WWJVF?

I’m in a quandary. Well, several. One is what to write about, but, as always, coming to it from an inordinate amount of time off it is hard to get jump-started again, and I’m thinking “quandaries” will be a good topic because that’s what ends up fueling my internal monologue every other second of the day, for example:

oh god should i snooze the alarm clock one more time or just get up come on katherine you should just get up oh but it feels so good to not be up come on katherine you should get up should i have orange juice do i feel like making a sandwich who should i vote for for president does my vote count anyway who are my real friends shut up stop being so insecure why can’t you just be happy with what you have does this make me look fat who cares no one’s looking and people already love you for who you are the real question is who should you vote for for president should i go to the duke reunion fuck it’s been five years what the junk am i doing with my life why do you want to go anyway it’s just consumerist bullshit living in the past and most people aren’t going you shouldn’t need that for validation oh but it’s so green and golden there in springtime who should i vote for what should i be how should i feel what the fuck should i have for breakfast!!!!

Um. Yeah. Just a TMI-snapshot of what it’s like to inhabit my brain for 2 minutes. I’m seldom without a quandary, or several, of varying levels of importance. Today, they are, in ascending order:

1. How can I live with the fact that spring break will be over in less than 24 hours?
2. Will I ever be able to buy a house?
3. Should I go to the Duke reunion?
4. Who should I vote for for president?

The first two are relatively simple: you can’t but you have to anyway, and no. The third is not complex but is still ponderable. Part of me really wants to go. But the more I pontificate, the more expensive flights will become, already the only ones I can find return Monday, so I would have to miss school which I’ll already be missing enough of at the end of the year for the sake of being in North Carolina…and most of my close friends aren’t going so there is always the danger of being dearly disappointed, but then there’s Dr. MM and TMDJBRBB, and the loveliness of Durham in spring if all else failed. But there is also the danger, for one living so tenuously in the present as is, that the slightest tilt toward indulgence of living in the past would severely throw off my equilibrium. But then the part of me that craves ritualization aches at the thought of five years passing by without some sort of ceremony, a memorial, a moment of silence at least for the lives We Once Were. But does that have to cost me $500? I suppose not.

Which brings us to quandary #4, the main subject of today’s discourse. Who Would Jesus Vote For? And, once we’ve established that, should I vote for the same person? I would greatly appreciate input on this subject because for all my research and soul-searching and waiting for signs, shadows, wonders, I am still stuck in the decisionless wasteland of my mind.

My absentee ballot for the primary came in the mail last week with its strict instructions to be filled out in black pen in the presence of two witnesses (which I found extremely funny; I mean, I know why they do that and of course I’ll get it signed by two witnesses, but just the thought of me summoning two witnesses to watch me fill it out and to act as audience to my final throes of (in)decision making, especially when you get down to the district court judges at the bottom of the ballot whom NO ONE has ever heard of and who are not even google-able but who unfortunately will probably make the most difference of anyone else on the ballot but who get elected because we like their middle name or their gender better than the alternatives—which is probably how the president ultimately gets elected too, come to think of it).

I’ve been frustrated in my attempt to participate in this, the American political process at the most basic of levels, because once you get below the gubernatorial level there is really no information on anybody—even if they have a website it’s basically a geocities page with their name and some not-very-catchy slogan with the requisite misplaced apostrophe and no other information. The most amusing thing I have found so far in all my sleuthing is this page, on which Roderick Wright, one of the candidates for district court judge, makes a very formal invitation to this girl whom he may or may not know personally to have lunch with him, right above a comment by someone who doesn’t know the girl either but is commenting because she “looks damn good in those photos”.

But the foibles of local politics aside, I am still hung up on the humdinger of them all: the Clinton vs. Obama question. I have done research, I have scoured their websites, the commentary of other websites, read their speeches, and solicited the opinions of my friends, and I still remain paralyzed. In the beginning, I was leaning toward Obama because I’m a predictable twentysomething: I liked him. He was inspiring. He “made me feel hopeful.” He gave good speeches. He said that his worst quality was having an unorganized desk, rather than something like “caring TOO MUCH about children.” And, the most typical reason of all, my friends and students liked him. And who doesn’t want to look cool in the eyes of their friends and students? And the question of supporting the 200 years of American presidential patriarchy (when there is finally a female alternative) was conveniently canceled out by getting to support an oppressed racial minority—a win-win situation all ‘round. But I needed more than this. I still do. I need MORE of a reason than “liking” him, wanting to be his friend, and feeling like part of a youngun’s political club to justify actually voting for him. I need a reason, a real rational reason, to choose him over Hillary. And so far, I don’t have much of one.

(Editor’s note: I referred to Clinton by her familiar first name in the above line for alliterative effect. It bothers me how everyone feels like, after generations of calling politicians by their last names, now that there’s a woman in the mix we are automatically on a first-name basis with her. I mean, her campaign has chosen that, making her posters and bumper stickers say “Hillary” on them, but I still think it’s a patriarchic presumption for the masses to make.)

The only things I really have against Clinton are her vote to authorize war (which I think was more complicated than Obama likes to make it sound and the senate on the whole was shamelessly manipulated by the Bush administration) and various things that Bill Clinton did while he was in office. Most of the average-Joes you hear interviewed on NPR about why they like Hillary say that “they were pretty happy with Bill, so why not.” Well, to that I say it’s easy to be remembered fondly when your successor was the worst president in US history and when throughout your time in office the economy was pretty OK and we were mostly at peace. But, although everyone likes to put BC’s sexual capers at the top of his list of flaws, I prefer to top the list with Rwanda, finish it off with DOMA and “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell,” and pepper a bit of NAFTA in between. I remain torn, because I know that a lot of these were political concessions and it’s not an easy or black-and-white decision, when you’re president, whether to save hundreds of thousands of African lives, but all in all there’s a lot I’m not proud of on the part of the only democrat who’s held the office in my lifetime.

But should Hillary Clinton be saddled with the sins of her spouse (which, by definition, according to DOMA, is her male companion to whom she is joined in holy matrimony)? I don’t like that any more than I do the argument that she WILL be good because Bill was. But nor do I trust them to be entirely separate entities—I have to wonder, is she inclined, as he was, to sacrifice gay rights in a political compromise, if SOMEBODY’s rights have to be sacrificed? Is that better than sacrificing, say, the environment? Probably so, in the long run. But do I take it personally? Hell, yes.

I decided to look at gay rights as an issue that might help me decide between Clinton and Obama. Given almost-sameness in basically every position and every plan they espouse, I thought it might be a dealbreaker. But it’s still difficult. Both devote a section of their websites to their thoughts on the issue. Both are afraid to say the M-word. Obama, king of crowd-pleasing sound-bites, likes to refer to us as his “gay brothers and sisters,” which for some reason makes me kind of uncomfortable, like I’m visiting a church and they’re referring to me as one of them when I didn’t ask or want them to. Both have posted “open letters” on various gay websites to reach out to us, but Obama has made only two gay-themed statements/interviews whereas Clinton has made six. Should sheer numbers sway me? Perhaps not, but the fact that Clinton’s letter appears on OurChart.com? I find that pretty ballsy. And funny. I wonder if she’s ever watched The L-Word. But it was a good letter.
And here’s Obama’s.

They both pretty much amount to the same thing—similar promises (which don’t include marriage), similar rhetoric about the country “fulfilling its promise to everyone.” But, although Clinton skirts around the marriage issue (a good strategy; it almost gets lost in all the other good things she’s saying), Obama says “I personally believe that civil unions represent the best way to secure that equal treatment,” the not-too-subtle implication being that he’s of that camp that, for reasons either personal (read: religious) or political, he believes that the word “marriage” should be reserved for a man and a woman. Is he doing this to not alienate conservative-Christian democrats (are there such a thing? There must be). Or is he doing it to not compromise his own faith, what he believes to be sacred? I don’t know, but either way amounts to the same thing and is something I find extremely dangerous (not to mention hypocritical...separate but equal, anyone?). The more I learn about Obama the more I hear his morality and reasoning couched in a religious background, and although I’m not so naïve as to think a president can get elected without God in this country, it gives me pause. Obama’s religion seems deeply personal to him, and he doesn’t have enough of a record for me to see evidence of his acting on principles of the separation of church and state. So many people say he reminds them of Martin Luther King, Jr. I can see why; but most people forget, because of his civil rights legacy, that MLK was first and foremost a preacher. His cause was a good one, a righteous one, we all agree, but his justification for it was Jesus. Jodi and I went to see one of King’s daughters “speak” at Wake Forest when we were there, and left in the middle of what was a full-fledged sermon, vicious and exclusionary of anyone who does not believe in the Word. So, when wondering WWJVF, I think the answer could very well be Obama. But I’m really not sure that that makes me any more inclined to do so. But to be fair, when you throw in what some journalists dredge up about Hillary's faith, I don't know what to believe.



The final elements of my decision-making have to do with elements independent of either candidate’s stand on issues. I have Greg telling me that if Clinton is the nominee, McCain will surely win, so we have to fight for Obama with all our might. I have the consideration of age vs. youth—is it good to have a young, energetic president or is the “experience” thing really tantamount? And, finally, I have my allegiance to the second sex to consider. I will be the first to tell you that women do not automatically make good leaders—Margaret Thatcher, case in point. Either way you look at this election, a barrier is being broken—the chance to rumple (not break, not destroy, not erase) centuries of white supremacy in our leadership, or centuries of patriarchy. As much as I try to quantify one of these as being more important than another, I cannot. But I do know that all the women I know over about 35 are Clinton supporters, and I don’t think younger women, or men, often fully recognize the very recent struggle that women have, and are still, going through.

Jodi’s in a feminism class right now and every day comes home with a new realization of how her life really has been affected by the oppression of women. If her mother hadn’t taken her out of swim team because “her shoulders were getting too big” (at the age of 6!) she could have won awards, been truly competitive. If her high school hadn’t required female students to take sewing, Child Development, and Grooming and Deportment (eyebrow-plucking), maybe the experience would have been more rewarding, she wouldn’t have left in 11th grade, and she could have pursued higher education or more fulfilling lines of work before now. My mom has spent years in jobs where women get paid less than men. In California, I’m surrounded by women who truly have no idea how to value themselves apart from their appearance and their perceived beauty in the eyes of men and the world. I don’t think there is another woman who’s going to be in the position to run for president anytime soon, and I don’t know that Clinton will have another shot if she doesn’t win this time. Obama has the momentum going, and he will definitely be around for years to come. After all, this is just the primary; Obama has wide support…if it came down to him versus McCain, I would happily vote for him. But now, when good is pitted against good (or at least middling vs. middling) should I give Clinton the chance she deserves, one which she may never have again?

Perhaps I’m taking myself too seriously. My vote surely doesn’t count that much. And if I take too much longer to make this decision, it won’t count at all.

So What Should Katherine Do?

In Search of Lost Time

I don’t consider myself to have an addictive personality. Jodi does; she can’t say no to chocolate if it’s in front of her (it should be humanly impossible to eat so many peanut butter M&Ms in one sitting), and, although she doesn’t drink often, her philosophy when she does is usually “the more the merrier.” I don’t have that problem. But I do get hopelessly addicted to one thing: television.

Not normal TV; oh, no, I would be a good candidate for a “Kill Your TV” bumper sticker. I’ve never had cable. TiVo remotes stymie me, make me feel like a member of my grandparents’ generation, as do video games. But just don’t make me kill my computer. Where would I be without the sweet oblivion of series on DVD, or, most recently, Lost in high-def on ABC.com? I wrote about The West Wing once on this blog, about how its characters were my best friends to speak of. Now, since there’s nobody on Lost you would really want to be best friends with, they’re skipping the middleman and heading straight toward my subconscious: they have started infiltrating my dreams. I have noticed that my dreams these days usually involve either my students or Lost characters. Thankfully not both yet. But which is better, really—waking up feeling like you’ve just been at work all day when it’s time for work (no offense, kids)? Or banding together with imaginary people attempting to thwart evil (in monsters, but most potently the evil that lurks in the depths of human consciousness) at every turn? And who is evil anyway? I mean, the other night I was best friends with Ana Lucia, even though she is like, so last season, but…well, I think I can answer my own question. It’s probably never better to be on the level where you’re relating to fictional characters as though they were real. I should be grateful to dream about work.

So why the addiction? Why can’t I stop? It’s not even that good, really—after three seasons of suspense the pattern is blatantly clear—not that I know who’s who and what’s going to happen, but that I KNOW that just when they seem like they’re going to answer some crucial question, some spanner will be thrown in the works and you’ll be forced to wonder who’s really on which side and rescue will be postponed yet again. It’s getting comical. Not to mention you know that whenever something huge happens, no one on the show is going to tell anyone about it; they’re going to speak in veiled, vague one-liners that ensure that their fellows learn as little about it as possible to pave the way for future misunderstandings—if you ask me, an abuse of dramatic irony. And furthermore, whenever they have to make some huge plan that involves the whole group, it’s going to be as convoluted as possible to ensure the most chance of something going horribly awry.

So this begs the question: Katherine, you KNOW all this. You are SMARTER than the show. It’s basically trash—suspenseful trash, decent non-linear-narrative-trash, but manipulative and fluffy—still mostly trash. So why do you let it control you? It’s like I always tell the kids about when I was in high school and college and I KNEW I was smarter than all the people who were cool, and basically just as pretty as all the people who were skinny and perfect, but just couldn’t believe it in my heart. Why would I still want to be like that when I knew it was better to be me? Maybe the real addiction is to the path of least resistance. It is so easy to believe in all those ridiculous norms and stereotypes, but to resist them with all your heart and soul requires real work. And it’s so much easier to immerse yourself in the stories of others (not just “The Others”) than to immerse yourself in your own.

That’s what’s sobering. I have probably spent about 48 hours watching Lost over the past month. And to think about what else I could have done with 48 hours of my free time; indeed, of my LIFE…well, it’s enough to make me feel like a slight waste of space. What if I had written for 48 hours, rather than not written at all? What if I had exercised, or meditated, written an actual letter to a friend with a stamp and with the beautifully tragic variations of handwriting that make us all human? I could have cleaned the house, planted a garden, learned the tarot, or even just THOUGHT—pondered life’s persistent questions. I could have responded to emails and phone calls, made pieces of art for friends, remembered birthdays, paid more attention to Jodi, planned better lessons, read BOOKS, for God’s sake, decided whether I actually BELIEVE in God…the list goes on.

The one thing I have been reading is a book by the Dalai Lama, called Ethics for the New Millennium—it started out as something I was skimming in order to make the students read something about Buddhism, but I got hooked and read the whole thing. It’s rather ironic that this is the book I’ve been reading during the aforementioned paralysis of inaction and spiritual decrepitude. It’s about how to implement a universal “spiritual revolution” through the simple ethical principle of compassion for others—and how much happier we will be personally, and how much improved society will be the world over if our every action is infused with the intention to not cause suffering to others or obstruct their right to happiness in any way. And I have thought quite a bit about my Lost addiction in relation to the ideas he puts forth. It’s certainly not directly hurting anybody for me to squander my life in front of the computer, so in that sense I guess it’s better than murdering innocents or deceiving people for my own gain. But I think I know what the Dalai Lama would say about my ethics, although at times I don’t want to believe it: that given what good I COULD be doing, both for others and in furthering my own spiritual quest (which would eventually result in further service to others), wasting even a little of my precious life in the pursuit of passivity is unconscionable. I am giving in to the demons of laziness, giving in to my own inertia, when what I need to exert is positive force.

I know that much of what I crave in Lost is being told a story. And I know the Dalai Lama himself would admit that the thirsting for stories is, in itself, a noble and essential human quality. I love saying to someone, “Tell me a story,” and hearing the infinite variety of results that come from this request. The whole value of reading, of writing, of being an English major (I have to believe that was a purposeful pursuit, or what is my life??) is in learning more about the world and humanity through our stories. But I’ve realized that the tipping point is when I let my craving of being TOLD a story prevent me from telling my own—when I let others’ journeys (FICTIONAL ones) distract me from bringing meaning to my own life, from contemplating more essential questions, from being of use.

I know all this. But just as it’s well-nigh impossible (in America in the new millennium) to believe you are beautiful at the age of 16 (a notion the Dalai Lama finds, rightfully, bewildering), it is ridiculously difficult to resist the inertia; to choose action and thought over laziness and passivity. I’m going to try. But it’s lucky that within two more episodes, I will have caught up to the current season of Lost and have to wait a whole week, like everybody else, to squander my life for a single hour. I guess piecemeal is better than all at once when it comes to wasting time…right?