I'm Proud to be an American (MURKUN!!)

**This is an excerpt from a 'letter' home during my week at hyper-patriotic boot camp (Tar Heel Girls' State) taken from the evening of Flag Day**


Flag Day was horrible.

We had to march out in complete silence, and align in reverent rows facing the flag while girls wearing white dresses, who in a militaristic fashion, marched in actually barking "left... left... left, right, left". We stood at attention in the sweltering heat and had to listen to an awful poem dedicated to the flag.

Most patriotic poetry is unpleasant to say the least, but this particular one crossed too many lines for my liking. Perhaps it was too honest about us. Stepping back from that, in the first place, I'm uncomfortable with the idea of pledging my allegiance to a FLAG rather than to a COUNTRY. I'm supposed to be willing to die for a couple scraps of colored cloth? If I'm going to be loyal to anything it would have to be the the people of my country--living, breathing, humans. Why should I pledge myself to an abstract idea that has little to do with me or anything that I care about. It's too easy for a symbol to be co-opted and used to mean something that it shouldn't; it is too divorced from the reality of the United States which is multifaceted and simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

The pledge confuses me on another count: the frequency. Every day? Really? Is that necessary? Are we trying to say that our allegiance has to be renewed daily or it goes sour? Does loyalty have such an early expiration date as that? It isn't a particularly meaningful sort of allegiance/loyalty if it only lasts for a day. Ah well. Anyway, the poem made me feel like we were the evil empire (or the Alliance from Firefly & Serenity). There was one line about the flag feeling proud when mothers clutch it and weep for their lost sons, which made me feel physically sick. We're proud of causing death?! I often find patriotic rhetoric a bit silly, but that really disgusted me. By the end of the ceremony, when they were retiring the flag, I couldn't help but think to myself "Take it down. Get it out of my sight." I don't like feeling that way, but I really, really hated the sight of it.

Here's the horror itself:

I am the Flag
Howard Schnauber

---

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings. <-- NOT ANYMORE WE DON'T
I stand watch in America's halls of justice. <-- AND OVERFLOWING PRISONS
I fly majestically over institutions of learning. <-- AND CHURCHES SEEKING TO RETURN TO THE DARK AGES
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up ... and see me.


I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice. <-- DO WE? DO WE REALLY? AND HOW EXACTLY HAVE WE SHOWN THAT LATELY?
I stand for freedom. <-- WHEN I THINK OF AMERICA I THINK OF DETAINEE PRISONS AND THE DEFENSE OF MARRIAGE ACT
I am confident.
I am arrogant. <--- OH YEAH.. THAT'S JUST WHAT WE NEED.
I am proud. <-- OF WHAT EXACTLY?

When I am flown with my fellow banners,
my head is a little higher,
my colors a little truer. <-- OH LOVELY... SO WE THINK WE'RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE?

I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world. <-- YEAH... THAT'S NOT NECESSARILY GOOD...
I am worshipped -- I am saluted. <-- CREEPY!
I am loved -- I am revered.
I am respected -- and I am feared. <-- THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME FEEL TOO PROUD

I have fought in every battle of every war <--- UM. NO. WHAT?
for more then 200 years.
I was flown at Valley Forge,
Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appomattox.
I was there at San Juan Hill,
the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest,
Anzio, Rome, and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and
KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me. <--- NOT IN A POSITIVE WAY THOUGH
I was there.

I led my troops.
I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
but my soldiers cheered me
And I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled
on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt, for I am invincible. <-- MWAHAHAHA WE WILL MULTIPLY AND COVER THE EARTH!!!!

I have been soiled upon, burned, torn
and trampled on the streets of my country.
And when it's by those whom I've served in battle -- it hurts. <-- I THOUGHT YOU LIKED FREEDOM!? WHAT ABOUT FREEDOM OF SPEECH?
But I shall overcome -- for I am strong. <--- NO YOU WON'T. YOU'RE JUST A SYMBOL!! SHUT UP!

I have slipped the bonds of Earth
and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space
from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness
to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.

When I am torn into strips and used as bandages
for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,
I am proud. <-- AGAIN. SICKENING. I SEE NOTHING IN THIS STANZA TO BE PROUD OF.

My name is 'Old Glory'!
Long may I wave
o'er the land of the free
and the home of the brave.

Another odd thing is that during the sessions in the chapel where we link arms, sway, and sing 'God Bless the USA', devout atheist though I am, I involuntarily look towards the stained glass window at the pinnacle of the chapel and think "Please forgive me". I'm not sure who I'm talking to. Perhaps my parents. Perhaps my new country if I emigrate. Perhaps myself. At any rate, it makes me feel less horrible about participating in the cult-like behavior--It reminds me that I don't actually believe the bullshit that's coming out of my mouth.

The Fall

When I was little, I watched movies differently. I was entirely removed from the characters and their emotions; the most soul-crushingly sad film had no effect on me, and I derided those who 'got weepy', but I have begun to slide down the slippery slope towards emotional connection with films. I was reminded of the demise of my sarcastic inner child the other day at the Galaxy Cinema where 'The Fall' was showing. It was fantastic. It blended the drug-addled grime of 'Trainspotting', the magical realism of 'Pan's Labyrinth', and the sheer fun of 'The Princess Bride'. It is less focused on the linear, action-driven plot, and more on the style, artistry, and emotion--leaving the theatre, I was less interesting in tearing at plot holes than trying to preserve the beautiful, haunting images and transitions. It had a slightly art-house feel, yet it had a sufficient sense of humor established in the story sequences to avoid taking itself too seriously.

All the reviews of 'The Fall' that I've seen complain about the emphasis on style over plot, which, quite frankly, ticks me off. Why can't a film tell emotional truth rather than factual truth? 'The Fall' absolutely enthralled everyone in the theatre, and we were not merely oohing and aahing over the costumes (which were, by the way, fantastic). We were deeply invested in the interpersonal relationships. We cared about what conclusions they would come to, and what those conclusions would mean for the rest of us. It takes a lot to gain the trust of an audience to the point a which they are willing to listen to what you have to say about life. Anyone can hit viewers over the head with the ultimate meaning of their story, but it requires much more effort to get them to listen and take it seriously.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is this: films are not all created for the same purposes, and cannot all be judged in the same way.

Anyway...I like it...

Man.... Man Man is awesome, Man...

Have you ever loved something so much that you thought it could not possibly be better (best of all possible worlds, yeah?) and then you realize that it's more brilliant than you had initially been capable of imagining? I finally saw the lyrics to the first two Man Man albums, and it would not be an overstatement to say that I've fallen head over heels heals in love again. The world is a shinier, happier place now that I know all the words to Van Helsing Boom Box:

only time will tell if I'll allow the scenery around to eat me alive i wanna sleep for weeks like a dog at her feet even though i know it won't work out in the long run so i burn down the walls breathe like a shadow those arms i once knew hold me like ghosts i learn how to speak forgotten language i fall in the sea but forget how to swim and when anything that's anything becomes nothing that's everything and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have when anything that's anything becomes nothing that's everything and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have and only time will tell if I'll allow the scenery around to eat me alive i wanna sleep for weeks like a dog at her feet even though i know it won't work out in the long run so i burn down Nepal breathe like a shadow those arms i once knew hold me like ghosts i learn how to speak defeated language fall in the street as i howl at the moon and when anything that's anything becomes nothing that's everything and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have when anything that's anything becomes nothing that's everything and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have when anything that's anything becomes nothing that's everything and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have when anything that's anything becomes nothing that's everything and nothing is the only thing you ever seem to have

Man Man songs are simultaneously cheerful, cheeky, tragic, frighteningly true, experimental, wacky, and even more strangely: normal. At the risk of sounding highly pretentious, listening to one of their albums feels like listening to a life or at least a week in somebody's very complex life. They span the range of human emotion and from seemingly nonsense lyrics, they tell stories that, whether we've experienced them or not, we all know.

BLACK MISSION GOGGLES
the sky is falling like a sock of cocaine in the ministry of information subway train's derailing heads decapitating i catch her reflection and it seems to sing to me la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la she's a warm bodega high on Noriega strung out in Brooklyn like it's 1983 she wears her legs around her neck like a piece of ice her smile's a neon marque hipsters eat for free la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la i am falling like a sock of cocaine in the ministry of information I'm a warm bodega high on Noriega strung out in Brooklyn cause i fell in love with her moon cut moon cuts tiny like eyelash lonely cat nap whisper lonely cat nap whisper moon cut moon cuts tiny like eyelash lonely cat nap whisper lonely cat nap whisper and i walk around i whisper in her scalp i whisper on the wind i whisper once again

Man Man combines brilliant lyrics with experimental yet powerful melodies, rhythms, harmonies and an insane energy that is hard to comprehend.



So Good.

At the Movies

Recently, while at the movies with friends, we made the traditional post-movie pit stop as a herd. As we squeezed into the restroom with all the little old ladies, who had come to see Ocean's Thirteen, I saw it. There were glow sticks for sale in the tampon dispenser. Yes. Glow sticks. Could there be a more unfit thing to sell in the restroom?-- aside from, perhaps, kittens. On first thought they seem very ill-suited for the slot, but there are similarities:

• the size and shape is nearly identical
• dogs and small children should be discouraged from chewing on them
• they change color with use
• they're fabulous for 3D mixed-media work
  

Ultimately, I had to see one. I had to own one. A Women's Room Glow Stick.


I rummaged about for the quarters, put my change in the machine, and turned the lever. Out came a small white box not unlike a pack of cigarettes. There were three tiny glow sticks inside. They weren't even at a size where the logical progression from tampon to glow stick could be imagined. They were a complete non sequitur really. I can only guess what the stock folks were thinking.


"You know what would make the movie going experience even better?"
"What?"
"Teenagers with glow sticks."
"I know just the place."

Cars & E. Coli

On the topic of cars: I drove my Dad's stick-shift yesterday. My hands were shaking almost the whole time. Toward the end I sort of got the hang of it though. I stalled out a couple times at almost every single traffic light and at least 3 times I didn't push the clutch all the way in so I got stuck in neutral when I was trying to downshift to 1st. Augh! It was surprisingly okay though. I thought that I would totally lose it if I stalled out with cars behind me.


Last night we ordered a pizza from the Loop which just so happens to be in Cary. We got there and they had all these signs warning about the e. coli of which we were totally ignorant. Apparently, they got the order to close down just a minute or two after they took our order. They still gave us the pizza! The water was contaminated before the health department had time to test water and organize themselves to call all the restaurants in Cary dumbass! Anyways, my Dad was all nonchallant and decided in his infinite knowledge that because the pizza was cooked, we'd probably be fine... At first we weren't going to tell Mum because she'd freak out, but our consciences got the best of us. No nice tasty Loop pizza for us. She made us order a fresh pizza from someplace in Apex. Hmph.

The Loop

Stream of Consciousness

Montreal---shoes---sleep---tinfoilhatstoprotectusfromthealiensandthegovernmentbutisn'the
governmentamoreseriousthreattotheworld?they'reassociatedwiththePOSTOFFICEsohow
couldtheypossiblynotbeevil?evilforthemisabsolutelyrequisite---absolution,interestingwordyeah? Ithinksotooreligionsingeneralgivemethewig---conspiracy---yeahsoreligion---ooo,nah---so
VladimirPutin,there'saguyItrustasfarasicanthrowhimcuzreally,throwingtheoppositioninjailetc.
badness.hasn'trussiaalreadyhaditsshareofcrappypoliticalissues?everyoneistreadinglightly
thoughbecausetheyareneccessarytostopnorthkoreaandiranfromdoingallkindsofcrazystuff
butwhatdoworldleadersreallythinkrussiaisgoingtodotostopthem?wewouldappeartobedoomed
forrealthistime---goshthisisarepetivesongseetherispretteymuchallaroundlameidon'tknowwhy
i'mstilllisteningtothembleh---greenportfolio---whyisgreenassociatedwithwealthandenvy?when
reallyitoughttobemorerelatedtoearthynaturalstuffandhippieslikeme.idon'treallygetit.wow,i've
beendoingthisforsometime...

Pistachio Pudding is God

My week in the wilderness was awesome. There were breath-taking views etc etc... It's more fun to talk about what bugged me though. The younger girls were slowly but surely killing me. One randomly whacked another in the arm and then they started going at it. Their ridiculous argument continued on loudly for several minutes. Several minutes too many. I shan't claim that I have a high tolerance for loud, short creatures. "STOP IT RIGHT NOW! What is wrong with you?" "She started it!" "Yeah, but she continued it." "I don't CARE I'm finishing it." Another girl pretty much latched on to me. It was constantly "Jessie come over here." or frantic hand gestures to come closer whenever I was talking to somebody else. It was just plain weird.... "I can give you a foot massage!" "umm.... no thanks... that's really nice of you though..." or "Gosh, I keep talking to you like you're my sister!" "um..." Her sister is quite pleasant. Go figure.

Zoe (one of the leaders) was driving me crazy. Once, she walked up to me just as I had finished putting up my tent (complete with groundcloths and nigh-impossible to drive in stakes) and started saying "well... I don't know about this spot. that tree might come down any second."
"No, Zoe, I don't think it will. I shook it myself and it's also alive." "well, I still don't know." "Zoe, I'm pretty sure we'll be okay here." "well... If it were my tent..." "okay, where do you suggest?" "ah, ah,ah! don't ask me! You're supposed to be doing this on your own!" *Jessie thinks to herself: God damn you, you crazy old lady!* I take down the tent and move the whole shebang to less desireable rocky spot where she says: "This looks better!" "uh... Zoe? See that monster log caught in the crook of those limbs? There is no way in heck I am putting a tent under that. It sways in the wind." "oh. Why don't you move it back a bit" I do so... "Good" says Zoe. "Umm.. actually this is surrounded by a bunch of dead trees. They're wobbling." "Well, that looks like a good spot over there." Zoe points at the spot where I originally had it. She wasted a good 15 minutes of my precious time before dark. Time that I needed. I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE CUTE, YET STRONG-MINDED LITTLE OLD LADY!!

All in all: Good times were had.

Disillusioned with Disillusionment

A couple days ago, I was enjoying an indulgent lunch at the Bear Rock Cafe when it occurred to me that I had a beverage packaged in a glass bottle. I got up and upon being unable to locate a recycling bin, I queried the cashiers,

"Excuse me, do you have recycling facilities?"

"Uh... no.... sorry..."

"Do you have a suggestion box?"

"Uh... no... YES- yes we do. Right over there -->"

I must say that it was a pathetic excuse for a suggestion box and only had space for postal information and one's favorite sandwich. I ended up carrying the bottles home. Normally, I don't really think about recycling while I'm at restaurants- not even fast food joints, but the Bear Rock Cafe sells almost all of it's beverages in glass or plastic bottles. It seems like a logical step to get recycling facilities. Most people don't really doubt the value of recycling these days, so why wouldn't this have come up previously? M'Colleague Kat and I have both e-mailed the all powerful BRC and received the same form letter:

Thank you for taking the time to email us your feedback. We agree that it is important to recycle in our restaurants. I have forwarded your comments to our Vice President of Operations and we will work on this matter. Please accept the attached coupon and enjoy your next sandwich or salad on us. Thank you for your patronage. I hope you will visit again soon.
*Best regards,* *Deneen* **

*Deneen Nethercutt*
*Vice President of Marketing*
*Bear Rock Services, Inc.*

Hardly a satisfactory response. Worse than that is the unsettling truth that not for one second did I expect success from this venture. I assumed that my note would go unnoticed. This is a microcosm of a much larger issue. Things that should be shocking or outraging have become ho-hum and commonplace. Our nation has been lied to? Big Whoop. Since childhood, I have been taught that politicians lie and that they never to what they promise they will. We have made the mistake of becoming pessimistic realists with every ounce of idealism squeezed out. We have adapted and learned to accept and function in a world where our efforts are completely worthless.