Being not sick kicks so much ass. Hurrah for drinking caffeine and eating dairy products!!
Monday, May 23, 2005
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Mother's Day
On Sunday what I had thought were allergies finally revealed themselves to be the flu, and I’ve now been pretty much quarantined in my apartment for a few days. Not being able to go anywhere is boring, so I’ve been spending a lot of time on the Scrapbooks that I’m making for Mom Giani and Mom Sherrill. When I came up with the idea I envisioned putting in pictures from as far back as I could find, but in the end I decided to go with pictures that have to do with being a Mom to grown-up kids. It’s all got me being extremely sentimental about daughterhood, so I warn you up front: this post might be really sappy.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to have kids. Sometimes I can almost convince myself that I would be okay never being a mother, but I’m pretty sure that those kinds of thoughts come from fear. Assuming that I do have kids one day, I want to be the kind of mother that I had, the kind that I know Matt had as well. I’m amazed at how many parents out there don’t pay any attention to their children unless they get too loud. In my opinion, kids are supposed to be loud, and if yours are quiet all of the time then something is wrong. There’s a fine line between teaching your child about appropriate behavior and teaching them that they can act as awful as they want as long as they do it quietly.
The kind of patience, and insight, and constant awareness that a real parent has to have is mind-boggling. My fear is that I won’t ever be able to be that selfless, and that my poor children will end up spending their adult lives in therapy.
While a lot of my early memories of religious community life involve my Dad, all of my memories of private spiritual life are of my Mom. I can remember watching her say her prayers, standing silently in the doorway while she sat on the floor at the end of her bed. I always wanted her to wear her red striped dress when we had people over for Baha’i gatherings – I called it her “Fireside Dress”. Any she would wear it frequently when I asked her to, even though she was probably sick of it.
Would I wear the same dress every Friday if my daughter wanted me to? Or would I make up some excuse to disguise the fact that I didn’t want it to seem like I only had one thing to wear?
When I left for college I was shocked at how badly I missed having my mother around. You go through your teenage years wanting to escape, and when you do you suddenly realize that the person in the world who would do absolutely anything for you isn’t around anymore. In Lucy, Jamaica Kinkaid’s protagonist speaks after a falling out with her mother and says that she realizes she’s just ended the first, and perhaps the only real love affair of her life. I never understood that until, for the first time and at the age of nineteen, I felt like my parents weren’t able to be there for me.
Mom Giani and Mom Sherrill are both going through some form of empty-nest syndrome as their youngest children go off to college. I also can’t imagine what it’s like to be a real mother, to spend every second of every day totally subjugating your needs to your children’s, and then to have those children happily prance out of the house with their lives ahead of them. But the idea that children stop needing their mothers when they leave the house is just wrong. As you’re sucked into the emotional vacuum of college life and the real world, your mother is the lifeline that you turn to for guidance. After years of demanding to do things your own way, you suddenly wish that your mother could just decide everything for you because life is too hard and too complicated.
My relationship with my Mom changed a lot after I started college, and as I got married it settled into what it is now. Mothers and adult daughters, like my Mom and myself, are often very sisterly, openly sharing experiences and asking each other for advice. But I don’t think my Mom realizes that this equalized closeness is a functional necessity to mask the reality that I’ll always need her support, and that her power over me is unique. A mother is simply irreplaceable.
Somehow this is what I want the mothers in my life to know: that your children never really stop needing you. There’s no chapter of your life that you go through without your mother, there’s nothing you do that isn’t affected by that relationship. So happy belated holidays to all of the mothers in my life. Sorry I drove you crazy for all of those years – if you feel like getting back at me by driving me crazy sometimes, I won’t hold it against you.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to have kids. Sometimes I can almost convince myself that I would be okay never being a mother, but I’m pretty sure that those kinds of thoughts come from fear. Assuming that I do have kids one day, I want to be the kind of mother that I had, the kind that I know Matt had as well. I’m amazed at how many parents out there don’t pay any attention to their children unless they get too loud. In my opinion, kids are supposed to be loud, and if yours are quiet all of the time then something is wrong. There’s a fine line between teaching your child about appropriate behavior and teaching them that they can act as awful as they want as long as they do it quietly.
The kind of patience, and insight, and constant awareness that a real parent has to have is mind-boggling. My fear is that I won’t ever be able to be that selfless, and that my poor children will end up spending their adult lives in therapy.
While a lot of my early memories of religious community life involve my Dad, all of my memories of private spiritual life are of my Mom. I can remember watching her say her prayers, standing silently in the doorway while she sat on the floor at the end of her bed. I always wanted her to wear her red striped dress when we had people over for Baha’i gatherings – I called it her “Fireside Dress”. Any she would wear it frequently when I asked her to, even though she was probably sick of it.
Would I wear the same dress every Friday if my daughter wanted me to? Or would I make up some excuse to disguise the fact that I didn’t want it to seem like I only had one thing to wear?
When I left for college I was shocked at how badly I missed having my mother around. You go through your teenage years wanting to escape, and when you do you suddenly realize that the person in the world who would do absolutely anything for you isn’t around anymore. In Lucy, Jamaica Kinkaid’s protagonist speaks after a falling out with her mother and says that she realizes she’s just ended the first, and perhaps the only real love affair of her life. I never understood that until, for the first time and at the age of nineteen, I felt like my parents weren’t able to be there for me.
Mom Giani and Mom Sherrill are both going through some form of empty-nest syndrome as their youngest children go off to college. I also can’t imagine what it’s like to be a real mother, to spend every second of every day totally subjugating your needs to your children’s, and then to have those children happily prance out of the house with their lives ahead of them. But the idea that children stop needing their mothers when they leave the house is just wrong. As you’re sucked into the emotional vacuum of college life and the real world, your mother is the lifeline that you turn to for guidance. After years of demanding to do things your own way, you suddenly wish that your mother could just decide everything for you because life is too hard and too complicated.
My relationship with my Mom changed a lot after I started college, and as I got married it settled into what it is now. Mothers and adult daughters, like my Mom and myself, are often very sisterly, openly sharing experiences and asking each other for advice. But I don’t think my Mom realizes that this equalized closeness is a functional necessity to mask the reality that I’ll always need her support, and that her power over me is unique. A mother is simply irreplaceable.
Somehow this is what I want the mothers in my life to know: that your children never really stop needing you. There’s no chapter of your life that you go through without your mother, there’s nothing you do that isn’t affected by that relationship. So happy belated holidays to all of the mothers in my life. Sorry I drove you crazy for all of those years – if you feel like getting back at me by driving me crazy sometimes, I won’t hold it against you.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Gibberish . . .
So when I started this blog, I promised myself that it would be about something more than Law School. But I have to take a moment to update all of you to something:
I AM FINISHED WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF LAW SCHOOL.
This actually happened on Thursday, but I think it took a few days to sink in. I really can’t express how weird it feels to come home and not have to read anything or do anything.
But I’m not going to write about all that! It’s a new day; a day with much less studying and much more shopping. And I get to go back to work! I know that work is much worse than school for some people, but I’m lucky enough to work in the Best Office Ever. My boss and co-workers are great, and the fridge is always stocked with Dr. Pepper. And Nikki and I have big plans to perfect the “cup-and-string” method of communication while Brian is out of town.
Matt took Friday off from work, and we spent the day running errands and cleaning the house. We also stopped at the mall and, in less than an hour, found a new suit for Matt and a new dress for me – both for the upcoming and much-anticipated nuptials of two of our good friends. Today we went to Central Market and bought actual food, which was exciting because we haven’t cooked a meal for the past two weeks.
We also started the belated birthday/mother’s day gifts for Mom Giani and Mom Sherrill. They’re sort of getting the same thing – we’re making each of them a small scrapbook with family pictures. That’s really fun because I like anything that involves glue and paint pens. Mmmm . . . .messy.
This all may sound boring, but it’s very necessary. And, you know, it’s hard to transition directly from the thrilling world of civil procedure to table-dancing at bars. And there’s that whole bit about table-dancing being skanky. So, as boring as it sounds, a day where I get to make scrapbooks and buy groceries is just the kind of mundane, unsurprising, normal life that I’ve been craving for this past month.
That concludes this short but boring post. Maybe the next thing I write will be more interesting, but right now I’m off to throw all of my textbooks into a bonfire.
I AM FINISHED WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF LAW SCHOOL.
This actually happened on Thursday, but I think it took a few days to sink in. I really can’t express how weird it feels to come home and not have to read anything or do anything.
But I’m not going to write about all that! It’s a new day; a day with much less studying and much more shopping. And I get to go back to work! I know that work is much worse than school for some people, but I’m lucky enough to work in the Best Office Ever. My boss and co-workers are great, and the fridge is always stocked with Dr. Pepper. And Nikki and I have big plans to perfect the “cup-and-string” method of communication while Brian is out of town.
Matt took Friday off from work, and we spent the day running errands and cleaning the house. We also stopped at the mall and, in less than an hour, found a new suit for Matt and a new dress for me – both for the upcoming and much-anticipated nuptials of two of our good friends. Today we went to Central Market and bought actual food, which was exciting because we haven’t cooked a meal for the past two weeks.
We also started the belated birthday/mother’s day gifts for Mom Giani and Mom Sherrill. They’re sort of getting the same thing – we’re making each of them a small scrapbook with family pictures. That’s really fun because I like anything that involves glue and paint pens. Mmmm . . . .messy.
This all may sound boring, but it’s very necessary. And, you know, it’s hard to transition directly from the thrilling world of civil procedure to table-dancing at bars. And there’s that whole bit about table-dancing being skanky. So, as boring as it sounds, a day where I get to make scrapbooks and buy groceries is just the kind of mundane, unsurprising, normal life that I’ve been craving for this past month.
That concludes this short but boring post. Maybe the next thing I write will be more interesting, but right now I’m off to throw all of my textbooks into a bonfire.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Me and my Brain
Two weeks ago: Raychul makes her way up a shaded path to a dimly lit duplex somewhere in North Campus. She follows the path around to the back of the duplex, checking to make sure she hasn’t been followed, and takes a deep breath before knocking firmly on a navy door marked only as “B”. The door is opened by a girl, mid-twenties, dark hair who . . .who looks . . .exactly like Raychul . . . .
Raychul: Hey! I was hoping you’d be home! I was just passing through, and I thought –
Raychul’s Brain: Well, well, well. If it isn’t the deserter, back to make my life hell because of her own bad choices. What do you want this time?
Raychul: Brain, I am shocked that someone as intelligent as yourself would think that I’m only here because I want something.
Brain: *Cold Stare*
Raychul: *Waffling under cold stare* Um . . .okay, the thing is, I have finals in a couple weeks, and –
Brain: And after spending all semester pissing away your time you’ve come to beg me for help?
Raychul: Well . . .yeah, that sounds about right. Expect for the “pissing away” bit; I have been doing a lot of really important things this semester.
Brain: Oh, save it. I know what you’ve been doing. *Pulls out a videotape*
Raychul: *gasps* Have you been following me??
Brain: Ha! Like you’re worth my time. I simply installed closed circuit video cameras throughout the city of Austin to track what you’ve been up to.
Raychul: Um . . .you’re saying you put up cameras all over the city? And that the footage is on that one tape? I’ve gotta say, that doesn’t seem to make much sense, Brain. Maybe you’ve been standing too close to the microwave or talking on your –
Brain: Enough! Do you think I enjoy hearing your pathetic excuses? *Pulls out an Assault & Flattery program* A play? You spent two months of time being part of a play??
Raychul: It was a little more than a play! We had dancing, and a live band and everything!
Brain: Look, I have full documentation of everything you’ve been doing – the extracurricular activities, the goofing off, going to work. But the fact is, you haven’t come to me all semester, and now here you are two weeks before finals. How did you expect to make it through law school without your Brain?
Raychul: I made it through all of undergrad without a Brain.
Brain: Point taken.
Brain proceeded to do her best, teaching Raychul the intricacies of Criminal Law and Civil Procedure. They did practice exams, multi-state bar questions, and occasionally took short breaks to ponder the more philosophical nature of the topics. On Monday evening Raychul called Brain on the phone.
Brain: Hello?
Raychul: Hey, it’s me!
Brain: . . . .Hillary Clinton?
Raychul: What? No! It’s Raychul.
Brain: Ohhhh, sorry – I was expecting a call.
Raychul: Whatever. Anyway, I finished my Civil Procedure exam!
Brain: Hey, that’s great, kid. So I guess you’re off to Hawaii or someplace now that you’re done.
Raychul: Well . . .I’m not exactly done . . .I kinda have one more small little exam that I forgot to mention.
*Click*
Raychul: Brain? Brain? Hello??
After much convincing. Brain finally agreed not to abandon Raychul, and on Tuesday they met at an outdoor café to study.
Brain: Well, Torts doesn’t look too bad, and you’ve already got your outline and everything. Should we start with some old exams?
Raychul: There’s sort of something I should tell you.
Brain: Yes?
Raychul: This exam . . .the multiple choice questions are sort of . . .important and . . .um . . .Ihavetotakethequestionswithoutnotes.
Brain: Excuse me?
Raychul: *Grins apologetically*
Brain: *Voice shaking with rage* Are you telling me that you’ve waited until TWO DAYS BEFORE YOUR EXAM to tell me that it’s CLOSED BOOK?!
Raychul: It sounds a lot worse when you put it that way.
Brain: Do you think this is funny? Do you think I enjoy being your Brain, watching you spend all of your time shopping and doing your hair and WATCHING REALITY TELEVISION?
Raychul: Well, I never –
Brain: WOULD IT KILL YOU TO PICK UP A BOOK? OR TO THANK ME FOR MY HELP?
Raychul: I didn’t mean to –
Brain: *Stands up, Torts outline in hand* WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT MISSY? YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN!! *Throws all fifty pages of Torts outline into the parking lot and storms off. Raychul watches glumly as the pages fly around in the wind and scatter throughout the entire city of Austin.*
Raychul: I am so screwed.
Raychul: Hey! I was hoping you’d be home! I was just passing through, and I thought –
Raychul’s Brain: Well, well, well. If it isn’t the deserter, back to make my life hell because of her own bad choices. What do you want this time?
Raychul: Brain, I am shocked that someone as intelligent as yourself would think that I’m only here because I want something.
Brain: *Cold Stare*
Raychul: *Waffling under cold stare* Um . . .okay, the thing is, I have finals in a couple weeks, and –
Brain: And after spending all semester pissing away your time you’ve come to beg me for help?
Raychul: Well . . .yeah, that sounds about right. Expect for the “pissing away” bit; I have been doing a lot of really important things this semester.
Brain: Oh, save it. I know what you’ve been doing. *Pulls out a videotape*
Raychul: *gasps* Have you been following me??
Brain: Ha! Like you’re worth my time. I simply installed closed circuit video cameras throughout the city of Austin to track what you’ve been up to.
Raychul: Um . . .you’re saying you put up cameras all over the city? And that the footage is on that one tape? I’ve gotta say, that doesn’t seem to make much sense, Brain. Maybe you’ve been standing too close to the microwave or talking on your –
Brain: Enough! Do you think I enjoy hearing your pathetic excuses? *Pulls out an Assault & Flattery program* A play? You spent two months of time being part of a play??
Raychul: It was a little more than a play! We had dancing, and a live band and everything!
Brain: Look, I have full documentation of everything you’ve been doing – the extracurricular activities, the goofing off, going to work. But the fact is, you haven’t come to me all semester, and now here you are two weeks before finals. How did you expect to make it through law school without your Brain?
Raychul: I made it through all of undergrad without a Brain.
Brain: Point taken.
Brain proceeded to do her best, teaching Raychul the intricacies of Criminal Law and Civil Procedure. They did practice exams, multi-state bar questions, and occasionally took short breaks to ponder the more philosophical nature of the topics. On Monday evening Raychul called Brain on the phone.
Brain: Hello?
Raychul: Hey, it’s me!
Brain: . . . .Hillary Clinton?
Raychul: What? No! It’s Raychul.
Brain: Ohhhh, sorry – I was expecting a call.
Raychul: Whatever. Anyway, I finished my Civil Procedure exam!
Brain: Hey, that’s great, kid. So I guess you’re off to Hawaii or someplace now that you’re done.
Raychul: Well . . .I’m not exactly done . . .I kinda have one more small little exam that I forgot to mention.
*Click*
Raychul: Brain? Brain? Hello??
After much convincing. Brain finally agreed not to abandon Raychul, and on Tuesday they met at an outdoor café to study.
Brain: Well, Torts doesn’t look too bad, and you’ve already got your outline and everything. Should we start with some old exams?
Raychul: There’s sort of something I should tell you.
Brain: Yes?
Raychul: This exam . . .the multiple choice questions are sort of . . .important and . . .um . . .Ihavetotakethequestionswithoutnotes.
Brain: Excuse me?
Raychul: *Grins apologetically*
Brain: *Voice shaking with rage* Are you telling me that you’ve waited until TWO DAYS BEFORE YOUR EXAM to tell me that it’s CLOSED BOOK?!
Raychul: It sounds a lot worse when you put it that way.
Brain: Do you think this is funny? Do you think I enjoy being your Brain, watching you spend all of your time shopping and doing your hair and WATCHING REALITY TELEVISION?
Raychul: Well, I never –
Brain: WOULD IT KILL YOU TO PICK UP A BOOK? OR TO THANK ME FOR MY HELP?
Raychul: I didn’t mean to –
Brain: *Stands up, Torts outline in hand* WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT MISSY? YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN!! *Throws all fifty pages of Torts outline into the parking lot and storms off. Raychul watches glumly as the pages fly around in the wind and scatter throughout the entire city of Austin.*
Raychul: I am so screwed.
Me gusta las papas fritas
Things I like right now:
1. Joseph Glannon, professor extraordinaire and savoir of pitiful law students.
2. Blue cotton candy. Mmm. (Thanks to Alia for the inspiration.)
3. The trailer for Goblet of Fire OMG OMG!! *Shrieks like a fourteen-year-old.
4. Hilarious late-night commercials for Funk & Associates.
5. Dr. Sanjay Gupta. A doctor and a journalist! And soooo dreamy . . .
6. Men who don’t hit on me (obviously, this isn’t meant to include Matt.)
7. Homemade smoothies.
8. The creators of Oregon Trail. “You have died of dysentery”. Seriously, it’s just as fun now as when you were eleven.
9. The fact that by 3:00pm on Thursday I will officially be DONE WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF LAW SCHOOL.
10. The phrase “I got your due process right here . . .”
11. The question “May I have some carnal knowledge of you?”
12. The threat “If you don’t shut up my fist will make some minimum contacts with your face”.
Things I don’t like right now:
1. Humidity. Where am I, Galveston?
2. Auto-formatting on Word. I swear, if it indents one more paragraph . . .
3. Blue teeth from eating the cotton candy.
4. My overall ineptitude.
5. Torts.
6. Shorts.
7. Skorts.
1. Joseph Glannon, professor extraordinaire and savoir of pitiful law students.
2. Blue cotton candy. Mmm. (Thanks to Alia for the inspiration.)
3. The trailer for Goblet of Fire OMG OMG!! *Shrieks like a fourteen-year-old.
4. Hilarious late-night commercials for Funk & Associates.
5. Dr. Sanjay Gupta. A doctor and a journalist! And soooo dreamy . . .
6. Men who don’t hit on me (obviously, this isn’t meant to include Matt.)
7. Homemade smoothies.
8. The creators of Oregon Trail. “You have died of dysentery”. Seriously, it’s just as fun now as when you were eleven.
9. The fact that by 3:00pm on Thursday I will officially be DONE WITH MY FIRST YEAR OF LAW SCHOOL.
10. The phrase “I got your due process right here . . .”
11. The question “May I have some carnal knowledge of you?”
12. The threat “If you don’t shut up my fist will make some minimum contacts with your face”.
Things I don’t like right now:
1. Humidity. Where am I, Galveston?
2. Auto-formatting on Word. I swear, if it indents one more paragraph . . .
3. Blue teeth from eating the cotton candy.
4. My overall ineptitude.
5. Torts.
6. Shorts.
7. Skorts.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Raychul don't know nothin' 'bout animals, Part II
Jackalope: noun, a wonderful, fictitious animal first imagined by cowboys a long time ago. The cross of a jackrabbit and antelope.
Fictitious. Got it.
Fictitious. Got it.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
In Response to Some Comments
Dear people of planet Earth (allegedly),
1. To Brian in his many incarnations: you are crazy and that is part of why we love you. If I could skateboard I would totally try to copy you. Your drive-by commenting really entertains me when I'm up studying at 3am (now that I know you aren't some weirdo).
2. To Nicole, the goddess of all things office supply and liberal talk radio maven: You are making yourself sound very professional, which I think is an attempt to piss off Brian. I find this funny. I like how you try to dispel my idiocy by looking up things I don't know. : ) By the way, the office is waaaaaay better than law school.
3. To Harry the Sober Hyena: I apologize for the insult. I did not mean to intend that all hyenas are "hysterical morons". I'm sure that you are a bright, intelligent community and I meant no offense. I personally have nothing against you; in fact, some of my good friends are hyenas. I will be more careful about my turn of phrase from now on!
4. To Thomas: Umm . . .no. Let's take a moment to differentiate between "consumer whore" and "whore". VERY different. Plus, if you don't like hard work than we have a problem (besides my already-married status) in that I don't really like guys who don't work. If anyone is going to be lazy, it is ME. In fact, Matt has described me in such terms as "doesn't want to learn" and "princess". This works because we have a very good managerial relationship in which I keep track of things and deal with mean people, while Matt actually does stuff and blames everything we do wrong on me. (Examples: "Matt, here is a list if things you need to fix" or "Rachel, can I tell ____ that I can't hang out because you're making me stay home with you?")
5. To Stuart and Krissa: you guys are so great and supportive. Thank you for not insulting me like that friggin hyena. That guy sure needs a good laugh, you know? What a bastard . . .
6. To Anonymous: My next final is on Monday at 8:30 am, and I will be sure to post directions so that you and your Panda suit can come and rescue me. Everyone else is welcome to come disrupt my finals as well . . . just don't say I sent you.
so long and thanks for all the fish,
Raychul
1. To Brian in his many incarnations: you are crazy and that is part of why we love you. If I could skateboard I would totally try to copy you. Your drive-by commenting really entertains me when I'm up studying at 3am (now that I know you aren't some weirdo).
2. To Nicole, the goddess of all things office supply and liberal talk radio maven: You are making yourself sound very professional, which I think is an attempt to piss off Brian. I find this funny. I like how you try to dispel my idiocy by looking up things I don't know. : ) By the way, the office is waaaaaay better than law school.
3. To Harry the Sober Hyena: I apologize for the insult. I did not mean to intend that all hyenas are "hysterical morons". I'm sure that you are a bright, intelligent community and I meant no offense. I personally have nothing against you; in fact, some of my good friends are hyenas. I will be more careful about my turn of phrase from now on!
4. To Thomas: Umm . . .no. Let's take a moment to differentiate between "consumer whore" and "whore". VERY different. Plus, if you don't like hard work than we have a problem (besides my already-married status) in that I don't really like guys who don't work. If anyone is going to be lazy, it is ME. In fact, Matt has described me in such terms as "doesn't want to learn" and "princess". This works because we have a very good managerial relationship in which I keep track of things and deal with mean people, while Matt actually does stuff and blames everything we do wrong on me. (Examples: "Matt, here is a list if things you need to fix" or "Rachel, can I tell ____ that I can't hang out because you're making me stay home with you?")
5. To Stuart and Krissa: you guys are so great and supportive. Thank you for not insulting me like that friggin hyena. That guy sure needs a good laugh, you know? What a bastard . . .
6. To Anonymous: My next final is on Monday at 8:30 am, and I will be sure to post directions so that you and your Panda suit can come and rescue me. Everyone else is welcome to come disrupt my finals as well . . . just don't say I sent you.
so long and thanks for all the fish,
Raychul
I am a Smooth Criminal
I am writing to say hi from the room in which my criminal law final is about to take place.
if someone would like to create a distraction by running into the room dressed in a chicken suit, that would be GREAT.
if someone would like to create a distraction by running into the room dressed in a chicken suit, that would be GREAT.
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Raychul don't know nothin' 'bout animals, Part 1
Once upon a time, on a beautiful spring day, somewhere between Austin and Houston . . .
R: Look! LOOK!! There are llamas in that field!
M: Um, those are emus.
R: No they're not - look!
M: Honey, those are emus. Emus, unlike llamas, walk on two legs.
R: No! Llamas walk on two. . . .oh . . . .nevermind.
R: Look! LOOK!! There are llamas in that field!
M: Um, those are emus.
R: No they're not - look!
M: Honey, those are emus. Emus, unlike llamas, walk on two legs.
R: No! Llamas walk on two. . . .oh . . . .nevermind.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
I am a consumer whore . . .
Once upon a time there were Americans who believed that if they were honest and hard-working they could make a better life that those who came before them. Once upon a time people in this country wanted simple things like happiness, freedom, and all of those other ideals that we’ve been taught to cherish.
In my life things are different. Today there is a woman somewhere who votes to give up her liberty in order to maintain a false sense of security, in order to thicken the veil between her eyes and the Truth that nothing in life is certain. Today there is a man who’s been handed everything by those who came before him and throws it all away to drown himself in the sorrow of his emptiness. Here there are the people who have everything their predecessors wanted, and spend their lives chasing after the dream of having Even More, of having more than anyone could possibly need. Today, instead of hoping for financial security born of hard work, instead of having more than enough, we spend our days grueling down the corporate ditch and playing the lottery, hoping that our dollar-a-week investment will free us from the hell of perpetual inconsequence and land us a dream home in California.
Sometimes I’m afraid for my country. Not because of terrorism or the rest of the world, but because of our own materialism. I don’t know that we can go on forever in this cycle of wanting and getting and wanting more, of acquiring and consuming and throwing away. How much can we gather into our homes and our hearts before we collapse under the weight of it all, imploding from the centrifugal force as the gravity of our greed is our undoing?
I read somewhere that the American Dream has become the American nightmare. I think it would be more accurate to say that the American Dream has become the American Delusion. Today, instead of wanting enough, we want “a Hummer on twenty-two’s” to use my brother’s phraseology. Somehow we’ve begun to believe that the emptiness we have can be filled by things. And when we have those things we feel even worse, so we get even more, thinking that will be the answer. Sometimes the things we acquire to try and stay the emptiness include people. We gather people around us but never even know them, and how could we? Do we even know ourselves?
This is how we live: hording people and things around us in a frantic attempt to silence the voices inside, to try and ignore the echoes in our dormant spirits.
I fear for myself living under the culture of delusion. I’m afraid of being sedated by the things in my life, of losing what’s important. At twenty-three I feel like I already have so many of the things I’ve always wanted: I have my Faith, I have the most wonderful husband in the whole world, I have a very unique and wonderful family, and I have amazing friends. There are things I’m still working on: for example, I’m (hopefully) making progress toward the kind of job want by being in law school. And I want to have kids someday, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The feeling of wanting more can be especially pressing when we have everything – we’re not socialized to be still in this country, so enjoying what we have is much harder than trying to get more. How do I keep this from happening to me?
When I was about eighteen, I had a brief conversation with another Baha’i that stuck out in my mind. Although I hardly know this person, I’ll always remember him saying to me that your twenties pass by without anything really happening and each year is pretty much the same. He said this with conviction and a hint of melancholy, as if that was simply the way of things. At that moment I resolved to never, ever let that happen to me. I promised myself that every year, every day, would be meaningful, that I would never get caught up in the delusions of this country, that every year would be alive and full of joy. Maybe this is part of what I need to do to keep that promise. Maybe that’s why I make things hard on myself.
This post has turned more confessional that I intended. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I feel like I have the opportunity to keep myself from getting trapped. I also think it’s an opportunity that we all have, if we’re able to become aware of it.
When it comes to what I want in the future, there’s a lot I just don’t know. But I know with absolute certainty that I want to be truly happy, and that I want to be able to share that happiness. I know that I don’t want to spend my life being a consumer whore, buying seersucker suits and fast cars to make myself feel alive. I want to be content on rainy night just watching the sky, on sunny days driving with the windows down. I think it’s time we rediscovered the American Dream.
In my life things are different. Today there is a woman somewhere who votes to give up her liberty in order to maintain a false sense of security, in order to thicken the veil between her eyes and the Truth that nothing in life is certain. Today there is a man who’s been handed everything by those who came before him and throws it all away to drown himself in the sorrow of his emptiness. Here there are the people who have everything their predecessors wanted, and spend their lives chasing after the dream of having Even More, of having more than anyone could possibly need. Today, instead of hoping for financial security born of hard work, instead of having more than enough, we spend our days grueling down the corporate ditch and playing the lottery, hoping that our dollar-a-week investment will free us from the hell of perpetual inconsequence and land us a dream home in California.
Sometimes I’m afraid for my country. Not because of terrorism or the rest of the world, but because of our own materialism. I don’t know that we can go on forever in this cycle of wanting and getting and wanting more, of acquiring and consuming and throwing away. How much can we gather into our homes and our hearts before we collapse under the weight of it all, imploding from the centrifugal force as the gravity of our greed is our undoing?
I read somewhere that the American Dream has become the American nightmare. I think it would be more accurate to say that the American Dream has become the American Delusion. Today, instead of wanting enough, we want “a Hummer on twenty-two’s” to use my brother’s phraseology. Somehow we’ve begun to believe that the emptiness we have can be filled by things. And when we have those things we feel even worse, so we get even more, thinking that will be the answer. Sometimes the things we acquire to try and stay the emptiness include people. We gather people around us but never even know them, and how could we? Do we even know ourselves?
This is how we live: hording people and things around us in a frantic attempt to silence the voices inside, to try and ignore the echoes in our dormant spirits.
I fear for myself living under the culture of delusion. I’m afraid of being sedated by the things in my life, of losing what’s important. At twenty-three I feel like I already have so many of the things I’ve always wanted: I have my Faith, I have the most wonderful husband in the whole world, I have a very unique and wonderful family, and I have amazing friends. There are things I’m still working on: for example, I’m (hopefully) making progress toward the kind of job want by being in law school. And I want to have kids someday, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.
The feeling of wanting more can be especially pressing when we have everything – we’re not socialized to be still in this country, so enjoying what we have is much harder than trying to get more. How do I keep this from happening to me?
When I was about eighteen, I had a brief conversation with another Baha’i that stuck out in my mind. Although I hardly know this person, I’ll always remember him saying to me that your twenties pass by without anything really happening and each year is pretty much the same. He said this with conviction and a hint of melancholy, as if that was simply the way of things. At that moment I resolved to never, ever let that happen to me. I promised myself that every year, every day, would be meaningful, that I would never get caught up in the delusions of this country, that every year would be alive and full of joy. Maybe this is part of what I need to do to keep that promise. Maybe that’s why I make things hard on myself.
This post has turned more confessional that I intended. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world. I feel like I have the opportunity to keep myself from getting trapped. I also think it’s an opportunity that we all have, if we’re able to become aware of it.
When it comes to what I want in the future, there’s a lot I just don’t know. But I know with absolute certainty that I want to be truly happy, and that I want to be able to share that happiness. I know that I don’t want to spend my life being a consumer whore, buying seersucker suits and fast cars to make myself feel alive. I want to be content on rainy night just watching the sky, on sunny days driving with the windows down. I think it’s time we rediscovered the American Dream.
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