Experiments in Living

A Science Fiction Lament

Sci-Fi Lament

            When the snow started falling, I was excited. When the call came in that school was cancelled, I was elated. When flicking through channels and stumbling on – by perhaps the same luck that brought all that snow – Oblivion, the 2013 sci-fi movie starring Tom Cruise that critics seemed to laugh at more than write about, I was ecstatic. And then when the girlfriend agreed…

I’m an Adult, and I Believe in Santa Claus

It’s Christmas and for many people, faith comes into focus this time of the year. Christmas has been a secular thing for me for the past decade and a half. I was raised with specific religious beliefs, the sort of gift that didn’t keep on giving because it was what it was. There was no wonder, no mystery, no incentive for the awe one expects when considering the divine. It was believe this One…

Today I sat in my basement classroom and meditated. Among the mildew and trash and before the onslaught of kids, I set a timer on a meditation app and had 5 minutes of the best nothing I’ve had in a long time. Through the app, I chose the sound of a campfire and an ending note on a gong. Thoughts sprang to mind and I wrote them down. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Uncuffing myself from my…

Words are funny. Say the word “meditation” and you might picture a monk or a dedicated practitioner of an Eastern religion. You might picture robes and a serene background. You might hear “Ohmmmm.”

A lack of information often informs what we (think) we know about something. Stereotypes are the end product, but it takes time for a stereotype to build. Sometimes a word conjures a meaning or an…

I went to the doctor the other day To see what ailed my soul He told me to look into the light To help account the toll.

He told me there’s a little known organ Tucked right behind the heart It’s your Emotional Capacitor, he said It’s basically fallen apart.

I demanded to see his license I threatened to call the authorities But he wrote on my chart ‘Patient proved my diagnosis.’

So what’s the…

  Look at the Newsweek cover above. What a photo. It captures the fear broiling in the hearts of Americans after 9/11. Islam, born in the devil’s womb that is anything outside America, turned its sulfurous attention to our Christian nation. The only recognizable thing about Lindh on the Newsweek cover is that he’s white. The style of his long hair and beard, the war-grime on his face, and that knowing, insidious look that gives proof to the invisible menace birthed only to destroy our way of life: all of these are firmly outside the American experience, and thus something we fear. The moniker “American Taliban” is telling. Two disparate things. Two enmities. One phrase. What cannot be joined together, is. John Walker Lindh is everything we as Americans fear. That our way of life can be joined to an evil one. That the city on a hill can be tarnished by all that it looks down upon. 9/11, Osama bin Laden, the Middle East, Islam: these things caused comfortable America to quake on its perch. We didn’t understand who we were, and who we thought we were turned out to be self-created myths. Therefore we succumbed to our fears. Even today, we still view 9/11 and its aftermath through our fear. There’s no reason to expect anything different from our novelists either.

But John Wray does deliver something different. Not taking the bait on any of the interpretations of 9/11 and its aftermath that would be justified based on the overwhelming support of a fear-based reaction, Wray tells a different story. A subtle story. Wray is quickly becoming my favorite living author, but he isn’t popular. While he should be, it’s this approach to his subjects that define his skill. Wray delivers much more than he could have had he taken the conventional critical tack on Lindh. And yet you won’t walk away from this book with any shining light of insight into Lindh himself. What Wray does with is, well, subtle.

So much bullshit falls away with Wray’s approach. It’s clear, focused thinking that is sorely needed in our knee-jerk, fear-based world. A legitimate question, though, may need to be answered. What can we learn from Lindh’s situation? The answer to that question leads us down one of two paths. One is Wray’s, which I’m getting to, and the other is a lizard-brain response, one in which our lack of understanding and binary perspective forces us to categorize Lindh and those he fought with as less than. It’s a tricky balance because the Taliban and their ilk aren’t up for any peace prizes. But they are humans operating in a human world which means, right or wrong, they have reasons for their actions. They are a point along some continuum. If only someone in power had had the following thought when deciding how to respond to 9/11: What do I need to know about my enemy before I can defeat them? Sadly we thought bombs decide this sort of thing.

I’m going to resist the temptation to summarize the entire book. I’m no fan of summary, but this book almost requires it. The other side of Wray’s subtlety is that it takes a while to build up to it. That Aden is a female is interwoven so deeply and effectively throughout the whole book that it takes on deeper and deeper meanings as the story progresses. Something as simple and yet somehow silly in terms of “serious” fiction as how Aden would use the bathroom in this type of environment is made an antonym of itself. It becomes complex and important. When Aden is discovered squatting instead of standing, she has to lie, which provides a warning to her that she now has to live the lie instead of living her own life, something Decker warned her about, and something she ignores as she pursues her goal. Aden being female  is a metaphor for Lindh’s American-ness; it’s something off that others can see but not name. In this world of fundamental Islam, political strife, and a host of other issues, Aden/Lindh/America is the other.

I want to tell you everything! I want to continue that train of thought above. I want to sit with you as you read the book and exclaim and jump around and scream “Did you see that??!!”

Go read John Wray.

Why are These Kids so Dumb?

It’s a lament I hear (too) often from my teacher colleagues.

Why can’t my students identify the main idea in a paragraph? It’s right there in the first sentence!

Why can’t my students follow the steps in the equation? They have the steps in front of them and we practiced it for three days!

Why can’t they follow directions?

Hearing complaints like this is as normal as hearing colleagues greet one…

I’m Free This Afternoon

When I have the time I should take the time

An open afternoon Like a can of soda Will go flat soon

I got nothing in my head Is it peace, or laziness, Or am I just dead?

Every second of every day Needs to be the highest high And a single shade of gray.

Reality is What Marketing Says It Is

I started writing this post last Thursday, and the more I work on it, the larger it grows and the harder it is to tame the thoughts. I read an excellent article on the recent news that humanity had erased 60% of animals since 1970 in which the author argues that the statistic is being misread, though the situation is grim. The author argued for precision and impact when disseminating information…

Thoughts in Poetic Form

the impartial morning, dark like yesterday, erects the set around me. I whirl and gimble in my furious path, spinning and spinning while the walls stand still.

if I could fix this one thing, would it trigger the sun to rise, would it set me free from the walls, grant me the peace to imagine a door outside and the power to stand still.

Teach Our Children? Well…

I have a stash of folders in my classroom. In my school, in which supplies provided for teachers and student’s own supplies don’t really exist, my stash is like gold. I’ve hoarded my folders, dolling them out for the truly needy student and lesson objective. A couple weeks ago, I used some of my precious trove for one class’s essays. As students picked a folder out of the bin, we discovered some…

“This Book Sucks!” and Other Premature Conclusions I’ve Come To.

For the past couple years, I’ve noticed something about every single book I read: the first 100 pages sucked. Some books made the miraculous transformation from shitty to good around page 85. Some took their time and didn’t morph until p. 112 or so. I thought at first I was on to some discovery about my reading or literature at large. Are today’s authors such navel-gazers that they take their…

A Low Feeling’s Aspirations

I don’t fit in, But I don’t feel bad. You can’t miss a feeling that you never had.

“Normal People” Fucked Up

I love the last line for the hope it gives. But I don’t think it’s true. You might not be able to miss something you never had, but you can see other people using what you don’t have, and you can want it. Missing and wanting sometimes feel like the same thing; emotions can’t tell time.…

I’ve dabbled with writing since I was a junior in high school. In college, writing took a backseat to reading since I showed up as an English major with major deficiencies in my literature experience. After college, writing took a backseat to partying and shaking off the shackles of my youth. As I entered my third decade on the planet, I began to see the end of the endless good times. Something…

Last night, my local writers group gathered in one member-couple’s house for a Halloween party in which we read a 1000 word or so scary story we wrote for the occasion. What I didn’t know beforehand was there’d be a vote for a winner.

I didn’t win. Not winning a fun contest between non-rivals shouldn’t be a big deal. But like people who play fantasy football and have limited determination over…

Running Someone Else’s Course

I oscillate between powerful and powerless. I am king of my domain and transient slave in another’s. I am the universe and I am a blip in its furious course.

My life is my kingdom that at times I rule with skill and wisdom. At other times it is a depressed city that’s been taken over by the state.

As I alternate my crown and my dunce hat, I think of a new kingdom. This new kingdom isn’t based on…

I’m a Time Lord. Sort of.

Raising a child is time travel. As my son grows older and experiences so many firsts, I remember my own experience in the same circumstances as I observe him going through his. It’s living in the past and in the present in the same space. I am a powerful time lord!

I never thought I’d have children, and I certainly never thought I’d be the parent waiting outside the school building with all the…