Wow. Just wow. My tax accounting class let out early...very early...following a presentation about the Sarbanes-Oxley Act of 2002. Trust me, it's important to future accountants/auditors. NEway, we left early. Our instructor was apparently as anxious to get home to watch Obama's acceptance speech as many of us were. Apparently, I'm not going to be the only Democratic accountant in this state.
I still wish I was there. I really do. It would have been unreal. But I did get to watch it live, so there's that. And even though I haven't forgotten, he did remind me why he caught my attention in the first place. He's American first, last and always. He has the respect of Republicans, Democrats and Independents alike, and he's earned it. He believes in a government that works together, regardless of party.
My closest friend here in Colorado is an undeclared voter who is, for all intents and purposes, a Republican. We do talk about politics when it comes up, and we have differing views on many things. And it's okay. It's okay to have a different opinion. As long as that opinion doesn't get in the way of the brain. Sometimes, we agree to disagree. But we would defend each others' rights TO THE DEATH to disagree. Barack Obama said the same thing.
I couldn't help but rise to my feet and clap while watching in the comfort of my living room. The room that one day, may not be mine because I still haven't found a job. But I realized that even though I might lose my house, even though I might have to move back home, I still have more opportunities than my father had. And in order to maintain that opportunity, I need a leader I can count on to help preserve the gains I've made.
There was no time that I ever thought I wouldn't vote for Barack Obama. Tonight just reminded me how committed I am to seeing this through.
And if you wish to go to the polls for the express purpose of canceling out my vote, be my guest. It's your right as an American.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
70 Miles to the North
Right now, Michelle Obama is leaving the stage. The Democratic National Convention is taking place in Denver, Colorado, at the Pepsi Center, about 70 miles to the north of me. And I really want to be there. Really. But I can't. I wasn't chosen as a delegate at the Colorado State Convention. There was some form I was supposed to fill out, and I didn't. So I don't get to go.
But I thought about it. Right now, I'm also in one of the most difficult quarters in school. I have an Intermediate Accounting class that professional accountants would have trouble with. I have a Tax Accounting class focusing on tax law. Read tax law. Do not apply logic. It will not make sense if you apply logic. I also have a Managerial Economics class, a half quarter class completely online. I'm learning that I need the classroom to succeed, but I'll do what I can.
I'm very behind in all these classes. Had I been selected as a delegate to the DNC, I'd have gotten even further behind. Yes, I want to be at the DNC. But more importantly, I want to get into something that's not blue collar, something that allows me to use the brain God gave me, the brain that is both blessing and curse. I want out of this cycle of underemployment.
Listening to Michelle Obama's speech, that's when I realized that it was a good thing I wasn't a delegate. It's my future at stake, both here and there. But here, I can do a lot more about it.
Yes, I want to be up in Denver at the DNC. But I want to have a future I can control. I'll be at the polls in November. Too many people have fought and died for my right to vote, as a woman, as a minority, as an American, for me to spit in their faces. I would hope that everyone else realizes the sacrifices made for our freedoms. I'd like you to vote for my candidate. But more than that, I'd like you to be informed. If you want to vote for McCain, it's your right. We are allowed to disagree.
How cool is this country?
But I thought about it. Right now, I'm also in one of the most difficult quarters in school. I have an Intermediate Accounting class that professional accountants would have trouble with. I have a Tax Accounting class focusing on tax law. Read tax law. Do not apply logic. It will not make sense if you apply logic. I also have a Managerial Economics class, a half quarter class completely online. I'm learning that I need the classroom to succeed, but I'll do what I can.
I'm very behind in all these classes. Had I been selected as a delegate to the DNC, I'd have gotten even further behind. Yes, I want to be at the DNC. But more importantly, I want to get into something that's not blue collar, something that allows me to use the brain God gave me, the brain that is both blessing and curse. I want out of this cycle of underemployment.
Listening to Michelle Obama's speech, that's when I realized that it was a good thing I wasn't a delegate. It's my future at stake, both here and there. But here, I can do a lot more about it.
Yes, I want to be up in Denver at the DNC. But I want to have a future I can control. I'll be at the polls in November. Too many people have fought and died for my right to vote, as a woman, as a minority, as an American, for me to spit in their faces. I would hope that everyone else realizes the sacrifices made for our freedoms. I'd like you to vote for my candidate. But more than that, I'd like you to be informed. If you want to vote for McCain, it's your right. We are allowed to disagree.
How cool is this country?
Sunday, August 17, 2008
The Weather
Well now, here’s something I never thought I’d say. Not here in Colorado. It’s been raining for days! Not the normal 20 minutes of rain then sun, not even periodic episodes of rain then sun, but almost constant rain, varying from a light drizzle to downpour, and even a little hail. Hail out here, of course, isn’t particularly serious, I think it has more to do with the altitude. Whereas hail back home in Cincinnati usually meant something severe was on the horizon, and you’d best get yourself to some sturdy building, just in case. Just the same, it’s been raining all weekend. I haven’t seen the sun since Friday. Maybe Thursday. Easy to lose track of time when you’re not working. In the seven years I’ve been here, I’ve never seen it do this. Based on what I’ve seen in the news, this isn’t particularly common. Sure, it’s monsoon season out here, but we’re talking about a place where half an inch of rain for the month isn’t all that odd. Part of me wishes it would stop. I know I’ve gone native, because part of me can’t help but say “We need the moisture.”
Surprisingly, my ceiling hasn’t really leaked all that much. I did have roofers come out last month after a particularly heavy deluge. I had my own private waterfall in my living room. The roofers did what they could, but they also mentioned the windows need to be replaced. There’s one in particular, my skylight over my bathroom and upstairs hallway. That one I can see is in bad shape even from 10 feet below. That’s the biggest culprit. Nonetheless, they did what they could and told me they’d come back if needed. Fortunately, the roof falls under the province of the HOA. Unfortunately, the windows do not. One more thing. They must have accomplished something, though, because I’ve yet to experience the same level of drippage as I did before they came. One in the same spot I’ve seen it for years, and one very small leak in the new area. Based on where the leaks are, it’s probably my window. The one in desperate need of being replaced.
Rain does have one fairly universal effect, it tends to bring on a malaise. And for someone who’s already down naturally, it can get pretty severe. But, you do what you can. Soldier on, try to accomplish what needs to be done. Yeah, so far, that hasn’t worked out so good. My third class for the quarter has begun. I have an assignment due tomorrow, and I haven’t even cracked the book, yet. I’m behind in my other two classes, also fairly work-intensive, and I don’t know how easy it will be for me to catch up. I’m going to have to go with “Not.”
This really concerns me, because I do need to find a job. A source of income other than the student loans I’ve been living on since my unemployment ran out and my pension was cashed in. So far, I’m okay, but that won’t last long. My student loan payments are quarterly, and not enough to cover all my expenses. Even if I eliminate all luxuries and semi-luxuries, it’s not enough to pay my mortgage, phone and groceries. I’m constantly amazed, though, at the fact I’ve managed to go almost an entire year without an earned income. Sure, there was some left-handed luck involved, particularly the settlement from my accident in November, but mostly, it was unemployment, student loans, and being cheap. Most of the time.
Despite the fact that I get extremely tense when I feel like I’m going broke, I have had episodes of spendthrift behavior. Not lately, but it’s happened. And to be perfectly honest, one of those episodes was actually necessary, although I still have trouble reconciling that. I went shopping. I realized some time ago that if I wanted to get into accounting, I’d need to add a few things to my wardrobe, things that made me look a little more professional and white collar. Yes, I’ve worked in offices, for major companies. I’ve worked in a corporate headquarters of a Fortune 500 company (Fortune 100, I think). And for that job, I did have to have more appropriate clothing than I do now. Of course, those clothes are long gone. I was in the middle of losing weight, swearing to never see size 26 again. Well, I’ve managed to keep to that one. Unfortunately, I’ll also never see size 10 again. Or 12 for that matter. Hell, I’d be happy with 16 right now. All the business clothes I had back then, had I not given them away, wouldn’t fit anyway. I had to replace them. I didn’t even buy that much. Really, I have about six pieces appropriate for white collar work now, including a pair of slacks that have been waiting to be hemmed for, oh, six months, now. Nothing I can really do about it now.
I need to get to work. I have several assignments to complete this week, as soon as possible. And I have to find some way to ignore the ominous noise I hear over my head, a noise that sounds an awful lot like a huge leak overhead. I’ve never heard that noise before, although that could be due to other noises I usually have, like the television or radio. I know I’ve heard the random thunk here and there, but I attributed those mostly to the house settling. It’s over 30 years old and not built on the most stable of surfaces. I figure in another 30 years, it will have split in half. I’ll be long gone by then. I think, yes, I think I need to find a way to further distract myself from that noise. Nothing I can do about it right now anyway. Besides, it stopped raining. I can see Pike’s Peak for the first time since Friday morning. Or was that Thursday?
Surprisingly, my ceiling hasn’t really leaked all that much. I did have roofers come out last month after a particularly heavy deluge. I had my own private waterfall in my living room. The roofers did what they could, but they also mentioned the windows need to be replaced. There’s one in particular, my skylight over my bathroom and upstairs hallway. That one I can see is in bad shape even from 10 feet below. That’s the biggest culprit. Nonetheless, they did what they could and told me they’d come back if needed. Fortunately, the roof falls under the province of the HOA. Unfortunately, the windows do not. One more thing. They must have accomplished something, though, because I’ve yet to experience the same level of drippage as I did before they came. One in the same spot I’ve seen it for years, and one very small leak in the new area. Based on where the leaks are, it’s probably my window. The one in desperate need of being replaced.
Rain does have one fairly universal effect, it tends to bring on a malaise. And for someone who’s already down naturally, it can get pretty severe. But, you do what you can. Soldier on, try to accomplish what needs to be done. Yeah, so far, that hasn’t worked out so good. My third class for the quarter has begun. I have an assignment due tomorrow, and I haven’t even cracked the book, yet. I’m behind in my other two classes, also fairly work-intensive, and I don’t know how easy it will be for me to catch up. I’m going to have to go with “Not.”
This really concerns me, because I do need to find a job. A source of income other than the student loans I’ve been living on since my unemployment ran out and my pension was cashed in. So far, I’m okay, but that won’t last long. My student loan payments are quarterly, and not enough to cover all my expenses. Even if I eliminate all luxuries and semi-luxuries, it’s not enough to pay my mortgage, phone and groceries. I’m constantly amazed, though, at the fact I’ve managed to go almost an entire year without an earned income. Sure, there was some left-handed luck involved, particularly the settlement from my accident in November, but mostly, it was unemployment, student loans, and being cheap. Most of the time.
Despite the fact that I get extremely tense when I feel like I’m going broke, I have had episodes of spendthrift behavior. Not lately, but it’s happened. And to be perfectly honest, one of those episodes was actually necessary, although I still have trouble reconciling that. I went shopping. I realized some time ago that if I wanted to get into accounting, I’d need to add a few things to my wardrobe, things that made me look a little more professional and white collar. Yes, I’ve worked in offices, for major companies. I’ve worked in a corporate headquarters of a Fortune 500 company (Fortune 100, I think). And for that job, I did have to have more appropriate clothing than I do now. Of course, those clothes are long gone. I was in the middle of losing weight, swearing to never see size 26 again. Well, I’ve managed to keep to that one. Unfortunately, I’ll also never see size 10 again. Or 12 for that matter. Hell, I’d be happy with 16 right now. All the business clothes I had back then, had I not given them away, wouldn’t fit anyway. I had to replace them. I didn’t even buy that much. Really, I have about six pieces appropriate for white collar work now, including a pair of slacks that have been waiting to be hemmed for, oh, six months, now. Nothing I can really do about it now.
I need to get to work. I have several assignments to complete this week, as soon as possible. And I have to find some way to ignore the ominous noise I hear over my head, a noise that sounds an awful lot like a huge leak overhead. I’ve never heard that noise before, although that could be due to other noises I usually have, like the television or radio. I know I’ve heard the random thunk here and there, but I attributed those mostly to the house settling. It’s over 30 years old and not built on the most stable of surfaces. I figure in another 30 years, it will have split in half. I’ll be long gone by then. I think, yes, I think I need to find a way to further distract myself from that noise. Nothing I can do about it right now anyway. Besides, it stopped raining. I can see Pike’s Peak for the first time since Friday morning. Or was that Thursday?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Stream of Consciousness 08/12
It might seem to the casual reader that these “Stream of Consciousness” blogs have a therapeutic tone. Well, I have neither job nor insurance, so until that situation is remedied, I suppose they do. Gotta get this stuff off my chest, right or wrong, in order to function. Even though most of my friends on this page know me IRL, it’s a safe place. It’s hard for me to put the words together face-to-face. One of the reasons I doubt the efficacy of therapy for myself. I forget things. Hugely traumatic things, no less. Then there’s the fact that face-to-face, I tend to say the wrong thing. My facial expressions, my words and my tone don’t tend to jibe. People misconstrue what I say all the time. I swear, sometimes I think I’m slightly autistic. I know I’m not. I don’t even have Aspergers’. But ADD and Autism are in the same class, just different ends of the spectrum. And I know I have ADD. And it sucks.
Last week, I had my midterms. My first midterm, intermediate accounting, was horrible. I’d be willing to bet I got no better than a C. I’m sure I didn’t fail. That’s the only thing I’m sure of. The next midterm was tax accounting. Open book, which was helpful, but as anyone will tell you, a decent test still requires study. I’m glad I reviewed my chapters before that test. That was a lot easier. I still doubt I aced it, but I think I didn’t do too badly. Before that class, there was a conversation about success in the classroom. Everyone, particularly the instructor, was shocked to find I’d failed classes in college. I’d let him know the previous week that I was stressed out because I was looking for a job. I still am, and I’m still stressed out about it. He asked if I had other things going on at the time, just out of curiosity and conversation, and I mentioned a learning difficultly. I didn’t specify anything. I also didn’t mention that I was working two jobs at times while in college, and that I failed two classes, one of them twice. In one, I had a professor notoriously opposed to music students, where music professors actually recommended dropping the class. In the other, the one I failed twice, I had two obstacles: one was a professor who hadn’t left Vietnam, but he was tenured, so the school had to wait for him to retire. The other was a class where the book was a work in progress. The professor was still writing it, adding chapters throughout the semester. The third time I took it, I got a C. It was a different class each time.
See, I leave things out. Things that would change the picture a bit. But these same things would make people go “Well, you’re just putting the blame on someone else.” And you know, maybe I am. And I don’t actually care as much any more. I know what I’m dealing with, I know what I’m fighting against, and I know when I have done something to myself. Lots of self-talk. Destructive self-talk. Learned it at my mother’s knee.
Yes, she was horrible to my brother. She was bitter and angry with men, and she took it out on him. I didn’t escape unscathed. Me, she told I was never good enough. Didn’t matter what it was, I wasn’t good enough. Don’t go into theater, you’re not good enough. It’s hard, and so very few people make it. It’s not worth the pain. Don’t go into music, you’re not good enough. You sing flat all the time, you can’t keep a decent rhythm, your voice is shrill and unpleasant. Don’t go into broadcasting. You don’t have the body or face for television, and there’re just not enough jobs in radio. Your grades could be better. You could be thinner. You could be less bitchy. You could be happier. You could be more serious. You could have a bit more backbone. Whatever I did, it was wrong.
But wait, there’s more! She would tell me not to go into acting or theater, then set up an appointment with a talent agent. One specific incident. She had the appointment, and I had strep throat. She kept the appointment. I couldn’t speak. I literally could not speak. She wouldn’t reschedule. And I couldn’t.
So here I sit, knowing I have to get a job, stressing because, frankly, I don’t know how. I have access to several hiring managers in accounting fields, and I haven’t been able to broach the subject with them once. I don’t feel competent to do anything. Why should I? I was told I was incompetent from a very young age. I really don’t like talking about myself. Feels like bragging, and bragging is bad. That one, I got from my father and the overall environment. Girls don’t brag. Girls sit quietly in the back and hope someone notices them, but not for the wrong things, whatever those may be. For someone who’s barely got a grasp on interpersonal relations to begin with, this is NOT helpful. I’m a very literal-minded person, I tend to take things at face value. I can pick out obvious sarcasm and humor, I’m not completely oblivious, but if I’m not paying attention for whatever reason, I will take you at your word. I don’t notice when someone’s flirting, I can’t always tell when they’re trying to get my attention or just happen to be looking in my direction. Gotta be obvious. I don’t always notice when everyone stops talking about something because it’s no longer comfortable. And I really don’t notice when I don’t stop talking about something that should have been dropped long ago. Once I do, I can’t stop, not immediately. I have to consciously force myself to stop. Experienced that in my last family trip, when I got so geeked out about seeing so many Ohio plates in South Carolina. I heard myself saying it so often, I was getting tired of it. It took another few hours to stop.
See, I appear perfectly normal. I give off an air of competence, normalcy, astuteness and intelligence, according to multiple reports from others. I know I’m intelligent. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have if I wasn’t. But competent? Astute? Normal? No. It’s taken me a lot of years to realize that, much less accept it. Doesn’t mean I don’t try. I know I say the wrong thing often. I’m good at it. Just ask my mom. I have an amazing ability to say or do the exact wrong thing. And I’m on my own dealing with that. No one else is interested, they only care that I’ve said or done something wrong. It’s a huge fear. So huge that I get worried when a friend doesn’t talk to me for a while. Unless I hear otherwise, like they’re out of town or out of the loop, I assume I did something wrong. Pretty self-absorbed, admittedly, but when you’re used to saying or doing something that makes your friends walk away, that makes your family stop talking to you, it’s hard not to.
Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this. I get tired of struggling to strike just the right note. People don’t like me. I know this. This is not news. And I don’t always know why. In fact, I usually don’t know why. Sometimes it’s something I said, sometimes it’s something I did, and sometimes, it’s just because they don’t like me. That happens to everyone. That one, I can deal with. It’s when I’ve said or done something, and no one tells me what. They just stop talking to me. How in the world can I avoid it again if no one will tell me what I said or did? My only real choice is to keep to safe topics. I tend not to express my opinion any more, or share anything really important that’s going on in my life. The longer I do that, the farther that avoidance extends. Now, I barely speak about myself. No one’s interested, so I’ve learned. I have things in my past, dark things, that I haven’t told anyone. Not really. An occasional oblique comment here and there, but no one ever wants to hear the rest. Can’t blame them for that. Problem is I can’t see the line. So I have nothing really to say to anyone.
No wonder I feel so completely alone.
Last week, I had my midterms. My first midterm, intermediate accounting, was horrible. I’d be willing to bet I got no better than a C. I’m sure I didn’t fail. That’s the only thing I’m sure of. The next midterm was tax accounting. Open book, which was helpful, but as anyone will tell you, a decent test still requires study. I’m glad I reviewed my chapters before that test. That was a lot easier. I still doubt I aced it, but I think I didn’t do too badly. Before that class, there was a conversation about success in the classroom. Everyone, particularly the instructor, was shocked to find I’d failed classes in college. I’d let him know the previous week that I was stressed out because I was looking for a job. I still am, and I’m still stressed out about it. He asked if I had other things going on at the time, just out of curiosity and conversation, and I mentioned a learning difficultly. I didn’t specify anything. I also didn’t mention that I was working two jobs at times while in college, and that I failed two classes, one of them twice. In one, I had a professor notoriously opposed to music students, where music professors actually recommended dropping the class. In the other, the one I failed twice, I had two obstacles: one was a professor who hadn’t left Vietnam, but he was tenured, so the school had to wait for him to retire. The other was a class where the book was a work in progress. The professor was still writing it, adding chapters throughout the semester. The third time I took it, I got a C. It was a different class each time.
See, I leave things out. Things that would change the picture a bit. But these same things would make people go “Well, you’re just putting the blame on someone else.” And you know, maybe I am. And I don’t actually care as much any more. I know what I’m dealing with, I know what I’m fighting against, and I know when I have done something to myself. Lots of self-talk. Destructive self-talk. Learned it at my mother’s knee.
Yes, she was horrible to my brother. She was bitter and angry with men, and she took it out on him. I didn’t escape unscathed. Me, she told I was never good enough. Didn’t matter what it was, I wasn’t good enough. Don’t go into theater, you’re not good enough. It’s hard, and so very few people make it. It’s not worth the pain. Don’t go into music, you’re not good enough. You sing flat all the time, you can’t keep a decent rhythm, your voice is shrill and unpleasant. Don’t go into broadcasting. You don’t have the body or face for television, and there’re just not enough jobs in radio. Your grades could be better. You could be thinner. You could be less bitchy. You could be happier. You could be more serious. You could have a bit more backbone. Whatever I did, it was wrong.
But wait, there’s more! She would tell me not to go into acting or theater, then set up an appointment with a talent agent. One specific incident. She had the appointment, and I had strep throat. She kept the appointment. I couldn’t speak. I literally could not speak. She wouldn’t reschedule. And I couldn’t.
So here I sit, knowing I have to get a job, stressing because, frankly, I don’t know how. I have access to several hiring managers in accounting fields, and I haven’t been able to broach the subject with them once. I don’t feel competent to do anything. Why should I? I was told I was incompetent from a very young age. I really don’t like talking about myself. Feels like bragging, and bragging is bad. That one, I got from my father and the overall environment. Girls don’t brag. Girls sit quietly in the back and hope someone notices them, but not for the wrong things, whatever those may be. For someone who’s barely got a grasp on interpersonal relations to begin with, this is NOT helpful. I’m a very literal-minded person, I tend to take things at face value. I can pick out obvious sarcasm and humor, I’m not completely oblivious, but if I’m not paying attention for whatever reason, I will take you at your word. I don’t notice when someone’s flirting, I can’t always tell when they’re trying to get my attention or just happen to be looking in my direction. Gotta be obvious. I don’t always notice when everyone stops talking about something because it’s no longer comfortable. And I really don’t notice when I don’t stop talking about something that should have been dropped long ago. Once I do, I can’t stop, not immediately. I have to consciously force myself to stop. Experienced that in my last family trip, when I got so geeked out about seeing so many Ohio plates in South Carolina. I heard myself saying it so often, I was getting tired of it. It took another few hours to stop.
See, I appear perfectly normal. I give off an air of competence, normalcy, astuteness and intelligence, according to multiple reports from others. I know I’m intelligent. I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have if I wasn’t. But competent? Astute? Normal? No. It’s taken me a lot of years to realize that, much less accept it. Doesn’t mean I don’t try. I know I say the wrong thing often. I’m good at it. Just ask my mom. I have an amazing ability to say or do the exact wrong thing. And I’m on my own dealing with that. No one else is interested, they only care that I’ve said or done something wrong. It’s a huge fear. So huge that I get worried when a friend doesn’t talk to me for a while. Unless I hear otherwise, like they’re out of town or out of the loop, I assume I did something wrong. Pretty self-absorbed, admittedly, but when you’re used to saying or doing something that makes your friends walk away, that makes your family stop talking to you, it’s hard not to.
Honestly, I don’t know how much longer I can deal with this. I get tired of struggling to strike just the right note. People don’t like me. I know this. This is not news. And I don’t always know why. In fact, I usually don’t know why. Sometimes it’s something I said, sometimes it’s something I did, and sometimes, it’s just because they don’t like me. That happens to everyone. That one, I can deal with. It’s when I’ve said or done something, and no one tells me what. They just stop talking to me. How in the world can I avoid it again if no one will tell me what I said or did? My only real choice is to keep to safe topics. I tend not to express my opinion any more, or share anything really important that’s going on in my life. The longer I do that, the farther that avoidance extends. Now, I barely speak about myself. No one’s interested, so I’ve learned. I have things in my past, dark things, that I haven’t told anyone. Not really. An occasional oblique comment here and there, but no one ever wants to hear the rest. Can’t blame them for that. Problem is I can’t see the line. So I have nothing really to say to anyone.
No wonder I feel so completely alone.
Friday, August 8, 2008
2008 Olympics Opening Ceremonies
China. A country that makes Germany seem open and accepting, even gregarious. I grew up in Cincinnati, and while it’s a very American city, some of the German attitudes continue to prevail. Not only in the quirky use of “please” instead of what, but in the xenophobic attitude of her citizens. Before Anheuser-Busch spread their beers all over the country, the best beers were found in Cincinnati. No, I’m not just saying that. It’s been documented. But there was no point in spreading out. First there was plenty of business within the Greater Cincinnati area, and second, nothing but scary monsters outside of the borders. Cincinnatians know what is available in the city, but it’s not really advertised outside of the limits. Very insular. China, as far as most of us know, is far worse.
Tibet. Communism. Darfur. Tiananmen Square. Cultural Revolution. The Great Wall. These are the things we think about when we think about China. We’re accustomed to the right of assembly, the right to speak our minds, to disagree with even our leaders, loudly, publically. We’re accustomed to people sneaking in over our walls, literal and figurative, just for a chance to be a part of our country, even if for only a little while. China, like the USSR during the cold war, seems to be the antithesis of that very ideal, of everything we represent. And yet…
The Chinese people are proud to be Chinese. Not all, it would be preposterous to assume everyone is happy. Not everyone is happy here, and we’re probably the most politically permissive society in the world. Can’t make everyone happy. But what about the ones who are? What about the Americans who are proud to be American, who ignore the very real racial discrimination still prevalent in our neighborhoods, cities and states, or who believe the religious right/radical left have taken over the ruling of our country, that our president is wrong and stole the election in 2000, that he’s right and wish there could be a third term. All of these people are proud to be Americans. The Chinese people haven’t enjoyed the same freedom of the press we have. Even the most diehard conspiracy theorist, when rational, would have to admit that we have more access to information than the Chinese have. Because of events during the torch relay, Chinese people are getting an idea of what the rest of the world thinks of them, of their country. They just didn’t know. A lot of Americans are ignorant of our presentation on the world stage, but that’s mostly ignorance. This information was literally withheld from the Chinese people.
The Olympic Games are intended to bring the world together. To remind us that regardless of language, beliefs, skin or gender, we’re all one people. We’re all human. The Olympics have been used to further political positions. The US boycott in 1980 from the Moscow Olympics, and their response to boycotting the 1984 LA Olympics. The 1972 murder of Israeli athletes by Palestinian athletes. The 1936 Berlin Olympics, intended by Hitler to promote the superiority of the Aryan race. The 1968 Black Power podium salute. It’s a world stage, and it’s tempting to use it to further your own ends. This, the 29th Olympiad, is no different. Regular citizens spoke up about what they see as China’s faults. And governments made their own statements. Heads of state made a point of boycotting the opening ceremonies. Our own leader was pressured to do the same. He chose instead to attend, to show willing to bury the hatchet, to move on, to grow and expand the relationship, from this point forward. And as much as it pains me to say it, I agree with his decision, and his reasoning. I have to go take a hot shower, now, maybe rinse off with bleach.
I love the Olympics. I was thrilled when the timing was changed from every four years to every two. Sure, there are still four years between each summer games, and each winter games, but it doesn’t seem as long. What I love is the sportsmanship, and the display of nationalism. I love the pride each person takes in their home country, and the heart they show when they perform. I was thrilled to see Cathy Freeman of Australia win a gold medal. I still get excited when I see the Jamaican bobsled team, and other countries, not known for having a winter, much less a winter sport, turn up on the slopes. And I swell with pride every time I see Old Glory rise up, hear the Star Spangled Banner played for one of our own. I wish the games could be about sportsmanship and not about politics, but let’s face it, not gonna happen.
China has thousands of years of history, accomplishments during a time when Europe was still living in caves and wearing raw furs, and a pride that would make anyone, well, proud. Their country isn’t perfect. They’ve committed atrocities against their own people and others. They’ve spent centuries trying to keep barbarians out, and everyone was a barbarian. They’ve suppressed the right for people to have thoughts contrary to the government line. They’ve created a people who are expected to follow what their leaders demand, be it having only one child or giving up a car to reduce pollution. Preposterous to think we haven’t done anything similar. For atrocities, look up the Tuskegee Experiments, or even slavery. Yes, slavery existed for millennia, but not the way we practiced it. How about all the treaties made and broken with various native tribes, now forced to live on the least tenable land in an otherwise fertile country? Then there’s the fact that our government can help rebuild entire countries (Japan, Germany after WWII), but can’t lift a finger to rebuild a single city (New Orleans). We’re not perfect. But most of us are proud to call ourselves Americans, native or naturalized. Let the Chinese be proud, too. They have a lot to be proud of. They deserve it.
Tibet. Communism. Darfur. Tiananmen Square. Cultural Revolution. The Great Wall. These are the things we think about when we think about China. We’re accustomed to the right of assembly, the right to speak our minds, to disagree with even our leaders, loudly, publically. We’re accustomed to people sneaking in over our walls, literal and figurative, just for a chance to be a part of our country, even if for only a little while. China, like the USSR during the cold war, seems to be the antithesis of that very ideal, of everything we represent. And yet…
The Chinese people are proud to be Chinese. Not all, it would be preposterous to assume everyone is happy. Not everyone is happy here, and we’re probably the most politically permissive society in the world. Can’t make everyone happy. But what about the ones who are? What about the Americans who are proud to be American, who ignore the very real racial discrimination still prevalent in our neighborhoods, cities and states, or who believe the religious right/radical left have taken over the ruling of our country, that our president is wrong and stole the election in 2000, that he’s right and wish there could be a third term. All of these people are proud to be Americans. The Chinese people haven’t enjoyed the same freedom of the press we have. Even the most diehard conspiracy theorist, when rational, would have to admit that we have more access to information than the Chinese have. Because of events during the torch relay, Chinese people are getting an idea of what the rest of the world thinks of them, of their country. They just didn’t know. A lot of Americans are ignorant of our presentation on the world stage, but that’s mostly ignorance. This information was literally withheld from the Chinese people.
The Olympic Games are intended to bring the world together. To remind us that regardless of language, beliefs, skin or gender, we’re all one people. We’re all human. The Olympics have been used to further political positions. The US boycott in 1980 from the Moscow Olympics, and their response to boycotting the 1984 LA Olympics. The 1972 murder of Israeli athletes by Palestinian athletes. The 1936 Berlin Olympics, intended by Hitler to promote the superiority of the Aryan race. The 1968 Black Power podium salute. It’s a world stage, and it’s tempting to use it to further your own ends. This, the 29th Olympiad, is no different. Regular citizens spoke up about what they see as China’s faults. And governments made their own statements. Heads of state made a point of boycotting the opening ceremonies. Our own leader was pressured to do the same. He chose instead to attend, to show willing to bury the hatchet, to move on, to grow and expand the relationship, from this point forward. And as much as it pains me to say it, I agree with his decision, and his reasoning. I have to go take a hot shower, now, maybe rinse off with bleach.
I love the Olympics. I was thrilled when the timing was changed from every four years to every two. Sure, there are still four years between each summer games, and each winter games, but it doesn’t seem as long. What I love is the sportsmanship, and the display of nationalism. I love the pride each person takes in their home country, and the heart they show when they perform. I was thrilled to see Cathy Freeman of Australia win a gold medal. I still get excited when I see the Jamaican bobsled team, and other countries, not known for having a winter, much less a winter sport, turn up on the slopes. And I swell with pride every time I see Old Glory rise up, hear the Star Spangled Banner played for one of our own. I wish the games could be about sportsmanship and not about politics, but let’s face it, not gonna happen.
China has thousands of years of history, accomplishments during a time when Europe was still living in caves and wearing raw furs, and a pride that would make anyone, well, proud. Their country isn’t perfect. They’ve committed atrocities against their own people and others. They’ve spent centuries trying to keep barbarians out, and everyone was a barbarian. They’ve suppressed the right for people to have thoughts contrary to the government line. They’ve created a people who are expected to follow what their leaders demand, be it having only one child or giving up a car to reduce pollution. Preposterous to think we haven’t done anything similar. For atrocities, look up the Tuskegee Experiments, or even slavery. Yes, slavery existed for millennia, but not the way we practiced it. How about all the treaties made and broken with various native tribes, now forced to live on the least tenable land in an otherwise fertile country? Then there’s the fact that our government can help rebuild entire countries (Japan, Germany after WWII), but can’t lift a finger to rebuild a single city (New Orleans). We’re not perfect. But most of us are proud to call ourselves Americans, native or naturalized. Let the Chinese be proud, too. They have a lot to be proud of. They deserve it.
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