|
WHO? Oliver. oof San Francisco again, Brooklyn before, Atlanta & Chicago wayback. RECENT: Mendocino The magical hour Something midwestern My Two Front Teeth oh yeah album titles Hello Summertime wow, i was tired Lists WRBC 2008 TRAVELS: Biodiesel trip across America (January, 2005) Paris (April, 2005) Election work in NM (November, 2004) ARCHIVES: July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 May 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 August 2003 June 2003 LINKS TO PALS: elly Toshok Pete Tuggy Workstatus Nathan Express Train SEARCH: RSS: Get your RSS feed here |
« Hippie Wedding |
/words/
| Recovery »
Culture ClashToday, as I sat at work, safe and dry in my cush corporate job at 2 Folsom Street, far from the floods devestating lives, I felt nothing but confusion. Through the windows, I watched painters across the street create a garish yet bland billboard of pink and black, while the radio transported me to another place entirely. This American Life, a show I've listened to for probably a decade, aired extended interviewers with survivors from New Orleans. I pondered the ever-widening class divide in America, wept openly as I heard direct stories of horrific events. All the while, I felt wildly detachted as the painters created an advertisement by hand, one brush stroke after another. I have the classic guilt; I know I should do something good. I want to make a difference, make the world a better place, etc, but I'm not quite able to get the job done. Maybe I'll buy a teeshirt. sigh. ... Life has been really confusing and hard and dissapointing and cold and scary, and did I mention hard? lately. For a brief moment of grief, I had utter clarity. It's the focus when there's only one possible way to deal with something so much bigger than yourself. I just did what I thought was right, and I did it 100%, and I didn't fuck around. You take care of the people that you love, right? right? That's just what you do. You do it not just because its the right thing, but because its what FEELS. it feels right, it feels painful, but it FEELS. It's terrifying to see things around me fall apart, to see people age, to see health really appear, rather than being one of those things that old people talk about. ... After six years of a ritual that has purified and grounded me like none other, I felt like I could survive and even benefit from a year off, but it turns out that I actually can't, and there's nothing I can do about it now. I try to hear stories, and to do my part to be a catalyst for other peoples' experiences, but it just makes my heart plunge every time. Lessons. Lesson after lesson. I miss my friends terribly. I thought it was ok to see them occasionally, to have sparse, witty emails, but somehow I forgot that these people are my family. My god. I've called them that for so many years, talked about each August as a family reunion, but I'm not sure I've ever paid attention to myself.
|
oof.org/words/ |
|