Musings and Diatribes...

Rattlesnake (revamped, from high school)

2009-11-30T21:57:00.000-07:00

Rattlesnake

For much of his adult life many of my childhood years, my father’s family was flung far and wide, spreading to all the corners of the United States. For some time, the nearest relatives he had were my Grandpa Leonard and Grandma Lucy Sanford; and by “near,” I mean in the same general region of the country—it’s nine hundred miles from Denver to Tucson, more by car if not crow. Every year, we would visit my grandparents, preferably in the tolerable heat of spring, avoiding the summer desert broil, to spend a week or two with them and generally keep close knit those ties of kinship that are delicate and precious in their shared pleasures, and which must be maintained against the dissolving forces of distance and modern life.

So every year, from the fourth to eighth grade, my father and I would pack up all that we needed—our bags of clothing and personal diversions, a big cooler filled with food and drinks for the long journey Southwest—and load up into the car. Some years, the “car” was a black Toyota truck, with a furbished hatchback, immense in comparison to a normal compact, but minuscule against some of the sextuple-wheeled monstrosities you see on the roads. Other years, the “car” might be a cherry-red VW Bug, a white truck (I forget which make), even, one time, a red Jeep with a soft top and no seat belts.

My father would pick me up on the eve of our trek into the desert lands, usually at the start of Spring Break. A faring-off from my mother, my stepfather, my brother Tim: “I’ll miss you’s” and “Call me’s”; and then we were off, my father and I.

It's a long drive from Denver to Tucson, following the colossus strip of I-25 along the purple-towering Front Range to Raton in New Mexico, trekking alongside the Rio to the dusty pit stop of Las Cruces, the big turn right towards Arizona, then the last leg to the Grand Canyon State’s second city: a long, sparsely populated drive. There’d be a fair amount of traffic around the towns along the way (Castle Rock, the Springs, Santa Fe, Albuquerque), thousands of suburbanites cruising from office park to ranch house to strip mall in the autopia that is modern America, twenty four speed limits a day.

But outside the prairie dog towns of sheet glass and plywood: very little traffic; sometimes no other vehicles in sight for hours on end. So it was lonely, in a way; nothing but shrubs outside the mobile front porch of metal and rubber, chassis and tires.

And yet, not lonely at all, not really. In some ways, it was perfect: an entire world to ourselves, fifteen feet square, my father and I and not another soul. We’d listen to the various shades of alt and classic and hard rock pumping out of the stereo, CD holder whirring in the trunk, and sing along, loudly. (Our musical tastes, still similar even now, were near identical back then; Dad’d pick up a CD, and what do you know, but it would become my favorite of the month?) But mostly we’d talk, the whole long night through.

Not just the general talk that you might expect between American males, sports, the movies, the hundred comedies of daily life; there was some of that, but much more besides. How Slavic culture is fundamentally different from that of the West, Byzantium and Orthodoxy and Renaissance (or lack thereof; Turks from the desert lands, nipping Cyrillic Enlightenment in the bud with fundamentalists' fangs). The intricacies of American policy in the Middle East, how solar power might enable us to finally tell all those corrupt Saudi sheiks to “go forth and multiply”, so to speak. Going further down the line and further down the road: how Clinton was such a scumbag! How lazy Americans deserved him, the “Well, I’m gonna get my aaown kicks, ‘cuz!” Generation (an exaggerated “ghetto” voice). Especially women, who were so mindless sometimes, so coy and manipulating (a recounting of those who had betrayed his trust, also ones in the Air Force who had been treated ever-so-gently, or promoted after becoming very close with an officer or two).

We’d barrel down the empty highway at eighty, a rolling bey of laughs and tirades against America's spoiled, lame limousine liberals. Dad was so funny, so eclectic of facts and knowledge, so wise and shining in my twelve-year-old worship. Reagan had won the Cold War for us, and secured the prosperity that Americans didn’t really appreciate for what it was (now, Dad’d been in some recessions, let me tell you!). A strong, conservative America would spread joy to everyone hard-working enough to deserve it (Americans first, everyone else later); I just knew I would be a fighter pilot, or submarine captain, or even President! for such a good and noble country.

Now, as I’ve said, it’s a long way from Denver and Tucson; and though my father was a stalwart soul (a few times he drove nineteen hours straight, and he always worked at least ten hours—or more—a day), it was agreed that some rests were in order. Two, usually: one in Albuquerque, at a truck stop, just snuggle up in your sleeping bag in the back, let your eyelids shield out the glaring white lamps, for a few hours at least. Another at a rest station on the last stretch, just across the Arizona state line, on the sea of sand with islands of mesquite and cacti: head to toe, shrouded in plush nylon cocoons.
“Good night, Sean. Love you, buddy.”
“Good night, Dad. Love you too.”

The rest station was fairly bare bones: a gravelly parking space for dozens of horseless wagons on their pioneer trek to hotels in either direction, an actually quite nice and new building equipped with clean bathrooms and drinking fountains. Like I said, nothing much to it.

Usually, with the first winks of Sol over the distant arid hills, my father would awake from slumber, and prod me to follow suit. A groggy, shifty-foot meander over to the rest station, wiggling between parked cars to the porcelain altar of the long-distance motorist in automotive Nauvoo.

Along the way to watering the morning-glory flower, I hear a faint rustling, restlessness—rattling. Tsisisisi, tsisisisi, the barely perceptible noise screaming across the alarm-pink sunrise of my mind. I’d seen the signs warning for rattlesnakes, and the Southwest is (literally) crawling with the buggers; could that be a big viper, disgruntled by my still-numb foot? Waiting to sink alabaster fangs twelve inches through leather and flesh and bone, pump gallons of milky venom into my bloodstream?

I stop, scared stiff: never, ever move around a snake (I remembered the advice), except away from it. Slowly, carefully, I turn my head as far as I can, one degree at a time; nothing there. I wait an hour (ten seconds), waiting for a recurrence of the serpentine alarm bell: nothing. Heart beating again, lungs exhaling a minute’s worth of carbon dioxide, I walk to the toilet, relieve myself, tiptoe with trepidation back to the car, sit back down, tell my father of the near brush with scaly Death. We laugh about it, continue on our way as the yellow sun started to rise over the pink desert horizon.

Those trips to Arizona one day became the marathon trip to visit Uncle Clark’s family in the Bay Area, then cross-country to visit Aunt Mary Jo’s brood in Champaign, Illinois, with thirty eight hours of driving and eight hours of slumber in-between. The summer after eighth grade; the summer I left with my Mom, Dave-Dad, and Tim to live in England for two years. Dad wasn’t happy about that. Didn’t want me to leave Colorado, for another country, another hemisphere, no less! And neither did I relish the prospect, of leaving the company and guidance of my father.

Yet in England, I enjoyed a transformation, a new awakening. I perused great works of literature, devoured books espousing the unconventional life, the sensitive man, the people’s revolution. British people are generally tolerant of eccentricity and questionable sexuality and other amusements. I was no longer Sean, awkward nerd in a rough American middle school; I was now Sean, the teenage philosopher, tearful and silly by turns, generally ribbed for being a Yank, but more comfortable among British kids than I had been among my American “peers'

And I was no longer Daddy’s little boy. I was becoming more independent, more my own man. Perhaps too much so.

Dad was center-right in his politics? Republicans were quasi-fascists—long live socialism! My father a little uncomfortable around minorities, homosexuals, women? I was the great crusader for all the world’s dark-hued, female, “pink” peoples, against the oppressor, the evil Straight White Man! Dad was angry and macho and racist and insensitive and manipulated me, making me mimic what he said, become a sycophant! I could hardly denounce “Middle America” (Dad) enough, and I psychoanalyzed him mercilessly. Certainly, he (the twenty-year veteran of the US Air Force and aerospace industry) was nowhere near as enlightened or liberated as I, the self-proclaimed adolescent Renaissance Man. It was all quite silly and ridiculous, really.

I visited Dad a couple of times while I was living in England; flew over with the ticket he paid for, just like the MP3 player he paid for (which I never asked for), the computer games he paid for (which I never used), the guitar (still broken-stringed to the day I gave it to my brother). Had weeks of fun with him in the golden sun of summertime Colorado. But tense, so tense, with my unspoken resentment of all he seemed to stand for, bridling at his “suggesting” I spend the last two years of high school with him—followed by attendance at an in-state university, studying engineering or some such practical science, and then on to a career in architecture or another things that “I know you like so much”. (I had, in eighth grade; now, I wanted to be a great intellectual, a writer). Tense, with the barely realized fear of failing to meet the standards he must have for me, to be a good chip off the old block.

Flash-forward two years, to my senior year of high school. I've moved again, to Misawa Air Force Base in rural northern Japan. I watched the Twin Towers fall in New York after our flight was grounded in Anchorage, Alaska; have started to read something other than Commie literature; and am on the cusp of adulthood (as I see it), preparing to graduate high school and go to college.

I've spent a few summers visiting with my father, and I've been surprised how laid back he really is, considering his lifestyle (so many hours at the office!). He’s funny, and jovial, and likes his fun out of doors, in the mountains and rivers. I can joke easily with him, about women, about all the “guy things”. He’s not half as evil as I had thought, in the heat of my initial youthful rebellion.

Some introspective, and retrospective, is in order. Lessee: Dad helped build my foundation as an intellectual, with those endless political discussions. He always encouraged and supported me in my endeavors. He taught me how to have fun through physical activity, on nature hikes. Never yelled at me, never seemed angry at me. And half his manipulation, or anger? My own illusions, the paranoid projection of a teenager with something to prove.

Yes, he is relatively tense; comes with his life, with his job; school, and life, have taught me a little about stress. He can come off as a little unreconstructed, particular towards women and homosexuals. And I have always feel dominated by him; and yet, all little boys worship their fathers, and are supplicant before them; what surprise that I emulated his philosophy of life, before beginning to find my own?

On reflection, as a teenager I have been rather cruel to my father, unforgivably unforgiving and intolerably intolerable; funny, how such a self-congratulating “liberal” should have sympathy and understanding for everybody but his own flesh and blood. And now, my eighteen-year old self feels so distant from him. I have been a bad son, in some sense, but I know Dad would torture himself, for divorcing my mother, for not always being there for me (he always has been there). I feel so separated from him, geographically and emotionally, even mentally, and a little empty as a result: missing the bond of masculine affection that can only really be shared with one's father. I hope for a reconciliation, someday, to have the manly discussion of our relationship and our feelings, and to resolve the matter openly, for once. I hope to get my father back, and to be his son once more.

And in the distance, I hear a rattling.

Reflexive Libertarian Liberal-Bashing

2009-11-28T19:05:00.000-07:00

As some of you may know (hell, I've been trumpeting it annoyingly), over the last few months I have taken a much more libertarian view of things. I have many reasons for this, which I'd be more than glad to get into sometime.

So, I identify as a libertarian, and I consequently disagree with much of the conventional liberal agenda. However, it disturbs me a little bit when libertarians reflexively bash liberals/Democrats. It's understandable; after all, that's the party in power, and they are pushing many things disagreeable to libertarians (mandatory subsidized health care, massive economic bailouts, increased regulations, etc).

But I generally think liberals/Democrats/progressives mean well, and even have most of the right values and ideals, even if they misdiagnose the problems, or prescribe the wrong solutions. After all, I spent most of the last ten years being a socialist/progressive.

Perhaps more importantly, libertarianism originated as a movement of the Left, ie, classical liberalism; and I think it would be a mistake to get too cozy with the conservative/Republican crowd (after all, look what THEY do in terms of individual liberty, sane foreign policy, and economic laissez-faire). As Dean Russell noted in 1952:

"The first leftist would not be popular in America today. That is true because the original leftists wanted to abolish government controls over industry, trade, and the professions. They wanted wages, prices, and profits to be determined by competition in a free market, and not by government decree. They were pledged to free their economy from government planning, and to remove the government-guaranteed special privileges of guilds, unions, and associations whose members were banded together to use the law to set the price of their labor or capital or product above what it would be in a free market." http://mises.org/story/3425

Just a thought. Libertarianism should be more a left-wing (ie, forward-looking, open-minded, creative and liberating) rather than right-wing (backward-looking, defensive, hostile) movement.

Jacked (A Poem)

2009-11-23T19:49:00.002-07:00

A door slammed shut, and then shrug off
threads of the cares of day
Sit down before the altar of
The drug, the beckoning Fetish.

A lilting siren song invites
The user to begin his session,
He swears he'll get just this one, quick hit
even as the light begin to number his eyes.

Tap the veins, depress the plunger,
And he is taken out of this world:
Jesters and troubadours, the movements of faraway rebels and kinds.
The chatter of friends, and the lure of effortless
Flesh.

He goes deeper down now, racing as each vision passes
To find the next high.
The world passes by, each sound pressing onward
To the final stroke of night.

************

The junkie slips off the needle, stands up.
His mind befogged,
His eyeballs burning,
His very sinews whining and strung out.
He has overdone it again.

To be free of that Fetish, that Drug,
Would be to free his Mind, his Time, his Life
To an ever-expanding world
Of physical possibilities.

The user asks himself a question:
Does he truly master the Machine?
Or, is he plugged into It?

Universal Inclusive vs. Sectarian Exclusive Values

2009-11-17T00:22:00.006-07:00

One argument that sectarian fundamentalists make--Christians, Muslims, or, for that matter, militant atheists or Marxists--for their particular ideology is that under their preferred set of values, ideals and principles, everyone would benefit equally,and a new and complete utopia would be enjoyed all. Even putting aside whether any of these ideologies could actually work, this is a logically flawed statement. This is why it is flawed:

Certain values can be said to be universal, and essentially inclusive of all people, of all human beings. These include such values as freedom; equality or at least equity; individual choice and autonomy; compassion; friendship; reason; and creativity, imagination, and/or enterprise. These values are universal, and inclusive, because all people can embrace them and realize them in the world, even while experiencing very divergent identities and situations otherwise. To believe in liberty, justice, and other humanistic values, there is no obstacle in being Christian, Muslim, pagan or agnostic; in being American, Chinese, or Somali; in being young, old, rich, poor, handicapped, or gay. All that is required is that you are a human being, who desires for oneself and other human beings the best things that life can bring: love, freedom, happiness, fulfillment, self-worth and dignity. That is why these are universal values: they are "basic common denominator" values upon which everyone can agree, regardless of particular demographic or other traits.

Sectarian, exclusive values, however, are of a different nature. If you are a fundamentalist Christian, and insist upon the acceptance of Christ and the practice of Christianity as the sole route to heaven and obtaining real human happiness, this is by definition a particularist and exclusive claim; for it allows full happiness, full value, not to any and all human beings, but to only a particular category of humans, that is, practicing, devout Christians, to the exclusion of non-Christians. If you are non-Christian, you may be tolerated, prayed for, even loved and accepted after a certain manner; but an exclusive claim for Christianity as the path to happiness cannot allow for you as a non-Christian to be entirely fulfilled, or to be fully loved and respected as you are, because the assumption is made that these things are contingent on the belief in Christ. The same holds true for an exclusionary Islam, an exclusionary Wicca, or an exclusionary atheism as well.

This is not to say that one can't follow a certain religion or ideology, and even believe it to be the best choice or path for oneself and others, while simultaneously upholding the universal, inclusive values. It is more a matter of how you are a Christian, or Muslim, or so forth, than necessarily whether and which you are in particular. If you are a Christian, and worship Christ and believe in Him as the best salvation for all humankind; yet can still recognize other positive, viewpoints as being valid, at least as applies to the material world; and therefore work for liberty, justice, and fulfillment for and with all people, irrespective of their particular religious or ideological choices and beliefs; then you can be both a devout believer, and a humanist as well.

Thus, humanist values supersede particular sectarian values not only because they are universal in their enjoyment and application; but for the specific reason that, while a fundamentalist claim necessarily denies a full and universal humanism, humanism does not deny but rather allows people to follow any number of additional belief systems as well, provided individuals do not deny full worth and dignity to followers of different beliefs.

3 AM, Frustrated with Myself

2009-07-01T03:00:00.000-06:00

So, I'm nominally a "leader" of the Young Adults group at my church. I say nominally, because I'm doubting whether I'm really providing that much leadership at all. The group is for church members 18-35, and is supposed to provide them with a group of caring peers and an entryway into the congregation.

One guy just sent myself and my co-leader an email, detailing his many frustration with the group. Basically, it boils down to us not really reaching out to provide spiritual and emotional connection and support to peers who need it, and also not being involved with the rest of the congregation in terms of mission, community service, participating in worship services, etc. Instead, we're basically a casual social club for games and conversation, and a fairly haphazard and exclusive club at that, seeing as only people who feel confident and interested in that ever participate, and that people actually coming to an event is a crap-shoot. These points are basically correct. My friend also listed a number of steps we could take to improve this situation, and make our group the way it's supposed to be. Again, this makes sense.

So, what's the problem? Well, I think part of the problem is with myself, and what I really want to be doing (or think I want to be doing) at this point in my life. To be perfectly honest, most of the time I just want to relax, hang out, and have fun with friends. At least, that's what I end up doing, instead of all the community-building, spirit-growing, world-saving activities I think and make myself feel guilty about. Really, a good 70-80% of my motivation seems to be to just have fun and socialize--something I largely missed out on during my high school and college years, and which I now have the ability and opportunity to do.

Am I right to feel, and think, and act this way? Am I right to be basically fairly selfish, notwithstanding doing nice little things for friends and family, and donating to charities and causes, and occasionally volunteering? Should I man up, throw myself into responsibilities outside the confines of my job, and defer a lot of that youthful whimsy--"grow up" and "act like an adult"? Or is it okay for me to want to do what I want to do, and to do it, and just be happy with myself, and not worry so much about perceived obligations? And if so, should I really be in any position of so-called "leadership" in my young adults group, given that I want to make like Sheryl Crow and "just have some fun"? Or, again, is it okay for me to be the way I am, and participate and help lead and organize things, including the hard, necessary changes that need to be made, with the understanding that, hey, I'm not perfect, and I don't need to make such a big deal out of it, it won't even be that much of a sacrifice?

I'm not really sure, although I'm sure the answer lies in the questioning. I guess I have to become an adult at some point.

Feedback and suggestions are welcome. Please don't feel the need to sympathize, or whatever. Thanks.

Frustrations...Which Need To Be Acted Upon (By Yours Truly, Plus You)

2009-04-21T22:25:00.000-06:00

Can we just nationalize, audit, restructure, and sell off the lamed banks already--and in the meantime, convert the Fed to an honest-to-gosh publicly-owned and regulated agency, rather than the "private-public" (ie, private profit, public debt) bankers' cartel it currently is?

And bring the troops back home from IraqiPakAfghanistan, possibly replaced by school builders, microfinance lenders, and constitutional law advisors? To be repeated as appropriate in Cuba, Poland, Thailand, and the other 130 foreign nations we currently garrison. Something smaller than a $500 billion-1 trillion "defense" budget might be nice, too.

And how about recognizing the full extent to which our economy and society could be "re-greened"--not just adding solar, wind, etc, to the grid, but actually decentralizing the grid itself; bringing back the day of worthwhile travel by train and bus; maximizing the local, organic, sustainable, even do-it-yourself aspect of feeding ourselves; and otherwise creating more sustainable, equitable, indeed elegant human ecosystems.

Just a few thoughts, a few priorities. I am woefully inactive in actually accomplishing any of these priorities; I simply offer them as food for thought.

We Need An Overarching Vision For Change

2009-04-18T10:32:00.000-06:00

One problem I keep having with progressive, left-wing activists--and I mean real progressives, not milquetoast, frequently corporate-sponsored "moderates" affiliated with the Democratic Party--is the lack of an overarching, compelling vision and program of how to truly reform and remake our society, and the world, into something more just, harmonious, sustainable, and just plain inspiring. Or, even if they do have such a vision, intellectually or in some manifesto, it is sung largely to the choir and hidden away within "the movement", without being implemented in a systematic fashion across the board, across the whole breadth of social policies and public issues: global relations, education, health care, ecological balance, etc.

Lefties are great at opposing particular evils and policies. A war on Iraq, a war on Afghanistan, global warming, executive greed, left-baiting media--ooh, are we ever so good at making our protest signs, holding our rallies, and decrying "corporate this" and "militaristic that". And we can totally skewer individual nefarious actors and organizations, the Rush Limbaughs and Reverend Phelpses and Carlyle Groups of the world, endlessly enraging and enthralling our fellow thinkers while the rest of society largely ignores us.

And so, too, do we push for progress in a piecemeal fashion: universal health care, a carbon cap or tax, immigration reform. Save the Rainforest. Free Tibet. Worthy causes, all; but does any of this sound too, too familiar?

Now of course, we do sometimes string together any number of these issues. This seems to occur most frequently at protests, where a demonstration against the war in Iraq can draw hanger-on causes ranging from Free Palestine, to Legalize Hemp. Or at various "people's conferences", where all sorts of activists and thinkers talk about their pet issues or projects, and the affair concludes with a proud commitment to "social justice for the whole world". This feels good, and represents the right sentiments; but I'm afraid a coherent, compelling grand vision, much less a strategy, it makes not.

What is needed is an overarching plan for how to change and ultimately save the world, and effective, coordinated steps to implement this on all levels, from the local to the global, and in all arenas, from personal choices to political movements and government policy. I think we on the Left have been afraid of embracing, and broadcasting, just such all-encompassing hope and vision for far too long now. I mean, we do realize all the different issues stem from some basic, fundamental problems in the relationships, attitudes and structures of our societies, right? From the late 1960's until very recently, the Right has been tremendously successful in promoting its own grand strategy--moralizing nationalism and "free enterprise" to the masses, massive corporate-military expansion and plunder in the corridors of power. With a faltering economy; a clear energy-cum-climate crisis; and a semi-open and progressive President in the White House, what time but now for us to push forward our own grand agenda, a newer, post-industrial New Deal?

I'd like to help contribute to just such a vision and platform. My personal proposal is for an overall "Green" transformation of our society, how we live and produce and relate. (I mean, just read the name of this blog.)

Ultimately, we are all--all peoples, all institutions, all living things--connected in an interdependent web of relations. The best model for how we can all get along and live prosperously, happily, and freely together is ecology: You take what you need from the system (the economy, the environment), you contribute an equal or greater value back, and ideally you do this in concert with other beings, starting with your own species and local community and radiating outward to encompass the whole globe and biosphere. No hoarding far beyond your realistic needs, and denying an equitable share to others. No cutthroat competition to the point of annihilation, assimilation, or subjugation (a vital and continuing part of our evolution as human beings is our capacity for cooperation and even altruism). No stinginess with your contributions to the human and biological community, no denying your essential interdependence a la Ayn Rand: that you need others, and they need you. But instead, a socially-conscious effort to work together, to balance, in order to sustain and enhance quality resources and living conditions for all, as can be found--not universally, and not perfectly--in some indigenous societies, or even modern-day communes and intentional communities.

So there it is: a start. A vision in a very broad, vague sense, pre-crystallization and implementation. Now what's left is to add to it, to flesh out the details; to make the leap from cyberspace, into real space, into real strategies and actions and social and political movements. Perhaps you can come along, and help me in this quest...

A Note on Blogging Work Ethic

2009-04-18T10:25:00.001-06:00

Well, having shamelessly promoted myself on Facebook, I now appear to have a few loyal fans of this blog. Excellent! I have drawn you into my trap, my pretties...

I find myself very, very busy these days. This is due to two, perhaps three major factors: 1. Teachers work long, hard hours, new teachers particularly so. 2. I'm trying to build an honest-to-gosh social life, perhaps the most complete so far in my 24 years on this Earth. 3. When not actively engaged in 1 or 2, I tend to be an awfully lazy, disorganized, downright slobby person.

So, fair warning that during the school year, I may not update this blog too often, or leave extensive, well-written posts. I know, I know, you are greatly disappointed and left in tears. But alas, I'm afraid it may just be so.

But wait! This news comes with a sliver of good hope as well! Teachers, as you know, teach during the school year...which means we have the summer more or less off...which means, between June and August, you can expect much more sewage pouring forth from my maddened cerebellum! Along with actual physical activism, hiking, camping, going to concerts, etc etc...

Stay tuned for more instructions, my minions.

Local Patriotism...

2009-04-15T22:33:00.000-06:00

What would be a good term for patriotism, focused on the regional state, rather than the nation-state? "Statism" has obviously flawed connotations, if you're at all into poli sci--what's my alternative?

I ask, because I would consider myself a hearty patriot to the state of Colorado. Almost to the extent that, if there were ever any kind of civil war...and Colorado was by-and-large committed to a progressive, or at least humane path...while the Federal government was less so...then my loyalties would most definitely be in question...

Begin hating on this now.

Starting...

2009-04-15T22:02:00.001-06:00

What is this? "Blog", you say? I don't know...sounds mighty foreign, maybe Russian, even...I'll have to think about it...

So, as I usually do, I'm joining this particular facet of the electronic communications bandwagon about 2-5 years after everyone else. Yay is me. Not sure how much I'll stick to this, but as someone I admire says, "blogging is good for the soul", and so I shall give it a try...

I am (as of April 2009) a 24-year old man, just starting out in this "real life" thing: two years out of a prestigious yet elitist college, teaching preschool, living in my beloved home state of Colorado, in funky downtown Denver. I'm also an ardent believer in social justice, alternative culture and politics, and historical change; trying to balance my aspirations to fullblown, idealist world-changing, with the desire to just take it easy and have fun, for the first time free of various emotional and logistical obstacles I've had in the past. Yep, I'm an undercover radical, a hippy/punk masquerading as a mainstream, upstanding, all-American, damn near small town young professional--or is that the other way around?...

Anyhoo. I'm gonna try to use this thing to vent my feelings and thoughts, well-formed and researched or otherwise, on a variety of subjects, such as: Why isn't the Obama administration responding to the obvious need for real, deep change and reform, in areas from sustainable agriculture, to community-based economics? Why do we seem to be making an only partial withdrawal from Iraq, only to meddle further in Afghan and Pakistani affairs, all while continuing to build up a military-intelligence-security-industrial complex which, altogethe, practically dwarfs that of the entire rest of the world? And why can't I find an actual girlfriend, after 3+ years of being single? LOL

So, yeah, that's me. Enjoy...