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Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Book Review
The Ukrainian and Russian Notebooks: Life and Death Under Soviet Rule by Igort (2016)

Expected book publication: 4/26/2016, from Simon and Schuster

Graphic Novel

Much time has passed, so much that I don't recall the last instance of it, since I have felt as I do right now, having just finished this book. The Notebooks are more about Russian atrocities against Ukraine and Chechnya, and the second half of the book barely includes any time under the Soviet fist. The atrocities are multiple and horrific. I found myself engrossed, appalled, and outraged by the end.

The point is, there's nothing warm or fuzzy going on between these covers.

At a personal level, I find myself grateful for what I have, a sentiment I once found sappy and trite, but how can I complain about my life's purpose when I have a job which allows me food and shelter, even if it's not a good match for my personality and skills?

I'm angry with the Russians in charge, and my anger is renewed towards the leaders and opinion-makers of my own country, who enable similar crimes against innocents in the Middle East and elsewhere.

I'm more disgusted than ever at the insanity of the supposedly normal people of the world, ranting about non-problems while real suffering screams and aches among populations we never see, never hear about anymore.

I don't know the last time I have heard or read a news story about Ukraine. It's February 2016. I don't know what's going on there right now, because I forgot, and because the media grew bored telling us about it.

Yes, it's all overwhelming. But it's pretty sad too.

This book is powerful. I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to read it early, via an advance copy care of the publisher and NetGalley.

Back in "business"

I want a place to post reviews of books I read, albums I hear, movies I see. I miss having a blog.

So I'm resurrecting this. No need to start from scratch.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Rules vs Evolution

This article is simply perfect. Sparky's next step can be painful, and it's a step I've been caught in, stuck like a plastic bag snagged on barbed wire, for over ten years now: evolution - evolution of the spirit/soul/whichever term you like - is usually a very lonely affair. The pack is slow to grow (as much as I am a socialist, I am also an anarchist, for the sake of the individual); when you convoy, you feel safe. When you go it alone, you don't have the companionship, but you also don't have anyone telling you to pull over at every McDonald's. I take Sparky's column as a wake-up call. For me, it's a re-awakening, because this is a lesson I've been taught many times, and I can even teach it to the best of my ability, but I really haven't mastered it. Barely begun the process really.

"There Shouldn't be Rules to Being GLBT" by Sparky

http://www.womanist-musings.com/2012/01/there-shouldnt-be-rules-to-being-glbt.html

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Something's missing

I'm having trouble letting go.

2012 is my year for letting go. 2011 was me, shellshocked from an accumulation of years of dreams gone sour, efforts achieving naught, and I was set to simply make my life about finding a job I could retire from, build a life with my boyfriend, retire, and eventually die.

I've always believed in some hidden purpose behind my life. I believed I would achieve something great, something lasting.

But I've achieved the stature of Ozymandias, only the monuments I've built were never built. They fell apart before they could be finished.

And I realize this sounds self-pitying. Overly Western maybe. People all over the world are lucky to have drinkable water, and here I am bemoaning the fact that I'm not successfully providing concrete evidence - exhibitions - of my supposed genius.

It may be pathetic that I'm even writing this, but it's true. It's how I feel. And I'm angry and sad because I don't feel the power inside me to let go of it. I've heard it a million times: 99% is a bitch, 100% is a breeze. Just let go and float into the unknown.

I do try to do that, but it seems more of an escape. I visualize myself floating in space, past the giant spheres of the universe, or exploring the wonders of the ocean. A being forgotten, unneeded, totally free, just being, just experiencing.

Unfortunately, translating that meditative bliss to some kind of belief system hasn't worked out.

Two ways of looking at it are clear. I could look at this as simply part of the path towards freedom, disengaging from my self-expectations. The other possibility is that by giving up my dreams, I have denied a major, important part of my soul.

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Little personal facts

1. Certain sounds repulse me. The pouring of liquid. Eating and drinking sounds. Clinking silverware on plates. Sandpaper/wiping dirt off of rocks/that sort of thing, especially if I imagine what that feels like.

2. The moon is possibly my most important spiritual symbol.

3. I love mosque (masjid) photos, even though I’m not a practicing Muslim and I’ve never been to one.

4. 2011 sucked bigtime for me, but ended very nicely. I landed a part-time dishwasher job and an interview for a full-time better-paying office job. I could go from basically unemployed to working 60-hour weeks very soon.

5. I’m still grieving my choice to leave behind my academic dreams after more than 20 years of holding onto those dreams. At 41, I’m ready to just take a job and retire from it someday. Letting go of ambition has been a crushing experience. I’m hoping to go through the grief and come out at the other end in a sort of personal resurrection.

6. My boyfriend is 20 years younger than me. We have been officially together for over a year, we have very little in common, but we are making it work.

7. I will probably always love “boy bands.” I think it’s because they bring back childhood/teen closet memories. They touch something of my past that still hurts a bit in my heart. And their music, however corny, brings me healing.

8. The only kind of spiritual process that brings me faith is in-the-moment experiential spiritual activity, like meditation, ritual, music, dancing, being surrounded by religious art, etc. I have (as of yet) failed to maintain faith just by thinking about it, reasoning things out, or any other strictly mental exercise. If I relied purely on intellect, I would be a strict agnostic. But I’m not. I feel strongly there is something beyond this life, an afterlife, other beings, maybe even a singular God, and my spiritual quest is to experience more about that, not necessarily to declare faith or argue about it. No human’s declarations are convincing to me, and certainly no religion’s moralism or dictates. As a postcard I have says, “Faith is a journey, not a guilt trip.”

9. If you have read this far, I think you’re one of the coolest people ever. Thank you.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

A note I wrote to a soldier who said Bradley Manning is a traitor for putting soldiers in "harm's way"

If Manning did a noble thing, he did it from a position that very few people have access to. Kicking him out is keeping vital information from the public. The military was committing crimes of a very grievous nature, a military funded from the taxes all of us pay. Going to war puts soldiers in danger already. I don’t see that your point is greater than getting the truth about actual war crimes and atrocities out into the public eye.

In other words, you asked to be in battle. Civilians did not.

Sorry if I sound blunt, but I’m not sure why we should be concerned about putting soldiers in harm’s way in a war. That’s what you’re there for. Personally, I think all the wars should be cancelled and you all should come home. It’s time for humanity to assume its natural evolution into a nonviolent species. ”Traitor” is an outdated term, just like “patriotism” and “country.”

Finally, the actions of those who committed the atrocities are the ones who made life more dangerous for soldiers, not those who blew the whistle. This is, in very literal terms, punishing the messenger. The traitors are the ones who ordered AND carried out such acts, not the one who revealed them.