Sharing a Joy
I too often come onto my blog sounding melancholic, if not downright depressed. I don't want to convey the image that I'm just a perpetual rain cloud, I'm not. It just seems on issues such as my last post, my blog is such an inviting canvas on which to paint that I can't resist. And, really, troubling issues are often the ones I need to dwell on in writing, for better or worse.
But, tonight I'll share a joy I had over the last few days: I've translated my first little Hebrew sentences. Sure, they aren't much more complex than “See Spot run, run Spot run,” but to just to get that beachhead feels marvelous with as intimidating as Hebrew appears. Especially since one sentence was even a little snippet from Genesis. I know the language is going to do its best to kill me in the coming months, but for the moment, I'll bask in the joy of what is past.
Revisiting a Bad Day
September 19, 2005 was one of the worst days of my life. I am reminded of that day today, partly because it was 3 years ago today and partly because like that day, I've been fighting a cold (or allergy attack) for the last few days.
I keep coming back to the issue of time on my blog. Time fascinates me. Three years ago seems like such a long time ago, and yet I can picture September 19 almost as if it were yesterday. Perhaps in part that is because that which became unsettled on September 19 remains unsettled — more so than I expected, then — even to this day. In some ways, perhaps time's distance is not so much about the amount of minutes that have passed by; rather, it is about how relevant and active a given time is to the present time.
September 19 is still quite relevant.
One of the things I like about blogging, especially when I am on an active posting spree, is that it leaves markers of days like today. Looking back to the post I linked to above, I received a snapshot of what I felt by my own words then and not by three years of framing things in my mind. That's rather interesting.
Blogging will certainly change the way we remember things in the decades ahead, I suspect.
Need to Get Back to Blogging
Not all that long ago, I often blogged every day of the month. These days, it seems like this or that always keeps me from blogging, which is frustrating, because I always find blogging helpful — both as a sort of kartharsis in writing things and as an enjoyable way to interact with my friends in the blogosphere.
I'm going to try to write something several times a week again… or bust.
The Coca-Cola Classic Presidential Hopeful
I'm going to fight for my cause every day as your president. I'm going to fight to make sure every American has every reason to thank God, as I thank Him: that I'm an American, a proud citizen of the greatest country on earth, and with hard work, strong faith and a little courage, great things are always within our reach. Fight with me. Fight with me.
Fight for what's right for our country.
Fight for the ideals and character of a free people.
Fight for our children's future.
Fight for justice and opportunity for all.
Stand up to defend our country from its enemies.
Stand up for each other; for beautiful, blessed, bountiful America.
Stand up, stand up, stand up and fight. Nothing is inevitable here. We're Americans, and we never give up. We never quit. We never hide from history. We make history.
Thank you, and God bless you.
John McCain is not a guy known for his stunning speeches, but somehow he managed to do a pretty amazing follow up to Sarah Palin's excellent example of oratory. His acceptance speech, I think, will be remembered as one of the most sincere and well crafted in recent decades. Key to the speech was that it moved up to its climax slowly and patiently, reaching its pinnacle in his war story, which came later rather than (as I had expected) earlier. The fact that he used his POW story as an explanation for how he went from a egotistical fly boy to a “Country First” presidential candidate was powerful and gave a strong push down the slope of conclusion to his speech, so that he was able to end with the masterful crescendo above, which he shouted out over thunderous applause.
For a man whose preferred venue is the town hall, this was nearly magical.
The speech came across as humble, confident and connected. His critiquing of his own party — which delegates did not seem to know what to do with — was fitting and, I believe, will ultimately be effective. He presented a case for a return to more sensibly conservative Republicanism, and I think that is a brand far more attractive than the “compassionate conservatism” that the party had rebranded to in recent years. McCain was like the CEO of the Coca-Cola Co. announcing the return of Coca-Cola Classic after months of New Coke.
I'm excited. Let's win this election, shall we?
The Pit Bull with Lipstick
That's how Sarah Palin defined “hockey moms” such as herself, and boy did it fit. She brilliantly delivered attacks that struck deep into the weaknesses of the Obama-Biden campaign while doing so in a humorous and intelligent way. Even many reporters that were clearly in the tank for Obama have been gushing about her speech tonight, and for good reason: she didn't hit a home run, she hit a grand slam.
Go Palin! I'm looking forward to President Palin someday down the road, and President McCain in January!
I'm Thrilled
I'm really excited about Sarah Pallin. I think she is going to shake this election up, as early polling is indicating. Sen. McCain and Gov. Palin are in town today, alas previous commitments made it impossible for me to go hear them. I hope they swing through this swing state again before the election — then, hopefully, I will catch them.
In any case, the ticket looks really, really strong. Palin has quite a reputation for major action only a few years into her political career. With ethics reform and fiscal responsibility measures gracing her CV, it seems hard not to be excited. Moreover, the fact that she is not only pro-life, but has shown how strong her commitment is by keeping her youngest child despite knowing he would suffer from Down's Syndrome, shows she can walk her talk and adds a powerfully humanizing element to a sometimes abstract debate (not that I'd suggest one's family should be turned into political pawns, but nevertheless, one's personal actions certainly provide helpful support for one's policies — if they match). Even some pro-choice analysts seem to be soft on Palin's pro-life stance because she is not someone speaking from a distance.
The McCain-Palin ticket looks like it could potentially reset the Republicans to a someone pre-neocon state, which would not make me the least bit sad. While McCain's support of Iraq obviously ties him into the neo-conservative spectrum, there can be little doubt that he is not four more years of President Bush. I like President Bush better than most, but at the same time, I think only a very small minority thinks the Bush era GOP is better than the Reagan era party.
And, of course, it is obviously exciting that whichever party wins, a happy bit of history is now going to be made this election. While I do not think one should vote for the Republican ticket because it will give the U.S. its first female vice president, or the Democratic ticket because it will give the U.S. its first African-American president, all else aside, cracking the proverbial (and — this week — popular) cracked glass ceiling would be good for all of us.
Ghosts of the Past
Ed used that phrase in his reply haiku to my last post. There is quite some truth to that. For some reason some familiar ghosts of the past have haunted me more than I would expect the last few weeks. Actually, I think it isn't “some reason,” but rather the Olympics. Given that they only happen every so often, if anything happens near the Games, it is inevitably washed back up on the beaches of memory when the games return (and, of course, seeing the Games end is a sad sight by itself).
Perhaps I shall blog more on those beachings later in the week. But I find myself at an odd point; I would really like those ghosts to go away, and yet there is something comfortable, even desirable about them. I don't want them to go away.
A stand off of sorts. “My Immortal” fits well in some senses, if — perhaps — overdramatically.
I'm so tired of being here
These wounds won't seem to heal
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
—Ben Moody
Perhaps that is how pain often is. If something pains us, the pain is frequently the last thing we hold onto. If the pain is lost, so is the last remnant of the thing causing the pain. So, while ghosts of the past are undesirable, they are also highly desirable. I can think of more than one that has been a comfortable traveling companion over years past. The key, which I have not perfected in the least, is to find a way to at least objectify those ghosts — creating the objective correlative — if one can do that, one has completed a key step in transforming them into poetry.
And, that, after all, is one of my goals.
Late Night Haiku XXVII
LXXVI. Rain drops heavy on roof
Tears remembering the past,
Another life ago.
LXXVII. Crickets chirp as then,
But so much else has changed, set.
Oh, rewind, cruel time!
LXXVIII. A miraculous
Vision one lept year prior this.
Faded now — old ink.
Olympics are Whizzing By
Is it just me, or are the Beijing games going by really quickly? It seems like the opening ceremony was just the other day, and now most of my favorite events have passed. Gymnastic events are my favorites of the Olympiad, although this year swimming may have landed on top (how could it not with Phelps?). I always hate to see the Olympics go by! But, London will come all too fast — it seems as if Athens was only the other day.
How much life can change in four years…
Shakespeare
I started a new book today, Stephen Greenblatt's Will in the World, and the first forty pages or so were real page turners, and I have every reason to expect the rest will be too. Greenblatt is a writer who clearly enjoys lingering in language, remembering (unlike so many literary critics going before him) that there is little reason for literary analysis to be the dry antithesis of that which it purports to discuss.
While most autobiographical detail concerning Shakespeare is necessarily speculation, I'm enjoying the picture of Shakespeare's life that Greenblatt has thus far drawn. His observations concerning Shakespeare's influence by the mystery plays seems both intriguing and sensible.
I'll surely be writing more on this book as I read through it. The worst part is that I had a terrible time not setting down the book and running to grab the Bard's own words off my shelf, for Greenblatt kept referring to favorite scenes that I want to visit with again.
