A Little Perspective.

I watched a documentary a few weeks ago, called No End In Sight. It is fairly obvious from the title that this film is about the War in Iraq. I have officially entered the anger stage where the war is concerned. This film is from the perspective of the military and diplomatic advisers who were supposed to manage the war in a logical way, making it possible that it would quickly be over, and that the loss of life would be limited. There were actually plans in place for rebuild the infrastructure of Iraq, and to truly bring about democracy...imagine that. And thus, the anger. I've got nothing left to offer.

But last week, I read an article written by a man named Omar Al-Rikabi. He is a pastor in Arkansas, has an American mother and his father is from the Middle East, so his perspective is a bit different. His article says more than I could ever say.

The Blogs I Would've Written.

Over the past couple of months, I've thought to write several possibly good blogs, but am working like 8 days a week, so yeah...I haven't gotten around to it. So without further ado the list of blogs I would've written had I not had so many jobs.

(1) A blog entitled, The Girlification of Casey B., titled after for some reason The Emancipation of Mimi, Mariah Carey's first album coming off of crazy. This was to be about the fact that I had stated in my 29th birthday blog that this would be the year that I would become outwardly edgy, but think that I have done all I can (tattoo--check; piercing--check; funky-ish haircut dyed slightly red--check; having begun and ended an undefinable relationship with a man my parents would soooo not approve of--check, check and check). So I decided this might be the year I allow myself to be slightly girly instead. I'll let you know how that goes.

(2) Eat, Pray, Love. A birthday gift from a dear friend, and the most recent book for me to have a love-hate-mostly-love relationship with. I'm seriously ashamed of how much I love this book. It's also part of #1, as it is by far the most female-centric, non-feminist book I've ever read.

(3) An exposition on the reorganization of a non-profit, because it wasn't making a profit...and the subsequent laying-off of myself and my other part-time colleagues. (This is the 2nd job. No need to panic.) And the oddity of working for the people who laid you off, so they'll be covered until they can find someone to replace you.

(4) A small discussion of the resignation of my governor. For some reason, the thing that bothered me the most about it all was the image of his wife standing stoically by his side while he humiliated her by telling the world that he spent tens of thousands of their dollars on other women. The government will recover, but I doubt that his family ever will.

(5) And my new favorite web site, Stuff White People Like. It's funny, 'cause it's true.

I've got a bunch of other stuff brewing. Hopefully, it won't all come out in list form. Peace out.

Drinking the Kool-Aid.

So, as you can probably guess from my posting of multiple Obama media/art pieces, I've got the fever. I cannot express my excitement at the prospect of Barack Obama having any chance of becoming our next president. Though I haven't spoken to many of them, I've been telepathically influencing the votes of my Texan friends, sending them 'Yes, We Can. Yes, We Can.' chants. And so far, they have not disappointed. People I never expected to depart from the Right, simply because they've always rested there, have indeed done so.

I was reading back on some of my previous posts about war and politics, using the little tag thingys at the bottom, and I came upon one I wrote last November about Bobby Kennedy, and his speech The Mindless Menace of Violence. In this post, I mused about the hope and potential that Bobby Kennedy held in his hands, and wondered if this would ever happen for my generation. I believe that it has. I'm hoping for an audacious hope to reign. For our want for a better world to overpower our need for dominance, and the drives of capitalist culture. I guess, we shall see....

We Are The Ones We've Been Waiting For....

(Life).

I loved My So-Called Life. Absolutely loved it, but we only had one TV in my house (the horror) and so I never got to watch, until the 24-hour marathons my freshman year of college. I would watch with my across-the-hall dorm neighbor Rachel, and then go to my room and watch. And then wake up in the morning, and go back to watch with Rachel. It was glorious. Glorious. But was only on for a season. And I was way, waaaay too old (at the age of 19) to be watching a show about teenage angst.

So today, I am blissed out at the premiere of quarterlife (lower-case for hippness), brought to us by the creators of My So-Called Life. I heart angsty television. And though I'm no longer a 25 year-old aspiring artist, I love their lives. The lead character said early on in the show, speaking of my generation, (paraphrased) "We were geniuses when we were in elementary school, and now no one seems to remember that." I feel this way sometimes. I want to scream "Do you understand who you're talking to here? I got straight As in elementary school. I got 3rd place in the spelling bee three years in a row. I was the Knowledge Master/Quiz Bowl Champion. And I was in the Top 10% of my high school class, BTW. Listen to me!" I ask myself, "When did my life become mediocre?"

I've mostly exited my angsty, artsy phase. But I like to remember it sometimes...and think what it might have been like if I hadn't somewhat sold out to the idea of health insurance and sustained dependable income.

F- You Valentine's Day!

Okay, so my dislike for this holiday is probably not quite that strong, but I feel the need to restore some of my street cred after I spent much of my morning walking down 5th Avenue carrying a brightly colored balloon bouquet. But I felt I must lodge my complaint against the Valentine-Industrial complex.

There Has Never Been Anything False About Hope.

Job Update.

So I'm in the middle of my third week at the new job, and it is brilliant. Everyone is nice to me. No one has mocked me for my quietness, my ideals or my shoes. I feel respected and valued and all that stuff you should feel at work. The neighborhood is great...my bank is three blocks away, there's a Starbucks directly across the street, and there are all sorts of fun/healthy restaurants nearby. The learning curve for the job is pretty steep, so I'm not doing alot of client work yet, but will be soon. Today I met the man who was my predecessor. And he turns out to be someone I saw speak at a seminar I went to a couple of years ago. Really that seminar and this man's words changed the way I thought about my work, and increased my convictions that the system I was working within was in many ways furthering the problems of many of my clients. I am very honored to be filling this man's shoes, as much as that is possible.

But sadly there is a downside to the new job. My commute is so short that I'm a bit behind on my reading. And it takes me two commutes to listen to an episode of This American Life. If only I could find a way to spend more time on the train...

Picking Sides.

I still have two more weeks to make my primary election decision, but today the New York Times has made theirs (here and here). Though I'm not sure that I fully agree, I am moved by their arguments and particularly enjoyed the paragraphs in which they reem Rudy Guiliani (who my father has repeatedly threatened to vote for as a means to get a rise out of me.) But then there's this, serving to continue my indecision.

Figuring it out.

Originally written for communion meditation at CCfB on 1.20.2008:

It is only recently that I learned that my belief system was an actual belief system, rather than simply a coping mechanism. I did not know that there was Universalism outside of the Unitarian Church, which I contemplated joining at a theologically desperate point in my life. I came to Universalism circuitously, having simply lost the ability to worry about salvation any more.

My religious background is much like most of yours. I was raised in the Church of Christ, baptized when I was 14 at church camp, because that was what the kids in my youth group did. I don’t think I even grasped what my baptism was supposed to have been about until I had a crisis of faith in my early 20s. But then as I thought about it more, I began to wonder if I was truly saved. So I went to retreats and on missions to Mexico, to Bible studies and devotionals. I wept many, many tears in the interest of finding what I thought was missing. Then I got a second job, which is often the case with me. I began working for the newspaper at UT in hopes of finding a career after I decided not to teach. I edited and designed the paper sometimes 5 nights a week and I began missing Sunday night and Wednesday night church in the interest of this endeavor. But what I found at the paper was what I had been searching for. As I edited, I read every story in every section of the paper. I started reading the New York Times, and the BBC, and watching a constant stream of news, as to stay informed about what should go on my page. One night in particular stands out in my head as a turning point in my thinking about God and salvation and redemption. That summer, there were several executions covered by our paper, but one in particular got national coverage--the execution of a man named Gary Graham. The eyewitness testimony had been called into question and this case was being appealed to every level, up until the final seconds. And because of where I was on this particular day, I watched it unfold. Hearing the story of this man and his crime, the pain of his victims and their families, the distinct possibility that an innocent man was set to die, I was shaken. I could not help but think about the value of his life, of the consequences of his actions set in motion by circumstances far beyond his control, and about the state and destination of his soul. And over the months that followed, these questions only persisted and multiplied. How can a person trapped in the cycles of poverty and marginalization in this country be expected to find God when they have no hope? Why is it that so many people I love are instantly condemned for things that are intrinsically part of who they are? How is it that a person a world away, who has never known peace, can be expected to accept our narrow vision of God?

These questions being far too large for my 21 year-old mind to handle, I decided to stop trying to understand it. Instead, I decided to focus on what I could do. Volunteering at various places, getting wrapped up in the issues that moved me, which led me to a career change and has entirely changed my perspective. With each new person that I meet in my work and in life, it becomes clearer to me the value of every human life. And when I look at the view of Christianity that I was taught from my earliest memories, there is no longer room for me there. I firmly believe that we do ourselves a great injustice by living our lives simply to stay out of Hell. There is nothing man can do to earn a place in Heaven, and under the same umbrella of grace, there is nothing man can do to fall out of God’s favor. For me, once I realized this and was able to stop worrying about my own salvation, and about winning souls for Jesus with the five steps and the multicolored bracelets and the fliers and strategically placed information tables and the fun, but salvific, events, I was able to more fully be who God intended me to be. An imperfect being, in a far from perfect world, who has been known to do and say outlandish things, who has a definite penchant for the radical and is probably wrong about so many things. But who is striving to live her life in love, to do what is best and to know that God wholly loves us for who we wholly are. That we are all covered by grace and by this grace we are free.