Saturday, November 23, 2013

Thanksgiving realness

Hey everyone!  I've been thinking about writing this post for the last
few days.  I gotta say, I am really excited about it.  I was almost
more excited to do ACTUAL RESEARCH about it, and also to share my
findings with you.

I want to talk about Thanksgiving, and I want to talk about the fact
that on the actual day of Thanksgiving, I am sure there will be many
posts and comments from many people regarding the true meaning of
Thanksgiving, and how we have built this country on nothing but trans
fats and Indian bones.  While I don't doubt the manner of murder,
appropriation, and opression that has paved the way for us all, I have
a few things to say about the decisions you all make when you decide
to take up a cause.  First of all, know your history.  If there's one
thing I've noticed about the world, and the young idiots that are
plotting and planning on running this world, it's that you all know
dick about your own country's history.  Here's the thing; I am proud
of you for standing up for social justice issues, because they are
important.  What I simply cannot sit idly by and watch, is when you
all post generic pictures of an indiginous person of the Americas, in
front of an American flag(a flag with 50 stars I might add.  Let's
just say this photo was taken around the 1850s.  There would have only
been 31 stars.)  At the , or a generic picture of a Chief of a non
descript tribe with that horrible giant white meme font over it that
reads something like, "US government lied to you?  That must be
tough."  which is HILARIOUS, because there was BARELY a functioning
government when this photo was taken.  If the first recorded permanent
image was taken by Thomas Wedgewood in 1790, and our founding fathers
signed the Constitution in 1776, that's 26 years of the most basic
government, so internet, check your facts.  ALSO, can we talk about
how every single on of these photographs is of the same man, and is
supposed to represent roughly 18 million people(before the first
European invasions), of varying tribes, the math on that
people.  Your heart is in the right place, but you need to think about
what you're doing when you put up a generic photo with a generic
phrase that was most likely written by a white college kid who just
took Anthro 101, and you think you're really saying something. Well,
you are, you're just saying the wrong thing.  You're generalizing and
marginalizing further, a people who have already been marginalized,
stereotyped, and shoved out of the way in the name of Manifest
Destiny.  '

Now, what I really want to say, is that there is nothing wrong with
the celebration of Thanksgiving in today's modern world.  If you dig
even a centimeter down, you will learn that Thanksgiving was already
being celebrated in England.  It had already been a tradition of
English reformers years before they came to Plymouth

   "Days of Thanksgiving and special thanksgivng religious services
became important during the English Reformation in the reign of Henry

Basically, the church used to have 95 church holidays, where it was
mandatory for all people to attend church, not go to work, ,and pay
for expensive church relegated events.  The Puritans were pretty much
like, "Yeah, this is costing us a million dollars, and we, like, don't
even want to go to this party."  Oh, yeah, the year is 1536, which is
84 years before those 102 passengers, 14 crew members, and 2 dogs
would sail from September 6 to November 21 1620 in search of religious

Ok, so the reformers pared all of these church mandated holy days down
to two days;  Days of Fasting and days of Thanksgiving.  They, being a
religious folk, placed their faith in their god and in the face of
disaster or "threats of judgement from god," resorted to fasting as a
means of penance. The times where they felt god had especially blessed
them were referred to as Days of Thanksgiving.  Canada also celebrates
Thanksgiving on October 14th.  As do Liberians, Puerto Ricans, and the
folks from Norfolk Island.

The history of Thanksgiving in the United States is not well
documented, however, there are accounts of what took place there.  I
would also like to note that of the 102 passengers traveling on the
Mayflower (one of whom was an indentured servant of Edward Winslow,
named George Soule, who is, one of my distant relatives.) only 57
survived that first year, mostly due to the poor traveling conditions
of the Mayflower, and of course, good old scurvy.  Only 53 pilgrims
attended that first Thanksgiving in 1622, along with 90 Native
Americans.  Now, here's where I know all of you are getting your
knickers in a twist.  It's obvious that the Pilgrims didn't know their
asses from their elbows when they got to Massachusettes, and that they
didn't only die from poor conditions on the ship, many of them died
from starvation, probably lack of basic working medical knowledge
(Penicillin wasn't discovered until 1929)  and starvation.  The tribe
that was present for that first Thanksgiving was the Wampanoag, along
with Tisquantum, or as we were all so basically taught in school,
"Squanto."  He was a real dude.  A member of the Patuxset tribe,
Tisquantum was captured by Captain George Weymouth in around 1605 and
taken to England.  There he learned English, and thus became an
interpreter for the white men.  He made it back to New england in
around 1614, and was abducted again by Captain John Smith, who
attempted to sell him and a few other gents into slavery in Spain.
Squanto was taken in by some local friars who were on to Smith's slave
trade game, and Squanto convinced them to let him return home.  He
made his way back to London, and then travelled to Newfoundland in
1617.  One year later, he was back in London, and then finally made it
back to North American in 1619.   Upon his arrival back in new
England, he discovered that mostof this tribe, and the coastal New
England tribes had been killed off by plague, which was thought to be
smallpox, but was more likely that it was "Leptospirosis," which is a
bacterial infection that is transmitted to humans through water
contaminated with animal urine.  Whoa.  Learn something new every day

From here we pretty much know what happened, or what we think
happened.  Tisquantum was introduced to the Plymouth colonists by "the
Abenaki sagamore, Samoset." who was actually the first indiginous
person to make contact with the Pilgrims.  Tisquantum's involvement
from here is somthing that we may never know the exactness of, but he
was accounted for in the records and writings of Edward Winslow.

Listen, I know this is a lot, and I know that when ya'll read this,
you will be bored, (and maybe a little mad).  It is your natural
reaction to history, I know.  I'm almost done I promise.  I'd like to
bring it back around to this simple fact, the Pilgrims celebrated
Thanksgiving as a celebration of familiar traditions from their former
home.  They packed up their shit and left their home, hoping for
something better, and those first few years brought them a whole lot
of death and misery.  Having a celebration after a shitty year, to
ring in your accomplishments, which were, at that point, just staying
alive, seems pretty decent in my book.  Sure, the Thanksgiving we know
and love now is, I am sure a far cry from what it was in 1622, but
that's ok.  I'm sure if the Pilgrims had canned yamms with
marshmallows on top, they would have loved it.

Traditions are a funny thing right? I bet, if you looked at any
holiday, or tradition throughout your own cultural history, you would
find events in history much like Thanksgiving.  Also, I would like to
remind EVERYONE that I know how fucked up our collective American
history is, and I'm not denying that relations between the white men
and women who landed in Plymouth had a perfect Pleasantville
relationship with the people who arrived first, but I would also just
like to remind everyone that if your ancestors, or mine had never
decided to get out of the hells they were living in, none of you would
even be here.  It also should be noted that once upon a time, all land
masses on the planet were connected and early men, women, and children
walked across vast expanses of land in order to find somewhere new for
whatever their reasons may have been, most likely, food availability,
shelter, climate change, etc. Basically, we come from here, but our
ancestors ALL come from everywhere, and if they hadn't made that trek
to where they are now, your happy asses wouldn't be staring down into
the depths of your iphone reading my bitchy blog.  The entire world
has a sordid, bloody, and unjust history strewn with the bodies of
those oppressed, enslaved, and held down by those who put themselves
in charge of other people.  Instead of posting some bogus meme trying
to convey your feeble attempts at social activism, do a little
digging, learn a little something about what you're actually saying,
and then come at me.  History is important, and there are no excuses
for not knowing your own country's heritage.  Yes, it has had its
horrifying moments, and no, we are not finished, and may never be
finished fighting the good fight, which is, making sure that every
single person in this country, in this world, has the same rights, and
is treated the same regardless of your color, or whether you do or do
not believe in a god.

History is extremely complicated.  Facts are sometimes hard to check,
they are not always the most accurate, they are often biased, and they
are constantly being challenged, contested, and amended.  Our
collective history as Americans is something we need to learn from,
and learn about, so take a second and learn about it.  From Chicago,
take the interstate straight west towards the Mississippi, and take in
the landscape.  Can you imagine being one of the first people to lay
eyes on those bluffs, let alone, that wide, soulful river?  Can you
imagine travelling for months only to discover Yellowstone?  Can you,
for a second, imagine being on a musty old tall ship for the better
part of two months, smelling other people's shit and vomit, wondering
if you're going to make it there, wondering if you're going to die,
wondering if your family is going to die, wondering what the hell you
just did, and if you made the right choice?  Can you then imagine
arriving to the place you were sailing to, and then watching half of
your friends and family die in that first year?  You might get to
thinking that you made the wrong choice.  Then, by some miracle, a
group of helpful locals basically take pity on your dumb asses and
teach you how to cultivate the land, grow your own food, and how to
live off of what the land provides.  At the end of that second year,
you've managed to grow a bunch of food, and your remaining family and
friends will live to see another year.  Who wouldn't want to
celebrate?  I sure would.

In closing, I urge you to remember where you come from and what and
who got you here, and what you truly have to be thankful for as a
person of this country.  I also urge you to involve yourself in the
history of this country beyond superficial knowledge, and to attempt
to truly understand what it is you want to say, and are saying about
it.  I leave you with this:

"Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday
epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how
we experience life and the world." -John Milton


Thursday, November 21, 2013

The sometimes bearable lightness of being.

I don't really have a memory of writing this, but I love how impressively eloquent I can get when it's late, and I have had a few beers. Time is both cruel and kind to us all, and what we recognize as darkness only turns out to be light in the end. I have been thinking a lot about this life I used to live, And how difficult it can seem to adjust to the final acknowledgement of adulthood.  The best part of all of this, is that I have made some truly beautiful, hilarious, and sad memories, and that, dear friends, is the point.  All of the blackness and tears, and happy drunk times, and feelings of accomplishment and failure, are what makes you a person.  Just because you scream "YOLO" every chance you get does not mean you are living any sort of interesting of fulfilled life.  Getting to truly know yourself, and realize that the incredible journey you are on  takes so much less time that you'd imagined is where the true magic begins.  This being the month of giving thanks and all, I am grateful for the overwhelming power of human memory, and it's ability to transform a place as simple and comfortable as my room, into a virtual photo album of people, places, imagined loves, and very real losses.  I am grateful to this city for introducing me to all of you whom I have the pleasure of calling my friends.  I am grateful for the opportunities I have been given, and for those that have been taken away, and I am grateful to be alive to see the change in myself and in others as we grow, and age, and truly live over and over again.  Please enjoy the semi-drunken musings of a 31 year old person who is on the journey...

 October 27, 2013

 It's like I forgot what it was like to be sad, and emotional, and like I forgot what it was like to listen to records in my apartment, and think about how heavy we all thought it was. It was so heavy there for a minute. it really was. We were all just sitting in our living rooms listening to this music that is/was just a complete replica of what we were feeling at that time. I was thinking about how much I used to love, and how much I still do love Death Cab for Cutie, and that tonight, I searched, and scoured through my CDs, for my Death Cab albums, because I wanted them near me. I wanted to hear them, and to feel that tangible sadness, and to think about who I was ten years ago when I was listening to all of this. I wanted to remember that I used to get emotional about everything. I used to have emotions. Before we were hipsters, we all used to be EMO! Don't let the world allow you to forget that once upon a time, we were all scene kids who wanted to be awesome and meet every member of every band ever, and be cool. We really just wanted to feel like we were cool. In a way, think of it like, people who were late twenty-somethings in the 90s, who knew Curt Cobain, or Courtney Love, and who felt like that and that those people were their anthem. For the early part of my twenties through the later part of my twenties, all I wanted to was to give Ben Gibbard a hug. I didn't know how sad I was until I realized I was sad. early Death Cab really set the bar for sadness, and I think that it was absolutely the right thing and the right time for me to feel this emotional. I wanted to think that somewhere out there, was a man, not unlike Ben Gibbard, who needed me to save him. He was out there somewhere, and I was here, and I was waiting for him to appear unto me, and together, we would work through our crippling sadness, and what I have later described, and understood to be depression, and we would have this beautiful, and perfect life together. He was the real and genuine manifestation of what I thought and felt all men my age, at the time, wanted, thought, acted like, and appeared to be. This much may have been true, but I wanted so much more. I have lived one thousand lives before the one I am living now, and the one that seems most genuine, the one that makes the most sense to me, is the one I was living when I was 21, in the South Loop, alone, drinking white wine, and showing up places alone, and meeting people who were in the same mental place I was in. Also, I get it. Ten years ago, when we were 21, we were all mostly in the same place, and were living out the same fantasy about our lives. I understand that. I get that we were all fucked up, and we were all thinking of different ways to figure out how to escape. Something About Airplanes, and The Photo Album saved every part of my life, and stood for everything I was feeling even if I didn't know it was a feeling I needed to be feeling. I just wanted to live in this dramatic fantasy life where Dave Eggers was my emotionally connected and intuitive husband, and Death Cab for Cutie was the soundtrack to my every move. Every move,watched. I imagined my life playing out like a cool hipster romantic drama, before those were even a thing. I wanted so much from a person I had no chance of ever knowing. "He's unresponsive because you're irresponsible." is one of the best lines ever written ever. EVER. These songs are about breakups, and extreme heartbreaks, and listlessness, and the general ennui that comes with being a mid twenty-something person. I wanted to think I was above this, but I wasn't. I am not. I am absolutely at the level, I am at sea level with this information. We are basically equal, and we are 100% ok with it. I am not a bitter, or jaded person, at all, I mean, maybe a little, but no more than the next person.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Late night sad jams

Sunday Morning, September 1, 2013 Currently, it is 5:14AM, and I have been thinking about this for the last few days. I've thought long and hard about how I should write about anything. I just need to write. I'm listening to musicals, and I'm sad. So sad. I'm listening to Barbara Streisand, so you know, I'm serious about my sadness. I want to think, that by this time in my life, I would be over being so sad about meetings and partings, by I'm not. I think about everyone's lives, and I think about how everyone is just living their lives,and I am living my life, and I am not a sad person. We are not sad people. I am so happy for you. I want you to know that most of all. I am so happy for you. I have wanted nothing for any of us, except for us to be happy, and for the most part, we are. We are happy people, and we are living our lives, and we are being happy living those lives. I want you to know, that even though every time we meet, I am so happy, and so sad at the same time. I take every second for granted because I think I am going to go home, and see you tomorrow, or next week, or something. I think that I will see you whenever I want, and I need to remember that I won't see you for probably another few months, which isn't any time at all, but it is SO much time. Time is so fucked up, and if I never had to say goodbye to you ever again, that would make me so happy. If it were a different time for us, maybe it would have been a different emotional situation. It just isn't that, and that is just something I have to learn, and something I have to live with. It's just the way this fucked up place works. I don't have words, and that is something I wish I had. I tried to talk to my cab driver, and I decided that what was going to work best for me tonight, was to just listen to some sad musicals, and cry it out, and deal with it. Just fucking deal with it. Just fucking live my fucking life, and you can live yours, and we're a part of each other's lives indefinitely, and nothing about that will change. Ever. I just think I was so stupid about time, and timing, and that that if we would have known anything about anything, it could have been totally awesome to be with you forever. I know that is fucked up to say, and idiotic, and all manner of inapropriate. I'm sorry. I have to feel my feelings when I feel them, and I want to feel them now. I want to feel destroyed by my emotions over a person who I will unconditionally love forever as my friend because this shit is real. I want to write about everything because I want everyone to know that even though I feel fucked up, and like I'm being fucked up, I can't blame it totally on how much I have had to drink tonight, and how many sad songs I will attempt to listen to over the course of the next few hours. I want everyone to know that I am capable of loving someone this much. I want you to know that I love you this much. I will love you forever and I will love you as intensely and as desperately as a person can love another human being, and that I will love you forever despite what happens in our separate lives. I will love you through everything and anything your future holds, and I hope you will love me through my future loves and losses and triumphs and tragedies. I don't care that we may have fucked up, I don't care that you have another person to love and spend your days loving. I mean, I do care, of course I care. What I mean is, I don't mind that that person is not me. It's ok, and I can handle it. I love every second I get to see you and spend time drinking beer with you talking about basic bullshit, and I will treasure every single moment of our friendship from our humble and fumbling beginnings until a time when we are too fucking old to even remember anything about anyone. I will love you until time ceases to exist, and aliens are punching us all in the face to make up for the fact that Will Smith punched one of them in a movie once. I will love you even when I can't help that I love you, and I will keep loving you even after that.