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Children of Yesterday

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 00:55:01 GMT

Children are the future. Today's children are tomorrow's leaders and businessmen.

We hear these ridiculous platitudes all the time. My question is where are the children of yesterday? The ones who sought peace, protested Vietnam and named their children Starshine and Moonflower. Everyone knows who I am talking about; they are the hippies and the draft-dodgers. Where are they now? They are the quiet masses, they are my parents (I am not joking, hippie and draft dodger). Are these the same people who decided to invade Iraq? Are these the same people who run the very corporations they claimed to be evil in their youth? Has their early revolutionary thinking had any effect on their life since the days of the counter-culture?

Firstly, some of the rebellious thought is easily attributed to age and to boom of the middle class in the 1950s. Teenagers have this insatiable knack for rebellion that warrants no further explanation whereas the middle class boom does need a little explanation.

Revolutions and rebellions are never instigated by those who need them the most. The people who seek change are the ones who have the time and resources to do so. Even if one considers the independence movements of Latin America the poorest people who felt the oppression of the Spaniards were not the ones who first grabbed their rifles and fought those pesky Europeans. It started with creoles and mestizos who were not the lowest on the totem pole. More than that it was the richer people of these groups who started these revolutions. The poor farmers and miners work day in and day out just trying to make ends meet; they do not have the time or energy to think of ways to get rid of their oppressors. The growth of the middle class (as well as the baby boom) seems to me to have created a lot of people who did not need to put all of their energy into survival, much like the revolution starting creoles and mestizos of the past. These youngsters could either make enough to survive without servitude or lived off of their parents.

The other revolution brewing ingredient from the 50s was the progress. The 1950s was a picturesque decade without huge political problems to tackle. This allowed the focus to go anywhere, whether it was to modifying gender roles or to planting the seeds of disgust of the corporations.

Could the 90s be another cauldron for brewing leftist hippie-types? There was a lot of progress and economic growth in the 90s. Technology was taking off, creating jobs for many people. This seems to have kept the middle class up and running. In addition, there was little political turmoil. There were no major wars, more just a few skirmishes. The big scandal was an affair in the white house. Our president was having an affair, how terrible. It's a good thing he didn't start bombing the shit out of other countries for seemingly no reason, or else he may have looked like a good guy.

Today we seem to have a return of these left-wing tendencies in popular ideas. We have political organizations like Move-On and have a presidential candidate whose campaign seems to be based on one word: change. Another scary trend is that I see and hear about more protests in the recent past (2-3 years). Much to my dismay these protests rarely make the nightly news, but this does not negate their existence. It only hides their existence to the "silent majority". Also with this political dissatisfaction is this constant political critique and anti-war stance of the majority. Not everyone was against Vietnam when it started, but by the end most people did not support the war. For people who don't know much about Vietnam, does that sound familiar? Another trend that seems to be sweeping the masses is the green craze. Everyone is going green. If I accidentally put the empty bottle of something I drank (odwalla is addictive) in the wrong recycle bin or in the trash can there will be sneers. Along with the green trend it seems like one of the ideas behind vintage is to reuse things in order to keep our landfills from overflowing.

To drag this historical parallel out just a little too far we seemed to have created a new witchhunt. If you are middle-eastern and walk into an airport, what happens? Even bearded Latinos and Latin Americans have learned the importance of a good shave and US-style clothes. I am just waiting for a new Arther Miller with a new Crucible to critique our new house committee on un-american activities or what we call pretty much everything under the patriot act.

Is it that parents instill values in their children and the values instilled in today's youth are the same left-winged beliefs of their parents? Did Al Gore really convince everyone with An Inconvenient Truth? Diane Keaton was one of the original performers in Hair. Now it only seems funnier when I see her doing noxema commercials.

Today's ex-hippies do not seem to have abandoned their revolutionary stances entirely though they do run the very corporations they were against for many years. There are social changes that seem to have stuck. Firstly, we do not have a draft. Thank goodness. It also seems that with this mind-opening ideology that certain hippie ideas have entered mainstream culture. For example, teachers are now taught about right and left brained children and how to teach to both.
Also it is common for women to take their daughters to feminist retreats or women's empowerment seminars. It keeps a sort of feminist spirit alive, which is wonderful in a world of teen girl magazines that teach girls to apply makeup perfectly (probably to get a guy). I fear the readers of these magazines will get back in the kitchen where they assume that they belong.

Yes, we are stamped with counter-culture.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Sat, 12 Jul 2008 22:18:24 GMT

Nope, no mind-boggling phenomena today. However, I did realize that there is a rather marked current of hopelessness that is running through my life at the moment. It's that point where you step back and look at the battles in front of you to fight. During the long gaze you realize that there is no way you can win the battle. The worst part is that the way to deal with the battle is to cower, run away or deny the existence of the conflict. Another aspect that is bothersome is that there are multiple conflicts that all require these cheap tactics.

Firstly, there is one that I am waiting for some sort of breakdown. It will happen, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. I like that I've already learned that I cannot change people no matter how close to them I happen to be. This doesn't lessen the feeling of hopelessness for the situation, but at least I am accustomed. I will be waiting there with a proverbial broom and dustpan to sweep up pieces when they come crashing down.

The second conflict is more watching someone on puppet strings and a choke collar. Everyone who looks can see the paraphernalia save my dear puppet and the puppet masters. The more I try to change this conflict I realize that I probably can't. I can't cut the strings or choke collar and the more I try to coax the more I realize it's futile. My hope is that I won't have to pull a large "I told you so".

Lastly I seem to have hit a brick wall. This is a third conflict where I can't deny its existence as I end up fighting once a week, full out with screaming and tears. Anything I say is invalid, which makes arguing useless. Unfortunately this makes the only way to get out of this conflict is to run away, which means moving. Moving poses another set of obstacles where people's asses are covered and I am lied to. This also brings up another batch of hopelessness.

If I am lucky everything will either fizzle or blow up and I won't make whiny entries like this.

Separated Ends

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 21:54:00 GMT

There have been few life mysteries that have been tugging at my brain in an attempt to make me wonder. Though I did realize a very sickeningly disjointed feeling that seems to have taken me over. It is as though Jungian philosophy came crashing to the floor. Goodbye collective unconscious!

Usually I feel some sort of connection with people that I talk with. Perhaps it is a little bit of an inherent understanding that doesn't make them seem terribly foreign, but either way it makes me feel closer to the person. The disjointedness came from feeling very little to no connection in an extensive conversation.

I expected to have some sort of connection as we grew up in the same Podunk, WI. However, there was no connection. I had forgotten that I thought we were a little different growing up. It's this little difference that has manifested itself to create two contrasting adults from the slightly different children we once were. It makes me wonder what happened. Surely we both changed and grew into our own personalities, which is far from tragic while the loss of any connection is.

This connection is the part that is baffling to me. We must choose our friends based on this connection or slight inherent understanding. It doesn't matter what you call it, whether it's "we just got along" or "we just clicked" or "me cayo bien". It must be the top priority while other factors follow.

Still, I am left a little shaken from the lack of connection and do not feel connected to people around me. This disjointed feeling is rather unpleasant and makes me question the connections I have already established.

I guess the bottom line from all of this is that connections and collective unconscious are important. And hearing ideas like all-consuming all nighters seem foreign enough to me to show a strong disconnection.

Mattress-surfin' Mean Girl

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 15:06:08 GMT

I have been meaning to write this entry for a while. However, I prefer not to blog when my fuel for the day is 6 cups of coffee and ibuprofen, rather than actual sleep and food.
    I've noticed that we seem to have created two different worlds-the real one in which we live and one that is intangible, based in the thoughts of everyone. In our society the latter has a very peculiar importance that boggles my mind. We care a ridiculous amount about what others think and let thoughts define us. Just think we even have makeover shows on television whose goal is to give people a new facade in order to change the way others think of them as well as the way they think about themselves. Changing this perception does not bring more food to the table or pay the rent and utilities for the month.
    The other funny thing about this second intangible world is that it seems to alter our own perceptions and thoughts. For example, if a friend were telling you about an ex of theirs in a negative fashion it would be likely that this person could be tantamount to godzilla in your mind by the time the friend finishes the story. Their ex would be forever tainted in this invisible realm. We allow this to take place and let it consume our thoughts rather than the more concrete things.
    After more thought on this and attempting to sort out the concrete world from the immaterial realm, I realized it must also deal with one's personality. In other words, that each individual will place a different caliber of focus and importance on each realm depending on their personality and values. I've even come to think that this can define a person to an extent. There are even a few pseudo-archetypal personalities that seem to rely heavily on this distinction. Take the following for example:
-The typical catty popular girl in high school that gossips about as many times as she reapplies her lip gloss. She lives entirely in the intangible sphere and poisons the thoughts of others with gossip. These are the girls on which the movie Mean Girls focuses.
-Professors and intellectuals also live almost entirely in this intangible realm. However they differ from the previous venomous folk because they stay mostly within their own thoughts. They also place a very high value on their thoughts, which adds an aura of arrogance.
-The stereotypical redneck would be on the other end of this spectrum. Typically I picture this stereotypical personality as placing a high value on tangible fun. For example, on My Big Redneck Wedding (a guilty pleasure of mine that I tend to watch with my dad and my sister) I saw that at the reception in one episode that the happy couple had mattress-surfing as entertainment. These people generally do not care what others think, because they are enjoying themselves.

    The rest of us that don't fall into these categories of indulgence of thought or physical pleasure are stuck trying to find a happy balance. I also find it worthy to note that people of similar balances of these two realms tend to get along better (have you seen a catty, popular girl hanging out with a country bumpkin?).
    Lastly there is one other important factor that seems to determine the balance: gender. Even in the debates of literature there is a general consensus that feminine literature is considered metaphysical, while masculine literature is considered physical. If you don't believe me think about the typical novels written by men and women.
    Take the following short stories for instance: The Mark On The Wall by Virginia Woolf-http://www.readprint.com/work-1523/Virginia-Woolf and Love of Life by Jack London-http://www.jacklondons.net/loveoflife.html
    These are extreme examples of this difference, but illustrate the point well. Even if you were to just read The Mark On The Wall it is evident by the anticlimactic ending that the men are immersed in the physical world and do not care to venture beyond it, while the woman whose thoughts comprise the story does not care to enter the physical world until she is forced to do so by her male counterparts.
     Now, where do you fall on this scale? Do you see a mark or a snail? I'm not sure where I fall, but I do happen to see far too many stigmas in both directions.

Beep Beep=No Balls?

Tue, 10 Jun 2008 17:38:03 GMT

Considering I haven't posted anything happy in some time I'd like to discuss a phenomenon I find funny.

Honking car horns at women.

Where I grew up I knew a lot of people that would even honk at your house if your car was in the driveway. Of course this means if you are visible (aka just walking outside) you will be honked at by friends.

I've also lived in different places in Latin America, where this is a gussied up form of a cat call. Generally I think it mainly just means, "Good for you! You don't have a penis!" or "Look, I can see you because you're white and you look different!". I suppose the meaning could be taken as far as "I think you're pretty" for something whose equivalent in nature would be the noise an angry goose makes. Generally, I grow accustomed to this when in other countries and learn to ignore it, take it as a compliment or save my sarcastic comments for later.

However, I have been the recipient of car honks from people I do not know twice in the past four months. I have not been in Latin America since December. I jump and turn stiff, because the noise startles me. After the initial jolt I look around with a confused face and my palms out searching for which one of my friends is saying hi. The scary part is when it's creepy men who give you the look where you know that there is a 50% chance that they are undressing you with their eyes.

They must think it's funny to watch me jump and become confused or they too must be congratulating me for lacking a penis.

If anyone can figure out the real meaning of a car honking at a person, please tell me.

The Foil

Mon, 09 Jun 2008 18:56:35 GMT

I know the moment I want to savor

The split second after you jump on a moving sidewalk

You are suspended, stable

Though you know you will fall after your moment of glory

The world moves around you, even under your feet

But you are unshaken

Invincible for that moment.

That moment where dreams carry into real life

The alarm has only sounded once,

but it's not your alarm

It's a pigment of dream residue

Trying to pull you from a fairyland

Where starfish grow like sunflowers

And sunflowers cease to exist

Hush my darlin' for beeping stars make the heavens fall

The moment where rational thought stops

And snow falls in the summer

Soft flakes that never touch your skin

You reach, but it slips through your fingers

Like water in cupped hands.

Reality is shaken

But the soul is strong and withstanding

There it takes little more than a scent

and you are home

Cradled in the arms of a world

That give the strength

To land, awaken

and face a dismal sky that looms overhead.

I don't believe I have had writer's block, but rather a life block. Almost as though I had or perhaps have been living in an emotional vacuum. Nothing has happened to shake me, just living a mundane life where morning doves as a rude awakening can be a highlight of a day. In light of this I am pondering an age old question (well it's an age old question for me:

In the little play or show that we've created with our lives are we the main characters? Are we just supporting actors, foil characters or an extra on the set?

Being an extra on the set of your own life would imply that you are suicidal or have issues if your self worth is that low, but that's just my opinion. Would saying you are the main character make you arrogant? What makes you the star? Are you genuine if you say a supporting role or just trying to look humble?

I have come to the conclusion that I am a foil character. I do not have long intricate plot lines that narrate my life. My plot could be summarized in a few short sentences, but my energy seems to be poured into those around me whose lives have the intricate storylines. Whether it is a sister who has spent a fair amount of time in a mental hospital or a best friend who is caged like a bird, but cannot see the bars. My worry and fear fall into these places. After it is said and done the fuel for my own storyline is gone, thus I am resigned to a foil.

Perhaps one cannot play one specific role all of their life and the tables turn every few years. I could even be the star of my own show and not know it, but then again who am I to judge? I'm biased in terms of my own life

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Thu, 15 May 2008 18:12:23 GMT

I know that by writing this I run the risk of sounding like a whiny, snotty, bitchy prat. This is not my intent. It is, as usual, an attempt to make sense of brash thoughts that pop into my head.

The statement to investigate.
"College was probably one of the biggest mistakes of my life"

How can this be so? I am the white, middle-class rural population. It's either college, fry burgers, pump gas or make my voice all scratchy and serve coffee to truckers.
Nah, it was my choice of college that was the mistake. I assumed that a large school would hold people I could relate to and there would be many of them. I forgot the lonely feeling one will always find in the biggest crowd.

Thinking more on the whole thing, life is a gamble. We all make decisions without fully knowing the repercussions. I made a big gamble. I went to a big school where I didn't know hardly anyone and didn't have much of a support system going into school. I expected the fairy-tale college story where the person (girl, in my case) goes in, makes the best friends of their life, winds up with hundreds of stories and inside jokes and is sad to leave at the end of four years.

It's been two years and I will have a countdown soon of how many days I have left of my last year. My question is where after the diving into the deep end here did I forget to kick my way to the surface. It seems obvious to me why this happened. 1-I don't drink and therefore missed a large part of the social scene considering this is a huge party school. 2-I have joined few organizations and am a little shy. 3-I lived on a typically nerdy end of campus where the studying, not partying, was hopping.

It is very true that many people do have the storybook college experience meeting a plethora of friends with a social life. However, as I continue I realize more that a lot of the first sights that I saw before were mere facades. For example, many people I know visit their best friends from high school once a week or every other week. Other people I know live with their best friends from high school or transition from their friends from high school into other friends, but still maintain contact with their high school friends. My roommates are even good friends from high school (they went to a different high school than me, I am a subletter).

It's funny that people will try to hide that as well, because we are all in the same boat. What do we all have to hide?

The other thing that makes me think is that my sister and I ended up in the same situation socially, although we are complete opposites. The only difference is that I have one friend on campus and I did not end up in a mental hospital.

It seems funny to me, even though it looks like I've lost this round of life.

Mom! There's an Elephant in the Living Room!

Thu, 01 May 2008 01:45:22 GMT

Yes, I am a: cracker, honkey, gringa, whitey, blondie, guera, rubia, almost albino, master-oppressor race, aryan-looking woman. My native English is the slow rural English from the upper Midwest, which seems to inspire more jokes about the movie "Fargo" that I would ever care to admit to. What should this tell you? I should be racist, sit down with a can of "the beast" (as we call it) and tell some racist joke.-Perhaps not, Wisconsinites have been known to be pretty open and accepting. At least if I think of "Men of Honor".

Either way, a rural white upbringing can easily be stained with racism. I begin to question whether I am racist, because I would never be able to put myself under that critical light.

Someone noted to me that the audience of a show I played in was extremely white. In context, it makes sense. She had just visited an exhibition celebrating some of the cultures of Africa.
-As a side note, someone will consider that extremely disrespectful because I am generalizing a continent. Think about it, it happens to everyone. You are white, though your ancestry could be from a multitude of countries with completely different traditions. My family celebrates Polish traditions, but we are just white. Latinos are Latinos, though they could be Colombian, Peruvian, Mexican, Panamanian etc. Asians are just Asians most of the time, though they to hail from a vast number of countries whether it be Mongolia or Malaysia. We as humans are just too lazy to learn geography.-
Returning to the story: I cannot convey the same tone of disdain, that seemed to imply that I keep myself walled up in cracker-land.
Am I racist for staying in the land of honkeys? I'm probably racist for using so many derogatory terms, but if I'm racist I would deserve the terms. I didn't expose myself to new cultures.
I also didn't stare at people like tropical fish in a fishbowl.

Often times I see this and I notice it in myself (though it tends to make me rather nauseated), that we look at people and their culture while saying "oh how neat" or "how interesting" without seeing them as real people. They are creatures that do funny things like dance a certain way: they probably don't live like we do. This is an extreme example, but the general idea is my goal. After a certain point of studying a culture or immersing oneself in it when things don't seem strange or you don't feel a need to question is when you start seeing the person rather than the funny creature. The best example I can think of is when on Ecuadorian public transit it doesn't seem strange that the driver puts the pedal to the metal, even on steep curves, while the three Jesus pictures taped to the inside of the bus look down on the passengers. This was a turning point for me.
I've been the tropical fish in the fishbowl. I've had seen hordes of children who sit and stare with their mouths dropping nearly to the floor, because of the tall whitey. It's funnier when they think I don't understand Spanish. I do my best to laugh, but it still irritates me. I'm a person, not an animal in a zoo to at which to gawk.

In an exhibition you are meant to stare, are you meant to understand and accept? It might be implied. Then again you could just be staring at a pretty fish or so you thought.

Who's to say who is racist? I didn't even take the first step. Is it really even a first step or a zoo?
I couldn't tell you, perhaps we both deserve a large scarlet "R" on our chests to show the world our racist sides.

Blips from Every Corner

Mon, 21 Apr 2008 23:20:32 GMT

A dark starless night looms overhead
A breeze that doesn't turn my blood to ice engulfs my bare skin
As I sit and wonder where it all went
Watching as lights search the sky
No moon,
not even a star to be found
Where did they go?
The lost masses sit and ponder hoping the darkness will lift
Impatient if only they knew
Morning will come
Just later than they want it to
They run with fright
From the darkness overhead
Lost sheep, no shepherd in sight
and here I sit,
I've blocked the light

Yes, I do have a few feeble attempts at poetry that are described as an atrocity at best. I wish I could sit all night and write until no words fill my head, but free time is a gift I am granted very sparingly. After careful thought, I have realized another thing we all do. Criticize the world in a harsh light without putting ourselves underneath of it.

Surely people pretend to do this. They will automatically put themselves down in front of others (I've been known to say "Dumb that down for the dumb Spanish major" when I want someone to explain something), but this is not critical of one's self. It deals with superficial flaws rather than something more profound. Some people are not the brightest, some people are clumsy, some think in circles; but these are easy flaws to confess. The defects that make one evil, an inherently bad person or form poor judgment or thought are the ones that stay buried and unrealized.

For example, the abusive husband may admit he has a bad temper (never when he's in a rage), but would never admit that beating his wife is immoral-that would imply that he is immoral.

The part that makes me hope that I have put myself under the interrogation light is that I realize that I am not happy as a person. I look at the world around me and see all of the things that make me sad or angry and think how they should change or vanish. This is implausible. I can't fight city hall, I certainly cannot fight the world and win. It's not that I need to change myself or my surroundings, but just my reactions, which may or may not happen.

Somehow it feels that just acknowledging is a liberating step. No, I am not happy and no I do not like it here. From there I can work, because it feels like a solid base and maybe I can try to see smaller things with a bigger picture in place.

In general: I don't like this place. I think most people have their heads so far shoved up their butts that the light of the sun hasn't graced their pallid faces for many years. I know that I am probably not happy with myself, which I reflect in my judgments about my world including the people in it

I don't have much more to say. I am a walking contradiction and in dire need of sleep.

Wow...

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 11:42:05 GMT

I just thought it would be ironic to point out that I usually get 2-4 footprints per day if any. They are also usually from misguided google searches (by the way, if you put "fucking" in as a title of a blog you will receive a lot of hits from people looking for pornography).

Thanks for visiting my page :)