Saturday, October 25, 2008

I wish I had written this

The only way for a woman, as for a man, to find herself, to know herself as a person, is by creative work of her own.  There is no other way.  

..But when women as well as men emerge from biological living to realize their human selves, those leftover halves of life may become their years of greatest fulfillment.
Then the split in the image will be healed, and daughters will not face that humping-off point and twenty-one or forty-one.  When their mothers' fulfillment makes girls sure they want to be women, they will not have to "beat themselves down" to be feminine; they can stretch and stretch until their own efforts tell them who they are.  They will not need the regard of boy or man to feel alive.  And when women do not need to live through their husbands and children, men will not fear the love and strength of women, nor need another's weakness to prove their own masculinity.  They can finally see each other as they are.  And this may be the next step in human evolution.
Who knows what women can be when they are finally free to become themselves?  Who knows what women's intelligence will contribute when it can be nourished without denying love?  Who knows of the possibilities of love when men and women share not only children, home, and garden, not only the fulfillment of their biological roles, but the responsibilities and passions of the work that creates the human future and full human knowledge of who they are?  It has barely begun, the search of women for themselves.  


Betty Friedan

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Just before I got the message from Pavel announcing the discussion forum, I had been taking one of those weird mid-afternoon naps, you know, the kind where you have to wake up in the middle of your REM cycle, and feel all strange and groggy afterwards? I was so tired. I needed to do it. My alarm went off in the middle of a dream about Ira, the first one I have had in awhile. After some weird college-orientation kind of program in which I climbed up a wall covered in italian dressing (I wish I were kidding, that's got to be the weirdest thing ever), I found Ira and we walked down the street together. I had an arm around her shoulders the whole time and she held my hand. She didn't tell me to stop thinking, but to stop worrying. And I wish I knew what that meant.

Anyway, I thought about how this past January I was home from GW for winter break and spending time at Open Eye. Ira was sitting at a table behind me on her computer and, she said, trying to sort out her life! I turned around and perched on my knees while we talked about her possible transfer to UNC and then she asked me questions about my own transfer from Emerson that fall. She let me ramble on for probably six minutes straight! I had learned so much! There was so much to say! Then, there was a pause. I nodded my head, with some sort of filler like, "yeah, so... that's that!" And after another second or so of thoughtful processing, she said, "Laura, you have really come into yourself. You just.. you really have." And the smile.

And all I could think after that was how it always felt that Ira could see through us. In the best way possible. I always thought that even though she didn't know me very well, she could somehow see the potential within everyone to be a really, really wonderful human being. She was forgiving. Having someone like that is like being challenged to become that potential person. She gave each of us so much respect in that way and I don't think she ever judged us for being who we are or not having grown up. I feel like she always knew what we would start becoming and gave us room to do it.

I wanted to speak in front of everyone in May but I realized after sorting through most of my lovely Ira moments - there are so, so many - they all relied too much on the word "me." They were all things that Ira did for me, said for me, or about me, or what made me feel better, and I wish I knew how to quantify it. Give it back to her.

Once in tenth grade, Ira told me to smile, I looked like strawberry shortcake. She held my hand. I don't know how she knew I needed that gesture. I don't know if she would remember, but it is just the sort of little tiny thing she did for everyone, those very small, gentle things that meant so much with so little effort. When I find myself turning inward and focusing on myself too much, selfishly, I think of the one person I knew who seemed to give more to other people than to reserve to herself. Even her poetry, so beautiful and maybe therapeutic, isn't self-serving, but a gift to us. I know every facebook post or whatever mentions the minute things Ira would do or say or accidentally imply, but it's because these subtle motions are the ones that really embodied what I only hope we can all carry with us, emulate, and pay forward to the rest of the world.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Then what's the point? (not refined, please take this with a grain of salt)

Remember earlier when I wondered what it's like for guys? I found out more than I wanted.

I'm still trying to process all of the information I soaked up today. To follow up on a previous conversation, keeping with the somber tone of our rehearsal, I asked Harry what exactly he meant by being able to "really relate" to Guy in our show.

I should begin this discussion with a preface of my relationship to Harry. It is fashioned entirely off of (a) casual run-ins, (b) mutual friends who give rave reviews, (c) our fantastic work on Monday, which included (d) Melissa praising our great chemistry, which (e) also reads in our Laura-Harry interaction, and, lastly, (f) subsequent intense conversations.

Today, Harry and I had a crap rehearsal. Something was off. We were in a new room and the acoustics were weird, or it was the first time we were supposed to know our blocking, or the setup was different, or our director was sitting somewhere else, or Harry had been working his lines all day, or I had been up since six this morning, or I was just reeling from a test, or coming off of a caffeine ride, or we were hoping Monday's magic would just manifest itself, no problem. Or any combination of the above circumstances.

Either way, after our time was up, we went downstairs for some food to run our lines again, which turned into a heart-to-heart. On Monday after rehearsal we bonded over our relationships to our characters; I vaguely but, according to Harry, sincerely, related my Bobbi-like experiences. After really listening to what I was saying, Harry casually mentioned he can relate to Guy.

Topics I must expound upon:

1. Harry paints himself, like guy, as "not an evil guy." Harry sincerely believes in this character that Neil LaBute has fashioned, and has expounded it upon himself, fashioned his own space within this grander narrative of what I will call the Everyman predicament. In shaping the play around this seemingly jerky and relatively spineless Guy, who is kind of a douchebag until you remember that somehow he cared for and hurt each of the women in the play, LaBute first makes you think the focus is on the women.
2. What it means that the focus is on the women.
3. But with Guy's explosive realization of his love for Bobbi, and awkward manifestation of these feelings, it becomes clear that this is, no matter how it appears, a masturbatory effort on LaBute's part to excuse male behavior with relation to women. "Hurting" becomes a consequence of essentially being a guy. As if they're hard-wired to screw up. That is the end of the story. As a woman who has felt personally wronged by at least one of the male species in her recent past, I am personally offended that LaBute makes us think the play is about how all these women are actual people, regardless of where they fell within his spectrum, and then reveals that Guy's apologetic sentiments are all calculated and most of them insincere. I don't deny that guys have had the same effect on me - lasting - but putting it in a play and having Guy take advantage of the hurt he's caused, then painfully repenting, then ultimately returning to it means LaBute is saying this behavior is inevitable. Excusable. Does it mean he will forever regret everything he's done? What a burden. To know you've hurt so many women. Oh, no. Not like the being hurt feels great.
4. Harry mentioned that he, like guy, isn't one to fuck around. He believes he's one of those guys who does take things seriously, who, by his very nature, fosters a sense of importance in his relationships, and often things end up being more serious than they probably should have been. To be a little less respectful, girls fall for him pretty hard. He says he and Guy share this quality, which is probably true.
5. He chronicles his relationship history for me, as it eerily parallels Guy's most important escapades.
6. What I glean from his revelations is sad to me.

No matter how strong the connection, how good of people we are, how fantastic, stellar, or pig-of-happiness-life-altering we are to these menfolk we worry ourselves with, our entire relationship will most likely be structured and reliant upon the strategic placement of our relationship in the grander scheme of the MALE'S relationship spectrum.

The play explores what Harry explains to me is a relatively typical progression: the high school sweetheart whose life you "can just see," the fling afterwards, the college girlfriend who was probably wife material but just came too early in his life, the kinky girl he left the college girlfriend for, the subsequent mess-ups, and the eventual safe girl who is just Really Great.

Currently, Kristine and I are learning to stop taking things "as they come," as we learn that it is NOT true that

Any Relationship > No Relationship

and learning how to deal with the unnecessary stress that often results from such dealings and worries.

Why is it that the limiting sex is the one that always wants to push, when it is so much harder for us to access what we want, which tends to be commitment or something similar?

In the mindset of wanting Something over Nothing, does it mean we are just victims of circumstance, as far as where we begin to appear on the spectrum of any particular guy in which we are interested?

Because I am "wife material," I have to wait around until my peers are all ready to Get Serious?


Harry and I also talked about how things seem to be serious. I gave him my conclusions, and he said they were probably correct: that we know ourselves pretty well, and at this point, are tired of trying to prove things to ourselves by entering into, really, anything that comes along, either as a challenge or ultimately as a learning experience. Instead, it has to feel easier, a little more stress-free, in order to be worth it. Which makes the relationships last longer in the first place.

How many people do you know whose parents met in college?
Hm. I wonder how much of this is right, at all.

Friday, September 19, 2008

Acting is more than reacting

When I was at Emerson, I took an acting class with Eric Weiss, who is a genius.  In this class for non-acting-majors, I met some of the most surreptitiously and unexpectedly, earnestly talented individuals that I have ever encountered in my whole life history of theatrical endeavors.  We worked on intense scenes between people with broken relationships, with brand new relationships, with no relationship at all before they met in this very bar on this very night, and I saw some of the most incredible moments of honesty.  
I learned so much in that class.  Next to writing my research paper for the honors seminar, it was by far the most difficult thing I worked on all semester.  For our first scene, which I worked on with adorable Kosuke from Guam, I worked on channeling my own emotions and experiences to make everything feel more natural, more organic.  I was able to modify myself, place myself within the context of that scene, and it flowed so wonderfully from there.  

For our final scene project, I worked on a scene from John Patrick Shanley's Savage In Limbo.  I had a good two-page monologue as my character, Savage, kind of dribbles on audibly about relationships with other people and ultimately admits that she's a virgin.  At 32.  To this woman in the bar, who she hasn't seen since high school.  I was having a lot of trouble with the part - how could I find that sort of emotion, and the weird drive to tell this other woman everything about myself, within myself?  Where did that come from?  How would I find that in me?
Eric must have noticed my struggle, because he pointed it out in front of the class.  He also made a point of saying that he gave me this part - arguably, the most challenging part in all the scenes we were working on - because he wanted to push me further.  I don't remember what it was, but something clicked after that, and I pulled myself out of myself and suddenly I was Denise Savage and I felt strong.  And ready.  But really confused, like, it's like, everybody knows everything.  and everybody argued everything and everything got hashed out and settled the day before I was born.  it's not fair.  they know about gravity, so nobody talks about gravity.  look at me, my feet are stuck to the fucking floor - fantastic!  but no, that's gravity, forget it.  it's been done, it's been said, it's been thought, so fuck it.  it's not fair.  
i been shut outta everything by a smartness around me that won't let me think not one new thing.  

and it's been like that with love, too.  you're a little girl and you see the movies and maybe you talk to your mother and you definitely talk to your friends and then you know, right?  somethin' a what somebody told ya inna movie or in your ear is what love is.  so you go head, and you do love.  and where the fuck are you then, that's what i wanna know.  where the fuck are you when you've done love, and you can point to love, and you can name it?  and love is the same as gravity is the same as everything else and everything else is a totally dead fucking issue.

I don't know where to begin describing the kinds of things that I learned through the socially inept, sporadically thoughtful Savage.  And through the encouragement - Eric's positive reinforcement, not letting me quit; and, on the last day, when Chris Cullari told me he thought I was the greatest and most honest actor he has ever seen and if I ever want to be in a film, I should call him immediately.  What does a girl even say to that!?

A year and a half later, I have been given the role of "Bobbi" in Neil LaBute's play, Some Girl(s).  I have been saying for probably just that long how much I would love to have a good, solid part to work on, to apply all of these things I have come to learn about myself  in the context of a character.  Bobbi is incredible.  She is sassy and smart, and unlike all the other women in the play, she isn't going to take Guy's bullshit.  At all.  

At first, I was flattered, and very excited.  Bobbi is the one woman that Guy truly loved, ever - and through this weird confrontational vignette in which she appears, she allows me to weirdly live out every fantasy I have ever had about running into an ex-something.  She makes him squirm, makes him work for it, and sees through everything, challenging him to be honest and to justify putting her through this weird regurgitation of emotion and pain.  Eventually he is honest, and professes his love for her - which she ultimately has to reject.  How many times have I played this scene in my head:  being called up by [insert name of recent object of heartbreak here], reluctantly meeting him to "talk," during which he admits he's loved me all along, and won't I take him back; and following all of the prosthelitizing I'd done in the wake of the breakup, all of the advice of my girlfriends, and the reasons why I shouldn't give into it, I would walk away.  

Bobbi is more complex than that.  After guy's two-page monologue describing his life, which ends with "I realize now, it's all about you! I don't care if you buy it or hate me or laugh in my face...(tears up a bit) I love you and I'm .... ohh, boy.  No way I'm gonna top that, so I'll just leave off right there.  I love you, Bobbi.  Not your sister, not anybody else I've ever known, even this girl I'm supposed to marry ... no one.  Just you."

A beat.

"I wish you'd say something."

And Bobbi says, "It's very late."  

Guy: "O-kay... is that metaphoric, or.. ?"
Bobbi: "I think it's sort of all-encompassing.  (glances at her watch.)  It's late."

And, with a pointed reference to the fact that he is getting married to another woman, she takes her leave.  

What is fascinating to me is that I think Bobbi leaves for a very strange and weirdly practical reason.  I think she leaves because she knows how complicated and muddy and scary it would be to reopen the possibility of a relationship with Guy.  After spending who knows how many years convincing herself she's better off without this guy who just took off after a three-year relationship, she's probably in a relatively stable relationship.  How tempting must it be to fall back into it, even just for a minute?  And she leaves it.  She leaves it in the past, where it seems to belong.

She says, Don't do some last-ditch, shitty thing that we'll both be sorry for...

I think the entire play is a commentary on how we ultimately take the easy way out, or we settle, maybe.  Guy has a brief moment of passion about his love for Bobbi, and then his fiancee calls - he winds the cassette tape back up, on which he mercilessly recorded his conversation with Bobbi (my favorite part is when she finds out!  Dear God!), and quietly returns to his ruthless, kind of sad and sorry life.  

Because how do you live with something like that?  There are some things we can't give into, some things we shouldn't - or maybe, are afraid to - normalize within our lives.  To give them weight is to admit we are vulnerable.  A few times in the last year, I feel like I've given into the reluctant desire to do so, to examine specific details of my life and try to reassess their presence, to realign my priorities.  It's terrifying.  

Nietzsche said, "I approach deep problems like a cold bath; quickly in, quickly out."

Being Bobbi is delicious and terrifying.  It feels indulgent and yet, I have to remember the entire time, that she can't be funny because she's at ease.  It's because she's wildly uncomfortable and scared, not knowing what to expect, or probably why she even went to meet him in the first place, or how she will react.  I have to take that little bit of the me that I put into her during our first reading and twist it and hurt it and make it much, much sadder.

You think it's okay just as long as it's one person, rather than a dozen? Or a million?  When is hurting okay, when you say so, or is it just open season, all of us going at it, in any way we see fit?  Seriously, if you've got the answer, tell me.
...but you can't, you cannot equate like, some war with me not calling you!
Why not?  Who says I can't?  In fact, I already did.  Just now, and I'm gonna stand by it.  I am, because when you do what you do, what it sounds like you've done - a lot - people get hurt.  Injured.  A bit of them, some piece... it dies.  They lose something that will never come back.  Not ever.  This part that you decide you can just ... take from them and damage.  Piss on.
I, I didn't take anything from...
You did!  From me, you did - not what you thought maybe, but you did do that - and you didn't care.  You did not even look back.  And that - that one little brutal gesture makes you more than just some ex-boyfriend.


It is very, very challenging in rehearsal to look Adorable Harry in the face and imagine that he has injured me in this way.  

It makes me hope that I never let myself become so bitter and scared.

Saturday, September 13, 2008

People as a science

In my political science research methods class, we discussed what makes a science. I have been making a science of life, blending together actual disciplines and my own experiences. Is that even valid?

I worry that I systematically study my life and my friends' lives and that it is wrong. That, by sorting and analyzing, I am somehow removing the humanity from it all. And yet, it's therapeutic, it's a coping mechanism for getting it all through. Processing. Continuing.

Andrew Bird has a way of presenting lots of questions in his songs about human existence, but he doesn't offer any explanations. Somehow, through crafting the music, he creates a way of feeling it all at once and being able to let it wash over you. In a weird apologetic way, like he can't answer anything, and he's sorry for bringing it all up, he gives us the music as a coping mechanism for all the quandaries of life that we can't understand.

"a nervous tic motion of the head to the left"
overprescribed, under the mister
we have survived to turn on the history channel
and ask our esteemed panel, why are we alive?
and here's how they replied:
You're what happens when two substances collide
and by all accounts, you really should've died

"the happy birthday song"
when i wake up
in the morning,
pour the coffee,
and i read the paper,
and i slowly,
and so softly,
i do the dishes.
i feed the fishes.
sing a birthday
sing it like it's going to be your last day.
like it's hallelujah,
don't let it just pass on through ya
it's a giant and long cliché,
and that's why i want you to sing it anyway
sing me happy birthday
'cause hell, what's it all about?

Work in progress. will get better. i promise.

Last night I lay splayed on the big couch in Dakota 205 with my lovely friends, recovering from an excessively long day at Swing's, with a steady stream of Kleenex floating from the box on the table to my nose to the bathroom. I must say that, in addition to being in transitory times and places, being sick and drugged up also provides me with weird moments of clarity.
This week, I have been pondering the ends, beginnings, and loose ends of relationships around me: what they mean, how we deal, how these same problems we create for ourselves seem to unite all of womankind. And why we involve ourselves in the first place. The things we miss out on when we focus on a relationship. And the things we gain. The things we glean.

As I said to Alysse and Katrina last night, I can only hope that the retrospective ridiculousness that I see in myself, when I was processing and normalizing a not-so-smart relationship and the subsequent breakup earlier this year, will eventually be a small price to pay for the experience, memory, and wisdom that I have gained from it.

1. So I have to ask, what do they mean, and why do we muddy our own lives so nonchalantly with problematic relationships with the opposite sex? To gain some insight, I asked my dad some questions while we were driving up to DC a few weeks ago. I had been talking about how much I loved living with Jenni this summer. The conversation went like this:

"Dad. I do not understand. I don't want to worry about getting married and being stable and whatever or being alone. Why can't I just live with Jen my whole life? It was so easy and wonderful. And she pushes me. Is that acceptable?"
"Laura, are you trying to tell me you are a lesbian?"
"Hah, if only. If Jenni and I were both lesbians and we fell in love I would be so happy. My life would be, like.. set. What is it that makes you want to work for something like that? It stresses me out sometimes. I hate that the world around me pushes me to want validation from a dude, in some way. Is that all it is? Validation? I guess recently I experienced the whole best-friend-in-a-dude thing at first, it was nice. Different. But why does it have to be more complicated than that? It isn't fair. I don't even want to think about it. Why do I need to spend my life with someone of the opposite sex? I love my best friends. That should be enough." (Sometimes I think that the fact that my parents met in high school makes me feel like a failure for not having found the same thing already. As a trade-off, my mom often says that I have an uncommon bond with my high school girlfriends. Which is totally fair.)
Dad took a second. Then he said, "I think you are forgetting the whole biological aspect to life there, Laura. Sorry."
Well, damn. Is that it? Is it biology? This innate, natural urge to procreate is what makes us turn ourselves inside out searching for the "right thing"? And then everything that comes along with this desire to be desired, or to be stable, or whatever - the emotional turmoil, the rejection, what Jenni would call "the rat race" for attention, the competition, the forgetting of all things that previously seemed important for sake of pursuing a "potential something" with a dude. Granted, this dude is probably really cute and all. But what do we really want to get out of it?
In the past, I have been confused by friends of mine who think marriage is a dumb idea but still pursue relationships with men. This leads me to wonder, what is our goal in putting ourselves through this?

Currently, in my brain, I can identify two schools of thought. The first: our ultimate goal is to be in a stable, loving relationship with a person of the opposite sex that lasts and lasts. Does this goal come from a biological need, or are we told by everything around us that it's right? The messages we get as women are so confusing. We are supposed to be independent and fine and smart and motivated and happy, but still want to be in a relationship. Is that the goal? As if everything is so easy once that happens? I wonder what life is like for men. In general.

The second: because, I don't know, we want to have fun?

On Facebook, I saw a bumper sticker with a quote from Sex and the City: "Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates and guys are just people to have fun with." I think it's credited to Charlotte.

The fun stems, ultimately, from sex. The love part also seems to stem from sex. Why is it that no matter how hard we try to pretend men and women are the same, we still have to form these distinctions at the most basic level? That my relationships with women will only be friendships and with my male friends there will always be some strange semblance of sexual recognition or even tension?

At this point, I must say that I have a problem with using the phrase "only friendships" or "just friends." I don't mean to use it. I said this to Sam earlier this summer, that friendships are highly underrated and that being "just friends" is really underwriting the magnitude and importance of a relationship! I can't even begin to describe how important my Just Friends are to me! I could not live without them!

So why does it change a relationship with another person when sex in any form is involved? Why does is it suddenly easy to be wronged? Expectations are strange. Why are we so afraid to either "tie ourselves down" to another person in that way? I never say "No, thanks," to a new friend. Why are these things so complicated?

What scares me also is that relationships to other people, no matter how much I analyze and categorize and normalize them, sort them, file them away, are still comprised of very human beings. We make choices and who knows why? Our culture seems to push us to do things for strange, irrational reasons, painting pictures of unconditional and all-encompassing LOVE.

Or are they rational?
Are we hard-wired to experience and feel as much as we can?
Is that it?

2. How do we deal?

3. The things we miss out on when we focus on a relationship.

4. And the things we gain from a relationship that has ended.

5. The things we glean from the whole experience.

Monday, August 25, 2008

the actual Ôde à mon journal

To follow up on my last post: I wrote this sonnet for my French class. It has become a self-fulfilling prophecy. I am proud of that.

J’ai toujours cherché, c’est ce dont j’avais écrit
Aux feuilles, mon cœur troublé a donné son avis.
Mais la journée où l'homme m’a réfuté, c’était
L’aube d’une nouvelle vie qui me bellement embrassait !
L’essence de mon âme saute de ma plume, l’encre chante,
balayant sur les pages qui brillent au sentiment !

Hélas, brusque cataclysme des cœurs, scission !
Crépescule rapide, contre-révolution ?

Comment respire-t-il mon cœur après ? Je lis !
Ma plume m’a donné le plus précieux cadeau.
Quel témoin injuste ; penser aux passions il faut !

En se logeant dans ma poche, aux petits pas,
Sentiments rappelés fortifient le cœur, Ah !
J’exhale l’amour, je m’en souviens… ça suffit.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Ode a mon journal

When I get upset about things I have no control over, or when I feel like I should be able to control my emotional response and then get frustrated that I can't, my ultimate solution, when I'm by myself, is to read things I have written in my paper journal. In comparison to my freshman year, my hierarchy-of-needs business shifted this year and I had to remind myself that the things I got upset over (relationship, basically) were kind of luxuries; the soul-searching and intellectual needs were being met. Sometimes I reread all about how excited I was about life at GW and all the new things I was thinking about when that began. This reminds me of all the little details that make up my life, quantifying them, as I came to appreciate their entry into my life.
Tonight as I was reorganizing all of my things in preparation to move back to GW, I found my older journal, my pre-GW paper journal. It is beautiful. I took such pleasure in picking it out. The cover is soft and black, with lots of different colored circles made out of some blend of paper and fabric. The endpaper is fancy and turquoise and over the course of fourteen months (June 12, 2006 to August 12, 2007 exactly) I have covered it with quotes that inspired me. Two in particular that I enjoy today are:

"Even my language I forget." (Timothy Douglas, American theater director, when he stumbled on words during a guest lecture in my Languages of the Stage class)

"today i was walking about and i saw a little girl with her mother who stopped in front of a window display and said, 'mama, what's that?' and i thought about what you said about our general curiosity about things. and i thought about how even though all of us are relatiely intelligent and learning new stuff all the time, we are all really childlike. and i think that is a really important key in all of our... well, everything- happiness, love for one another, enjoyment of laughter and hypothetical situations, curiosity. i saw a documentary about einstein the other day and he said that he looked at the world like a child, not taking for granted anything (such as space and time) and then, from questioning, came up with his theory of relativity. so basically, we are einsten. love you with my whole heart." (kristine, who else?)

So, this gives me courage. I tend to be emotionally weaker when not constantly surrounded by people who push me. These times of transition when I am at home, unbusy, with my family, all busy in their lives, give me time to focus on these microdetails of my emotional well-being and often this is uncomfortable.

Reading through my written account of my freshman year at Emerson, I really must give myself some credit. I was a lot smarter then, much smarter than I thought. I try to be a thoughtful and engaged person, as a citizen of this world, but I am constantly apologizing for how I was or how I thought just before whatever present time.

There are many things I found in this journal that I find to be very smart, very insightful. The pages of this journal are on handmade paper and there are flecks of gold and silver string in it. I took great pleasure in writing in pens with flowy ink to maximize the aesthetic appeal of my journal and to make sure it inspired me. To make sure it was enjoyable to write, to keep track of even the most mundane things. That may be why I am bad at keeping up with an electronic blog. I also love looking at my handwriting when I reread my journal - I remember exactly how I was feeling at the time, no matter what the words themselves say.

Here is an excerpt from what would have been an otherwise entirely shallow entry about a boy I had a crush on at that point:

jeudi, le 12 avril

...At some point over the span of time between now and then, I'll have to really focus on my papers. eeeeeek. don't want to. Nervous. Anxious/excited about going home, and also TERRIFIED of it. No joke. I don't even know how to think about anything right now. I'd like to cry... but I'm just periodtastic and everything and NOTHING is cry-worthy. Like, little things really make me want to burst into tears - like going away (back?), my very open future, my emotions, how much I feel like I am hiding from them, - and then the pointlessness and complete, utter insignificance of those problems and things I am inventing in my hormonal brain make my poor sad heart a little too stone-cold, and I think about all of the things in the world and what is real and what is not and who decides, and why does it even matter? This is "putting it in perspective." And I have no emotional release for anything, consequently. Someone, please tell me, and save me years of heartache and confusion, what is the point? what am I supposed to do? What is the meaning of life at all? How can I make my life mean something? How do I begin? And where do I go. And when am I allowed to cry without feeling guilty and pointless?

I realized today that I do ask a ton of questions. I didn't used to be that way. When I tell stories about a littler Laura, it is an insecure Laura, afraid to ask any questions, afraid of offending anyone, overly sensitive, and very concerned with myself in different spaces and situations.
It is, I think, a culmination of different factors: the lesson I learned immediately at Emerson about interacting with other people, general curiosity about life, and wanting to understand other people better than I do.

Thursday, April 26
...I spent the afternoon in a beautiful reading room at the Boston Public Library, reading TIME archives alongside centuries of other peoples' thoughts, research, and inventions. Really incredible things, libraries ... like bein gin an empty church, where I feel so connected to everything in existence, tangible and untouchable, and yet so isolated, alone, and unimportant all at once.
...That's almost ten hours of work in one day. Too bad I may not have a use for any of this religion stuff, but that's learning for sake of learning, n'est-ce pas? During my presentation, I came up with a really good explanation of why it is important for me to study religion. I said something along the liens of "religion is my religion," as I don't know if I have an actual spirituality yet, but religion is such an important factor in so many lives; it is something incredibly personal yet totally unifying at the same time, people are so senstivie, so defensive of their beliefs or lack thereof, and very very very hesitant to talk about them in discussion form. I ask because I want to know, not because I want to judge. Most definitely the opposite of judgment happening on my part, as far as religion goes.
If there is one thing I continue to take from my studies, it's that there are a TON of things that are far too complex to summarize and form simple statements of opinion about, like war, social problems, race relations, economic status, religions... why people are religion, what it means to them, how it defines them personally and in relation to the global community. I wish more people my age would think like this... be wide-eyed and yet completely chill about new information. Welcoming all new information openly. That would make me very happy!


Thursday, May 3
In Logan Airport for possibly the last time in a long time!
...I hate this whole LOSS feeling. I am going to push myself to appreciate the fact that I got to do so many things and live in such an exciting part of Boston. My life in Boston is not over, I am coming back. I will live here someday, it is far too wonderful.
Sitting in the Wolfgang Puck, I was taking everything in, as I still feel very padded, like I am suspended in the world currently and reacting to outside forces but none of my own. I was seated facing the bar, where CNN was on, shots of Condoleezza Rice at a very significant conference in Egypt with a Syrian leader, among others, to discuss Iraq. There was no sound, no captioning, but I could hear the soft rock station clearly over the loudspeaker.
Reminded me of coming back from New York with Gresa, when I was reading White Noise and then we went to the BIG-Y supermarket and I felt very empty, cynical, and sad for our world. All of this exposure is scary, and I am not necessarily unhappy because of it, but I am certainly more complicated thanks to this year. Complicated, complex, cohesive ? Thought I have developed a stutter, which confuses me. Another C word! Good job Laura.
...The other thing that made me sad about Wolfgang Puck was that nobody was watching the Developing Story of the international conference in Egypt.

...Another reason I got a star stuck to my foot is that I will never ever be able to look at it without remembering exactly who I am right at the moment when I got it. I hope I never ever stop caring about everything and other people the way I have learned to this year.


This journal ends with details about my fuzzy-headed feelings (sinus problems and boy-related intrigue) and, on the last page,

I feel like since this journal is coming to a close, I should have some insights, some conclusions or something to definitively state right now. I don't know exactly what it is that I could say, except for - please take note of all the growing that's happened since I started writing in this journal last summer. Everything about Emerson, about making friends, about making choices, about learning, teaching, coaching, directing, staying as close to whatever current version of myself I need to stick to, being the same me around everybody and being as respectful, receptive, courteous, and good-natured to everybody. Because every little bit helps.
And to always remember why I have a star tattooed onto my foot - because what is right is not always what is easy.

It is our choices, Harry, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities.
-Dumbledore.

On the next sheet - endpaper - is written, in true homage to Guster, and the most appropriate thing I could ever think of:

Steady on this high-rise, like every lightning rod, and all these clouds are boiling over
Swimming in adrenaline,
the sky is caving in, but I will
remain the honest soldier
!

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Don't let the human factor fail to be a factor, at all

It really is funny that the more I learn about other people and how they make decisions, the harder it is to judge them for it. I only hope that the humility and willingness to change my mind that I've been trying to harness will be enough to help me to understand.

On the same note, I always hope that other people will recognize that I am trying, I am curious, and I do want to know; that they won't judge me too harshly. And maybe that weird example of open-mindedness will be meaningful. Mostly because (a) it would be helpful in them understanding me, (b) I think it really cultivates relationships and enriches those that already exist, and, selfishly, (c) I get tired of trying to explain people and perspectives to other people, and it's funny, it's not even my responsibility. Sometimes I worry I am too agreeable, whatever that means.

So I'm not naive in terms of, "I can change the world," but if I was able to readjust my own feelings, and contribute to even a small change in my way of living or thinking, and then you come to my environment, then there is something I can do, and I chose that way.
Odelia Englander
One Voice Movement

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Context matters

I was under the impression that a summer in New York City with two best friends, limited engagements, an office internship, and a lot of cash would be more like a wild adventure in the first week. Images of late excursions to tapas and afternoons spent shopping, evenings walking across bridges, and just generally being fabulous in the company of some I love most.
What I am quickly realizing is that the adventure is in the details. The little things, so far, like when Jenni and I first got to Coral Towers and were officially told we were rooming together, and we both exploded with happiness in the elevator (I wonder if there are surveillance cameras... I was happydancing and hit my head on my suitcase... don't ask) after finally letting the weight of awesomeness settle in! Even going to the Trader Joe's to pick out carbohydrate and sugar free options for our next few meals and cooking together is just so lovely.

On a completely different note, I am also incredibly surprised by Artist as Citizen. On Tuesday, I met with Richard Reiss, with whom I have been in contact for about a month, in Stuyvesant Park, which is around the corner from my dorm and about five minutes from his office/apartment. We sat and chatted about life, about art, about my academic interests, my questions, and ideas and connections between all of them. About two hours after I had returned home, I received a few emails to follow up on our conversations - scholarly articles backing up my own observations and conclusions, and further questions for me to think about. The next day I met Richard in the same place with Sascha, who is a volunteer/intern for design from Cooper Union, and after discussion about websites and grants, we had more of the same. Sascha is German, he's Libertarian, which was interesting! My favorite place, where I caught him, was:

Laura: I mean, soda is just really, really bad for us. All the sugar. It's so inexpensive. And it's everywhere.
Sascha, in his adorable European accent: Well, yes, but, I feel that, if I want to have a Coke, I should have the choice of whether or not I can have a Coke.

later
Laura: Think about it. If you don't have a lot of money, are you going to Trader Joe's for your dinner or are you going to McDonalds? Where your Big Mac is at least 710 calories, with your french fries, and your large soda? For one meal? But you eat for under five bucks?
Sascha: That should be outlawed, prohibited. Nobody needs this.
Laura: But what if you want to eat a Big Mac? And you are provided with the choice?


And Richard laughed. It was great.

The best part was that I revealed my someday-far-away-dream of owning a coffee shop/performance venue to produce theater and performance that has a Point. Forgive how vague this is, please, but we came to the realization that my socially-provocative-and-engaging-showcase-coffee-shop is literally a physical manifestation of Artist as Citizen work. And it is entirely possible that AAC is going to need a venue, somewhere to display projects so they are less nebulous than in the form of journalism on a website. However cool that website may be.

It was the first time that dream felt feasible.
Never in my life have I felt so intellectually validated. I will be doing office work - currently I'm supposed to be working on letters of inquiry for grants/organizations - but it is very clear that I'm not just there to "do office work," that my ideas matter, and my input is very important to Richard's brand new AAC.

Anyway, lots of emails to follow up on my questions. What's very exciting is that twice this week Richard has said things like, "Your comment gave me a great idea for a project, Laura." And on the first day we met, after talking with me for an hour, he said, "You are ahead of the game." So, friends of mine, please know that you, too, are "ahead of the game" when you think for yourself, and when you are confident enough to ask questions - this is a new thing for me! - and when you start to understand the strange and scary interconnectedness of all things within our American way of living.

It's strange to see these things and be in such a culturally saturated place as New York. Especially for Jenni, after Malawi, I can't imagine it's so easy to enjoy everything.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Clover by clover by clover by care

Andrew Bird is a genius. Anyone who has spent any time with me in the past few months will confirm: I am obsessed. Since being back in Chapel Hill, and realizing how much I have really missed playing the piano easily, and for pleasure, I have started to comp along with his music and have even started to arrange one of my favorite songs for piano.
Spending so much time running his lyrics and melodies through my brain, my fingers, and lips, makes me desperately want to create something so tangible and so important. Relevant. Relevance is key.

Bird wrote for the New York Times songwriting blog recently, saying,

"I’m kind of the opposite of the confessional singer-songwriter who fills notebooks full of poetry and intones them over a bed of chords. Meaning or “the truth that’s in my heart” usually reveals itself well after the record is released. I’m often surprised that the things I care about actually end up in my songs. Until then I’m mostly concerned with shape, tone and texture. I’m really an instrumentalist who sings words and if you care to pay attention you might enjoy them."

Rarely can I analyze an Andrew Bird song, feel it from my head to the tips of my toes, and in my heart, and it feels superfluous. Topics of songs are often difficult to understand at first; I spend hours on song-meanings websites, filtering through what other people find and believe to be true within songs. Whenever a song seems to be about some sort of romantic endeavor, it is always melted and welded into something deeper, transposed somehow from what could be a whiny attempt at mourning something lost or rejoicing something new and lovely into a something true, fresh, and timeless, somehow. It all strikes me as unattainably perfect.

It has been said that lyrics are poems. I guess, judging from the number of songs that have been written to go along with classic poems, or new poems, or just sets of words that make sense all together and convey some semblance of emotion. In any situation. Though so many of them seem trite.

Attempting to understand or apply Andrew Bird's lyrics - especially his older stuff, on Weather Systems - is like immersing yourself in some sort of weird mirror. In The Shadow of the Wind, Daniel says that what you understand from books is a reflection of what you already know and understand. Songs like "Lull" and "Action/Adventure" are sometimes too honest for me to listen to. Sometimes they hit at the wrong time.

"being alone it can be quite romantic
like jacques cousteau underneath the atlantic
a fantastic voyage to parts unknown
going to depths where the sun’s never shone
and i fascinate myself when i’m alone

so i go a little overboard but hang on to the hull
while i’m airbrushing fantasy art on a life
that’s really kind of dull
oh, i’m in a lull"

More on this topic, I'm not quite finished.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Realism in its many forms

My first task as an Artist as Citizen intern: write transcripts out for interviews to follow up on the Israel/Palestine project.
This third project holds the title, "The Realists." It's a series of portraits and accompanying interviews of leaders and members of the One Voice movement, which is a really incredible nonpartisan, person-to-person movement to end the conflict between Israel and Palestine.

I had a hard time describing to my father as we had an excursion this morning to Morehead City the relevance of the title. I can't help but notice the irony between what is typically known as the "realist" paradigm of thought or analysis, especially when examining political situations - and the way it is used for this project.

The "realist" that AAC finds in One Voice is this, exactly as founder Daniel Lubetzky said in the interview I'm transcribing, about the Human-ness within these political situations:

Lubetzky says: They are very skeptical that it's going to come about, and they are very hard to mobilize, because if you don't believe that something is going to happen, why are you going to invest yourselves in it? So part of our role is to help people visualize that this thing can end, but it has to require your involvement.


I love that the Realism here is a human truth - a more thorough acknowledgment of human nature. How many zillions of conversations do I have with cynics - "realists" - who insist that the only true way to be a master puppeteer in politics is to look at the sheer numbers. To ignore the humanity is to be effective?

We beg to differ, I suppose.
The way to trump the Realist Paradigm, where practical force - sheer numbers, regardless of their placement in economics, military, or plain old population count; perhaps the role of the individual, ties between bureaucracy and industry, its placement within the government and how that plays into the system at hand - overcomes any sort of soft political power, grassroots movement, or any will of the people not involved in the political infrastructure, is to give humanity its own power. To understand it, to channel it, to empower individuals and push them forward.

More than anything else, I think it's interesting that the hard power capabilities have failed. Formal diplomacy is failing. Is our last resort a grassroots movement of human-to-human power? Lubetzky might say, it is so, and it is time for it to happen:

I very often have doubts about whether we are going to achieve our goals of truly ending this conflict, so that doubt comes with me almost every day, and you have to rise above it, and say, there is no alternative. You cannot give up, you cannot not do this because the alternative is too ugly. And that is what drives me. It's not hope and excitement, it's fear of what will happen if we don't succeed.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

DAVE: more relevant than ever

The tagline of the 1993 film Dave, reads: “In a country where anyone can become president, anyone just did.” This very simple statement asks audiences to consider what kind of person can participate in politics, as first half of the tagline highlights a vital segment of the American dream: the American rhetoric of equality of opportunity gives “anyone” the chance to become so important and influential as to run the entire country, regardless of their beginnings. The second half, however, sarcastically points out that “anyone” might be able to become president, but really “anyone” does not become president. This contradiction between rhetoric and actual opportunity leads us to ask questions about who, as an electorate, we put into office. Emerging at the end of an era of reliance upon small government and disappointing conservative policies, Dave typifies the political climate of a frustrated American electorate, confused about the roles individuals should play within the political structure, how different individuals utilize that structure, and why individuals become involved in politics. At the dawn of a new presidential administration and the looming possibility of solutions to crucial social problems, this need to make the executive office more accessible to ordinary people becomes even more important in the presidential election of 1992, in terms of who can become president and potentially make the necessary changes to “fix” the country’s problems, and whether this person can be trusted to effectively change the country. The characters in the film express this tension between an optimistic desire for the American democratic system to succeed and the distrust in the specific individuals who become active in our executive sector, as well as expressing the true potential of the system to actually work “for the people.”
This tension between desire to believe in potential of government but skepticism in the individual finds its contextual roots within the political climate of the early 1990s. The electorate continues its “skeptical search for an active government” amidst the legacy of the Bush administration, which came to a close with relatively high unemployment, very low job creation, and a static gross national product, as the level of government ineffectiveness within the working class. As a result of laissez-faire economic policy, middle-class families had become caught in the cycle of “work and spend,” health insurance problems were rising, and incomes had become alarmingly stagnant. The Reagan era saw an increase in the inequality between an economic class of elites that can “bypass institutions it doesn’t like” and the lower classes, which only contributes to the growing distrust in a government that has come to operate out of that elite class. All of these factors cultivated a sense of tangible disparity between the governors and the governed, that the Bush administration had become “out of touch, indifferent, and ineffective.”
The 1992 election saw a heightened emphasis on the individuality of the next president, as a disillusioned public grappled with where it would find the solutions to its residual problems, which, they thought, might lie in the next administration. The promise of laissez-faire economics had all but met expectations, though analysts adamantly argue that material concerns and that type of well-being, like lower interest rates and low inflation, were only “a part of the story” in the political climate of the early nineties, as the real issue for the electorate was “dignity for themselves and their country.” The 1992 presidential ballot posited three candidates with separate possible solutions to the nation’s critical economic and social problems, however the candidate who offered the most persuasive argument for a solution was Bill Clinton.
Clinton attempted to present a “new covenant” with the American public through his campaign of “Putting People First.” This attempt to humanize the electorate appealed to their faith in the democratic process, reawakening national rhetoric about citizenship and equalizing voters across demographic lines with what McWilliams refers to as “a Republic of equals.” Regardless of whether or not Clinton could actually create this “Republic of equals,” he appealed to the dignity of African American voters by addressing them as citizens instead of as an economic class or a voting block, which was especially important after the Rodney King beating and subsequent race riots in Los Angeles in 1992. These problems only emphasized the Democratic Party’s drive to end the “decade of neglect” that resulted from the lack of comprehensive policies of the prior administrations regarding inner city living and lower social classes.
Clinton was voted into office, however, by less than a fifty-percent plurality vote, which further emphasizes the public’s ambiguity on government’s effectiveness. Its inability to completely agree on a candidate paired against the rise in voter turnout highlights the tension between faith that the system of government can take responsibility to respond to its constituents and to serve them, and the skepticism with which they regard the individuals who operate within the government itself, reflecting the kinds of questions Dave asks about our faith in the American democratic system.
Dave takes the type of individual the electorate is used to – President Mitchell – and replaces him with an ordinary guy who just happens to look like the president, asking audiences to consider what kind of person can run the country. Dave’s depiction of President Mitchell giving a speech at the beginning of the film, in which he references his “law school days back at Yale,” with his good friend Jordan Blankfort – “now Justice Blankfort” – argues that this is the normative image of a president that Americans have come to expect. This particular image is of a specific class of people: Ivy League educated, upper class, more in-the-world than of-the-world, who have somehow learned that they can participate in politics, utilizing the structure of government for personal gain and networking, and often acting as if they are above the laws they are employed to enforce. Ironically, the American electorate has come to expect this type of person, and yet still votes anyway, exemplifying the tension between skepticism in the individuals within government and a desire to believe in the power of the government as a whole. The problem with accepting an archetype or expectation of the president comes with the president’s consistent inability to deliver proper aid to his country through the government, as, Dave argues, the class of person who can become president is inherently disconnected from “ordinary people,” who have different ideas about what the government should do for its country.
The elites portrayed by the Mitchell administration are not those who believe in an effective government that will comprehensively and thoroughly work for its citizens, arguing that this class of politicians that enters the executive office has a differing view of the purpose and function than ordinary citizens might. This is apparent from the first scene in which President Mitchell meets with his cabinet to discuss the “Simpson-Gardner thing,” which, he says, “has got homeless shelters. Home start centers. Hot lunches for the little kiddies.” He condescendingly chastises his cabinet members for not having “killed it” in Congress. This bill represents the will of American citizens through their legislative bodies, and, in contrast to the executive branch, the means of articulating interests and needs to the government. The executive branch’s efforts to “kill it” directly argue that this branch is typically constructed of political elites who see public office as a means for personal gain, who are not concerned with actively utilizing the government for the public good. The fact that President Mitchell and his chief of staff, Bob Alexander, push to kill the bill before the president can veto it highlights the importance of the image of the president as a person who works for the people but actually uses the office as a means of personal and economic gain.
President Mitchell’s façade only makes Dave’s naivete more compelling, as Dave’s ordinariness shows how inaccessible the executive branch is seen to be. Next to Bill Mitchell and his administration, which is full of confident, respected politicians conditioned for the political sphere, Dave seems to only highlight the lack of confidence ordinary people have in their ability to participate in politics; only when he is given power, authority, and respect does he begin to understand that he is just as capable to run the country as any other man.
The main difference, Dave argues, is that the ordinary person wants to use the democratic system to help the masses, while the class of person who actually has access to the executive office would rather use it for some type of personal gain. This perspective is exemplified when Dave fully realizes that he has full executive authority – Bob Alexander cannot oust Dave from the office, as Bob placed Dave there illegally in the first place – and also realizes that he has no actual culpability, considering he is not actually the president. By removing the element of personal culpability, Dave argues that many politicians, utilizing the political structure for personal gain, like Mitchell and the First Liberty scandal, will operate dishonestly to avoid taking responsibility and save their own image. As the ordinary people suddenly given great authority under another politician’s name, Dave and Ellen Mitchell collaborate to utilize his position to run the government the way they, as “ordinary people” uninvolved in politics, think the government should be run.
Subsequently, the choices Dave makes while standing in for the president argue that ordinary people could make the government far more accessible to other ordinary people, and would use executive power to literally make ordinary peoples’ lives better. After Dave and Ellen go to see the homeless shelter, the real problems of real people become most important to ordinary Dave. Dave and his friend Murray, the accountant, rework the entire federal budget – about which, Murray comments, “If I ran my office this way, I’d be out of business!” – and remove stuffy and superfluous industrial, bureaucratic, and economic entanglements to make room for a social welfare bill that could help those specific real problems of real American people. The problem still lies in convincing the president’s cabinet that this is important which, the film argues, can only really be done when officials are held personally responsible for the authority that they wield, as the people in office are too disconnected from their constituents to effectively control their government.
This effectiveness of personal culpability for political elites emphasizes the importance of image for elected officials within the executive branch, noting the ambiguity in a public that seems to see through the image-based front of politics, and yet still strains to find hope within it. Dave, being an ordinary person, is able to force politicians to individually confront their own policy choices to save their images. The scene in which Dave, as President Mitchell, explains the budget changes argues that the individuals who comprise the American government are only interested in utilizing their position to help ordinary people when confronted personally about their actions. Dave directly asks the secretary of commerce, “Do you want to tell an eight-year-old kid he has to sleep on the street because we want people to feel better about their cars?” To which the secretary, reflectively, replies, in the face of television cameras and press representatives, “No. No, I certainly don’t.” It seems that this is the first time the secretary is confronted with a bridge between the gap of the governor and the governed, and his concession to Dave’s question optimistically argues that this bridge is possible, even probable.
By the end of the George H. W. Bush administration, Americans had become disillusioned with the electoral system in general, as there was a general consensus that presidents had “so often abused the national interest for their own political ends” that adherence to partisan efforts seemed unproductive. This same sort of neglect of the American public is seen in the scene in which pundits and representatives urge Dave to cut back on the jobs bill and ousting the First Liberty scandal. A Congressman comments, “We may be able to hold off on this First Liberty thing for a while … but if you’re pushing this new jobs.. Just put us on a spit and bring the sauce.. If you’d just wait a few months!” Dave quietly responds with a “I don’t want to wait. We can’t,” emphasizing that the urgency of social problems in the United States is more important than politicians’ reputations. This ordinary person may not be politically savvy, or, like Bob Alexander, “in Who’s Who in Washington nine years in a row,” but he can see that real political problems are larger than the individuals who orchestrate – or ignore – the solutions.
Interestingly enough, through contrasting the ordinariness of Dave, Murray, and even Ellen Mitchell with Bob Alexander and the president, Dave depicts an administration that has, too, fallen out of touch with the needs of its electorate. Dave argues, however, that the government can be utilized for good – it is just a matter of who can be placed in a position of power and what they decide to do with that power.
Only when the elite class of politicians understands the pressing needs of ordinary people can the gap between the governed and the governors be effectively bridged.
Only when he has nothing to lose does Dave take advantage of his power as president, but he does so in an unexpected way, which, the film argues, is how ordinary people want their government to be used. Ellen Mitchell asks, after she and Dave decide to resign as First Lady and false President, “What would you do if you were still in? I mean, if you had one more chance to be president, what would you do then?” To which Dave replies, “Lots of things.” These “things” all revolve around reactivating a social sector of the government to help other “ordinary people” and, later, exposing the financial scandal involving the president and the chief of staff themselves. These two ordinary persons decide to use their position to the advantage of the ordinary people who are arguably forgotten by the Mitchell administration. The two are able to conspire and expose because of two factors: there is no personal culpability for Dave, as he is not actually the president who owes economic and bureaucratic favors to other people, and he also does not have to make it through the filter of the electorate and can operate as himself under the guise of being the legitimately elected President of the United States.
Under this guise, Dave “takes back” the government for ordinary people covertly, leveling the playing field between those within the administration who are their for personal gain and the ordinary people with noble intentions. By admitting to a joint session of Congress that the First Liberty Scandal occurred, Dave insures that Bob Alexander and President Mitchell must take full responsibility for their actions, which Bob and Alan were going to blame on the vice president. It is interesting that the one “ordinary person” within the administration is the one who has to take the fall for the scandal at first, until Dave rectifies the situation. This situation is not necessarily a triumph of good over evil, but of the democratic process over those trying to exploit it, and this can be done by ordinary people harnessing control of their government and learning that they do have access to it.
The lovely idea that this ordinary person can rework the federal budget for social welfare programs or expose and “admit” to illegal operations is a bit clouded by the fact that Dave was not actually elected president. This argues that the bureaucracy and technicalities of becoming president prevents “ordinary people” from coming through the system or becoming confident enough to begin the climb up the ladder of public service. Ordinary people need that confidence to make it through the electoral system, with their pure intentions to help people, as American political culture seems to inhibit all but a specific archetype from reaching office. However, Dave also argues that the American public’s faith in their own government structure is not completely unfound, as there is hope at least for “ordinary people” to take back their government and use it as they see fit.
In the particularly thoughtful scene in which Dave invites Vice President Nance to sit and chat, the film presents these questions about the ideology of the “ordinary person,” and its role in politics, Dave argues, can be seen within the character of Vice President Nance in contrast to the rest of the Mitchell administration. Dave asks Nance how he “got started,” to which Nance surprisedly replies, “I was a shoe salesman. But not very happy about it.” In telling his story about how his wife commented, “Why don’t you run for office? You talk about it all the time,” and his subsequent political endeavors, from becoming a councilman with his wife as his campaign manager, Nance indicates that there is indeed room within the political infrastructure for the optimism of ordinary people who want to make a difference in the United States. The placement of Nance’s character as the vice president argues that the ordinary people are on their way to infiltrating the system, but considering his status as second-in-command, ordinary people are not quite there yet.
By cultivating a sense of cooperation and public service within the executive office, Dave continues to exemplify the epitome of American democracy that Americans find inconsistent with the individuals within government. Dave, the ordinary person who without even meaning to believes in equality, cultivates a lovely friendship with his bodyguard Duane. After Dave’s press conference, in which he announces his ambitious and very liberal jobs initiative, Duane comments, “US News hammered us, but they’re always tough. Rosenthal loved us.” The very small shift in Duane’s syntax to refer to their administration as “us” instead of the previous “them” says everything about Dave’s participation: that he is transforming the current administration to be accessible to ordinary people. In this great metaphorical way is Dave itself allowing us to feasibly imagine transforming the government into doing exactly what ordinary people would like it to do.
Considering that it is never revealed to the country that ordinary Dave accomplished all of these wonderful things, the film ends on an oddly optimistic note, highlighting the tension between who can actually engage in politics and who can be elected. The fact that Dave never gets credit for his work indicates that these norms and expectations that the American public has of their politicians are established and probably can endure. However, by the end of the film, ordinary Dave runs for local office, as he has become confident and learned that he does have the ability to effectively serve the public as an ordinary person, urging the ordinary people to understand their own potential within the American political system. The standing tension seen in the American electorate through the 1990s and within the film Dave is acknowledged, developed, and given possible relief with the message that ordinary people can and should understand their own abilities, highlighting the core of the American ideal of representative democracy as, President Mitchell ironically states at the beginning of the film, a government “of the people, by the people.” Dave firmly argues that it is up to ordinary people to hold their government accountable – or to become their own government.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

It's not your fault you have to go to one school over another.

From my limited experience with DC public schools, I have come to understand that they need help.

DC Mayor Adrian Fenty has this pseudo-plan called the "buff-and-scrub" program to essentially beautify schools.

"

Smith, whose firm, William C. Smith & Co., spent $150,000 at Ballou High School last summer, said developers thought last year's effort was a "one-time deal."

"The city needs to get out a clear message," Smith said. "We need to get our hands around what the long-term plan is."


According to the Washington Post, the kinds of improvements that the buff-and-scrub program includes are cosmetic, janitorial. After trying my best to be a tutor with Coaching for College this semester at Shaw Middle School, I can tell you that these are not unnecessary changes - Shaw was painted in the last couple of years, it looks like a turquoise, orange, and yellow prison for the most part, with metal detectors at the entrances and brightly colored bars on the windows - but I have to say, the girls I spent time with on Saturday mornings seemed like they could benefit from something else.

The first thought I had when I went for the first time in January was that it looked like a prison. Even Shepard looked better than that. What's that maxim, if you get treated like something long enough, that's how you will begin to act before long? One of the girls I spent time with said it felt like jail. I asked why she came on the weekends for CFC if she hated it so much (we meet in the yellow and orange cafeteria in the basement of the building). She said, because she wants to leave she has to come, she wants to go away to college, so she has to come.

The entire CFC experience was interesting - frustrating, and oddly inspiring. The problems I saw with the weekly meetings became, over the course of the semester, reasons for me to not want to go. After walking back across town on yet another Saturday when my seventh-grader didn't show up for tutoring, I ranted and complained about how the program could be far more effective. I hated that I didn't want to return. All I could think about was how dedicated the coaches were, from such diverse backgrounds and interesting arrays of professions, sincere reasons why they would come week after week, and how inefficient and ineffective I felt. It bothered me how I wanted to help, but was instead frustrated. Over dinner, Alex Goolsby said, "Why don't you start your own? Fix its problems, make it better?" He is not the only one.

I don't know where to begin, except to comment on what is happening at Durham Academy this summer. Sam and I found out about this by accident, when a very effervescent Duke graduate told us about his summer. The summer program is for Durham Public Schools students, it begins for rising sixth graders to, generally, help them understand the power that they have to start their own organizations, do well in the public school system, and become leaders in their local communities. Anyone who is at all familiar with DPS could tell you this is a really wonderful cause and, from what we've seen so far, is locally mobilizing an entire regime of idealistic and motivated college students who sincerely want to create a force of change within a community that could really, really use it. Forrest, our informant, is teaching sixth-grade science this summer and two electives: martial arts and food science. He hopes that, within that environment of excitable and motivated college students, the middle school students can not only get a head start on their upcoming academic year, but start environmentally-friendly clubs and forces at their schools and in their homes.

I would like to salute the student speakers at GW's 2008 Commencement, both of whom gave very pointed remarks that mesh perfectly with the kind of life-philosophy that is developing inside my brain, up from my heart (or maybe it's the other way around). Either way, in her really gorgeous and accessible speech, Sara Ray commented on the inaccuracy of the general attitude toward our generation: that we are apathetic, reserved, quiet, distanced, and uncaring. If anything, our generation as a force is a testament to how much we do want to create change and help other people, in any way we can. Student U is just one place you can see it. I wonder if it can spread, if we could begin something like this in Washington?

In my current state of Liberal Idealist, I have to wonder if all people who end up making decisions about where money goes (re: public education) began here as well. Just like the First Lady says in Dave, do they all get involved to help people and just get caught up in bureaucracy? Lose sight of where they are going?

In Dave, Dave himself, pretending to be the president and "taking responsibility" for his illegalities (this sounds a lot more complicated than it is), comments to Congress that he was "hired to do a job" for the American people, "and just a temp job at that. I forgot that I had 250 million people paying me to make their lives a little bit better."

Ah, personal culpability, where are you now? We need you in so many places.

The other student speaker at Commencement was Christine Handy, who asked everyone to take a look at their own tables of contents, noting that we need particularly to inventory civility and integrity.

What if we could ask Mayor Fenty the most important of questions, like, "why are you closing so many elementary schools? Do you really think this is the best move for individual students?" In the same way I would like to ask the President, "would we move our military into another country if your daughters had to do it?"

& So it begins

Caution! Ramblings below!

i don't feel smart enough, and i worry i never will, but i desperately want to work hard enough so that i can be. that weird kind of humility would either help me or screw me over.. but i hope in this stage of observing and asking questions it will only be beneficial.

i have never been poetic or mathematically-minded but i am learning to see things prismatically. often this means i can't come up with one conclusion and i think of too many things to say at once, so nothing coherent comes out, and seems to only give credit to robin's way of saying, "humanities majors are just stupid." in truth, i have too many thoughts & i am never sure if any of them are valid. last year in honors conferences about my papers, Erika, my very favorite professor ever, said that in her class she prefers my way of writing about many ideas instead of just pushing one and refuting everything else. in college, she said, she never did well because she credited everyone's opinions more than hers, finding them more interesting and complex.

i like new ideas. more than my own, often.
in boston last year, paul domanico came for business and we had adventures. i told him i felt stupider since going to school, i can't speak anymore! he said i have too many thoughts to focus on grammar and not to worry. it was a good thing.

i want to learn to respect my own opinions. strangely, in order to do that, i need constructive feedback. here, it will begin, thanks to carolyn who said, "laura! you should write a blog." and give yourself some direction.

if you're reading this, i appreciate it, and i promise to have something important to say quite soon!


just because i can't speak in metaphors or rearrange words so they mean different things or do complex equations and Think Logically does not mean i am stupid. just like i knew plenty of people in high school who were brilliant in many ways but weren't cut out for standardized testing does not mean they won't do great things. Just because i'm not inherently unhappy - until recently? i have to pull myself out of it, i am not enjoying this at all - doesn't mean i don't care, or wouldn't listen, or that what i do understand isn't valid. just because i am nineteen does not mean i don't know what i'm doing. at the same time, it doesn't mean i know exactly what i'm doing so CUT ME A BREAK PLEASE! maybe it means i have to cut myself a break. i hate this, i wish i knew what was happening to my brain and my life.

and just because i'm a college student doesn't mean i'm not a real person. if anything, it gives me unbridled freedom to consistently evolve into a better one. Chandula says i hold myself to too high a standard and that sometimes i have to let myself be In It. but that is terrifying to me, i don't know about that one, this makes me feel finite and unlimited, everywhere and nowhere, all at once, and Alarming is the only word i can find to begin describing growing like this.

beth-next-door told me once that her heart soared to save the world until evan was born. and now saving the world has become saving his just, daily. i get overwhelmed thinking about the different paths my life can take at every choice, and i want to leave room for anything to happen, but that means i am afraid to take anything. i feel things strongly. i tend to go all-or-nothing. i don't know what the Right way to do anything is. Debra from the plane said there isn't. she's married with a kid and pretty happy about everything but still waiting for things to come together. she said it's easier once you just accept it.