Startled snake is sprawling
Between mountains, oh, black river,
And I am a fierce companion,
I am mirror-man forever,
I am twisted, piercing perfect,
This is complimentary treason,
There is nothing else I wish for,
I'm the man for every season.
But I am a sailor
Heading towards the curtained dark,
The horizon, peppered starlight,
Let my compass find its mark.
Black, black river, what you carry
Is a danger-driven treasure.
Sail, sail on towards other suns,
Towards other sorrows, other pleasures.
Ebony is bleeding
From tomorrow, oh, black river,
I can see you never breathing,
You will have come first forever.
There's a name for what you gave me;
While we're waiting for the ending,
Let yourself enjoy the journey,
Life's a fortune that's worth spending.
But I am a sailor
Heading towards the curtained dark,
The horizon, peppered starlight,
Let my compass find its mark.
Black, black river, what you carry
Is a danger-driven treasure.
Sail, sail on towards other suns,
Towards other sorrows, other pleasures.
Shatter again
While the sky remains unbroken,
I can remember lights I've never seen
Twirling above you,
Ballerinas screaming
About the next time it'll be the last time
And all the times in between.
Black and white and wild,
You are a torrent, oh, black river.
Give me courage to remember
I am stronger than forever;
We have changed what's not been spoken
Throwing wishes in the water,
All the tears that make a river
Still recall the sound of laughter.
All of us are sailors
Heading toward the curtained dark,
The horizon, peppered starlight,
Let the compass find its mark.
And wherever fate may drive us,
Leave our pathways carved in stone
In the hope that other sailors
Never have to sail alone.
04 June 2010
Just some lyrics...
Well goddamn she's a pretty little rocker
Hot nights and a bed that's harder than stone
Once the stars go to sleep
And you know that she rolls like the thunder
She's off key but at least her song is her own
This lullaby's hers to keep.
She's glorious
She doesn't have a name
In blue or brown
Somehow her eyes are all the same
She's everywhere
The music's loud, smoke fills the air
And the beer flows
That's when she knows
She's come home.
When she stands she's the queen of her kingdom
When she walks the whole world moves under her feet
Every seat is her throne
She spends smiles when she can't spend her money
She buys love and the danger makes her complete
Without regrets she wakes alone.
She's glorious
She doesn't have a name
In blue or brown
Somehow her eyes are all the same
She's everywhere
The music's loud, smoke fills the air
And the beer flows
That's when she knows
She's come home.
You can keep
All your white knights, pretty lights
Paint her picture neon and gold
You can hear
How her heart beats as she sleeps
Makes you want to give her the world
For a day
As if it could make the music stay.
Well goddamn she's a pretty little junkie--
Cold sweats and a fog that covers her eyes
Just an hour before dawn
And she knows what the toll is for breaking
She's so high but at least she followed the sun
Once before she comes undone.
Lullaby...
She's glorious
Impossible to tame
She's Icarus
And nobody's to blame
She's everywhere
And in the end when all those feathers melt away
You know what she'd want to say--
That although she fell alone
She flew on wings that were her own
And she's finally found her home.
Hot nights and a bed that's harder than stone
Once the stars go to sleep
And you know that she rolls like the thunder
She's off key but at least her song is her own
This lullaby's hers to keep.
She's glorious
She doesn't have a name
In blue or brown
Somehow her eyes are all the same
She's everywhere
The music's loud, smoke fills the air
And the beer flows
That's when she knows
She's come home.
When she stands she's the queen of her kingdom
When she walks the whole world moves under her feet
Every seat is her throne
She spends smiles when she can't spend her money
She buys love and the danger makes her complete
Without regrets she wakes alone.
She's glorious
She doesn't have a name
In blue or brown
Somehow her eyes are all the same
She's everywhere
The music's loud, smoke fills the air
And the beer flows
That's when she knows
She's come home.
You can keep
All your white knights, pretty lights
Paint her picture neon and gold
You can hear
How her heart beats as she sleeps
Makes you want to give her the world
For a day
As if it could make the music stay.
Well goddamn she's a pretty little junkie--
Cold sweats and a fog that covers her eyes
Just an hour before dawn
And she knows what the toll is for breaking
She's so high but at least she followed the sun
Once before she comes undone.
Lullaby...
She's glorious
Impossible to tame
She's Icarus
And nobody's to blame
She's everywhere
And in the end when all those feathers melt away
You know what she'd want to say--
That although she fell alone
She flew on wings that were her own
And she's finally found her home.
17 September 2009
Special Post: re: "My tweenage historical bookshelf"
In reply to this blog entry, which keeps giving me a "Sorry, we cannot accept this data" error when I try to comment--
My favourite historical fiction book in middle school was "Lincoln" by Gore Vidal. A cinder block of a book for a kid that age, I know, but I loved it, since Lincoln was my hero and role model. I loved "To Kill A Mockingbird," "Number the Stars," and "The Man Who Was Poe" by Avi. I also seem to recall that the Johnny Dixon mysteries by John Bellairs seemed historical in nature to me, though I cannot remember if they dealt with any specific REAL history or were just Johnny and Professor Childermass bopping around very old places (in New England, if I recall correctly) mucking about with antiques and ghosts and abandoned houses. I loved those best, I think -- how fitting for my having gone into historic archaeology! Another fantastic favourite was "The King's Swift Rider" by Mollie Hunter, which tells the story of a young boy in the time of Robert the Bruce of Scotland.
As a side-note -- I sadly cannot think of any specific books right now, but when discussing historical fiction, I think it is necessary to include the stories that are part of history, that were told by our ancestors. Fairy tales and nursery rhymes all play an important role in who we are historically. Any search on culture-specific myths, legends, and folklore should turn up plenty of results.
My favourite historical fiction book in middle school was "Lincoln" by Gore Vidal. A cinder block of a book for a kid that age, I know, but I loved it, since Lincoln was my hero and role model. I loved "To Kill A Mockingbird," "Number the Stars," and "The Man Who Was Poe" by Avi. I also seem to recall that the Johnny Dixon mysteries by John Bellairs seemed historical in nature to me, though I cannot remember if they dealt with any specific REAL history or were just Johnny and Professor Childermass bopping around very old places (in New England, if I recall correctly) mucking about with antiques and ghosts and abandoned houses. I loved those best, I think -- how fitting for my having gone into historic archaeology! Another fantastic favourite was "The King's Swift Rider" by Mollie Hunter, which tells the story of a young boy in the time of Robert the Bruce of Scotland.
As a side-note -- I sadly cannot think of any specific books right now, but when discussing historical fiction, I think it is necessary to include the stories that are part of history, that were told by our ancestors. Fairy tales and nursery rhymes all play an important role in who we are historically. Any search on culture-specific myths, legends, and folklore should turn up plenty of results.
19 August 2009
Entitlement, Equality
Why is it so difficult for people to understand that changing other people's behaviors and attitudes takes work?
Respect... is a difficult thing to define or write rules for. Every person, regardless of age, gender, race, sexual preference, physical appearance or ability, or any other variable, deserves respect for their basic human rights. If you need to know what that really means, a list can be found here. In brief, and what I am trying to say, is that every living person deserves to have their dignity as a living individual respected -- every human deserves respect insofar as they may not be enslaved, harmed, or treated unequally by the law.
But human rights get fuzzy when you inject the element of culture. Even "free" societies allow bigoted and discriminatory behaviors under the law -- because it takes a lot of time and a lot of WORK for all variations of human behavior, identity, and form to be fully understood, accepted, and given firm and clear means of communication -- i.e. words that apply specifically to different KINDS of people. My dears, until just over 100 years ago, there was no way to clearly communicate, in the English language, what homosexuality was. There were Biblical words, considered obscene and taboo in polite company, and there were slang terms that mutated from region to region and were as variable as snowflakes, but 100 years ago, no one could explain that their sexual orientation was anything other than heterosexual and be understood by the majority of society, much less ACCEPTED by it.
It takes work to get to that acceptance and understanding. This is as it has always been -- a matter of survival. We are not, as a species, psychologically programmed to accept changes in social routine without a fight. Of course we fear the Other -- for most of our history as a species on this planet, the Other has been a bringer of death, disease, rape, tyranny, etc. We have an inborn genetic understanding that any change in social routine is dangerous. Most of us will react this way even when it is not true. It is the same instinct that makes us homesick when we leave our primary caretakers' nest; it is the same instinct that makes us continue to love our childhood games and stories well beyond childhood. The familiar is safe.
At no time in the course of human history has there been a people like Americans. Other countries may have blood mixed by invasion and trade; other countries have seen the "lawful" invasion of foreigners as the result of empire expansion; and Canada and Australia may have majority populations whose ancestors were not native to their lands; but no country except America has so many people from so many places. No other country has so many mutts. No other country imports and exports people to and from all over the world like a country breathing people, despite our recent absurd obsession over "border safety."
I don't point this out as an observation made to stir patriotism. I am writing this to post to places where the vast majority of readers will be American. I am writing as a person whose online venues are run and populated by mostly Americans. And my point is that if ever there was a society with the tools to encourage acceptance, understanding, and begin to break our instinctual habits in the interests of the equality of all humans, it is this society. Like any other nation, we are rife with bigotry, lawful discrimination, miscommunication, and lack of education. But we don't have to be. We are truly privileged in that we have the potential to become something magnificent if we can figure out how to deal with our instinctive misgivings about each other.
Which brings me back to my point. I have regularly in the past but far more so recently seen a certain attitude that pervades any discussion of inequalities -- an attitude that no one should have to "bend over backwards" for people who will not immediately and unquestioningly alter their behavior for the sake of any transgression against a person who is an Other to them -- be that transgression as immense as enslavement and discrimination, or as minor as an unintentional use of an unknowingly offensive word. That same attitude seems to walk hand-in-hand with the idea that no person who experiences unequal treatment should have to explain themselves to the people whose actions and attitudes must be changed.
This attitude is absurd and unrealistic.
No, it is not fair that some people have to make a great effort to be treated with equality in their own societies. But it is necessary. Humanity's instinctive fear of the Other does not justify bigotry and discrimination, but it does explain it. It is not rational to expect people to change on their own accord the behaviors and attitudes that have been practiced and taught in their society for spans of time that engulf generations more than I myself can count on either side of my own family tree. It is not realistic to expect people to alter their attitudes just because they are told they should.
Changes in behavior and attitudes come from respect. The concept of respect is deeply ingrained in our social rituals, which is how we communicate respect for other persons. When most people think of a ritual, they think of things like shaking hands, addressing elders and social superiors by certain titles, observing courteous behaviors on the road and in other social situations, and even practicing basic hygeine. Rituals are the practices of peace which we, as a society, agree to follow and to recognize in order to maintain order. Our rituals are a language, and like our spoken language, they are ever-changing, and can mean much even at the most subtle levels.
Every victory of equality is an alteration in social rituals. This is not a small thing. This is not a demand one can make of a society without having to work for it. Rituals are observed on a platform of respect, but respect must be earned. This is not a radical concept, and it has been proven to work in the past. This is the same basis on which Ghandi and King practiced their movements of social evolution.
All people who want equality must work for it, and prove themselves deserving of it. This is not done through hostility, or through attitudes of entitlement. This is accomplished through gradual, persistent efforts to prove oneself able to coexist peacefully with the majority, to earn one's own livelihood, and to contribute to the common good. This is accomplished through a willingness to educate those who do not understand the position of the Other, and through persistent self-discipline and humility.
In short -- yes, it sucks to be the Other. Yes, it's hard to be misunderstood, mistreated by the majority and their laws, and to be born into a life that will be inherently more difficult that someone else's in very basic ways due to differences beyond one's own control. But no amount of indignant hostility will ultimately promote a cause. Equality is achieved through patience and willingness to work to help those who want to understand and change.
So many times, I have seen people come forward with questions only to be told off with varying degrees of hostility and informed that they need to "do their own research" before they can come back and ask more informed questions without being judged and accused of ignorance, malice, and "privilege" (a word I disapprove of vehemently, but that's a rant for another post). Not only do these responses actually discourage people from changing, they reflect an arrogant ignorance and carelessness for one's peers. It says that you believe yourself to be better than them, because you are somehow more enlightened. And maybe, in a sense, you are -- but what's the point of being enlightened if your psychological evolution serves no one but yourself? What good are you with all your intellectual content if you won't give what you know to others who would seek and accept that understanding and add to the progress of social evolution?
Again, I'm not saying it's fair. I know full well, as a person who belongs to a group that is lawfully discriminated against, that it can be damn tiring to have to constantly explain oneself to others. But you know what? It's worth it. Equality is a worthy goal, but not an easy one. It demands that we must all be heroes. Heroism is not the same as aggressive hostility. Heroism is self-discipline, patience, understanding, generosity...
The world will not give to you what you do not give to it. Mankind has potential for so much good, so much enlightenment, so much magnificent triumphs of what we would call virtue and humanity and progress -- but these things cannot and will not come unless those of us who want equality are willing to earn it, however unfair it may seem that that work must be done. We are all who we are. We are all capable of our own heroism. But we will fail if we continue to allow ourselves to believe the lies of entitlement. There is no productivity in victimization. There is no progress from passivity. I do not preach that everyone should be a martyr, but if you read this far and leave with anything, I want you to leave with this thought:
You are a member of the infinitely variable and complex structure, Mankind. You have a right to yourself as much as anyone, but the world is not a kind or merciful place. Mankind is a machine capable of magnificent functions, but the machine cannot function if its parts cannot work in harmony. It is up to you to show, through peace and open education, that you can belong in the whole without disrupting its productivity. It is equally up to your fellow humans to make an effort to incorporate the solution you offer. But it is not up to them to find your place for you, or to figure out how you work unless you meet them half way and welcome them into who you are, as you want them to welcome you into identification as part of who THEY are.
These are idealistic thoughts. These are demanding thoughts. But if even one person reads this and decides to devote their efforts to educating those who are willing and to living as productive and peaceful a life as their society will allow them to live, then the world has been changed just that much for the better, and that is worth everything. Our evolution is EVERYBODY'S business.
Respect... is a difficult thing to define or write rules for. Every person, regardless of age, gender, race, sexual preference, physical appearance or ability, or any other variable, deserves respect for their basic human rights. If you need to know what that really means, a list can be found here. In brief, and what I am trying to say, is that every living person deserves to have their dignity as a living individual respected -- every human deserves respect insofar as they may not be enslaved, harmed, or treated unequally by the law.
But human rights get fuzzy when you inject the element of culture. Even "free" societies allow bigoted and discriminatory behaviors under the law -- because it takes a lot of time and a lot of WORK for all variations of human behavior, identity, and form to be fully understood, accepted, and given firm and clear means of communication -- i.e. words that apply specifically to different KINDS of people. My dears, until just over 100 years ago, there was no way to clearly communicate, in the English language, what homosexuality was. There were Biblical words, considered obscene and taboo in polite company, and there were slang terms that mutated from region to region and were as variable as snowflakes, but 100 years ago, no one could explain that their sexual orientation was anything other than heterosexual and be understood by the majority of society, much less ACCEPTED by it.
It takes work to get to that acceptance and understanding. This is as it has always been -- a matter of survival. We are not, as a species, psychologically programmed to accept changes in social routine without a fight. Of course we fear the Other -- for most of our history as a species on this planet, the Other has been a bringer of death, disease, rape, tyranny, etc. We have an inborn genetic understanding that any change in social routine is dangerous. Most of us will react this way even when it is not true. It is the same instinct that makes us homesick when we leave our primary caretakers' nest; it is the same instinct that makes us continue to love our childhood games and stories well beyond childhood. The familiar is safe.
At no time in the course of human history has there been a people like Americans. Other countries may have blood mixed by invasion and trade; other countries have seen the "lawful" invasion of foreigners as the result of empire expansion; and Canada and Australia may have majority populations whose ancestors were not native to their lands; but no country except America has so many people from so many places. No other country has so many mutts. No other country imports and exports people to and from all over the world like a country breathing people, despite our recent absurd obsession over "border safety."
I don't point this out as an observation made to stir patriotism. I am writing this to post to places where the vast majority of readers will be American. I am writing as a person whose online venues are run and populated by mostly Americans. And my point is that if ever there was a society with the tools to encourage acceptance, understanding, and begin to break our instinctual habits in the interests of the equality of all humans, it is this society. Like any other nation, we are rife with bigotry, lawful discrimination, miscommunication, and lack of education. But we don't have to be. We are truly privileged in that we have the potential to become something magnificent if we can figure out how to deal with our instinctive misgivings about each other.
Which brings me back to my point. I have regularly in the past but far more so recently seen a certain attitude that pervades any discussion of inequalities -- an attitude that no one should have to "bend over backwards" for people who will not immediately and unquestioningly alter their behavior for the sake of any transgression against a person who is an Other to them -- be that transgression as immense as enslavement and discrimination, or as minor as an unintentional use of an unknowingly offensive word. That same attitude seems to walk hand-in-hand with the idea that no person who experiences unequal treatment should have to explain themselves to the people whose actions and attitudes must be changed.
This attitude is absurd and unrealistic.
No, it is not fair that some people have to make a great effort to be treated with equality in their own societies. But it is necessary. Humanity's instinctive fear of the Other does not justify bigotry and discrimination, but it does explain it. It is not rational to expect people to change on their own accord the behaviors and attitudes that have been practiced and taught in their society for spans of time that engulf generations more than I myself can count on either side of my own family tree. It is not realistic to expect people to alter their attitudes just because they are told they should.
Changes in behavior and attitudes come from respect. The concept of respect is deeply ingrained in our social rituals, which is how we communicate respect for other persons. When most people think of a ritual, they think of things like shaking hands, addressing elders and social superiors by certain titles, observing courteous behaviors on the road and in other social situations, and even practicing basic hygeine. Rituals are the practices of peace which we, as a society, agree to follow and to recognize in order to maintain order. Our rituals are a language, and like our spoken language, they are ever-changing, and can mean much even at the most subtle levels.
Every victory of equality is an alteration in social rituals. This is not a small thing. This is not a demand one can make of a society without having to work for it. Rituals are observed on a platform of respect, but respect must be earned. This is not a radical concept, and it has been proven to work in the past. This is the same basis on which Ghandi and King practiced their movements of social evolution.
All people who want equality must work for it, and prove themselves deserving of it. This is not done through hostility, or through attitudes of entitlement. This is accomplished through gradual, persistent efforts to prove oneself able to coexist peacefully with the majority, to earn one's own livelihood, and to contribute to the common good. This is accomplished through a willingness to educate those who do not understand the position of the Other, and through persistent self-discipline and humility.
In short -- yes, it sucks to be the Other. Yes, it's hard to be misunderstood, mistreated by the majority and their laws, and to be born into a life that will be inherently more difficult that someone else's in very basic ways due to differences beyond one's own control. But no amount of indignant hostility will ultimately promote a cause. Equality is achieved through patience and willingness to work to help those who want to understand and change.
So many times, I have seen people come forward with questions only to be told off with varying degrees of hostility and informed that they need to "do their own research" before they can come back and ask more informed questions without being judged and accused of ignorance, malice, and "privilege" (a word I disapprove of vehemently, but that's a rant for another post). Not only do these responses actually discourage people from changing, they reflect an arrogant ignorance and carelessness for one's peers. It says that you believe yourself to be better than them, because you are somehow more enlightened. And maybe, in a sense, you are -- but what's the point of being enlightened if your psychological evolution serves no one but yourself? What good are you with all your intellectual content if you won't give what you know to others who would seek and accept that understanding and add to the progress of social evolution?
Again, I'm not saying it's fair. I know full well, as a person who belongs to a group that is lawfully discriminated against, that it can be damn tiring to have to constantly explain oneself to others. But you know what? It's worth it. Equality is a worthy goal, but not an easy one. It demands that we must all be heroes. Heroism is not the same as aggressive hostility. Heroism is self-discipline, patience, understanding, generosity...
The world will not give to you what you do not give to it. Mankind has potential for so much good, so much enlightenment, so much magnificent triumphs of what we would call virtue and humanity and progress -- but these things cannot and will not come unless those of us who want equality are willing to earn it, however unfair it may seem that that work must be done. We are all who we are. We are all capable of our own heroism. But we will fail if we continue to allow ourselves to believe the lies of entitlement. There is no productivity in victimization. There is no progress from passivity. I do not preach that everyone should be a martyr, but if you read this far and leave with anything, I want you to leave with this thought:
You are a member of the infinitely variable and complex structure, Mankind. You have a right to yourself as much as anyone, but the world is not a kind or merciful place. Mankind is a machine capable of magnificent functions, but the machine cannot function if its parts cannot work in harmony. It is up to you to show, through peace and open education, that you can belong in the whole without disrupting its productivity. It is equally up to your fellow humans to make an effort to incorporate the solution you offer. But it is not up to them to find your place for you, or to figure out how you work unless you meet them half way and welcome them into who you are, as you want them to welcome you into identification as part of who THEY are.
These are idealistic thoughts. These are demanding thoughts. But if even one person reads this and decides to devote their efforts to educating those who are willing and to living as productive and peaceful a life as their society will allow them to live, then the world has been changed just that much for the better, and that is worth everything. Our evolution is EVERYBODY'S business.
18 August 2009
From Washington DC, the world is listening, Fayah.
There is nothing I can add to this that can possibly do anything but detract from the eloquence of these words. This is the poetry of something real, that means more as itself than it ever could through the reinterpretation of the greatest poets or politicians.
In the brutality, the honesty, and the beauty -- there is Truth. This is something important.
From Idiomagic on LiveJournal, a public post, copied here in its entirety:
I heartily wish I didn't have to report this. I just found out that Fayah was one of the women who led the protests on July 30th at Neda Agha Soltan's gravesite.
She was beaten severely by several Basij militiamen with batons, and struck repeatedly on the head.
Her friends carried her away from the cemetary to a friend's house. She died on August 2nd, having never regained consciousness.
Fayah Azadi was 23 years old, a student at Tehran University, studying art. She was a talented painter, and a staunch supporter of democracy and women's rights.
Nothing I can say can do justice to her courage and dedication and resolve, so I am reposting her last email to me. Her words are the best epitaph I can imagine.
Please note, if you are one of the people who abhors martyrdom and the very concept of dying for a cause, I respect your opinion but this is not the place to state it. I am deeply distraught right now, and I fear I would not give your opinions the thoughtful response that they deserve. Thank you.
"I love life. I love to laugh and be with my friends. There are so many books I want to read, movies I want to see, people I want to meet. I want to marry, to be a good wife and mother. I want to grow old with the people I love, to feel the sun on my face, to see the ocean, to travel.
My country is in a terrible state. People have no jobs. There is no money. People have no freedom. Women must hide themselves from the world, and we have no choices.
Our people--we are not terrorists. We hate terrorists. And that is what our government has become. They kill our people for no reason. They torture us in their prisons because we want freedom. They make our country look evil, they make our religion look evil.
We are fighting for our freedom, for our religion, for our country. If we do nothing while injustice abounds, we become unjust. We turn into the ones we hate.
I have to fight. I have to go back on the streets. I will make them kill me. I will join Neda, with my friends, and then maybe the world will hear us.
I never thought I would become a martyr, but it is needed. The more of us they kill, the smaller they become, the more strength the people will have. Maybe my death will mean nothing, but maybe it will buy my country freedom.
I am very sad that I will never be a mother, that I will never do the things I love, but I would rather die than do nothing and know that I am to blame for the tortures, the murder, the hatred.
Please tell the world how much we love life. That we are not terrorists. We just want to be free."
-----
From Washington DC, the world is listening, Fayah.
--VG
In the brutality, the honesty, and the beauty -- there is Truth. This is something important.
From Idiomagic on LiveJournal, a public post, copied here in its entirety:
I heartily wish I didn't have to report this. I just found out that Fayah was one of the women who led the protests on July 30th at Neda Agha Soltan's gravesite.
She was beaten severely by several Basij militiamen with batons, and struck repeatedly on the head.
Her friends carried her away from the cemetary to a friend's house. She died on August 2nd, having never regained consciousness.
Fayah Azadi was 23 years old, a student at Tehran University, studying art. She was a talented painter, and a staunch supporter of democracy and women's rights.
Nothing I can say can do justice to her courage and dedication and resolve, so I am reposting her last email to me. Her words are the best epitaph I can imagine.
Please note, if you are one of the people who abhors martyrdom and the very concept of dying for a cause, I respect your opinion but this is not the place to state it. I am deeply distraught right now, and I fear I would not give your opinions the thoughtful response that they deserve. Thank you.
"I love life. I love to laugh and be with my friends. There are so many books I want to read, movies I want to see, people I want to meet. I want to marry, to be a good wife and mother. I want to grow old with the people I love, to feel the sun on my face, to see the ocean, to travel.
My country is in a terrible state. People have no jobs. There is no money. People have no freedom. Women must hide themselves from the world, and we have no choices.
Our people--we are not terrorists. We hate terrorists. And that is what our government has become. They kill our people for no reason. They torture us in their prisons because we want freedom. They make our country look evil, they make our religion look evil.
We are fighting for our freedom, for our religion, for our country. If we do nothing while injustice abounds, we become unjust. We turn into the ones we hate.
I have to fight. I have to go back on the streets. I will make them kill me. I will join Neda, with my friends, and then maybe the world will hear us.
I never thought I would become a martyr, but it is needed. The more of us they kill, the smaller they become, the more strength the people will have. Maybe my death will mean nothing, but maybe it will buy my country freedom.
I am very sad that I will never be a mother, that I will never do the things I love, but I would rather die than do nothing and know that I am to blame for the tortures, the murder, the hatred.
Please tell the world how much we love life. That we are not terrorists. We just want to be free."
-----
From Washington DC, the world is listening, Fayah.
--VG
18 February 2009
History in action!
Tonight, the Interpreting Material Culture class was finally introduced to the main house at Morven, where we'll be doing a lot of work in the coming weeks. Our previous classes have been held in the coach house, which is not connected to the mansion itself.
Follow this link to see the official Morven Park website. The first large green button under the animated banner, "Mansion & Grounds," has a brief advertisement video that allows you to see some of the outside of the house and grounds. It calls the house "newly renovated." In fact, the house is being renovated and is not yet open to the public. The current plan is to have a few of the front rooms open to visitors by April, but at the moment, the house is a gutted work-in-progress.
As grand as it looks in the video and website pictures, the impressive front is barely a hint at the massive labyrinthine interior. It is unimaginably immense, which is why the restoration process has taken over two decades so far and still has a long way to go. As of now, approximately $8 million has gone into the restoration project, which is small peanuts compared to other sites, and what will eventually be spent on this one. It is only through the luck of some smart financial moves early in the project that the foundation can afford to continue its efforts with the economy as it is now.
Below, I have about 25 photographs from our introductory tour. They were taken with my cell phone, so I apologize for the horrid quality of some of them. Dim light messes with the auto-focus, it seems.
And now, take a look at a few snapshots of what goes into preserving a historic home:
This is a sadly fuzzy shot of a lightbulb above the door to the mansion safe, which was installed in the 1920's. It was very Mafia.
These are the original floorboards, which have been in storage in a trailer for three years. Many rooms have piles of these lying around. They're being reacclimated to their original environment: before reinstalling them, the wood needs time to return to its proper shape after being stored elsewhere for so long. Each floorboard is numbered; they will be laid exactly the way they were before.
This photo is difficult to make out, but it was meant to be a shot of the wall under a staircase in the same hallway the safe door is in. With the floorboards removed, there's a gap between the wall and floor letting in light from the next room.
There are gaps like these in many of the rooms, made to install a fantastic fire-extinguishing system that uses an oxygen,removing mist rather than water to extinguish fire. You can see the original brickwork through the gaps.
This room is right off the main entry. I took this photo to show the high ceilings. The section of missing wall in the corner shows the original wooden framework, behind which is the outer wall of the earlier brick structure.
A close-up of one of the French windows. This will all be repainted and patched up eventually.
And here's what's behind that bare framework in the corner two photos up! You can see the foundation of the main structure. There's a large gap because it was originally slightly out of alignment with the additions.
Another view of the wall through the framework. You can't see it in my photos sadly, but this spot is still unpatched because they actually found where there used to be a door leading out of the main structure, which was bricked over and hidden.
Messy, deteriorated brickwork between the two walls.
An unfinished patching job where the pipes leading to the fire extinguishers were installed. I'm not sure what the white stuff is exactly, but we were instructed not to touch it with our bare hands as it contains lime.
The doorway between another side room and the main hall. It's a huge doorway and the ceiling goes up yet another three feet or so beyond it.
Some terrifying carvings on a mantlepiece.
The so-called Trophy Room is everyone's favourite. In stark contrast to the pale yellow and white dust-covered rooms of the rest of the house, it is rich and colorful, the top half of the wall papered in salmon burlap, and the bottom half all dark wood. The hunting trophies were inherited by the Davis family from previous owners.
The Trophy Room again. A braided hoof...?
MOOSE!
A wider view of the room.
Piled furniture under the deer head. I actually took this photo three times because it so confused me -- the large covered thing in the middle was not yellow, and I have no idea why my camera continued to register it as such. It was white. Huh.
In the bathroom off one corner of the Trophy Room -- a square toilet!
More mantle sculpture in the main hall.
Ancient electrical fixtures in the library. The wires are covered in CLOTH. Yes, that's a good idea...
Original wallpaper behind the bookshelf panneling.
Most of the ceilings had been restored, but here's one that had had no work done on it yet. It was terribly shabby.
Another gap between wall and wall, this one on the 2nd floor.
The kitchen! An iron stovetop put in where the hearth used to be.
The bottom of the cabinets all around the room. I thought it was quite beautiful.
Govorner Davis' bed. We were all at a loss as to how anyone could sleep comfortably on that -- it's too short for any adult of normal height.
So ends my tour. There will be more as the semester progresses. In March and April, once the construction has been finished in a few of the lower-level rooms, our class will go in to assist with some of the less specialized tasks -- taking inventory, re-hanging mirrors and portraits, situating the furniture, etc. Our professor told us we may even be allowed to help restore some of the heads in the Trophy Room, but they have to consult the experts on that, since the methods of preserving trophies back then involved arsenic and they don't know right now if it's safe to let students help.
A great class today. I hope those of you not paying for this have enjoyed my little glimpse into the field I plan to go into!
Follow this link to see the official Morven Park website. The first large green button under the animated banner, "Mansion & Grounds," has a brief advertisement video that allows you to see some of the outside of the house and grounds. It calls the house "newly renovated." In fact, the house is being renovated and is not yet open to the public. The current plan is to have a few of the front rooms open to visitors by April, but at the moment, the house is a gutted work-in-progress.
As grand as it looks in the video and website pictures, the impressive front is barely a hint at the massive labyrinthine interior. It is unimaginably immense, which is why the restoration process has taken over two decades so far and still has a long way to go. As of now, approximately $8 million has gone into the restoration project, which is small peanuts compared to other sites, and what will eventually be spent on this one. It is only through the luck of some smart financial moves early in the project that the foundation can afford to continue its efforts with the economy as it is now.
Below, I have about 25 photographs from our introductory tour. They were taken with my cell phone, so I apologize for the horrid quality of some of them. Dim light messes with the auto-focus, it seems.
And now, take a look at a few snapshots of what goes into preserving a historic home:
This is a sadly fuzzy shot of a lightbulb above the door to the mansion safe, which was installed in the 1920's. It was very Mafia.
These are the original floorboards, which have been in storage in a trailer for three years. Many rooms have piles of these lying around. They're being reacclimated to their original environment: before reinstalling them, the wood needs time to return to its proper shape after being stored elsewhere for so long. Each floorboard is numbered; they will be laid exactly the way they were before.
This photo is difficult to make out, but it was meant to be a shot of the wall under a staircase in the same hallway the safe door is in. With the floorboards removed, there's a gap between the wall and floor letting in light from the next room.
There are gaps like these in many of the rooms, made to install a fantastic fire-extinguishing system that uses an oxygen,removing mist rather than water to extinguish fire. You can see the original brickwork through the gaps.
This room is right off the main entry. I took this photo to show the high ceilings. The section of missing wall in the corner shows the original wooden framework, behind which is the outer wall of the earlier brick structure.
A close-up of one of the French windows. This will all be repainted and patched up eventually.
And here's what's behind that bare framework in the corner two photos up! You can see the foundation of the main structure. There's a large gap because it was originally slightly out of alignment with the additions.
Another view of the wall through the framework. You can't see it in my photos sadly, but this spot is still unpatched because they actually found where there used to be a door leading out of the main structure, which was bricked over and hidden.
Messy, deteriorated brickwork between the two walls.
An unfinished patching job where the pipes leading to the fire extinguishers were installed. I'm not sure what the white stuff is exactly, but we were instructed not to touch it with our bare hands as it contains lime.
The doorway between another side room and the main hall. It's a huge doorway and the ceiling goes up yet another three feet or so beyond it.
Some terrifying carvings on a mantlepiece.
The so-called Trophy Room is everyone's favourite. In stark contrast to the pale yellow and white dust-covered rooms of the rest of the house, it is rich and colorful, the top half of the wall papered in salmon burlap, and the bottom half all dark wood. The hunting trophies were inherited by the Davis family from previous owners.
The Trophy Room again. A braided hoof...?
MOOSE!
A wider view of the room.
Piled furniture under the deer head. I actually took this photo three times because it so confused me -- the large covered thing in the middle was not yellow, and I have no idea why my camera continued to register it as such. It was white. Huh.
In the bathroom off one corner of the Trophy Room -- a square toilet!
More mantle sculpture in the main hall.
Ancient electrical fixtures in the library. The wires are covered in CLOTH. Yes, that's a good idea...
Original wallpaper behind the bookshelf panneling.
Most of the ceilings had been restored, but here's one that had had no work done on it yet. It was terribly shabby.
Another gap between wall and wall, this one on the 2nd floor.
The kitchen! An iron stovetop put in where the hearth used to be.
The bottom of the cabinets all around the room. I thought it was quite beautiful.
Govorner Davis' bed. We were all at a loss as to how anyone could sleep comfortably on that -- it's too short for any adult of normal height.
So ends my tour. There will be more as the semester progresses. In March and April, once the construction has been finished in a few of the lower-level rooms, our class will go in to assist with some of the less specialized tasks -- taking inventory, re-hanging mirrors and portraits, situating the furniture, etc. Our professor told us we may even be allowed to help restore some of the heads in the Trophy Room, but they have to consult the experts on that, since the methods of preserving trophies back then involved arsenic and they don't know right now if it's safe to let students help.
A great class today. I hope those of you not paying for this have enjoyed my little glimpse into the field I plan to go into!
18 January 2009
My Opening Farewell
Suddenly it’s so hard to find
The sound of the words to speak her troubled mind,
So I’m offering these to her as if to be kind:
There’s a train everyday leaving either way;
There’s a world, you know.
There’s a way to go,
And you’ll soon be gone – that’s just as well.
This is my opening farewell.
~Jackson Browne
-----
My family and I will be leaving DC tomorrow for the inauguration. We’ll be staying two or three nights out in the mountains and return when the most chaotic part of the political circus has gone back home.
A lot of people have asked me why we would choose to make our collective exodus for such an historic event. The simplest answer is convenience and safety. The city will be flooded with people, and beginning at midnight tomorrow, all the bridges will be closed. Even during normal workdays, it’s hard for us to find anywhere to put our cars, as we have no garage or back yard and are not permitted to park on the side-streets – we live on one of the city’s main streets. It would be an absurd task to so much as go down to the grocery store. Add to that the fact that the city will be as fortified as it can be made, and many of its exits blocked... we simply do not wish to be around for it.
But for my part, I have reasons more jaded. I have never been a great fan of political fervor, and the emphasis being mounted on this event makes me ill. Historic it will be indeed. And a shift in the direction of this country was, without a doubt, necessary. But I believe the real historical event will be a day people may not recognize at all, and one I probably will not live to see. It will come when we, as a society, elect a PERSON to the presidency who will be to us a leader first, regardless of whether they are black or white, gay or straight or bisexual or asexual, man or woman or transgendered, childless or a parent of many, Christian or Jewish or Muslim or atheist or Buddhist or Wiccan or members of a dragon-worshipping Druidic sect who all put on lingerie and shake their booties to Queen songs every Wednesday night in the parking lot of a holy abandoned bowling alley.
We will remember Obama’s inauguration the way we remember our children’s first words. It will be something precious, but it will not be the defining moment that shapes our nation any more than the first time I got my 17-month-old goddaughter to say “please” is indicative to me of who she will be as an adult. We are showing that we are not longer the world’s infant nation throwing tantrums for our black milk. We as people are growing up, but we have not yet evolved.
The real historic day will come when we learn to see each other as people first. It will come when equality under the law means equality under the law. It will come when we obliterate categories of people as standards of judgment. It will come the day we elect a person to our Presidency and the first thought in our minds is not “Wow, a lesbian President!” but rather,
“We have chosen well.”
The sound of the words to speak her troubled mind,
So I’m offering these to her as if to be kind:
There’s a train everyday leaving either way;
There’s a world, you know.
There’s a way to go,
And you’ll soon be gone – that’s just as well.
This is my opening farewell.
~Jackson Browne
-----
My family and I will be leaving DC tomorrow for the inauguration. We’ll be staying two or three nights out in the mountains and return when the most chaotic part of the political circus has gone back home.
A lot of people have asked me why we would choose to make our collective exodus for such an historic event. The simplest answer is convenience and safety. The city will be flooded with people, and beginning at midnight tomorrow, all the bridges will be closed. Even during normal workdays, it’s hard for us to find anywhere to put our cars, as we have no garage or back yard and are not permitted to park on the side-streets – we live on one of the city’s main streets. It would be an absurd task to so much as go down to the grocery store. Add to that the fact that the city will be as fortified as it can be made, and many of its exits blocked... we simply do not wish to be around for it.
But for my part, I have reasons more jaded. I have never been a great fan of political fervor, and the emphasis being mounted on this event makes me ill. Historic it will be indeed. And a shift in the direction of this country was, without a doubt, necessary. But I believe the real historical event will be a day people may not recognize at all, and one I probably will not live to see. It will come when we, as a society, elect a PERSON to the presidency who will be to us a leader first, regardless of whether they are black or white, gay or straight or bisexual or asexual, man or woman or transgendered, childless or a parent of many, Christian or Jewish or Muslim or atheist or Buddhist or Wiccan or members of a dragon-worshipping Druidic sect who all put on lingerie and shake their booties to Queen songs every Wednesday night in the parking lot of a holy abandoned bowling alley.
We will remember Obama’s inauguration the way we remember our children’s first words. It will be something precious, but it will not be the defining moment that shapes our nation any more than the first time I got my 17-month-old goddaughter to say “please” is indicative to me of who she will be as an adult. We are showing that we are not longer the world’s infant nation throwing tantrums for our black milk. We as people are growing up, but we have not yet evolved.
The real historic day will come when we learn to see each other as people first. It will come when equality under the law means equality under the law. It will come when we obliterate categories of people as standards of judgment. It will come the day we elect a person to our Presidency and the first thought in our minds is not “Wow, a lesbian President!” but rather,
“We have chosen well.”
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