What's in a name?

Really, I hate to argue with the bard, but would a rose by any other name still smell as sweet? It seems to me that humans are an easily influenced bunch…

Just trying to avoid work so catching up on some reading from a couple of my favorite spots. Right now, it’s Ben Smith. Ben reports on a recent poll by the True Patriot Network which found that more Americans (of the ones polled) find McCain patriotic than do Obama.

I don’t have much time, but I wonder if perhaps the people polled have confused “patriotic” with “jingoist”. While they might often be cross-referenced as synonymous, they really are not. Clearly one of the two is sweeter than the other.

Anyway, just bored, and I am anxiously awaiting the Senator’s VP pic…I’m aware this does not make my life sound very exciting, but I don’t care. For what it's worth, I think he's leaning Romney, but I'm a bit intrigued by Ridge (not to mention a bit sad I missed him in my initial top 3).

Stupid is as stupid does

So, I wasn’t even sure that I was going to share the following little convo and my thoughts, but then as I was perusing the news articles on Yahoo’s homepage yesterday this one prompted me to go ahead and write about it. Upon finishing, I think it’s only fair to hop back up here and offer a little fair warning of wandering and turning a tad tangential…nothing out of the ordinary there ;)

As I’m sitting with someone she says to me, “You know what I’m sick of?”

I presume this is rhetorical, but the pause is actually a tad too long so I say, “Stupid people?” This is usually what I am ‘sick of’ so I assume it’s a decent guess. It’s not that I think I’m a genius per se, quite to the contrary really; however I am confident that a fair number of the people I come into contact with on any given day are intellectually lacking, and that I actually fair well-enough. I recently read somewhere that with regard to national average IQ the U.S. ranks 18th. I suppose that isn’t too terrible, but really given our purported measures toward educational success and higher learning it seems a less-than-impressive ranking.

Anyway, I digress…it turns out that was exactly what she was sick of; however, she was using a rather biased means to identify said “stupid people”. She said (and maybe I shouldn’t be using quotes because this may not be verbatim – close though), “YuhhYES! I am sooo sick of stupid people. These idiots that live near me have a ton of election signs in their yard, but the only reason they have them is because they are the most “Christian” candidates. Ask them about their platforms, and they know nothing. I don’t understand why it is that religious people vote for someone just because they share the same religion? It’s stupid.”

Me, “Ouch, wow! You realize that’s a rather judgmental remark that not only implies that people with a belief system are stupid, but it also implies that it is somehow wrong or stupid for their beliefs to impact the way that they vote?” Her response was something like, “Well, you know I don’t get the belief thing, and honestly it is a bit stupid to let it decide your vote…separation of church and state...”

Me? Well, I just rolled my eyes. “Church and state” – I’ll get back to that. For now let me offer the following reminder: I think that everyone that knows me also knows that I’m not really sure what I believe with regard to an omniscient, omnipotent, omnibenevolent, eternal creator. I can tell you that what I do believe in is the practice of respect for other people’s faith and practices, and that is what I said to her. To discredit someone based on their faith is just as bad as discounting them because of their race or gender. Now people that present as pseudo-religious? The ones that are lacking compassion, good works…the ones that purport a commitment to their faith but really never live it? Those are the people that I find difficulty in acknowledging or respecting their belief system, but I wouldn’t really expect them to vote for anything or anyone simply out of religious allegiance; however the people in possession of a full-on commitment to their faith? Well, that I can respect, and those are the people that I presume will allot for their religious beliefs to have some influence when making their political decisions. To do so isn’t “stupid”.

Faith is about the spiritual, the way we live our lives, treat each other, etc. Politics are about the temporal, taxes, legalities, etc. It is altogether asinine to think that, for a devout religious practitioner, there is no intersection between faith and politics. If religious faith functions as a means to delineate what is right or wrong, to clarify what goodness is how could someone in possession of a truly meaningful communion with God completely divorce Him from his/her voting decisions? The person could not.

Where is that line though? The one she mentioned as separating church and state? Well, don’t you think that when developing our government, the U.S. looked at the troubled history of Europe and her religious wars as a warning? I think that while it was expected that politicians would be religious and religious philosophy would inform their decisions, the Founders’ view was also such that we would be a nation that had faith but one that kept doctrinal disputes out of the political sphere. I don’t know…My knowledge is limited, but it seems people that are almost anti-religion fall back on that “Church and State” thing without really knowing anything about the Founders’ intent for our nation.

So (“so” the fall-back segue of a tired and lazy writer – forgiveness asked), ultimately I think it's far from “stupid” for a person to consider their faith when deciding what policies to favor, provided that when considering policies that are going to apply to everyone, to figure out how to justify those policies to people with different faiths or none. My partner in conversation was fairly adamant that there was not a way to interweave the two and still be within appropriate political “rights” or limits. She was insistent that in allowing one’s faith to impact one’s politics that the person of faith was forcing a personal religious agenda onto others. I had to disagree, and I think that it disappointed her. You see, people both atheists as well as those that have a strong belief system, are often quick to make assumptions about a person such as myself. They assume that because I do not attend a church or profess my commitment to a specific religion that I am simply an atheist; the soul, the heart, the mind, the spiritual, et. Al. is not so simple, and you should never assume unless you are prepared to listen to me drone on and on. I certainly don’t think she was prepared, but I addressed the following anyway (what can I say I get a little indignant when anyone is being attacked?):

If we’re talking about Christianity, the truest message there is one of love, forgiveness, compassion, intended to be spread through witnessing, not force. I like to think of witnessing as different than proselytizing, even more so since reading a book my friend recently loaned me. The authors, in addition, to presenting a thorough, fact-based and quite convincing argument for the resurrection of Christ also address the appropriate means to share His message. Again I can respect the person of faith that attempts to share his/her beliefs in a way that is also respectful of others, one that is free of coercion, force, trickery or disrespect. When shared and acted upon correctly the person of faith is also then still recognizing our free will. And isn’t free will, a preservation of our liberty what we’re really making our political decisions for? Even the believer of an omniscient, omnipotent, omnibenevolent, eternal God should vote contrary to anything that would demolish the freedom of individuals to live under the umbrella of liberty so if they are in keeping with this mindset I don’t see how a little intersection of faith and politics is “stupid” or a problem.

Enjoy the weekend peeps! I intend to :-)

Lexiconic Prurience, I guess…

So those that know me know that I am a complete sucker for neologisms and fancy myself a rather creative lexiconist (yep, think I’ll write my own dictionary of fun words someday). Additionally, I just love words, grammar, language, et. al. Today, I share with you a silly post along those lines. Let’s wordplay.

Orchasm – n. The immeasurable distance between one choice and another.Or, with its grammar of gestation. Or, with its suggestive reservoir of participles of posing; its gerunds of guessing; its infinitives of "to do this" or "to do that." Or, the signature nomenclature of choice and mystery.But is it possible for the divide between "either" and "or" to be exciting? I don't know. Anxiety-producing, yes, but exciting? Probably not. After all, can Sir Climax enter, stage right, without Madame Tension's exit, stage left? [Reverse genders there, if you like.] Anyway, ask Soren Kierkegaard.For orchasm, picture Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken," a paean to the possibilities of choice.

Orgasm: Such a fun…a-hem, word to play with.

orghasm - n. A ghastly but somehow pleasurable sexual experience.

boregasm - n. The peak of sexual pleasure evoked by an utterly boring person.

floorgasmic - adj. Having the qualities of a sexual crescendo that just floors you!

soargasmic – adj. Having the qualities of a sexual crescendo that cause you to feel as though floating or flying.

Catching Kisses: Sometimes life reads like a storybook

So before I get started I’d like to preface this one by saying it doesn’t matter what you or I believe; I mean that’s important, just not in the context of this story. Most of you know that for the most part I post my mood or personal goings-on, my musings on religion, politics, current events, etc. Sometimes it’s a sad commentary on ethics and morality. Sometimes it’s just a repost of something silly for your entertainment. Sometimes it’s just a poetic effort lest I explode. Today though, I’m going to share a chance encounter that I had with a charming 6 year old and his father, not because I want some sort of affirmation that I did a “good” thing, but because I hope it inspires at least one person that reads it to do something nice for someone else, that it makes even just one of you smile, and honestly, I was just so touched that I couldn’t keep it to myself. This, of course, implies that I will able to relay it with justice; I’m aware that sometimes my offerings are mediocre at best, but I think the source for content will out-weigh any literary short-comings. I implore you to read this post in its entirety.

Preface correction: I said it doesn’t matter what I believe for the context of this story…scratch that; there’s something that matters. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Now then, let’s go.

This weekend I took a little trip to the StL simply because I needed to get away and to relax a bit, to see some faces of the people that I rarely see but totally love, to pretend like I don’t have anything to worry about at work or elsewhere in life, to forget about drama with my family and the Studio, to just sit by a pool, read a book and enjoy the sunshine. I did all of that; it was nice, but do you ever have that feeling like your heart has been broken and no matter what you do you can’t quite get all of the pieces to put it back together in its rightful state? Yeah, even after my little respite I was still feeling quite forlorn, but then something amazing happened on my way home, and it changed my outlook.

The whole “not-driving” thing meant that I had to take the MO-X Shuttle to StL and back. You know how I said I believe things happen for a reason? Well, I had some plans change and decided to switch my return transportation time. If I hadn’t changed I would never have met Aric or Mark (the aforementioned 6 year old and his father). I needed to meet them, and I think they needed to meet me. As I stepped onto the shuttle I heard the driver mention that it would be a full trip so I scanned the open seats and weighed my options. There was one single seat open and a couple of empties next to other people, but I looked to the back where I saw the sweetest little face, complete with perfectly chubby cheeks, big blue eyes and curly brown hair. That face also had a pretty adorable pair of dangling legs, lightly kicking the seat. I decided that I definitely had to sit next to this little person. Someone else could sit with the grown-ups. I took my seat and exchanged smiles with this little boy and his papa. I then proceeded to read my book and text a bit with my girl, Nicole.

About an hour into the trip I notice the little boy next to me is crying. I looked at his dad and asked if he was okay. His dad said, “His mom, my wife, passed away about two months ago. We were taking her car to his aunt in St. Louis. He still cries a lot; it’s hard.”

In that moment I almost lost it myself, and then the kiddo spoke up. “She smells like mommy,” he said to his dad. Immediately I looked at his father and said, “Sorry, maybe it’s my body splash.” He replied, “Yeah, I noticed it when you sat down; it’s the same.” Again, things happen for a reason. I almost didn’t put my body splash on; it’s almost gone, and it’s been discontinued. As I was getting ready I wasn’t sure I wanted to waste any of my favorite splash on a ride home. I was feeling kind of blue and ugly that morning though so I went ahead and spritzed as usual. When I heard this little boy say that I smelled like his mommy, just after his dad told me she had passed away, my eyes welled with tears so big I don’t know how I stopped them, but I did and said to him, “Thank you. I think that you thinking I smell like your mommy is the nicest thing that anyone’s ever said to me. I bet she was a beautiful lady that smelled like cherry blossoms all of the time. Do you want to tell me your name?”

He said, “Aric with an ‘A’.” Ah so cute! I knew at this moment that we were going to be friends, and I said, “Well Aric with an ‘A’, I’m Karen with a ‘K’ which is way cooler than Karen with a ‘C’ sorta like Aric with an ‘A’ is way cooler than Aric with an ‘E’. Don’t you think?” He did, and I think he knew too, that we were going to get along. Because I think it’s important to talk to kids in a way that makes them feel respected and appreciated I proceeded to ask him his dad’s name. We chatted for a few moments as I was working up the nerve to ask his dad, Mark’s, permission to tell Aric a story.

You see, for some reason something my mom did when my sister and I were little popped into my head. When we were really young if she had to be apart from us for any extended time (a weekend at our grandparents, with our dad, etc.) she would kiss the palms of our hands and say, “If you get scared or miss me just put your hand to your cheek and know there are kisses for you there.” It’s silly, but it’s lovely and something that I do with my nieces and other little peeps that I love. I looked at Mark and said, “H-E-A-V-E-N, yay or nay?” He gave me the thumbs up so I said to a still teary-eyed Aric, “Can you blow kisses?” Obviously he responded with a yes so I asked him if he could show me by blowing a kiss to his dad. He did, and I, of course, offered much praise for his talent at blowing kisses. He smiled, pleased with himself, and then I said, “Aric, did you know that you can blow kisses to people in heaven too? You just toss them up instead of out.”

Aric looked at me rather quizzically, and then he looked at his dad. Mark nodded agreement. I continued, “It’s actually pretty awesome because they can blow kisses back. You know sometimes when you feel just the softest breeze, the kind that sort of tickles your cheek and just barely moves your hair?”

Aric answered, “Yep.” I said, “Well those are kisses from people in heaven, and they’re just grazing by you so that they can get to the person they’re supposed to go to. Sometimes they never get where they’re going because they catch too many other people on the way, but you know I think that’s okay too because maybe those people need the kisses more.” He leaned back into his seat, swinging those little legs again and was clearly storing this new-found information away. I think he was just old enough to get what I was saying but not so old that the story was implausible for him.

I then taught him how to play yellow car, and we did. I am so good at yellow car that I totally could have won if I wanted to, but I let him win. When we stepped off of the shuttle I held my breath as I knew what was coming. Sure enough, Aric tried it. He blew a kiss right up into the sky, and I kid you not, quite a good breeze hit us just as soon as he dropped his little hand back down. The look on his face is forever ingrained in my memory. His dad gave me the most heartfelt smile, and when Aric asked if we felt it we both said “what?”, knowing that would make it all the more special for him. Mark could have wanted to slap me for filling his son’s head with a story, but he shook my hand and said thank you when they left. Aric hugged me; it was soft and sweet, and he smelled good (you know that little kid smell that reminds of you of playing outside, just enough earth and sweat that you know the little one has played but doesn’t stink).

After they were gone, the elderly lady that had been sitting in front of us, touched my hand and said, “That was beautiful. May God bless all of your days.” It was so kind of her, but I didn’t know what to say in response so I just said, “Thank you! May he do the same for you.” When the cute, little old lady got into the car with her husband I saw her point at me. She’s passing my meeting on so why shouldn’t I?

The whole thing was quite surreal, but as the title said, sometimes life really does play out just like something from a storybook. Those storybook moments, whether delightfully fanciful or wistfully solemn, are often few and far between, but I am so very grateful for this one, any of them really because of the way that they stick with you. While my heart aches for that little boy, his papa, the rest of their family, I welcome what our chance meeting brought to me. It reminded me that no matter what you’re feeling, no matter what’s happening in your life; there is always someone whose sorrow is greater, their pain just that much worse. I’m certainly not an expert at anything, nor am I in a position to make remarks with such omniscient implications, but when have I ever been one to keep my thoughts to myself? So at the risk of delivering something so cliché or grandiose, I’d like to close with saying ultimately, even in the face of suffering, both great and small, even when it just isn’t what we expected or what we want in that moment, life is still something to be grateful for. We should try our best to appreciate every day and to just be good to each other.

Anyway, I respect the beauty that is in you, that is also within me…you know…namasté. Sending out kisses and wishing everyone many beautiful days!

Unabridged Status and Mood (you know...a la My Space style - sorry about that)

It's been a bit since I checked in with peeps (blogged just on me). I promise to deliver something more interesting in the next couple of days; just a bit overwhelmed lately.

In general, all is well. I'm a bit loneseome for some of my friends but count my blessings for the ones I see daily.

I'm completely dreading my fall dance performance, and I'm tired of the practices (I know right? This is me; I love to dance, but I'm sick of them.) My shoulder and right leg are both still killing me, but oh well...a girl's gotta get her cardio in.

Started reading the effing MO drivers' manual last night; it's riveting. I can't believe that for a second I thought I'd rather be reading one of my new books that I haven't gotten to yet (Economics in One Lesson and In Defense of Food: An Eater's Manifesto). It's whatever though as it's been agreed that I will in fact be getting a MINI Coop.

Looking forward to next weekend's float trip and playtime with the Tri Damn boys and crew; they deliver fun every time.

I have the sweetest pup in the world now. He is also the most adorable, and I don't mind walking him as I truly love to be outside sometimes, inhaling the fresh air, looking at trees and earth, feeling a little wind in my face.

With the wind in my face
I remember who I am
for a moment
and all thoughts for self
for tomorrow
for yesterday
for
today
are blown and scattered
dispersed like leaves
in a thousand
directions
all at once
disappearing behind who
I believe myself to be
while keeping my eyes
closed against what may
never come-if
I remember

Oh! Where is the humanity?

Recently two different articles caused me to do some additional thinking on moral obligations and what it is that makes us human, the commonalities that are specific to us and that are not discernible in other living creatures. I’ve been waiting to post on them because I thought I would put a little something together on morality/moral good to accompany what I have written on the articles, but I certainly can not pretend to be an expert on what morality/moral good is so instead I give you the causes for my recent pondering with a bit o’ my venting thrown in with them.

First, I read that The Bibliotheque de France is opening a controversial exhibit next year that will focus on the ethics of photography. One prominent piece will be that of Kevin Carter. Many people are familiar with the work, especially if you've had any exposure to photojournalism; in fact, it is one of the things that prompted my gradual drift away from MU’s J school when I started classes there 10 years ago. The photo was still fairly new at the time and caused quite a hubbub. It was certainly a topic for discussion in more than one of my classrooms. The piece I am referring to, as you can see, is of a vulture awaiting the death of a small Sudanese girl. Carter took the photo. He won a Pulitzer Prize for it.

When the J school kids and instructor were overwhelmingly in support of getting the photo, and the minds of my Religious Studies Contemporary Issues classmates were far more concerned and invested in looking at the (pardon the pun) bigger picture, it just made me reevaluate my life priorities. While it wasn’t the only motivating factor, and I am by no means stating there is an definitive difference in morality between the persons in each discipline, it certainly contributed to my thought processes in making choices for the next semester: I increased the number of RS courses I was taking and chose to cease enrollment in the J school; I just wasn’t home there.

Ugh, I digress on too much me…anyway, there's no questioning that it is a moving photograph; it's disturbing and shocking, but I think that there is no way that I could have taken it. I think that I can say with confidence that I would want to pick that baby up and carry her away, somewhere safe. I say “think” because having never been in that situation I do not know and to say with 100% certainty that I know what my reaction would be seems a bit like me judging. Sometimes it’s difficult to not pass judgment, and sometimes we fail; there’s a common factor between humans and animals – neither are perfect. That said I am trying not to judge Carter or other photojournalists negatively; it's just not for me, and maybe to some of you that is me judging (oh well – my apologies). Carter actually committed suicide about 3 months later, leaving a note to explain that he was haunted by killings, corpses, anger, pain.

While the loss of Carter’s life is sad, I have to say that I find some solace in that his note seemed to demonstrate remorse and that he wasn’t just idly moving through life, oblivious to the tragedies affecting other people. And really, I get that maybe his role as a war photographer was his way of helping, that there is something good that comes of this type of work. Much like the disturbing image of the napalm-burned little girl during the Vietnam War, this photograph is certainly attributed to have played an integral role in awakening people to the extreme crises occurring in the Sudan. It just saddens me that such an awakening is even necessary.

I think that War truly puts us at our lowest level of humanity and am reminded of a Bertrand Russell quote that I also recently came across, “War does not determine who is right. War determines who is left.” While this photographic reminder of the extremely grievous realities that are war, hunger, pain left me feeling melancholy and disappointed it did not compare to the reaction the next article elicited from me.

Last week, I’m reading the news and am more than disgusted by the actions, or lack thereof, surrounding the June 19th death of an ER patient in a New York mental hospital. Admittedly, because I find it horrific that her undignified death was made viewable to all public, I have not watched the surveillance clip so please accept my apologies for any errors in retelling the story as it is based solely on the news articles I have read. The patient was involuntarily brought in to the mental facility’s ER for treatment, thus rendering them responsible for her care. After nearly 24 hours of waiting in the ER waiting room she fell out of her chair, from what sounds like a seizure. Both staff and other patients/non-staff occupants of the space witnessed her fall and convulse, including one security guard that wheeled his chair over for a peek and then wheeled back to his post. She was on the floor for approximately an hour before a non-staff member eventually flagged down a person in a lab coat to assist. Additionally, it appears the staff attempted to falsify her records to make it appear as though she had not been on the floor for an hour. If you’re not familiar with the story and would like the actual news vs. my synopsis it is available here.

That clinical and clerical hospital staff, security as well as other patients and attendants in the ER, just ignored this woman in her final moments of life sickens, saddens and angers me. What is wrong with people? I have yet to come across her actual cause of death, but I’m betting had she been acknowledged, there is a possibility that she would have survived. We’re all quick to prosecute the serial killer or even the admitted accomplice, but are these people not also guilty of a horrendous crime? This is an assortment of people from various walks of life, all treating this woman with total disregard.

We like to think that in general, as human, we are superior to other animals, in part, because we have discernible morals. Where is the morality in this situation? Truly are these people any better than the vulture preying on the tiny Sudanese girl? I think this incident disturbed me so much simply because I had the prior article and photograph to think about while reading it. The former made me think: surely the average person, if put into a situation where another person was suffering, would help that person. Right? Then I read the news of this woman, and I have to think: well, maybe not. Ugh, I am disappointed.

I read some online comments from other readers of this article that stated the other people had no obligation to help this woman. They made their remarks for various reasons: some saying that since it was a mental facility it was probably common to see someone pretend to fall as acting out, some saying that the non-medical staff shouldn’t have to be concerned, and so on. While I said that I wasn’t going to go into moral good and what I think or have learned on the topic I will say this: it is definitely something that I will be thinking on more, and I hope all of you will do the same. I’m not trying to proselytize or anything, as although I teeter, I am lacking full ascription to any belief system; I just think it would be lovely to chat on with some other peeps. For instance, I’m pretty sure that the great Dostoevsky would’ve have said that the people from the ER as well as the commentators I just referenced could all quite possibly be lacking the presentation of moral good because they are living without acknowledgement of blame, refusing to take responsibility for their actions or inactions. Yeah, someone read Notes From Underground so we can have playtime on it (see? I’m sweet ‘cause I picked a short one to start).

Shifting gears

I thought you all might appreciate something I stumbled on:

I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go. Things go wrong so that you can appreciate them when they’re right. You believe lies so that you learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together. – Marilyn Monroe

Miss. Monroe, you took the words right out of my mouth. Never really thought you such a sage, but alas, I couldn’t have put it any better myself so I thank you for articulating what my heart and mind have been trying to say.

Friends, I am thinking about learning to drive. I don’t really want to per se, but it will be good for me. Plus, I think that I’ve convinced Todd Smith that I really need a Mini Coop in my life.

Really can you picture me driving anything else? …well, other than something completely thugged out; I mean Elizabeth and I did think I might be good with an Escalade or an old-school caddy with a bumpin’ sound system (smiles). Which reminds me, Elizabeth is also thinking about driving. She’s growing up, looking at an apartment for herself on Thursday. Her maturing makes me sad but proud, and I suppose we can go get our permits together.

Expect a future blog to regale you with the horrifying details of my first time behind the wheel…hey, it can’t be any worse than me force-feeding you my religiopoliphilosocial thoughts on any given day.