepid. Thus, we’ve settled for a reactionary relevance—a state of “cool” that is less about forging ahead with the new than distancing ourselves from the old. We know we do not want to be the stodgy, bigoted, bad-taste Christians from the pages of Left Behind. We are certain we do not want to propagate Christianity through catch phrases and kitsch, and we are dead set against preaching a white, middle-class Gospel to the red-state choir. Perhaps most of all we are tired of burning records, boycotting Disney and shunning Hollywood. We know exactly what the relevant new Christianity must not be—boring, whitewashed, schmaltzy—but we feign to understand just what we should be instead.

The problem with the Christian hipster phenomenon is not as superficial as the clothes we wear, the music we download or the artistic movies we see, nor is it that we exist largely as a reaction against something else. No. The problem is that our identity as people of Christ is still skin-deep. That our image and thinking as progressives does not make up for the fact that we still do not think about things as deeply as we should. The Christian hipster pretends to be more thoughtful or intellectual than the Podunk fundamentalist, but are we really? We accept secular art and (gasp!) sometimes vote for a liberal candidate, but do we really think harder because we are “hip"?..."

But That Happened in a Dream, and Dreams Don’t Count

I changed the layout again. I think this is the one that is going to stick. I'm also going to try and update more frequently (the goal being once a week) while my zizster is in Egypt.

So my first week of work. It was interesting....I think later I will write a little something something about health care reform as that was the majority of the calls/letters/faxes that I fielded today had to do with that issue and misconceptions around that. (And I'll probably write some more stuff about my ongoing saga to get an apartment).

I feel so strange to be there. The other interns have worked on a bunch of campaigns including Hilary's bid for presidency (oops!). And everyone else in the office is like something out of the west wing full of a seemingly endless supply of witty comebacks and super serious about their jobs. Now, don't get me wrong, I take it seriously but....I have about 2 or 3 good comebacks every two weeks (i'm being generous) so I just feel like most of the time, I'm just smiling and nodding. After work today, I was walking to meet my dad and I was passing the Capitol building- which just to demonstrate how informed about our political system i am, i thought was the White House until two summers ago- and I passed these random European tourists (I would say French but they seemed too friendly for that). I was trying to squeeze through this like barricade thing so I didn't have to walk around and basically ran into one of them. And then he was like "hey!" and I was like "hello" and we had a really random conversation. And I kept on my way and I thought of what a strange person I am (the interaction was A LOT odder in person) to be doing what I am. I feel like I am too big for my body.

On Thursday, this woman called in to complain about Health Care Reform and refused to leave her name or to let me get a single word in edgewise. I only mention it because she read what must have been a poem of some kind. I could definitely tell that she was reading something and she kept repeating the refrain "the people of this nation are standing on their rooftops, they will not stand for this rookie." When I hung up at first I laughed. a lot. But then I realized that I really respect all of these crazy, über conservative constituents that call and complain. I even respect the conservatives who are not crazy but are actually well-informed and proactive in letting their voices be heard. It's so easy for people on either side to just chalk up differences in policies or positions as demonstrative of moral and/or intellectual shortcomings. I think everyone wants good and affordable health care in the United States but as the debate that has arisen from these attempts at reform have shown achieving this goal means different things to different people. I think this is the case for almost any issue. For example, two people could oppose abortions and for one person that could mean working to overturn Roe v. Wade and for another that could mean working to increase the resources available to unwed mothers. Both could theoretically eliminate abortion. The main difference is in symbolic value. One thing that has surprised me is the degree to which people develop their political ideas from a wide range of symbols that they gather from the media. A lot of folks will write in or call and specifically refer to something they read in the NY Times or saw on Fox News (oh Fox News...). I feel like this is where the real power to shape political decisions comes from. By symbols, I mean these media outlets are were people fuse political actions with their emotional connection to their country. For example, for a lot of people making health care available to more people means making the country more socialist or more European and thus a serious threat to their personal identity. But I digress..... basically I think that it is great that their are so many different opinions out there and I hope that we as a nation can continue to move towards seeing such differences as an asset rather than the product of morally or intellectually inferior citizens.

These are not well-formed thoughts but it is past my bedtime.


“You had no idea that the world is a dirty place,” said Lituma. “Where have you been all your life, Tomasito?”

The remaining memory is this:
A tick on my chin like a black,
half-grape

butane blue lighter sparks
my mother unfolded over me
Like a first rain

my neighbor in our doorway
his left hand closed,
full of ticks.

Great Books

So I've decided that I wanted to read all of the favorite books of all my favorite people. This summer, I've re-discovered the joy of reading strictly for pleasure.

My current reading list is:
Death in the Andes by Mario Vargas LLaso
Prague by Arthur Phillips
Shoot the Piano Player by David Goodis
The Master and the Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
1984 by George Orwell
Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

and oh btw my favorites are (always changing...):
You are not a Stranger Here by Adam Haslet (short stories)
Satan Says/The Father/ The Dead and the Living by Sharon Olds (poetry)
Middlesex/The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe


This is a pretty nerdy/boring post. But I was hoping for some more suggestions for really good books so please e-mail/comment/text/etc

On Earth

Our Pop Pop died smiling,
still we said something like
God is good--

--Goodness
we were unlearned in,
Or elected to unlearn

In the smoke
That dismantled us,
bit by bit,
Left us
Coughing ash,
singing of this final mercy.

If I Were a Boy: Beyonce and one girl's experience crossing cultures

I love Philly in the summer. a lot.

This past week, I have been inundated with 'man' culture. I had two homeless boys (i.e. friends) living in my living room. Spent the majority of my evenings watching professional sporting events and generally was only able to hang out with a small number of fellow females. The result of all this boy stuff? a lot of fun. probably the most fun week I have had this summer so far. But by the end of it all, following a disappointing evening at smokes (the magic lost) in which I was one girl in a group of six boys, I was complaining to my friends that I felt that people were beginning to think of me as less of a girl.

I think that in a very simplified way, this experience is very much a microcosm for the process and anxiety of crossing cultures. I'm going to preface this with a warning that what follows is going to present an extremely reduced view on man/woman culture (basically the type of attitudes/interests/etc which American culture says that men/women should be interested in). My excuse is that I'm really not interested in talking about what constitutes male/female american culture but want to make some general observation about intersecting cultures. Obviously, I am not unfamiliar with 'boy culture'. I have a brother, played sports during my childhood, went to co-ed schools, live in normal society, etc. Although I wouldn't describe myself as a girly girl and can usually relate to men, I am fully aware that many of the things that I enjoy immensely are unappealing/uninteresting to the majority of guys I know. For example, I aspire to own one of those really small, useless dogs (toy poodle/maltese/bichon frise/yorkshire terrier) and enjoy shows like "Sex and the City"/"The Hills." The point being there are numerous ways that I perceive myself to be part of a certain culture, which most people would affirm me in, that is not man culture.

And thus begins my realizations: perception is one of the main things that continues to make interactions across different cultures problematic. The problem of course is that for minorities, the very process of intentionally interacting with different people, especially those who are part of a dominant culture, can result in a very real shift in how 'much of a minority' they are perceived to be. Thus, my concern that by spending too much time with men I would somehow become less of a women. I think the fact that terms like "twinky," "oreo" or "coconut," among others, are fairly casually applied demonstrates the extent to which cultural interactions come at a cost. Yadda yadda, it's hard to be a minority, cry me a river... But before you tune out, I think that unity is something that is really close to God's heart and I think that this emotional response, the fear of being seen as less of who we think we are, is one of the biggest impediments to that.

Yesterday, I went to see Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, the author of Half of a Yellow Sun, at the Philadelphia Library. 1) read this book please...(btw why didn't i learn any African history at any point in my college or high school career!?!?!?! FAIL.) 2)During the q and a session after her talk, she spoke a little bit about her experiences with black americans as a Nigerian immigrant. One key thing that she highlighted that she initially sought to differentiate herself from black americans because of their position within society. Thus, in very much the same way that I wasn't particularly eager to be seen as a boyish girl, she resisted being viewed as a black-american -ish immigrant.

I don't really have a deep analysis of these observances. But I will say that I would be willing to bet that this fear of being seen as something other than what we are probably prevents a lot of cross cultural interactions. Just saying...


Good songs:
"Lightworks" by DOOM
"Cinder and Smoke" by Iron & Wine
"Beautiful, Dirty, Rich" by Lady Gaga