Making a Nuisance of Myself

When I was twelve our family had a reunion at a camp in the Adirondacks, a place called Putnam Camp. A lot of the staff were high school kids, often friends and relatives of the family. I spent my entire week following some of them around, trying to be one of them. In retrospect, I can see that I wasn't quite as popular with them as I thought I was ("Hey Chris, you didn't tell me you were all going swimming." "Uh, I forgot." "It's a good thing I was waiting outside your door." "Yeah, good thing.")

One way in particular that I tried to be one of the gang was with a board they had in the kitchen. It was mostly for daily announcements but they had put up, on one part of it, the "quote of the day". Whenever one of these camp guys said something particularly witty and funny, it would be written on the board. Typical of the genre were: "If this is supposed to be China, why does it say 'made in Japan?'" and "My balls ache!" Needless to say, I was desparate to have one of MY lines put up on the board. To this end, I followed them around, repeating jokes, quotes and trying to make up funny things, each one puntuated by "Shouldn't that go up on the board?" Chris tried to explain to me that it had to be a bit more spontaneous, but I was determined to get something up on the board.

I remember that story today, because I've been doing it again. Andrew Sullivan has a feature called "The View From Your Window" which is, simply put, pictures submitted by readers around the world from their windows (who would've guessed?) I've been trying to get a picture posted since the begining. I mean, I live in Cairo, how could he not post my picture? I've sent him at least four different pictures, but still nothin has appeared.

Two nights ago, I woke up around three in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep. When I went to make myself a bowl of cereal, I noticed that dawn was just about to break. I grabbed my camera and took a few shots. These had to make it onto the page. I took four shots and sent them all off to Andy, fingers crossed. Her's the best one:



Well, this morning, Sullivan put this post on his blog. I can only assume it was directed at me.


Sigh, I'll never be cool.

Can I help you?

Yes, I am one of those fathers who thinks his daughter can't possibly be anything other than adorable. It's shots like this that makes one wonder whether the whole information revolution was really worth it.

Some photos taken in Egypt

This picture demonstrates what I was talking about. "Bartys"


These were e-mailed to me by a former classmate. I don't know who took them, but, together, they say a lot about living here.

Nuance

A perfect politician for a nuanced fence-straddler like me:

"It has not always been the pragmatist, the voice of reason, or the force of compromise, that has created the conditions for liberty," he writes about the antislavery movement of the 19th century. "Knowing this, I can't summarily dismiss those possessed of similar certainty today--the antiabortion activist ... the animal rights activist who raids a laboratory--no matter how deeply I disagree with their views. I am robbed even of the certainty of uncertainty--for sometimes absolute truths may well be absolute."

-Barrack Obama

Metrics in Iraq

Read this report.

Its not all bad: Oil revenues are slowly increasing, Schools are improving and Electricity outside of Baghdad is at target levels


But the majority of indicators are moving in the wrong direction:the Electricity levels in Baghdad, the Number of Attacks per day, the number of insurgents, the number of civilians killed, the number of US troops killed, These and many other "Metrics" are all trending in the wrong direction.

We need a new strategy.

Mk Grooving to Sesame Street

http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=32491378&postID=116127857175985172

Overheard in NeW York

Tourist on cell:
The Chinese are notorious for blurring the line between pet and soup.

Fuck Me Up the Goat Ass

This is the song to which I awakened one god-awful morning back at Fort Bragg. I think you can excuse me for thinking I was eternally damned to Hell

Cultural Disconnect

So my class has a number of really interesting, opinionated, and type A personalities this semester, which I absolutely love. It makes for lively discussions. Usually I'll have one or maybe two big talkers and the others just kind of coast by. But this class is much more fun. Its also nice that there's no gender gap here. There are big personalities on both sides of the class (yes, much like grade school, they all segregate themselves by gender).

So I thought we would have a great discussion today about gender rights. I had given them an article about perceptions of women in the office, and after doing some reading comprehension questions, I opened up the discussion.

Stone cold silence.

Usually, all I have to say are the magic words, "what do you all think?" and the next two hours are sucked into a time vacuum. This time, though, I asked question after question about women in the work place, perceptions of roles for men and women all the usual stuff.

I got one word answers, people sort of mumbling under their breath, and nothing really direct. After a few minutes, one of the guys, Islam is his name, expostualtes in Arabic. I didn't cathc it all, but he basically said, "this is a bunch of horse shit" (I got this more from context than actual vocab, btw).

I asked him what he thought and he replied that this whole conversation was a joke, that women already hve all the rights they need. I looked to some of the girls in the class, especially the ones who seem to have anb opinion for everything, and tried to get them to respond. Nothing.

So I responded myself, a little bit, hoping I might give some of the others some ideas that they could then develop on their own. I talked about women not getting many managerial jobs, about how certain fields were pretty much closed off to them. Islam (and others) responded that this was because they had to stay at home and be moms. I did get a rise out of a few of the girls when I mentioned how women get harassed on the street, then I really got them excited when i asked why women aren't allowed to go to cafes to smoke shisha (hookahs).

But then I lost them completely. I talked about how no women were allowed to be Judges in Egypt. At this they all (girls and boys) started arguing with me. They said that women can't be judges, that they are too emotional and aren't qualified to be a judge. I told them how we have had several judges on the supreme court who do quite well, and they didn't really beleive me, or they said "well, that's just one example".

I asked Farah, the best student in the class, most organized, opinionated and reasonable person there, if she thought that SHE shouldn't be allowed to be a judge. Her responce?

"No, I shouldn't. I get too emotional."

Stunned, I ended the discussion.

Dada Zen

When it comes to Dying, robots are as boring as a production of Richard the Third with an all potato cast.

Factoid

About me:

I like jokes that nobody gets. You'll find them littered about my posts, little references that only make sense, or even appear if you know all of the things I know. Actually, I guess you won't find them.
Case in point, the title of this blog: I'm not going to explain it in detail, but suffice it to say that there are two moments written about in the Bible that have a particularly strong resonance. The first, is when one confronts that which is. As some might put it, we remove the mask from the fool, if only for a moment. That moment, which for some people repeats ad nauseum through life, is what gives us direction, but it can also lead to hope, sometimes despair. At its best, I hope that this blog occasionally offers a dim reflection of some of those moments in my life, when I have faced down a burning bush. Thus the title of this blog

The second moment in life, reflected in my pseudonym (barely), can, perhaps be called the MLK moment. It is the instantiation of glory, albiet short lived and impermanent. It is the moment when you see the completion of your life's work (or what you thought your life's work was) and you have a brief shot of triumph, until you taste the ash of realization that, a) your work is in no wise done and b) you will never reap the reward of your efforts.

See what I mean about jokes that no one will ever get?

Here's a (slightly) less pompous joke that I always enjoy on October 12th:
1. I was born on the day Columbus "discovered" America.
2. Colombo is Greek for dove.
3. My given name is Hebrew for...dove.

How cool is that?

There's more to this, involving Noah (releasing a dove to find dry land) and Jesus (who saw God descending as a Dove) and several other connections that especially appeal to me now that I'm old enough to be crucified (there I go again!) but I'll stop here.

Happy Birthday to me.

Crazy Love Vol. II

Here’s a big memory for me:

I was driving north on I-95 after my second weekend with J. The first weekend, I had skipped hanging with the Dalai Lama to be with her. Then I drove back down three days later for another long weekend. Anyway, I was on the beltway, headed north, fifteen minutes into a 6-8 hour drive and Graceland was the first album of the ride. It was a bright, sunny, July afternoon. I was driving 80 miles an hour and Paul was crooning:

I don’t want no part of this crazy love
I don’t want no part of your love.

The funny thing about that song is how joyous it is. The lyrics seem so judgmental; I mean, they’re saying no. But the music, the rhythm, everything else is shouting YES! YES! to the Andalusian girl.

That was six years ago, and I often have cause to think back upon that moment. Within a few weeks, I discovered the bizarre sleep walking and talking syndrome. A few months after that, she actually passed out from listening to me and my father arguing. A few seconds later, she bolted, still with her eyes shut, out of the room and the house. I chased after her and finally found her curled up in a ball on the side of the road, about half a mile away. Later, when were planning our wedding, she insisted that we stop calling the spot up on the hill, “by the gravely” (the brand name of the tractor), because that sounded too, you know, dead.

These are maybe not the best examples, but I’m not really trying to build a case for why she’s crazy. What my experience has been, right from the get go, was that her reactions, while often seeming arbitrary and totally irrational, were also implacable, for example, her completely visceral response to anything that resembles the eyes of a bug, from honey comps to black-eyed susans (which were definitely NOT included in our wedding bouquets). I often find this reaction to be really scary. I mean, when you wake up because your girlfriend is ululating in the closet, not down by the shoes, mind you, but up on the third shelf, a feeling of fear may be perfectly rational. However, it is this feeling that I find most liberating about my relationship with her. It is completely out of my control, and all I can do is let go, accept it, and move on. I love her for it, and I feel it has allowed me to face many other fears.

It’s like the wise man once said:

Love gives you wings. It makes you fly. I don't even call it love. I call it
Geronimo. When you're in love, you'll jump right from the top of the Empire
State and you won't care, screaming "Geronimo" the whole way down. I love her so
bad, I just... whoa, she wrecks me. I'd die for her.