"Courage is being scared to death . . . and saddlin' up anyway." John Wayne
I'm not sure why it took me so long to come to this particular blog day. I've been toying with the idea of simply skipping it, and perhaps that's what caught my attention. Why was I avoiding this one? Because "Demagogue Days" was so political? Ranty? Leftist? I think we all know me better than that by now. So . . .
What's in my craw?
I found it over my third cup of coffee. Fear. Let's have a chat about saddlin' up, shall we?
I'm with Almond, all the way down to the last level of Dante's hell. Pissed and self-righteous with him, hurt and indignant with him, embarrassed and vindicated with him. It came as quite a jolt that Canto XXX left the two of us (yes, the two of us) in the dust, so to speak, and horribly grieved at the real fallout. When do my rants, valid or not, take me away from my intended heroism? How many times have I been right, had a warrant (and boy, did we cover that one), filed my exquisitely crafted injunctions with the proper authorities and found myself, smoking gun in hand, so far from my cause?
Just to be clear, I'll provide disparate examples of such shenanigans:
1. Professor X warns me that I am too emotional about my essay subject. Obviously, Prof X is an Anal, Archaic, Sexless Fart who is part of the great conspiracy to rip the passion out of my writing. Final essay firmly refuses to examine AASF's alternate take on said well-loved subject (damn skippy!) and lands in a slap of dust and glory on AASF's desk. Take that. Flash forward to my first B.
2. With doctorate firmly in hand, and under sudden and decidedly unwarranted attack from an uptight academe, I (and my little warrant) saddle up and ride into Town. After all, others like myself need defending. Freedom of speech and religion and all that. I think I was feeling a little less John Wayne and a bit more Clint Eastwood, circa High Plains Drifter. (Of course, I completed forgot that Clint was dead, nothing more than a vengeful ghost with a bone to pick.) The rest was all pathos-driven-Facebook-diatribing, cost be damned. My mother isn't quite over it yet.
Let's now look at the fallout, shall we?
1. I publish the B paper in a well-respected academic journal. Accolades all around, self-satisfied grunts, and AASF will still not speak to me in the halls. Word.
2. I read the end of Almond's essay and drop my gun. Shit. Tyler. I had completely forgotten about Tyler. But there he stands, hair in his eyes, that stray bullet all on me. My student. Well, damn.
You know, sometimes "my bad" doesn't quite cut it.
I guess what I'm saying/asking/posing is something a bit like this: How far can our warrants take us? Or, how far are we willing to go? Personally, I don't think we can count the cost when saddling up, mostly because I think it might be too late. I've asked a lot of you, stuff like honesty and passion, and so I hope it's not too late or too much to ask one more thing: foresight. Temperance. Just in those places where we have forgotten a little thing like ethos and we are galloping so fast toward our target that the townfolk get a bit blurry. I think Steve Almond, and I, are a bit trigger happy. Maybe it's worse to be slow on the draw? Either way, when it comes to our writing (and maybe the rest), qualitative balance couldn't hurt.
One last thing. Just for my Tyler who came up after class: I really hope the shooting match isn't over. You were the point, all along.
Almond's last two Cantos gripped me. I think we can all remember times when we've gotten so involved in "winning" an argument or holding the moral high ground, that we lost sight of why we started the argument in the first place. And yes, I absolutely think that we should do our best to avoid those situations. But, as I said in class, there comes a point when you've got to stand up and take a shot. It's all about balance. Sure, there are plenty of times when it's just not worth it. But sometimes, a shooting match is called for. Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, your beliefs, someone you love, or simply what is right.
ReplyDeleteAs I'm mulling this over, the incident in my own life that stands out the most is not a time that I over-stepped the bounds of reasonable confrontation, though believe me there are PLENTY of those, but the time that I didn't. For a multitude of reasons, this is not a story I tell often, but I think it belongs here. When I first moved to Auburn, knowing no one, trying to adjust to a very unfamiliar culture, being 3000 miles away from my family, trying to fit in, trying not to sink in the academic ocean I'd been thrown into, I became involved with a "campus ministry" group. At first, things were great, everyone was friendly, I made friends, we made memories together, we laughed, we cried, and we felt like we were a unit, a unit that actually existed for a purpose and was doing some good in the world. And, in a way, we were. The organization was very big on service projects and relationship building, and to this day I admire that about them. But, there was a very dark side to the group as well. I never realized it when I was still involved there, but the truth was the group was a cult. Oh, they had more or less main stream Christian theology, but their methods of control, their desire to be the all encompassing social, emotional, and spiritual authorities in peoples lives, and the psychological means they used to put themselves in that position, were all very cultish. In fact, the group meets 12 out of 14 of the hallmarks of a cults set out by the International Cultic Studies Association. Like I said, I never realized how many friends I had lost, how much I had allowed to fall by the way side, or the inordinate amount of time and money I put into that place until later. And I don't think I would have had they not thrown me out. The reasons behind their decision to remove me from leadership, instruct their core group to cut me out of their lives, and make it very clear that I was not welcome there anymore are complex and beside the point of this little tale. About a month after the official end of my involvement there, the guy who I was working with on my main projects with them and I sat down and took a long, analytical and tactical look at the situation. We had every card we needed to destroy them in our hands. The group was on the verge of internal collapse anyway; there were enough people loyal to us personally, we were responsible for enough things, and we had information about the leaders that was dirty enough, we could have brought the entire organization to a shuddering halt. We chose not to. We didn't want to be vindictive, and we generally embrace the "live-and-let-live" strategy. It was one of the worst decisions the two of us ever made. Because when we look back at the lives that they have screwed up, the lives they continue to screw up, and their negative effect on some other things in this town, we realize that we had not just an opportunity, but a responsibility, and we failed.
PART TWO
ReplyDeleteSo, how do we decide when to stand and fight, and when to just sit down and shut up? I don't know. But I think maybe it comes down to something about motivations. Maybe, if more of the time we were concerned with "is it loving?" instead of "how do I show them I'm right?" we would have less trouble balancing the two sides. If we all stopped trying to push our own self-righteous agendas and instead just lived our lives and let others live theirs, we wouldn't even need to have this discussion. People are more important than ideology. Maybe someday we'll all be able to live that fact out.
I hate it when all my thoughts are packed in my head and I can't just word vomit what I want to say. So here's all that I can spit out for now.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could occasionally be the hard-ass, man's man that John Wayne and Clint Eastwood represent, and set people straight and rough up the opposition. But then again I'm glad I'm not, because then I wouldn't be me.
It's hard for me to puff up my chest and swing back when it comes to defending my personal self, because
A) It's just not worth it to me, getting offended by something that I'll forget about in a day anyways. Plus I know that God will bring me through in the end, just as He has my whole life.
B) I pray about it. Write about it. Put it on my back and bear it. (aka: Whine in my prayers. Scribble down nonsense. Bite my tongue in half and scream into my pillow)
I guess part of what causes me to drift from my path is because I leave my gun in the holster. Turn the other cheek (even though a lot of the time I boil up under the skin and grab the fist that's coming head on). I've inherited that from my mom and I'm glad of it. She is the strongest person on the face of this earth, she's waded through the shit, and yet she always gives love and takes path less traveled. That's what makes her strong, taking a hit on the chin and walking by, so that she can just keep on giving her love to her kids and friends.
And that's where I find my gun-slinging persona. Getting angry for those few self-less individuals (in this case my mother, or every single mother for that matter). I'm more sympathetic or empathetic or whatever, for someone else's warrants or choices because I don't want to give in to myself. My selfishness. I don't want to put the spot light on my own personal UN-worthy causes.
I'd be much better off if I lived out the words that I write in my journal, even if it's not for my sake.
When I was in elementary school, my parents called me Percilla the Hun. I still remember the time Girl 1 and Girl 2 wanted to sit next to me while I ate in the fellowship hall at church, and to my mother’s embarrassment, I dove straight for the underside of the table after proclaiming, “I don’t want to sit with you”, leaving the two girls standing next to my empty seat, maybe crying, I’m not sure. At this moment, I’m sure I just successfully described myself as a brat growing up. But was I really a brat or is that scene of me playing under the table where my mom nervously sipped her tea the epitome of what it means to be completely free of other people’s opinions. If I didn’t like you, I didn’t have to sit by you. If I thought you were weird, then you probably were. And If I wanted to run around a room yelling random things, then I had every right to.
ReplyDeleteShoes weren’t a necessity, just a requirement. Trees were playgrounds. And fear was the imaginary thing adults talked about, though monsters were obviously real. Floors were invincible things to be kicked, and scuffed, and dented, not the delicate egg shells I now found myself tip toeing on. I remember riding a scooter across the roof after being dared, catching carpet on fire, flipping my bike over a ditch, jumping off the tallest rock at the creek, and alas, saying exactly what was on my mind, exactly when I felt like saying it. Then it seemed so casual, and now, I place speaking my mind right up there with the burning carpet and roof scootering (no, scootering is not a word, but right now, I want it to be, and so it is…)
Where did that go? Where did the words go? Maybe somewhere between middle school and junior high I decided single file lines were exciting, and raising my hand to say what I wanted was normal. Maybe after multiple attempts at saying what I thought, to be corrected by “what was,” I gave up. That little brat with no shoes and a black graveyard of carpet by her door was gone. Well, at least, momentarily, because to everyone’s horror, Martha Lee Anne discovered writing.
Steve (referring to him as Almond has too many times made me think of Almond Joy) is the adult version of what I was at seven. He’s loud, and opinionated, and he can say what he wants when he wants to. And it doesn’t matter that he’s an adult and I was a kid, he had his words kicked down as much as I mine were. Did I mention that he’s an adult? Big people have this problem too? It’s not just the kindergarteners at elementary school who are still forced to hold the “sh” positing with their index finger while in the hallway? And on that note, is there any better imagery of having childhood silenced than the single-file, “sh” position? I think not.
Steve stood up for what he wanted to. He said what he wanted to. He did exactly what he wanted to, but in that action he lost something he loved, his students. But, when I look at it- this is cliché, so be prepared to not be impressed- he lost a battle, and won a war. Yes, he gave up those students, but did he really give up on them? Did he abandon them? Or did he inspire them? Did he impress upon them that speaking out is far more important than shuffling in a line? Did he get all worked up for nothing? I don’t think so. I think he kicked some major a$$ (yes, I’m too much of a dork to actually write a-s-s).
And because i rambled...here's the last section
ReplyDeleteDr. Walters said some really profound things in his writing, and something that he said (which I copied into my journal) was, “Like a bug in a sealed jar. Like a prisoner in the camps. And because silent human beings are never heard, they might just as well be dead.” Because what is the point? What’s the point of these ideas, and these thoughts, and beliefs, and these pencils and paper if we just write them, and think them, but scrunch them up in a drawer and tuck them away in our heads? I think that Steve made some serious sacrifices, but I think the alternative was to bury himself. Little child-me with her once uninhibited mouth, in some ways, is still standing in a hallway with her index finger covering her lips. But adult-me, like adult Steve, wasn’t ready to be buried quite yet. So I traded in lips for a pencil and I found out that little child-me was still kicking, still opinionated, still rambling, and ready to get out.
I heard a story about a Lieutenant in Iraq who was leading a convoy through a hostile area, being led by a tank. It was just war; war he was trained to take. But a soccer ball rolled into the road and just in front of the tank, a little boy runs to get it. The tank's brakes aren't fast enough and he's thrown through the air and lands a few feet forward in a dust cloud, crumpled in a ball. The Lieutenant was in charge and the little boy was hurt pretty bad as you could imagine, but he wasn't gone, just badly injured. Then the young lieutenant looked up and surrounding him and the convoy were the kid's uncles, cousins, father people from his town. The crowd kept growing and AK 47s began to be visible in the men's hands. It was a scary situation. We were the enemy there, to those people. All they saw was a child, bleeding and dying in front of a US tank. The Lieutenant did they only thing he could do, he left. He left that little boy in the dust, most likely to die. He had to, firefights had been started over less and he had to save his men's lives. If he had tried to take the little boy to a hospital, then crowd would have exploded, thinking he was being kidnapped. No one in the convoy lost one second of sleep because they didn't make the decision. My dad (a Chaplain in the Army) told me that story because the young man, less than a handful of years older than me, was having a lot of trouble dealing with what happened. I think many times the decision to fight every ideological battle down to the ground is selfishness masked in caring for "the greater good". It would be the same as if that Lieutenant had chosen to attempt to bring the boy back with them and have the shootout. But then the boy still may have died, as well as his own soldiers and even the Iraqis. Instead, he chose to go through hell internally so that the others can sleep soundly. Personal, internal agony because of silence is a sacrifice of yourself for the group often times, as long as it doesn't come out of a place of cowardice.
ReplyDeleteMartin Luther King is the opposite he chose to fight the ideological battle because racism kept his men, his soldiers from prospering. Others were hurt and even killed for the ideals not because Martin Luther King was simply pissed, it was deeper than that. The strategy was planned out, thought out, no rants, no furry unleashed. It was a march, unstopping. Fighting for ideology cannot be only emotionally driven and it must be evil you are fighting, not simply different views or against people who piss you off. Hell, you may even be wrong. Every one is from time to time. Fight for others and your never wrong. Feed into your own anger and things are burned down and never rebuilt. Argue for your ideals, disagree civilly with decisions, if asked don't lie. The other side isn't your enemy every time your pissed off.
Martha Lee, I read your post and completely relate but in the opposite direction. I grew up the shy little girl who never spoke to people because I was afraid they wouldn't like me. My mother trained me that way. To always be on my "A" game because image and reputation was everything in this world. I never got dirty and always did "girly" things growing up, because heaven forbid I behave as anything less than a lady. I will give her this much, she was right that people do judge you on reputation and image but not being true to yourself is even more painful in the long run. Even as a senior, I am still learning to evolve into my own self and stop following some of the rules that I think are complete bull shit.
ReplyDeleteAs I sit here writing, I am listening to John Mayer ( total ass hole but great music none the less) and his lyrics go like this
"Welcome to the real world", she said to me
Condescendingly
Take a seat
Take your life
Plot it out in black and white
Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings
And the drama queens
I'd like to think the best of me
Is still hiding
Up my sleeve
They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above
So the good boys and girls take the so called right track
Faded white hats
Grabbing credits
Maybe transfers
They read all the books but they can't find the answers
And all of our parents
They're getting older
I wonder if they've wished for anything better
While in their memories
Tiny tragedies
They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you got to rise above
I am invincible
I am invincible
I am invincible
As long as I'm alive
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above
I just can't wait til my 10 year reunion
I'm gonna bust down the double doors
And when I stand on these tables before you
You will know what all this time was for
I feel like this song puts it into much better words than I ever could have... Maybe following the rules is for the weak of heart and life is about coloring outside of the lines.
Martha Lee, I read your post and completely agree with you but I grew up in the opposite direction. I was the shy little girl who hardly spoke to anyone because I was afraid they wouldn't like me or think I was weird. My mother trained me well...I was never dirty and always did "girl" things because Heaven Forbid I behave as anything less than a lady. Being an only child didn't help matters either, I had to be the "golden child" growing up because no one was there to not make me look so bad for not being completely perfect. When I got to college and finally realized that my parents were 2 hours away and I could do whatever the fuck ( that's right, this "lady" said fuck, my mom would be so proud right now) I wanted, believe me I took advantage of it. I not only colored outside of the lines but all over the page and on the walls too.
ReplyDeleteAs I sit here writing this post, I am listening to John Mayer, "No Such Thing" ( total ass hole but great music none the less)
Here are the lyrics:
"Welcome to the real world", she said to me
Condescendingly
Take a seat
Take your life
Plot it out in black and white
Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings
And the drama queens
I'd like to think the best of me
Is still hiding
Up my sleeve
They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above
So the good boys and girls take the so called right track
Faded white hats
Grabbing credits
Maybe transfers
They read all the books but they can't find the answers
And all of our parents
They're getting older
I wonder if they've wished for anything better
While in their memories
Tiny tragedies
They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you got to rise above
I am invincible
I am invincible
I am invincible
As long as I'm alive
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above
I just can't wait til my 10 year reunion
I'm gonna bust down the double doors
And when I stand on these tables before you
You will know what all this time was for
He says it much better than I do, but maybe the best kind of life in all aspects is one coloring outside of the lines.
FEAR is that nasty little piercing feeling that occurs so deep down inside of me that it begins to stifle every attempt for me to speak my mind. I am an observer. I may be quiet and you make think I’m not listening to you but believe me I am. It is just the fear inside of me that holds me back from saying the things that I really want to and will convey to my friends and those I feel comfortable with later. I am the type of person that hates confrontation and fights. If I know that we are not going to see eye to then I simply won’t speak. If I since that all we are going to have is an argument I would rather save the wasted emotions and just keep my mouth shut and listen. I think that it is fear that keeps me back.
ReplyDeleteWhat I took away from Almond’s last chapter was much more than just the politics. I would much rather people stand up for what they believe and say it as bluntly as possible then to continue in a lie letting what they feel never be hear. I really admire people like that because I know that it takes a lot for me to be like that. I hate the feeling like Almond felt in the very last chapter. It’s that embarrassment of “I have said to much and I want things to go back to how they were” feeling that I dread so. But let me give an example of when I did stand up for something that I believed in and it left me with that AKWARD feeling.
This summer I spent several weeks in Asia with a group of college friends from back home. Our last stop was to go to Seoul, South Korea before heading back to the states. We all decided that we would visit the war museum so as to enlighten us a bit more on the world around us history. Outside the museum are amazing huge statutes of the soldiers. There are about three and each one tells a beautiful story through movement of the bodies. Well, being the mature college kids we are, one of my friends thought that it would be funny to get up on the statues and have pictures of himself among the giant men and women. After many of us telling him to get down he wouldn’t and it resulted in me getting upset and yelling at him about how disrespectful, immature and childish he was acting. Because I have been very lucky to travel to different cultures I have become aware of ways to make sure that I don’t offend them. This is something that is very important to me but obviously not my friend. So the result was the rest of my friends coming up to me telling me that I embarrassed him in front of everyone and that I shouldn’t have done that. My feeling for the rest of the day was feeling like I wish I hadn’t said that. And wishing things would go back to the way they were.
I don’t know if any of this made since but thus is my rant and how I feel about letting my opinions show.
Martha Lee, I read your post and completely agree with you but I grew up in the opposite direction. I was the shy little girl who hardly spoke to anyone because I was afraid they wouldn't like me or think I was weird. My mother trained me well...I was never dirty and always did "girl" things because Heaven Forbid I behave as anything less than a lady. Being an only child didn't help matters either, I had to be the "golden child" growing up because no one was there to not make me look so bad for not being completely perfect. When I got to college and finally realized that my parents were 2 hours away and I could do whatever the fuck ( that's right, this "lady" said fuck, my mom would be so proud right now) I wanted, believe me I took advantage of it. I not only colored outside of the lines but all over the page and on the walls too.
ReplyDeleteAs I sit here writing this post, I am listening to John Mayer, "No Such Thing" ( total ass hole but great music none the less)
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeletePART 2
ReplyDeleteHere are the lyrics:
"Welcome to the real world", she said to me
Condescendingly
Take a seat
Take your life
Plot it out in black and white
Well I never lived the dreams of the prom kings
And the drama queens
I'd like to think the best of me
Is still hiding
Up my sleeve
They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above
So the good boys and girls take the so called right track
Faded white hats
Grabbing credits
Maybe transfers
They read all the books but they can't find the answers
And all of our parents
They're getting older
I wonder if they've wished for anything better
While in their memories
Tiny tragedies
They love to tell you
Stay inside the lines
But something's better
On the other side
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you got to rise above
I am invincible
I am invincible
I am invincible
As long as I'm alive
I wanna run through the halls of my high school
I wanna scream at the
Top of my lungs
I just found out there's no such thing as the real world
Just a lie you've got to rise above
I just can't wait til my 10 year reunion
I'm gonna bust down the double doors
And when I stand on these tables before you
You will know what all this time was for
He says it much better than I do, but maybe the best kind of life in all aspects is one coloring outside of the lines.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteIt took me 19 years to learn how to shoot my gun. See, I had always been kind of a doormat. I realize that I've been holding back a little in my blogs, but I think it's because I've spent the past 4 years learning how to be cautious about what I share with people. Anyway, It took me 19 years, and that's because I grew up in a house with a mom who has been married 3 times. The second two marriages(starring step dad 1 and step dad 2) were violently abusive. Starting in kindergarten, I watched my step dads brandish their guns, writing off other people's opinions, and silencing people's voices.
ReplyDeleteTHIER VOICES WERE SO LOUD
That my own existence was shut out,
Locked away behind a curtain.
If you live in violence for that long, I think you learn to hide yourself. It's a defense mechanism.
Sometimes i wonder what it would've been like to shut them up, kick them out, show them that their ideas about life and the order of the world were completely wrong. What then? Could I have corrected them, saved them from themselves, and saved my mother and sister from those situations? I think the answer is no. My warrants held no sway in their eyes. I probably would've just divided my family. Broken it into pieces and lost the person that I am now in the shuffle.
I found that person on the day I turned 19. I was home visiting.
The phone rang
"I want to speak to Pete, he's been having an affair with me for several months."
Even in that moment I didn't lose control of myself, but for the first time, I realized the power of my voice, my humanity, my perspective, my experiences. 19 years of pain surged through my mind, and when I spoke to him, I knew I was justified. Not because of what he did, but because of who I was. Because some times, enough is enough. And (obviously in this situation, but even in the less obvious spaces) standing up for yourself and for others is the only thing to be done.
Expressing your voice, humanity, perspective, experiences is key to being truly alive. It's like breathing. If you stop (are stopped) then something in you dies, and it could take you 19 years to find it again, and even longer to use it for yourself (or even more importantly, those who cannot speak [breath]).
Sometimes I wonder how many people forget how to
to breath [speak], and they die. Which is why the things that we're talking about are so important.
Knowing our voices, believing in the words we speak, trusting their importance, and using those things to speak [breath] life into situations that seem beyond saving.
Because the best shooting matches save lives.
I'm not too sure how far our warrants should take us, and as I think about it, I don't think it is the same for everybody. Steve was, and still is I presume, in the unique position to actually feel the consequences of his actions(as are most teachers I would think). I don't have a Tyler, though. Until I have something to lose, I don't think I can truly connect with Steve. I am not at all trying to paint myself as the heedless adventurer, blindly butting into any argument or controversy in order to storm and win the moral high ground, disregarding friendships and allies. Rather, as I have discovered how deeply the roots of left-wing political thought entangle my life, I have realized that I must place priorities in what I deem valuable. And because of my age, I feel that, valued next to my convictions, anything I have is expendable. What I stand for is what I stand for, regardless of setting, situation, or circumstance. But like I said earlier, I don't have a Tyler, like countless teachers do. No one looks to me for inspiration.
ReplyDeleteI say that, but family is extremely important to me, and unfortunately I know that I am extremely important to them. And just as unfortunately, some members aren't as convicted as I am. As I try to think of what I would do if I had to sacrifice my deep connection to my twin brother, just over a belief, I begin to get what Steve must have felt. That in his absence, someone suffered. And he could have stopped it.
No, I've decided that my convictions aren't strong because of my youth, or my lack of valued connections. No, they are strong because they are trying to mask the fear I have of my own Tylers, the Tylers I definitely wouldn't think about until it was too late. And then I would be heartbroken.
So that still leaves me with the question, how far do we go with our warrants? I hope I would take it as far as it needs to be taken. But at the risk of having a Steve Almond experience, I may just let some things rest.
I've been avoiding writing this post all weekend. I suppose it all started in class on Friday, where someone mentioned that they could have predicted the first three responses to this particular piece and wasn't it a shame that we were so closed-minded around here? I knew I'd spoken second. Later that afternoon, I was looking on here for the new blog and found Robert Irwin's response to the last one. It was the brutally honest side of truth, and it made me feel like a fool. What had you people done positively to deserve hearing my particular story, and what awful thing had you done to have been subjected to reading it? And there, the dichotomy of the writer: the feeling that what you have to say is worth listening to, while also having the unshakable feeling that everything you write is unmitigated shit.
ReplyDeleteI'm no good at shootouts. My reflexes are too slow and my weak points are too easily identified. One of my roommates is a gamer, and when she talks me into playing Halo with her, it's usually a competition to see if I can grenade myself before she kills me. I'm an awful fighter, but I grew up in a family of warriors; we're Italian, the only way we can solve problems is by yelling at each other. And what tore at me in class that day-- what tears at me now-- is the feeling that I should defend myself, but the knowledge that the whole point is that I shouldn't have to. Isn't that what Almond was getting at? That we have a right to believe things others don't believe? That he has a right to think that Condoleezza Rice is an idiot and I have a right to disagree? I grew up with the fighting, and God help me, I'm tired of it.
It's funny to me that I'm doing exactly what bothered Irwin so much in the first place, the same thing that made me feel so foolish: I'm being unnecessarily honest. I'm putting it out there to a crowd that doesn't deserve it, and more than that, a crowd that doesn't even really want it. But this is the way I look at it- if everything I write is going to be externally worthless anyway, why not write something that at least matters to me? What do I have to lose...your approval? I haven't gained it yet. It reminds me of something Judy Troy said when I had her for Fiction Writing last year-- that the only way we can avoid getting hurt is to not love. If love is trust and faith and abandon, then we can't go there. But if I can't trust you-- if I can't love you, at least on some superficial level-- then I'll spend my life only going surface-deep. I'm not willing to do that. I am not willing to let my life be about holograms of real relationships. I want to take this chance; I want to lay out all my bullshit and let you find the pieces of real truth.
If we're in the shootout, and someone's got to be the Tyler-- I'd rather go out loud and unafraid.
As I have read everyone's comments so far I have found the comparison of pens and guns interesting.
ReplyDeleteI love to shoot guns. Two years ago I went to my friend's farm in The-Middle-of-Nowhere, Alabama and learned to skeet shoot. I was pretty good at it, better than some of the boys there who have been hunting since they were kids, and I loved the control I felt. I loved the dirt on my shoes, the smell of smoke, and the way the gun digs into your shoulder when you shoot. That powerful machine, it becomes an extension of yourself.
My dad recently bought a World War I Russian sniper rifle, and when I go home to Birmingham we will occasionally go out to the shooting range and plink away at targets. Dad always gives me tips for being a better shot, but the most important thing he has taught me is gun safety. As fun as it may be to see the clay break in two and know you got a hit, or to go check your target and see how close you are to a bulls-eye, a gun is not a toy.
In a way, the pen is also a powerful machine...Language can be a loaded chamber full of ammunition...
But, we are all guilty of being trigger happy whether in writing or in conversation. But just because the gun can be dangerous, just because I have the ability to use it to hurt doesn't mean I have to put it down. We cannot run through life driven by fear.
How far should we take our warrants? I honestly don't know. I don't think things in life are that easy. I think that all we can do is make sure that our actions are driven by the best intentions, because once they are out there we have no control over how they are accepted. We can't control the audience. And that's why we have a reason to write in the first place. Life is complicated and even our best intentions go astray. It's messy.
But that is also one of the reasons that life can be so beautiful at times. The whole jumble of thoughts, intentions, mis-communications, feelings, rules, lines, justifications....they all get thrown in and mixed together and quite often we come out with something better than we expected. We don't have as much control as we think we do. Most of the people I value as my closest friends are there because we have disagreed over something and managed to see a wider and more beautiful version of the world through trying to understand different perspectives. My boyfriend and I have very differing opinions on some matters, but I love him because he shows me that what I have seen of the world may not be the final say-so. There is always another side to the story.
The world is so much bigger than us, our warrants, our intentions, and that can be a scary thought.
But I don't think that we should put our pens down, for when we write, often we communicate right to the heart of another person, and that heart is also something we hold inside ourselves.
When I shoot, and when I write, sometimes I miss the target, but that doesn't mean I stop trying to hit it next time.
Well I have a class, International Relations, that is by far the biggest waste of my time, but lately I have been using this 50 minutes to be a tad more productive. I make to-do lists, send some mass text messages, and do a little Advanced Composition reading.
ReplyDeleteWhen I started reading this chapter about Condoleeza Rice and how her republican views wouldn't agree with the beliefs of the faculty and students of Boston College. Immediately, I applied this to my major, and was actually prod of Steve for speaking his mind.
I myself am a pretty non-confrontational person, unless I'm having a rough day. Although I'm a tad on the liberal side in most categories, I most likely wouldn't have said anything if I were in Almond's shoes. Some may say Steve took it too far, but many of his readers and those who heard him on the radio or saw him on tv, actually agreed with him, some were even proud of him. I think I said in class last week, that many Americans don't speak their mind when it comes to politics because they are afraid their voice won't be heard. But, even if you speak up and there are consequences, you may be laying the ground work for others who will stand up for their beliefs and might make that change we need. We do have our freedom of speech, to an extent, sometimes we need to use it rather than hold it inside, and letting things we don't approve of, happen.
On a lighter note, I drove to Nashville this weekend. The iPod started getting old so I decided to go BACK IN TIME and turned on the radio. Somewhere between Birmingham and Huntsville, I came across 92.5, which at that hour was the Sean Hannity radio show. Hannity was one of the guys who interviewed Steve Almond in the midst of the chaos. I got the vibe from the reading that Hannity was a bit of an arrogant asshole. Taking control of the show and not letting others get a word in. And on Friday afternoon, Hannity did not let me down. He was in fact, an asshole, bragging about his television show later that evening while completely ignoring his fan on the air, who had called in.
Little things like Steve making a scene of something that wasn't so important to his readers, make me want to be more loud and unafraid, like Josie said above.
Wow. I read that blog, “what tears at me now—is the feeling that I need to defend myself,” and laughed out loud. So what the heck are you waiting for? The very nature of a blog, an entity of the internet, is that it is as impersonal as it gets --as someone else so nicely pointed out in class-- it is the appearance of being confrontational while not actually confronting anyone. Now, Sarvas, feel free to share your feelings, to let me know how you really feel, to be entirely honest, while you’re separated by the computer screen, by that thin allusion of the internet where no one can get you, where you are safe. That blog didn’t have to offer cute anecdotal evidence of how that person was not a fighter; it was obvious by the venue she chose to share this information.
ReplyDeleteNow, let’s explore the laughter I experienced. There are two reasons I immediately felt this way.
1. I am also from a fighting Italian family.
2. I’m from New Jersey.
You know what that means, we always come out with our guns blazing. I must be a bleeding liberal Snookie-Jwoww hybrid who found herself in the wrong part of the south, right? If I was smart I wouldn’t go around fighting people who steal our seats at football games, only to be called out at the next team workout for acting “noticeably drunk and confrontational”, the sole reason the entire team had to run 5 miles that morning. (you can bet I regretted that shooting-match somewhere around mile 3) and I wouldn’t throw full drinks on people who call me “sweetheart,” at the bar and then get them kicked out, only to find out was their birthday. And I definitely wouldn’t write this very one sided cynical blog about people who are “no good at shootouts”. If I was smart I wouldn’t do any of these things just to wish I didn't later. But then again would I be me? Would anyone still respect me and knew what I stood for? What about Almond, if he didn’t do all those things what would Tyler really know about him? What would I have missed learning from Almond if he didn’t have that experience to write about? I’m glad I can say things to make people defend themselves, because I honestly believe I will never get sick of it. I see so many people everyday just let things go, just turn a blind eye, and let things continue as normal, when it’s all corrupt, when everything around them is just begging them to speak-up. So even though it’s only a blog, I’m glad to inspire defensiveness. Have no fear, embarrassment, regret, and guilt will be soon to follow. And I think, that’s kind of the point.
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ReplyDeleteOur words, whether written or spoken, have power. Our actions have power. They have the power to hurt, the power to destroy and to heal. Ideas are powerless until they are fleshed out in words/deeds.
ReplyDeleteWith one piece of paper, Martin Luther spoke against the Catholic church and BAM Protestant Reformation (granted there was more than one piece of paper that began this, but all involve words). You get the picture. Communication is what makes things happen. It is also what tears things apart, like the Tower of Babel to use just one of a myriad of examples.
Ask any superhero, they all have the same problem: Dealing responsibly with that power and knowing when to yield it for the greater good (and yes that is dramatic, but why not use hyperbole in an English class). There have been so many times in an argument when my lips go into automatic weapon phase, and before I know it, there is no one left standing, even the guys on my team. And I’m out of bullets.
My sister and I are the queens entering into automatic weapons mode and our relationship shows it. As we have gotten bigger, so have our guns Our relationship still shows the scars of those years of harsh words and intense fighting. Time has mellowed both of us, but more importantly both of us have learned when to pick a fight and when to drop the weapons and have a cup of tea. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still fighting for the right to have ownership of my clothes and our house can still occasionally be termed a war zone. But overall, age has shown us that relationships with people can be ruined with a flippant remark or a mean gesture. Sure, sometimes you can get over things and relationships are stronger- but is it worth the chance? And is silence worth the death to self?
Ideas behind words, or rather logical ideas behind words can and should be shared in a way that makes a point but keeps in view longterm effects. Idealistic, I know but I am 22 and untested- this is the only time in life when idealism is deemed socially acceptable. Back to superheroes/Spiderman, Uncle Ben says it best- “With great power comes great responsibility.” Well played, Uncle Ben, well played.
12:03am: I get home, start my computer up, and start reading this prompt and the subsequent responses from the other students.
ReplyDelete12:07am: I've finished reading responses, and am still entirely unsure as to how to respond to the prompt.
12:37: After exactly half an hour of a mixture of re-reading comments and the prompt/reading Auburn football news/listening to Harry Connick Jr. (LOVE him), I decide to take a shot of vodka (For two reasons: 1. there's a third of a handle of it left from my 21st birthday party and I want it gone, 2. maybe it'll inspire me to write).
12:48am: I realize that one shot of vodka isn't gonna inspire me to do anything other than take another shot (and I do).
12:50am: I start wondering if it's a good idea to admit that I'm drinking at 1am on a Sunday night/Monday morning on this blog, a public forum, where anybody could come and read it.
12:53am: I recognize the humor in the fact that I'm less worried about the fact that I'm drinking at 1am on a school night/morning than I am about what the consequences of admitting that I'm drinking at 1am on a school night/morning are.
12:59am: I'm pissed that the words "dastardly" and "ne'er-do-well" are not in my cell phone's predictive text.
1:00am: I remember that this blog is supposed to be relevant to something, and the Aristocrat's loosened me up a bit (I know it's crap, but it's all I have on me! I'm out of Everclear. I swear I'm not an alcoholic.).
1:01am: I used to be a gunslinger, back when I was 18 and knew everything. If there was half of an opportunity to state my opinions, I'd unload a Howitzer of teen-aged confusion and under-thought opinions onto said opportunity. This changed when I got to college, and found out that *gasp* people are different. Not everybody is a middle-class white kid! Perspectives changed, as did my opinions. Things drastically changed when I was a freshman and I lost my faith. I'd tell the story, but I've taken up enough space with my time-stamped entries as it is. It was strange, suddenly being on the opposite side of things that I'd KNOWN for so long. I met people whose life stories were filled with so much struggle, so much inner turmoil, that I felt selfish for taking everything that I'd been given for granted. One of my best friends came out to me my sophomore year, and they had known it for years, but their own faith had kept them for coming to terms with it.
1:19am: My thoughts finally come full-circle (and I kick myself for not knowing that Billy Joel voiced Dodger in Oliver and Company until like, 3 months ago. I'm apparently easily distracted). Our warrants can obviously take us too far, but you're right; we usually don't see that until it's too late. Hell, I've lucked out in that I've only had one or two opportunities to ride at full gallop into a gunfight on anything that I strongly believe in. The one time that really comes to memory is a religious discussion that I got into with a close friend. He's a Christian and I'm not, and we were discussing the nature of God and the things that he does. The discussion became heated, and I was preparing to spur my noble steed, Mercury (named after Freddie Mercury, lead singer of Queen), into battle when I realized that this gunfight would have no winner, even if I "won." I holstered my six-shooter of self-righteousness and let the dialogue end; it wasn't worth breaking a friendship over. I had stated my viewpoint and decided to let it be; my warrant had expired and I didn't even want it renewed. Sometimes these warrants we have take us too far, but that's no reason to never act on them; a mistake-free life is a wasted life because you can never learn anything if you never make mistakes to learn from.
7:43am: I wake up, read over this, and decide to post is. War Eagle, y'all.
Just this once I don't think I'll try to say anything too spectacular; what comes out first will just have to do.
ReplyDeleteI mentioned in a previous post about how I feel like I’ve got a few warrants for speaking to life, death, and the hell and hopefully heaven that I’ve brought forth just by being myself. I think where Steve Almond and I finally clicked was when he realized that being right often feels devastatingly wrong in the end. There is a recurring situation in my life where inaction (utterly not my fault) necessitates that I seize my trusty pistol of a mouth and let some bullets really fly. My Tyler always ends up wounded, but – unlike all those heroic gunslingers of yester year – in end, I feel as though I have shot myself instead.
When I was little, my mom would always call me “pistol”. I was a dare-devil, daily entertaining myself by screeching up and down our mountainous neighborhood in my blood-red battery powered Jeep. My targets for torment were typically my older brother’s friends (whom I secretly wanted to kiss) and my best friend, Erin – an incurable girly girl. They were my projects, the ones I would set straight with my fists and mischievous, irresistible grin. As an adult, I can’t believe how far I’ve gone in the other direction. I spend a great deal of time protecting myself from rejection and pain, none of which I had any concept of as a 5-year-old. Gun-slinging was a terrific way to spend every day (when I wasn’t making potions out of mud in the backyard, or making my cat..why am I telling you this..fly). But now it feels like the only weapon I’m not afraid to use is my mouth.
The Tyler’s in my life are the people I would take bullets for, but let’s face it – the people you love the most usually drive you bananas. Lethal irony.
The power of life and death are in the tongue. Proverbs 18.21
Josie, you're right on. That's what I look for and I think you understand what I meant out of my previous post. I was having a pretty shitty day until you mentioned that in class this morning and I felt a little better because at least you're admitting that you understand the process which I hate so much. I just wanted somebody to agree with me that they don't enjoy that kind of thing. Maybe I misinterpreted what you said, but regardless, just hearing my name for once today was nice.
ReplyDeleteIn my classic passive aggressiveness, I should point out that there were specific people I had in mind when I posted last week and you were not one of them. "Who are they?" people might ask? Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be passive aggressive, it'd be honest; and I'm not honest. I'm a lying, cheating, stealing son of a bitch.
To be continued this afternoon...
In regards to having a "shooting match" and having a Tyler at the end of it, I always feel that there is some sort of Tyler in every dispute we have. I am quick to fire off to stick up for something (or more often) someone I believe in, and after it all, I always feel like, "Damn, maybe I should have thought over my consequences a little bit more before I said/did that..." And in some situations, I would agree that that is more important than some issues. But then again, if we did that for every situation, where would our passion be? We would love it for what we beleive in? I would believe that part of the fuel we have for the things we believe in is because of all the effort and dramatics we put into sticking up for them.
ReplyDeleteI would love to be a calm, rational, and put-together person, and I'm sure a small part of my boyfriend would love that too (since he's usually the way saying, "breathe Tiffanee, it's not that important...") but that's not who I am, and I believe if you are going to have beliefs and opinions, you need to believe in them, all out, balls to the wall.
Reading #6 will save you the time of reading the rest. This wasn’t an honest post, nor will there ever be one, but on some level I think I tried. I hope the truth permeates and the lies build appropriate resentment towards me.
ReplyDelete1) I just deleted a lot of shitty writing. This blogging is like working out at the gym (nobody looks how they want to, but everyone is there because they suck at other stuff). I hate everything about the gym and I hate what writing "in front" of people does to me.
2) I hate that the class will read this. I hate that FW will read this. I hate having a “due date”, for something that can’t be conjured or manufactured. I like being “honest” until everyone else starts to get fucking “honest”, because it’s when we’re “honest” that we are most powerfully equipped to do what we do best—pervert.
3) I don’t believe anything Steve Almond said. I think he found a voice that worked and stuck with it. I think that he tries to force his square/triangle experiences and emotions into a circular hole. And I think that circular hole is the voice that we’ve been talking about, and thus it is proved why The Steve Almond would do such a thing. I believed him until today
4)I don’t know if I believe anyone today. I think you’re all liars and that you’re posts are as shit painted as mine. We talk a whole lot about honesty, but we’ve yet to acknowledge the great evil it can be responsible for. I know, that at every moment, including the moments in the projects, prisons, and nursing homes, (and in the back-handed referencing of these moments), that everything I’m doing is for me. And I know that you’re doing the same. The only reason I hate some of you is that you don’t know it. You’re able to bubble through life watching movies with happy endings because you don’t know anything about anything. “You are so dumb” –Youtube Phenom From Huntsville.
ReplyDelete5)I can’t operate in your world. You think that I’m dramatic, or trying to become a writer by acting like one, but what you don’t know, and what you can’t learn—and I can’t un-learn—is that there is a truth, there is a sense of authentic depravity and despair of which you are unaware.
I suppose that I also fall into someone’s category of “people who don’t know what’s going on”, and I thank God if that’s true. I know that it says somewhere in the BIBLE that HE doesn’t give us more than we can handle, and as far as becoming more aware, I guess he knew I was pretty much at my tipping point.
6) Essentially what this all means is that a lot of you are ditch diggers, and that you don’t know how miserable you’re supposed to be, and that because you don’t know, I feel like I want to slam my head into the bed-board until I’m dumb enough to rejoin your ranks and praise God for the shit I’m digging through.
I'm sorry I'm late. I've really struggled with this one, for some reason. I read the blog once it was posted - and I've read your comments several times. I've just wimped out. And I'm sorry. You guys have all been so honest and committed - and I've done a crappy job of holding up my end of the bargain this week. I'll make up for it. (Hopefully).
ReplyDeleteJosie - I thoroughly enjoy reading your blogs. I know you called it unmitigated shit, and maybe you think it is. But I don't.
Okay. So about this going too far thing.. I'm pretty black and white, especially when it comes to relationships. I'm a firm believer in the "you have my trust until you do something to make me not trust you anymore" way of living. I'm also a good friend. I know, I know - you're all thinking, way to be conceited. And maybe I am. But not really. There are a lot of things that you can say bad about me - I'm usually late, I'm ridiculously clumsy, I don't have a filter, I have ridiculous mood swings - but I'm a good friend. And when my friends do something that I don't think is particularly "friend-ly" I cut them out. This happened a lot in high school. I just didn't feel the need to figure out why they said this, or did that - I just cut them out of my life. In retrospect, I realize that this put more stress on mutual friends than it did on me or my cut-out-of-my-life-ex-friend. My Tylers were my best friends, many of whom were stuck in the middle. Hmm, maybe I'm not as good of a friend as I thought.
Oh, and I've also been Tyler. And for the record - it sucks.
Wilson: did you read the essay? Did you catch that temperance thing I mentioned? How about just a response to the essay and my cue?
ReplyDeleteWhile I hope that you feel better now, this blog is for a conversation about what we read and how we write and what gets us there. I think it's hard enough for some of us to do this kind of work without being told how dishonest and pointless we all are being. I see that you want folks to resent you, as you ask for it here out loud, but I'm not going to let that be the focus of the blog that I created.
I would excuse you from doing the work on this blog, but it's a requirement-however, I respect your privacy and will not force you to be more personal than you feel comfortable being, nor do I expect you to feel any of the ways your peers do, nor do I expect you to hold your tongue about what you DO experience. I will ask you, however, to allow the others the same without mockery or condemnation.
Unlike you, I hope that my response did NOT build resentment, but was the appropriate response to my student on a class forum. I like you, really. But you asked for it.
Oh, and that was honest. You're believing that or disbelieving that will not change it's intent.
My blog post wasn't an earnest reflection of what I think, it was an earnest reflection of what I thought for five minutes, and I knew that, but I wanted to write it anyway. I didnt want to erase what was at one moment true, and I daresay that that is similar to what we've been talking about.
ReplyDeleteAnd no, I didn't read. And yes, it was arrogant to write about something which I have not read. Mostly I feel embarrassed and dumb. I don't hope for resentment, I kind of thought that my sentiments would resonate with people. Not in a mutinous manner, but in a "I don't feel like it", manner. It was apathy and cynicism and instead of fleeing from those two monsters, the monsters of 21 year-olds, I wrote it down. Just as I felt it.
I do a lot of posturing when I post...i concern myself with how it will be read, but not how it is written. I was trying to write as the writer, not the reader.
I guess I thought that at some point we've all had trouble seeing the point, so when I couldn't, I tried to write.
And I'm sorry if I slapped outstretched hands, or shouted over personal whispers. To be honest, I hadn't even thought about what I posted until I got Dr. P's e-mail..I guess I just didn't realize what I was saying.
ReplyDeleteIf you're feelings were hurt I would appreciate it if you could be so brave as to message me, I'd enjoy the opportunity to hear your thoughts.
Ok so I thought I posted this but I guess it never went trough...
ReplyDeleteI have always been the type to stand up and also speak up for what I believe in, much like Steven Almond. I also can’t stand for other people to be treated unfairly. If you ask anyone that knows me well they will tell you that I don’t bite my tongue and I’m quick to check somebody, which is sometimes a problem. I feel like if I have an issue with something then I’m going to speak on it, and I often encourage others to do it as well.
Recently, I’ve dealt with some Tylers myself. Last year I was the co-captain for AU Rhythm (warrant) and had to make a couple of decisions with my position. The captain and I weren’t getting alone and wasn’t seeing eye to eye on a couple of things granted the fact that we were close friends the year before. Anyways, there were several sketchy moments of him undermining my authority in front of the team and not informing me of certain team business, and also words thrown…mostly BITCH on his end… and the disrespect I couldn’t take. No m’am (which fits him perfectly), not me! So even after I talked with the advisor about the situations, nothing was done. Yes, I tried handling things the right way, but the right way didn’t work to long and I decided to take matters into my own hands. Thank God somebody cared enough about his life and calmed me down before matters got worse. First, I stepped down as a captain, which really left some of the team members confused and a little disappointed. I couldn’t take it. I had to make that decision. Then, a little later I had to completely walk away from the team. After all, nothing was done and to this day nothing has been done about the unfair treatment. So, of course I checked everybody I felt were in the wrong, even the advisor.
In the mist of it all I didn’t really think about the other team members that were being affected by this decision to leave or the people who were inspired by me and wanted to join the team just for that reason. In all of their eyes, me being apart of the team mattered a lot, but I couldn’t see that because I was first of all tired of the BS and was to busy trying to defend myself. It wasn’t until after the fact that I realized when several people told me how the understood why I did what I did but was very disappointed that I did it.
To this day I TRY to think about the consequences of me standing up and speaking up. I TRY to think about what will happen later on down the road and the people that will be affected by it. Honestly, I pray and ask God to help me with Temperance and such, because I know as a human being I can’t do it alone.
Hang in there with me, I am not as articulate as most of you.
ReplyDeleteIt has taken me some time to post on this particular blog because it has taken me some time to process Steve Almond's essay and figure out how I feel about it.
The more I think, the more I feel that I have been where he has been. Not in the sense that I have stood up for some great political cause and stuck to my guns even though it cost me something that was important to me. But I have said many things that I regret.
I tend to be a hot head in arguments. Often times I just react and jump to "Aly defense mode". Because of these moments, I now tend to be more reserved in sharing my immediate thoughts and feelings. To me there is nothing worse in this world than feeling regret.
But then I find myself struggling with the exact same dilemma that Dr. PD and Mr. Steve do. Is it worth it? Is it worth not saying anything to avoid offending anyone or potentially sounding like an idiot? Or is feeling the regret worth it because I am able to express myself, make myself known? Is there more regret in saying what goes unsaid, or in not saying anything at all?
I have kept a journal since I can remember, and I often wonder what would happen if instead of holding it in, if I shared my true feelings.
Maybe this class will help me open up a little more. I am willing to give it a try.
Also, I have great respect for all of you for sharing your stories. I admire your honesty.
ReplyDeleteI want to begin with a question. Is Almond’s essay on demagoguery about his confrontations with the conservative media or is it about the guilt he feels in making a decision that prevents Tyler from taking his class? If the first, then the essay is political and it becomes something of a liberal rant against media misrepresentation of a man and his truths. If the second, then it’s a personal essay that reveals how even the most principled of decisions can have consequences that undermine our most cherished principles. In the end (both literally and in my critical estimation), the essay is about the contradictions in life. Almond’s public decision to hold Boston College accountable for an action that he clearly believes violates its deepest values runs directly into a private consequence of this decision.
ReplyDeleteI wonder how many noticed an irony in the essay. Boston College loses an adjunct professor, a published author, because of its actions, just as Almond loses a student because of his. Do you think BC (or its president) felt the same sting of remorse, that same prick of conscience, when it read Almond’s letter that he felt when he heard what Tyler said?
So why did Almond write the essay? If it’s just to point out the contradictions in life, well, do we really need an essay to tell us that? We’re all old enough, some more experienced than others, to have figured out that life isn’t linear and that actions have consequences we can’t predict. Of course, his particular story is interesting; few of us will ever go one-on-one with media goons and show them up (if we can believe Almond’s rendition of events). So he gets points for becoming a temporary minor celebrity who garners enough attention to get hate mail from liberal bashers. But that merely adds novelty to the tale.
Here’s why I think he wrote the essay. Until he meets Tyler, his decision to quit BC is personal and even comes with the side benefit of making him a minor hero of the left. But after he meets Tyler, he comes face to face with the selfishness at the heart of his decision. He needs to reconcile these contradictory forces, and the way to do this is to write about them and, through writing, gain some kind of distance so he can understand them, and himself. I think this explains why he puts the encounter with Tyler last; it’s an artistic move that allows him to focus our attention on the politics until the last minute, when the full force of what happened hits us, as it must have him.
Frank Walters
It was a lot easier to post after reading your posts! Upon reading Dr. Walters', it was much easier to gather my thoughts. Like you said, his encounter with Tyler catalyzes his awakening to the fact that he was wrong, as wrong as the people on the "other side," the people he was fighting against, and that he had fallen into the very ideology he thought he was combating, and doing very well at doing such. The problem lies in totalizing thought. Almond thought that he was as right as the "other side" was wrong, just like the "other side" thought he was wrong. For each of them, there is an absolute "good" and an absolute "bad," and both of them projected the "bad" onto each other. By letting this fundamental opposition control their judgement of each other, they fall prey to what I would like to call the "ultimate bad," the fault which lies with the inability to "see" each other and regard each other as fellow human beings with priorities and beliefs. For Almond, it was very, very important and absolutely integral to his identity that he not be a part of the "evil," and for the other side to seize on this opportunity to continue to flourish in their occupations, by making the opposition look bad. What I am proposing may be radical, that all the people that took such savor in destroying him are actually human. Perhaps they were not offered the choice to do good. But in the end of the day, they are doing it so they may live their lives exterior to such a hurtful realm. We are lucky. We have a choice right now to not categorize and delineate, but to accept.
ReplyDeleteI know I posted on this, but I went back to read some comments and I didn't see mine. So, better late than never I guess.
ReplyDeleteThis essay was another showcase of just how human Steve Almond is. In the beginning, he had beliefs that made him come to a decision to leave the college where he taught. Because of this, things got a little crazy. The more the "other side" pushed, the more he pushed back. It was a long, drawn out series of "I'm right, you're wrong." Unfortunately, a large number of match-ups like this end up in stalemates, leaving Tylers everywhere in the rubble.
In class I talked about how this story reminded me of divorce. The parents will play the blame game. They will each say they care about their children. At the end of the day though...does it matter who's right? There is a broken home, and broken human souls. There are two Christmases, step-parents, and child support battles for the future. So does it matter at all who wins? IS there a winner?
It's nice after a debate, to walk away with a sense of accomplishment. That lasts about a minute. Then you see the look on a friend's face, or your child's face, or a potential student's face. And you question what could have possibly been more important than these people?
Sure there are times when we absolutely have to draw our guns. But there are other times when we must, must put them away, for risk of shooting an innocent bystander who thought the world of you before you blew it.
So, in deciding when to stand up for something and when to let go...hmm. I cannot honestly answer that because its different in all situations for all individuals. Do any of us really stand up when we hear someone say something extremely offensive? Sometimes. But, other times it is so much easier just to let it go. In relating this to writing I find that a lot of writers( professional or not) are more ready to stand up for what they believe in and what they think is right. This is one thing that has really drawn me to writing. It is interesting this is a blog because in looking at other blogs its obvious to me to see this new-found and bold voice that may not have been heard or experienced if there was no computer screen. So, in a way I think all writers have the potential to stand up and shoot, I guess it just depends on when we decide to draw.
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