A Seasons for the Poem of Change

The snows are mountainous
A chillness of brisk
Has aired the enter
And breathes it hard to make

It's the seasons of change
Hot chocolate for time
And quilting in snuggles
While booking a read

Hats, gloves, and scarves for time
Bundles in layers, clothing up tight
Hoods eying out from under peers
Peeks red from scarves above noses out

The best year of time is this
A pajama chance to never change out
An inside excuse to watch and stay
Movies to listen and music all day

It's the seasons of change
Thanks of a giving
Peopling the love you tell
It's timeful alive to be a wonder

Musings

I am sitting in the office, wearing a long sleeve shirt and sweat pants, and drinking hot chocolate. It's 73 degrees. How pathetic. It is overcast, for the record.

So for the past month or so, we have been driving around and passing this huge tent set up the Casa Presidencial parking lot, and wondering what that was all about. And in the mall they have a big booth set up for Tihany Spectacular, and I vaguely wondered what that was all about as well. Finally I found out that the big tent was a circus, and that the sparkly booth in the mall was where you could buy tickets. Well, hearing about it from a few different people, I finally decided that I would go for two reasons. One, because I thought that it would be really fun (since what else is there to do in Teguc?) and two, because now I get to say that I say a circus in Honduras.

So we went to the circus on Wednesday. And I must say that Tihany Spectacular really lived up to its name. There was a lot of Vegas-y style dancing, with scantily clad women, most of whom didn't dance very well, but the rest was incredible. There was a lot of really really amazing acrobatics and a really funny clown that could play almost any brass instrument that exists. I should probably mention that this took place on a stage, with seats about 3/4 of the way around it, instead of in the round. There was a magician who wasn't that great, especially because he had a beautiful white tiger that looked terribly unhappy. But there were these two Mongolian guys who did these amazing acrobatics, and a small group of guys who did jumps and threw each other around and stuff. And this gymnast who was my favourite, where it was just her and a rope and her beautiful long straight blonde hair, and she climbed and fell and swung and it was amazing. I felt like a kid again, which may be in part because I ate about 80% of a gigantic stick of cotton candy. But it was wonderful, and if I had more money I would consider going again before it leaves town. I'll just have to wait for Cirque Du Soleil, I guess.

Drastic change of subject...

I was thinking the other day about how I don't know if we can ever really know anyone. I mean, everyone has secrets. In the language of Dr. House, everybody lies. No matter how well you think you know someone, there is always something that they will hide. Maybe I'm just being cynical. Maybe because I have so many secrets, I just assume that everyone else does as well. I'm pretending, so I think everyone else is. I don't know.

I wish there was more to say. My journal is filled with pages and pages of the same things. I have the same worries and the same thoughts. I am excited to go back to the States. To go back home. Where something will happen to me that I can write about. Where I can make friends and tell funny stories about work. I am most excited to see Liz and Jenny and Nelli and go to Vegas with Jillian and be with the people I love most.

Maybe someday I'll stop pretending. Maybe someday I will have no secrets. Maybe someday I'll stop worrying.

Today, however...

Selfish

I wrote a poem that is not to be shared
For in the sharing I would be sharing
something that I cannot share
Someday I will share what I now cannot share
But for now I will be selfish
And so I will share what I can share
And in the sharing feel that I am sharing
The secrets that one day I will share
But for now I will be selfish

"We never hide from history. We make history." -Sen. John McCain

Last night, Americans made history by electing the first African-American President, Barack Hussein Obama, the 44th President of the United States. Last night, Americans proved that they can do anything they set their minds to. And last night, Americans showed their intelligence and diligence by voting for change.

And I learned something last night. I have had my moments of cynicism and skepticism; I have doubted the faith of the American people and their ability to motivate themselves for good. But last night I learned that the people of the United States of America are ready for change. I learned that if they feel strongly enough, Americans will have their voices heard and their ballots counted. I learned that it doesn't matter if you're black or white, male or female, gay or straight; we can all come together and make something happen. And I learned that even though we made it this far, we know that the road ahead is long and treacherous. We know that our work isn't done. It's just beginning. We know that the change that we have longed for is still to come, and that we cannot just go home and sit idly by now that we have elected a new President. Our greatest work is yet to come.

I have not worked as long and as hard as many Americans in bringing this to pass, but I did my small part. I donated my small amount of money, I voted in my state, and I eagerly told anyone who would listen my reasons for supporting our President Elect. And I eagerly look forward to doing my small part in the weeks, months, and years to come. But I am glad to know, that even though the true test lies ahead, that we have taken the first step to making our world a little better.

If you didn't get a chance to see or hear it, I strongly suggest reading both John McCain's concession speech and Barack Obama's acceptance speech. Both moved and inspired me, and I have learned countless things from both of these men as they campaigned together these long months.

Our journey is far from over, and our tasks are piling before us. The worst and hardest days are yet to come, but I will stand with my fellow Americans to see that change is brought to pass. We cheered and cried last night, and today we will plan. I know that the iron-willed and strong-hearted people of the United States of America have voted into the White House change that we can believe in.

We will stand with our families and see our love strengthen. We will stand with our neighbors and see our cities grow. We will stand with our President Elect and see our nation flourish. We will stand with our country and see the world change.

Because we know that we have the power to change the world for good. We know that our future can only be brighter. We know, because Americans are the people who can bring change to our nation.

Yes, we can.

"When I came home from prison..."

The opinions expressed in this commentary are solely those of the writer.

Sorry, Mr. McCain. I can't let that go. I laughed when you said that. I know it's not funny that you were a prisoner of war, but maybe you should have said that instead of seeming to elude to a stain in your past.

The debate was fun to watch. I watched the beginning and then had to stop to eat dinner, but then we went over to Nathan's and had a debate watching party. We enjoyed watching the little audience reaction graph at the bottom of the screen, mainly because we didn't really know how it worked and because we liked watching it spike when Obama spoke, and then curve down whenever McCain opened his mouth. Again, sorry. But I was a little disappointed in Obama, with the whole bracelet thing. Big deal. You're above that. But it was a lot of fun, and I'm excited to see more.

On that note, I received my absentee ballot last week and I voted today! I'm so excited about this election (though, unfortunately, I could care less who is going to be the new Director of Zone 4. I don't even know what that means), and I'm excited that I can vote and make a difference. Well, hopefully make a difference. We'll see who actually gets elected.

What I'm really excited for, is the Vice Presidential debate this next Thursday. Joe Biden is going to eat Sarah Palin alive and (unfortunately or not) it's probably going to be funny. Sorry again, McCain, but just because Sarah Palin is a woman, does not mean that I will vote for you. You insult me by assuming that any woman in the White House is the right woman. Frankly, I am terrified that he will get elected and then something will happen to him and Sarah Palin will be leading our nation. I'm all for women in leadership, but not women who deny knowledge of the charging of rape kits in their city, and women who refuse to speak with the media so that we actually have an idea of what they know (those are the same person, by the way).

Finally, I wish to extend a heart-felt thanks to Tina Fey, whose brilliant and somewhat uncanny representation of Sarah Palin on SNL brought joy to my heart and laughter to my lips. Thank you for returning to the show to give us an accurately ridiculous interpretation of the hockey mom who should not be a Vice Presidential candidate. I salute you, Tina Fey.

For all of you who wish to view this gem, here is the link (I can't figure out how to post the video on here, sorry). Tina Fey as Sarah Palin. SNL might just be funny again.

Thank you all for tuning in to the political views of Rebekah Jon Whittaker. Tune in next week for more somewhat biased and not-totally-researched opinions on the future of our government. Till then, shalom!

And don't forget: "I can see Russia from my house!"

One more week...

...and a thousand more fingerprints. I'm very tired, and I hope that I find out if I'm hired again soon. That way I can plan my vacation, and I'll be getting paid more (which is a definite bonus).

I watched the Hours a couple of weeks ago. I just finished reading the book again, and although I liked the movie for itself, I really disliked it as a film of the novel. Everything was all wrong. I understand that it's very hard to make a film out of a book that is mostly thoughts and ideas with hardly any dialogue, but nothing was as it should be. The casting was wrong, the characters were wrong, even the whole theme was slightly off. It lacked...sincerity. Or reality. Something was missing, something that made it a genuine story of three women whose lives are intricately connected. I didn't like it. I was also suddenly struck with how much I do not think that Meryl Streep is pretty. Not at all. Her mouth is too small. How strange. But there were a few things that I liked about the movie. The music was phenomenal. I thought that it fit the film perfectly. And Nicole Kidman. She was absolutely brilliant. She was the only part of the movie that I thought fit right. I couldn't even really tell that it was her. Because it wasn't her. It was Virginia Wolff. She was absolutely incredible, and watching her was the best part of the movie. The rest of it was ok, but nothing like the book. And now I almost regret seeing it because I don't want to associate the two. Oh well. It is done, and I have my opinion.

I also just watched the Great Mouse Detective. Now there is a great movie. Not only is the casting phenomenal, but the style and the music (oh, the music!) is tremendous. Quite a nifty little film, though I can see how I was so scared of the Big Ben scene at the end. It is a little frightening.

I have been having such strange dreams lately. There was the one a couple of nights ago, where I dreamed that there was a man standing at the side of my bed, wearing a white lab coat, and for some reason I was really scared that he was there. I kept trying to turn on the light so that I could see better, but the electricity wasn't working (this was also the morning that my set alarm clock didn't go off), so I woke up really scared and I couldn't sleep for a long time. Then I had one another night where I was at a high school, visiting some old friends or teachers or something, and I was wearing this weird 80's outfit. The part I remember the most was we were standing in line in the cafeteria, and I climbed up on a railing and looked over a counter to where Sara (from La Grande) was sitting on the ground with an Asian-looking girl and they had somehow gotten cake on each other. I laughed and said that they should rub it on each other, and some small middle school boys said, "yeah, that would be hot." I climbed back down and turned around to the line again, a little annoyed, mostly because I had been thinking the same thing. Then last night I had a really weird dream, where I was trying on all of these different sun dresses (I liked the green one best, but it had long sleeves, so I got the white one) and hanging out by a pool with all of these weird popular people. Then there was an area of the house that used to be a kitchen (but was now separated) and it was filled with snow and there was a young boy huddling on the ground in there. I took his face in my hands and I asked him if he was homeless. He said yes, and so I had the kitchen rebuilt for him (it was kind of like those sped-up parts of movies) so he could live there. The last part I remember of the dream was that Liz and I were cleaning out a cave filled with trash that had belonged to Davey, that we were using for some reason, and there were a bunch of people with Horner Hornets sweatshirts and beanies. That's all I remember. Weird, huh? I wouldn't want it any other way.

Well, I guess I'd better be going. I'm trying to decide if I want to stay up and watch the final two episodes of the first season of House, but since tomorrow is Saturday, what the heck? Why not? So, till later, my friends! I'm off to O.D. on House, M.D.! Shalom!

9/11

The world is unfair. Things like going to the dentist and shaving your legs are such ordinary things, so mundane, while there are people who woke up this morning crying because there is someone missing in the bed next to them, or in the next room, or down the street. There are people crying because two towers fell this morning, and I cried for one quiet moment before going back to taking fingerprints to allow people into the United States. There are people crying because they were there this morning, walking to work or buying breakfast, and they saw the smoke and the fire and the planes.

The world is cruel. I thought, how I hoped, that I would be one of those people who goes their entire life without seeing a dead body. And yet as we passed that bus that had crashed into the mountain and saw that car that no one could have survived in, I saw the man sprawled on the street and I cried. I cried because seven years ago today thousands of people lost their lives clinging to steel and concrete and hundreds of people gave their lives digging through the rubble to bring pieces of their loved ones home. For seven years people have been trying to forget and struggling to remember the last thing they said to their husband or their wife, their sister or brother, their mother, their father, their aunt, their uncle, their cousin, their next door neighbor, and the man they never invited to their parties. For seven years the rest of us have been living our lives, laughing just as loudly, cursing just as strongly, hating just as fiercely. Shouldn't we be speaking less, crying more? Why did we survive and they die? Why were our meaningless lives spared when, seven years ago today, innocent men and women had their lives stolen from them in a cruel and painful way? How can we live our insignificant lives while people are crying because seven years ago today, they stared in horror as the tower that held their loved one crumbled?

The world is distant. I wasn't there this morning, when the sky was filled with smoke and fire and the screams of dying souls. I wasn't there when the buildings fell and the streets jammed and the calls kept coming. I wasn't there when the flag was flown and the police and firemen and volunteers swarmed over the smoldering ruins to find those who survived and the bits of those who didn't. And I'm not there now, while the nation stops in silence for the men and women who died seven years ago, and for the men and women who have died fighting since.
But I was there when the museums and monuments was built. I was there when that woman told us about her son, the man with the red bandanna, who rescued countless people and never made it out. I was there when the other woman told us about how she used to work on the 93rd floor of that tower, and how her department had moved to a different building a week before the towers fell. I was there when there was a hole in the sky and the blue shone down where there should have been towers. I was there, and I cried.