1111

What a date… which is now past. I wanted to write something for the new year. It will be a marvelous one. A year to marvel at. I have actually decided to end this blog instead. I can’t explain exactly why, but I think it is best to have an official ‘end’, and not just a languishing abandonment of How To Be Dolce. So, this is the start of a new year, and this is the end of the blog. Much happiness and love to all in 2011!

Yesterday

Yesterday was my birthday, and while the full moon during the winter solstice before the lunar eclipse was marvelous, I think this picture looks like a painting (It’s me holding a cupcake with a candle on it – if you couldn’t decipher):

Yes, that is my pimp coat.

The photo is copyright of Anna Croll, whom j’adore. She took it with her iPhone, I believe. This photo is unedited…me turning 26… The tree in the background symbolizes the coming holiday and new year. I just like it.

Ruben

She seemed homeless, but clearly had a place to live, or at least a place where her children had shelter. She approached me outside a sports bar in Chinatown while I was smoking a cigarette. It was snowing outside.

My friends, both of whom are young, connected media and public relations figures in Washington, did not appear overly pleased when she and I joined them back at the table where I was sitting. I suppose bringing strangers in from outside is poor ediquette. However, as the evening approached 1:00am, one warmed up – even giving her number to Ruben. I finished my gin and tonic and handed my business card to everyone. It says “Jameson Freeman, individual”.

My friends went their own ways, and Ruben said she was hungry. We walked through the snowy, ice-cold Chinatown streets and talked. She told me about her struggles, her two children, her beliefs… and we exchanged philosophies on various things. We talked about smoking and how neither of us should be doing it – her especially since she was pregnant. When we walked into a latenight Chinese food joint, we got a window table and ordered some greasy things. It was good, especially with how biting the weather was outside.

It was determined we lived more or less in the same direction from where we were, so we caught a taxi together and made a stop at a Seven Eleven near my apartment. I got her chocolate and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream (they use hormone-free milk) for her kids. I also got her a pack of American Spirits cigarettes… which, doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense (blame it on the alcohol) but I fingured if Ruben was going to smoke (on occasion she says) then at least they should be healthy cigarettes… just kidding about the “healthy” – but, seriously, when you smoke one, you’re only smoking tobacco, as there are no additives or chemicals. Still not great for the lungs, I’m sure – but at least you’re not inhaling rat poison.

In any event, I got dropped off first, paid the driver to take her home, and she called me moments later to make sure I got in safely and had locked the door. It’s funny how people can bond… funnier still how people meet. We’ve spoken every day since. I think I made friend.

My hands

I put pressure between my thumb and forefinger,
You have done this before,
Tension subsides,
Pressure…
What is the question I should ask?
Always,
Beauty and more oxygen to the fire -
I realize that my life is my own,
This has been said before,
Anxiety heightens,
Pressure,
Peace;
I put pressure between my thumb and forefinger.

Connections

I love my connections,
Past, Present, Future,
Even when their temporary,
They can be eternal.

Day of Thanks, 2010

I am thankful for my friends, my family, for living in a city during this phase of my life, for the love I have felt from others, for the love I can give to others… I’m thankful for the hope I have for the future, and the anticipation I feel for tomorrow. I am thankful for my intuition, my body, and my mind.

Last Sunday, my first professional theatre production ‘wrapped’ (as we say in showbiz). My First Time was a genuinely interesting performance piece – one that I’m happy to have been a part of during its first run in Washington, D.C. (http://myfirsttimetheplaydc.com). As all the dialogue in the play is based on the first sexual experiences of actual individuals, it’s a poignant and emotional experience – funny, disturbing, and heart-warming. My parents and siblings came for a matinée show on Saturday, which was interesting.

I think about self-expression, and the power of individual freedom and individuality a lot, but this show made me think of it in a new way. As I told TBD.com when they interviewed me, no one is sexual the same way another person is sexual. We are all unique – in our entirety – and while I consider sexuality one of the most interesting aspects to being human, there really is no categorizing it.

No family fits a “type” or mold, just as no person can be identified solely by one aspect of who they are. Ethnic heritage, religious or spiritual views, activities and preferences can all be shared with others… they can even be considered meaningful enough to form groups; however, one is greater than the sum of their affiliations. Every individual is completely… individual.

I think that is magical. The idea that I am me, and you are you, and no one is like either of us. It almost makes individuality, in its most basic definition, seem trifling or not as special. We’re all different, so what? But, I am so thankful for the fact that I can know for sure there has never been and never will be another me. My experiences, personal and public, triumphant and embarrassing, challenging and easy, are all mine. I certainly want to share much of my life and experiences with others, it’s true, but even so the way I experience them will never be exactly like someone else’s. My life, my body, my soul are all mine (Thank you Mom and Dad for the life and the body, by the way). I think there can be enormous power in knowing your life is, well – your’s. Self-determination is fundamental to being an individual. I think this is dolce.

Sorry to bring up sex on turkey day.

[For reviews and more info about My First Time, go to http://www.jamesonfreeman.net/press.html]

Meet the actors!

Click the link below for interview clips with the cast:
http://www.facebook.com/v/453796426372

Check out the play’s website:
http://www.myfirsttimetheplaydc.com

My First Time opens in D.C. on November 4th!

 

Election Apathy; Political Party Antipathy

Today was election day in Washington, D.C. – and everywhere else around the USA. The current mayor has been ousted… interestingly enough by another candidate of the same political party during the primary election. Midterms are an interesting thing, but they determine the national mood more than anything else. [Obama hasn't undone all the damage from the previous administration - let's vote Republican!] Of course, their outcome has enormous repercussions on the ability of the sitting administration to pass legislation, and this one in particular is news-worthy as it is the first Congressional election since Obama took the White House two years ago.

I guess I just don’t get it. Since 1800, when the Democratic Party (first called the Democratic-Republican Party) took power, and since the Republican Party emerged in the post-Civil War era, we have seen a dwindling in Americans’ ability to influence the system, their Congressional legislative representatives, and the man (at least up until now – hang in there, ladies) in the White House. We vote, and new people move to Washington, and then nearly everything stays the same. There are always aspects of the parties – obvious characteristics if you will – that distinguish the partisans from one another, but this disconnect between the parties, the people, and the government itself seems to be increasing with each generation, each decade, each election… The apparent ‘opposition’ between the two major political parties is becoming more and more unsheathed as a myth, a mirage to maintain the hope for change among the populace, especially if there is widespread discontent about the current state of the nation.

There was a time when the differences between the Republicrats and Demicans were more apparent. Today, the major points of tension seem to be largely social policies, which are quite important it’s true – but if the American people no longer have a say in their country’s foreign affairs, economic, or trading policies, then let’s at least acknowledge that… and you can just vote for the dude who shares your stance on gay marriage. To say that Democrats support increased government spending, and larger government, while the ‘conservative’ Republican party wants to decrease spending and the size of the federal government is ludicrous. The Bush Administration – besides its irresponsible debt-spending, its illegal wars, and its breathtaking disrespect for the American traditions of statesmanship, charity, and promoting of civil liberties, actually increased the federal government by a ridiculous degree… creating entirely new agencies instead of reforming existing ones. The creation of the Homeland Security Department could be argued for, with the logic that when something is broken (like, apparently our intelligence infrastructure), it makes sense to start fresh – except… he did not close, or even reduce the size of a single existing agency, nor did he plan any feasible way to pay for all the new toys. All this aside (I am not a national security expert – I just don’t like my mother’s cell phone being tapped because some old, bearded, Muslim man is supposedly living in a desert cave plotting another attack on the most powerful country in the world), the bottom line – as I see it now – is this:
The Democrats supported the wars we’re currently in, the Democrats allowed for much of the status quo to be… the status quo. So – I don’t get it. I don’t understand this historic and deep-seeded attachment to political party affiliation, this staunch, unrelenting loyalty to an organization (The DNC or RNC) which are almost purely fundraising operations and nothing more. I worked for the DCCC (Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee), and their biggest function, what they devoted the most time and effort on – was raising money for candidates. This, of course, seems inevitable – and is consistent with the ‘campaign’ aspect of the committee’s name… but how can our politicians care about issues – real issues, and how best to address them, when they are on the phone in the back rooms of the DCCC offices asking reliable and wealthy people and past donors to please give more money. Opinions, positions, and promises change with the season, depending on what polling shows as ‘hot button issues’ among the country as a whole and the various localities and Congressional districts. This inconsistency among our politicians is seemingly the only consistent thing about national politics. Money talks, the country silently struggles to breathe.

It’s all a big show. Most people instinctually realize this.

We must all evolve as humanity. We must look to the greater good for our families, communities, and thus, ourselves. If we actually care about the quality of life for everyone, our own will improve as well. Yet, we have to acknowledge the power of government, of economics, of modern technology and communications on our lives – and the future of the world. How do we have a voice in the direction these things take? Perhaps we don’t. Perhaps we shouldn’t? If we want change, we do have the right to ask for it, and we do not have to ask nicely. If reasonable improvement is not seen, and if concessions are not made, it is only logical to have one’s government fall into disfavor. If conditions of life, liberty, and justice become too corrupted to be tolerated by a reasonable individual looking for little more than happiness and freedom… revolution seems the only alternative. I suppose it might be better (if not easier) to change the system, as it exists, from within… but whatever the means – the end needs to be something new. The country needs a new direction.

Why only two (major) parties? Why not vote for a third party? Why have any parties?

My First Time

(first, a short poem)

We all,
Fuck, sin, break the rules,
For the first time,
Some of us,
Decide, direct, delay,
Anew, again, antecedent…
More than once,
The moment of -
Breathing, eating, sleeping,
For the first time,
We all,
Get born, get live, get dead,
Ut finalis,
Look, see, love, think, know, feel, touch, step, gain, lose, understand -
This cannot be avoided,
For the first time.

© 2010, Jameson Freeman

So…

I will be acting in the play My First Time. The show opens in Washington, D.C. on November 4th. It is an off-Broadway play – still playing in New York – that is based on the blog, http://www.myfirsttime.com, which invited people of any and all backgrounds, beliefs, ages, etc., to anonymously share their first time experience… in writing. The play, which is in the vein of The Vagina Monologues (in the way that it is not so much dialogue, but recounting of the actual or adapted experiences of real people. There are four actors – two men and two women – who sit on stage for ninety minutes sharing situations – both cute and embarrassing, moralistic and disturbing. The audience is also involved during the performance.

I am honored to be a part of this play. One that has captured the interest of people in dozens of countries around the world since 2007 when it first premiered at the New World Stage theater in Manhattan. It is the first time that it’s been put on in the nation’s capital, and it’s my first professional stage production since I was a kid.

 

poster for "My First Time" launch event

 

(On a side note: I don’t really get the words in the quotes… like how do they flow together? I mean, I guess it kind of makes sense. The director agrees with me, so I don’t feel like an asshole saying this – but marvelous poster nonetheless. Tim Coburn is marvelous.)

Crafty Bastards

Yesterday, my baby sister came into the city and I took her to an art fair in Adams Morgan called ‘Crafty Bastards’. I like art fairs in general (and I’m not even communist, hippie, or a Pagan) – whether or not you see anything you want to buy, it’s just nice to see and meet creative people who have a venue to show off and sell their work.

My sister Jessica with Jay

Among other things, we ran into Jay McCarroll from Project Runway’s debut season. My sister is a big fan and I bought her one of his dresses. It was dolce.

There’s a Lizard on the Ceiling

Sometimes we get surprised,

Lizard on the ceiling: close up of the mysterious, ceiling-dwelling lizard

By a lizard on the ceiling;

Humor can’t be lost,

In the search for meaning;

Inspiration may be forced,

Sadness may be fraud,

Truth may be obscured…

And the world may need some healing;

When there has been forgotten,

The chance -

To look at sky,

To look at trees,

To look at others,

To notice the lizard on the ceiling…

It laughs back at us, with us;

Life has a funny way,

Of letting us in,

On secret jokes of Nature, yet -

We make our own puns,

We know our own nature,

We are our very own -

Lizard on the ceiling,

The best thing about living,

Is the surprise of waking up;

Sometimes we get surprised,

By a lizard on the ceiling…

It’s not supposed to be there,

But there it is, and -

That’s the meaning, of -

Trying to answer the asking,

Of your being;

Sometimes we get surprised,

By a lizard on the ceiling.

© 2010, Jameson Freeman

(And, yes – there was actually a lizard… on my ceiling.)

My friend staring at a tiny reptile above the bed... this is what happens when you leave the doors open all night, I guess.

Clouds over the Caribbean

I love this shot. It's of storm clouds gathering over the Caribbean Sea. I found it while going through some pictures from my last trip Mexico.

Where does the ocean meet the shore?

On my last night in Mexico this past August, I saw sea turtles.

ocean view in daytime

Looking over the balcony onto the beach, I saw a dark shape making its way through the waves and foam and up onto the sand. By the time I ran the six stories down to it, there were already people surrounding the creature – who was trying to lay its eggs. There was a gentleman keeping the gawkers a safe distance away, but I didn’t feel like standing with a crowd, no matter how cool seeing a 300 pound marine reptile is.

I saw another dark shape in the waves, moving further down the beach, and I ran after it with my friend. We watched as it found a point of entry through the waves, and made its way up onto the sand. It took about a half hour for it to get far enough inland, I guess, to feel comfortable in dropping out its hundred or so eggs. We left her plenty of personal space for this process, however.

turtle tracks

On the way back to our resort, we saw another spot where a turtle had clearly been. We followed the flipper tracks until they faded into a round, flat area (the mother hides the nest). We fashioned a stick near this spot, and alerted resort staff where it was – as they have facilities to hold the eggs until they hatch, then return them to the sea. (Leaving the eggs for the next day’s tourists to discover while sunning and playing would not be wise.)

This got me thinking (which everyone knows I really don’t particularly enjoy doing): what is the importance of our individual lives; and, what is the meaning of companionship, destiny, and love? I know there is a difference between sea turtles and the human species – more significantly in any conceivable way they would perceive their world, themselves, and others. But, well, I have such an attachment to my family, to my mother, my siblings, and even extended relatives – I subjectively label the sea turtles solitary childhood as “sad”. Perhaps this is luck – as many people are not afforded the luxury of a ‘close’ relationship with either biological parent. Yet, even one’s connection with friends or peers is vital to the social human animal. I cannot imagine not having met or known some of the people I have, and my love for them is real. I have felt romantic love since I was quite young (is that weird?) with a variety of people and to a variety of degrees. Perhaps this reduces any supposed sense of “love at first sight” magic, but the feelings were wonderful, genuine, and important to me.

Mama turtle returning to sea - we waited until she had taken care of business to snap this shot

Are we simply lucky? Fortunate enough to have evolved emotional needs and attachments? Is this even a fortunate thing, when one considers the pain and potential for disappointment, even loneliness that comes from difficulties between people?

I feel like, astrologically, I’m in a Pluto transit – my moods and meditations have been very… contemplative.

I like this quote I found on Astro Dienst (where I check my daily horoscope – something that I’m sure would make my logical father wince):

“I am caterpillar. The leaves I eat taste bitter now. But dimly I sense a great change coming. What I offer you, humans, is my willingness to dissolve and transform. I do that without knowing what the end-result will be; so I share with you my courage too.”

A Disturbing Thought

I am consistently inconsistent.

What is success? What is happiness? Luxury? Opulence? Poverty? Misfortune? Not having enough? Why are we so confused about our lives sometimes and what we’re doing with them?

These notions are personal. They are completely individual and unique to perspective and life experience.

I think many of the conflicts I’ve had in my life are due to a clash in the way to experience life. Life is momentary, it is now, so anything – literally, anything – is hypothetically transitory and only a part of the entire life experience.

I think sometimes, because maybe I’m ‘artistic’ or ‘unique’ in the way that I see my life, in the way I want to see myself, and the way I experience existence, that people have thought, in order to be close to me, that they had to adopt similar philosophies to mine. Maybe a lot of them already had similar philosophies. Philosophies change. Theories on the meaning of life, or what – in fact – makes a ‘good life’ have always been dependent on knowledge and individuality.

Sometimes, I too have changed my philosophies to be ‘close’ with someone. I adopt a schedule, a pattern, a way of seeing the world, that is not actually my own. At least, not completely so.

And so, I think I have had a realization that there have been instances in my life where others have changed their schedules, their patterns, in order to fit mine. A bizarre compliment… and likewise so, when I have done the same. But then there comes a time when they realize that your (or my) philosophy does not fulfill them, nor should it; however, they blame the source – you/me – for the fact that they have grown to dislike their current life ‘pattern’. They move on, to find a new philosophy/schedule/perspective/pattern that fits them. They adopt a ‘lifestyle’ that is new and interesting, and blame you for the resulting distance, or ‘drifting away’ as friends that comes from ‘incompatible’ lifestyles.

“I’ll live my life, and you live yours,” people have said. We must be individuals, but we must live together. We must have friends. Some things should last forever, right? Or, like life itself, does everything have a dawn and dusk?

Being heard on the Hill

Dolce on the Hill

Today was my first day lobbying on Capitol Hill. I’ve interned there, but this was special.

I arrived at the Hart Senate Office Building around 10:30am and met Sonali, a long-time, beloved friend, activist, and the founder of CETAB (Creating Environmental Accountability Through Bankruptcy), a citizen-funded environmental association concerned with altering the bankruptcy code to further prevent polluters from using any tax-payer money towards environmental clean-ups. This is a novel idea because 1) many people would not want their tax dollars going towards the result of corporate negligence; and because 2) it discourages lax environmental standards and is a huge incentive for companies not to engage in risky decision-making with facilities and standards that may lead to environmental harm. Sonali’s research and proposed bill (stemming from a legal paper she wrote that’s being published by Pratt’s Law Journal next month) are now in the offices of members of our Senate and House of Representatives.

We had lunch with my stepdad (a knowledgeable politico himself) around midday, before returning to the Hill so we could concentrate specifically on Senate staffs. What’s interesting is that we both felt more successful on the Senate side of the Hill offices – the staff of the representative’s offices we stopped by were surprisingly casual… and yet, not as welcoming to guerilla-style environmental activism, even though we looked dolce.

What would a day of lobbying be without drinks? ^With my favorite bartender, Margaret Ann. Cheers to comprehensive, environmental reform!

A Love Based on Truth

For Evette:

I want that intangible,
The je ne sais quois,
I want to be free,
Adored from afar –

I realize I find,
A well deep… unfilled,
When I consider the Self,
While in other arms held -

Through mirrors I see,
All that I could lack,
What would and what should,
As jealous lips smack –

And so I must learn,
Accept and confront,
Time brings forth the needs,
Limited not by one’s wants –

Through this the Self’s taught,
By trial – ebb, flow, and misstep,
That fear alone can bring,
Bitterness… cliché regret –

A love based on truth,
Not lustful or petty,
To ask myself , how?
I feel not quite ready –

It seems as though love,
Like books on a shelf,
With ease – wears and tears,
Not so for the Self –

How in, another’s arms,
Can we still evolve?
If the Self’s journey be blinded,
Restricted by love –

Yet if I don’t love,
I think I am cursed,
But I know this so truly:
I must love Self first.

© 2010, Jameson Freeman

Muslims and Mosques and Ground Zero, oh my!

Some Americans are very upset. Not because the country has been in economic downturn, not because we are still heavily invested in tedious, poorly-planned foreign wars (at least one of which is completely illegal and based on absolutely, irrefutably, outrageously false information), not because both political parties seem to be completely unconcerned, or unable to really respond to the needs of their country (increasingly making ‘partisan politics’ a tired, sad thing of the past), no – these things take second standing. Why? Because they’re building a mosque near Ground Zero.

As you may recall, Ground Zero is where the twin towers once stood. It seems that the ‘twin towers’ – in their official capacity – were part of something called The World Trade Center. Now, generally international commerce joins nations based on the idea that trade brings not only economic benefit, but also improved diplomatic relations, goodwill, and mutual understanding. Now, to those Americans who don’t want America to ever have mutual understanding with anybody, who believe that the entire rest of the world’s countries and people are “either with us or against us”, and that, if need be, we – as a military superpower – will simply do whatever we want, whenever we want, I say: Fair enough… I’m done arguing with complete cognitive impairment. However there are more things to discuss about this mosque situation.

I drew this after thinking about divisive ideas, the 9/11 attacks, and human nature. It's an unfinished sketch.

There are those who explain that their anger over this issue is not directed at the building of the mosque per se, but at the Imam of the mosque, Faisal Abdul Rauf. Apparently everything from accusations of financial corruption to ties with jihad groups and terrorists organizations is being levied at this questionable, Muslim gentleman. He is also apparently known to make opposing statements – as in, when he speaks English (addressing Western media) he contradicts what he says when he speaks his native Arabic, which makes some nervous. Perhaps he’s a little less pro-The-Great-White-Devil when addressing fundamentalist followers of Islam? Even if these things are true, every single one… in their entirety, then the problem is still just a corrupt religious leader – something we’ve seen no shortage of in the Protestant, Jewish, and Catholic faiths (right Ted Haggard, Elior Chen, and… Pope Benedict XVI?). These occurances of individuals doing bad things, or encouraging others to do bad things, are just that – individual cases, and should be addressed as such. Lord knows we didn’t start putting restrictions on where Catholics could worship, or where cathedrals could be built after the tenth, hundreth, or thousandth time a child abuse claim came through the wire.

We are a nation based, literally, on freedom of religion – and freedom from monarchy. These two things are more central to America’s forming than anything else. People were being persecuted for their religious beliefs, and they came to the New World. People were tired of the King of England taxing them, and we declared our independence. Our form of government itself is designed to be two things above all else: first, to be composed of, elected by, and answerable to free men (and women), and secondly, to ensure a separation between church and state. Unlike England, there is no ‘Church of America’. Our temples, churches, mosques, New Age meditation sanctuaries, and pagan worship circles are sprinkled throughout the country, none of them officially attached to, or recognized by the government as state institutions.

As Americans, we should be able to choose our own beliefs, be secure and content with them, and feel no need to condemn or prevent others from doing the same… in their own way. Ranking Christianity, or any religion, above another – for any reason other than personal preference or upbringing – is doing just this, and it is both pathetic and dangerous.  We are all free in this country to choose our religion, or like many of our Founding Fathers, not have one at all. Saying that in some way, America is founded on this belief system or that, is like saying that cereal was developed only to have milk in it, and to not add milk to cereal is somehow unacceptable (although I don’t know how people can eat most kinds of cereal plain – talk about dry and bland). To be offended by a mosque being built near Ground Zero, but not at all upset by the presence of St. Paul’s church right next door, is well, prejudice. It means that one is literally (and believe it or not, many people would actually argue this) accepting of one religion (i.e. theirs) over another. That is not what we were founded it. It would be more American to ban churches. Let’s make all religion private – no government money for religious ‘centers’ or public buildings of any kind.

As the bible says:

(5)”And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. (6)But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. (7)And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. (8)Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. – Matthew 6.5-8 (New American Standard Bible)

But hey, I’m a little judgmental myself.

Do we crave death?

The Deepwater Horizon platform, a semi-submersibe 52 miles off the coast of New Orleans, is just one type of oil rig. It floats on the surface, anchored by chains or cables to the seabed. There are also fixed platforms, which are actually built on legs from sea floor to surface, and in shallow depths there are jack-up platforms, which can be raised or lowered. Other types include tension-leg, spar platforms, and several others. Some of these are certainly more safe than others, but the point worthy of noting is that no matter what type of oil rig it is – the mechanisms used to pump the oil out of the earth’s crust, up through the water, and into processing equipment is always going to include a tube. No matter what materials are used to construct said tube, what safeguards are put into place to ensure the oil stays contained during its journey between sub-terranean drillhole and the surface, there is always going to be a risk of leaking, disconnection, and or destruction. Additionally, the typical rig in the Gulf of Mexico dumps 90,000 tons (yes, tons) of oil residue, drilling fluid, and heavy metals into the ocean during its lifetime – even if it never experiences an actual ‘leak’ (this according to the research done by the organization Culture Change). There were 3.858 oil platforms in the gulf in 2006.

I’m not advocating an alternative to petroleum fuels in this blog post, nor am I denying, condemning, or offering a solution to our dependency on oil. I recognize this global addiction for what it is – a longterm, slowly established situation whereby all our modern conveniences and luxuries (easy and fast travel, access to and variety of foods, energy, etc.) are a direct result of the fact that the civilized world runs on gas of some form. I am only pointing out that which few seem to observe: we are surrounded by constant risk of death. More than that – there is a pervasive, constant state of dying throughout most of the world.

The potential of any oil platform to hurt so many animals and aquatic life, and as a result – so many people dependent on the health of the ocean, rivers, and lakes around the world – is outlandish in magnitude. However, oil drilling and our thirst for fossil fuels is only a component to a larger picture… one that illustrates a very dark course for our modern way of life. Plastics, which make up everything now from cell phones, to furniture, to people – surround us as members of industrialized society. They are derived primarily from petroleum and are generally highly toxic. They do not biodegrade – at least not quickly, and when heated, they release fumes that make coal factory smoke seem on par with what comes out of air purifiers. The materials we use, which hurt us and our world, are too many to elaborate on in any meaningful way. But they are there, they are bad, and we are largely ignoring them in favor of convenience.

My hands are stained with oil just as much as anyone’s. Americans especially are guilty of perpetuating this false ‘need’ for so much energy and waste – more than any other country in the world. Everyone knows we consume the most, waste the most, and yet no one really cares. We’d all rather continue down the road of ease, of ignorance, and false justification – telling each other and actually believing that it’s not that bad, or if it is, there’s nothing we can do to change it all.

That might be true.

There is no way to think about the circumstances surrounding our time without a strong emotional reaction. In every sense of the word, we are a toxic generation. We inherited this from our ancestors for sure, but it is nonetheless the reality. We are consuming past the point of sustainability, but have reached a point of such corporate and profit-driven domination of society, that our controlled media tells us to keep going. We are told to pursue death.

As I take a pause from typing on the plastic keyboard of my plastic-composite (what is this material anyway) MacBook Pro, pull out my plastic cell phone, which will take 13,000 years to bio-degrade, who’s battery will sit in a landfill and leak radiation into the ground and water supply – I make a call to order delivery. Gas is burned for the guy to drive the food to my door, which is packaged in a mélange of wrappings – paper, and plastic – all of which is trash as soon as I finish eating, and the food itself is very probably not produced or prepared with any consideration for responsible agriculture.

I feel trapped. Five years ago, I would have thought having an obsession (almost a guilt complex, really) about my effects on the environment made me a hippy. Now, I can’t imagine how anybody could not think this way. The global human community is a product of the earth. Everything we know and have experienced has occurred on, and is a direct byproduct of this planet. Where did the disconnect between balance and abuse first occur? Why can’t we value the only thing that matters to every plant and animal? Are we so insulated as people that we’ve lost our ability to truly care, or even feel concern for the effects of our demands on the land and water around us, and which give us… well, life?

Maybe one day we can finally put a cap on our collective death wish. Maybe we have to see how much damage we can do first.

The dilemma

Picture part of "Emotive" project, © James Anthony, 2009

I want to do good… but, I don’t know what good is right now.

Awards for NOT killing civilians?

Our military is brainstorming about procurring a medal for soldiers who exercise “restraint that prevents civilian casualties in combat.”

It seems there is some logic in encouraging those with heavy weaponry to use them responsibly. There seems less logic in having to encourage the same men and women not to use such advanced killing machines maliciously or negligently – because, to be honest, to do so is not just a ‘mistake’ – it is a crime.

War is not easy. It is very often a horrible experience for those ordered to fight. But, it must be far worse for those forced to simply endure the death and destruction occurring around them, their families, and their homes. Those who have the bad luck to be former citizens of a toppled government, current subjects of military rule, and constantly caught between fear and death are too often mistook for the enemy since, well – oftentimes they look similar. Thus we can conceive of the tremendous difficulty encountered when occupying a foreign land populated by many who do not want us there.

The justification that “unless we fight them in their homes, they’ll come to us” is getting tired. The argument against this “medal” ever coming to fruition, I think, is not one against the use of restraint, but against the official praising of someone for the use of ‘restraint’. Soldiers should always use restraint, always avoid killing innocent people, and always act consciously – both for their own safety and the safety of their comrades – therefore reducing any chance of ‘accidental’ killing.

At least this is true when considering ‘just warfare’, which to be honest, I doubt the very existence of. My pinko-commie-peacenik-ness aside, the point is not that soldiers do not deserve praise for many things. I am not saying that the bravery and self-sacrifice used by many of our military men and women, past and present, is not extraordinary and even commendable. But, the use, by the military establishment itself, of a medal that awards soldiers for “restraint” is not a good public relations move.

This is not to say, too, that there are instances when such restraint is, in fact, noteworthy. The desire to not kill children, families, and innocent civilians is a good (and hopefully natural) inclination. I cannot imagine the discipline required to not fire a gun blindly when one is scared for their own life. But, this is why we train soldiers. Imagine, if you were living in an ever-more-destroyed neighborhood, knew of many, innocent, people – friends and loved ones – who had been accidentally murdered at the hands of the American military (and, most likely Blackwater, or whatever the name of that piece-of-human-garbage Erik Prince‘s company is now), and then you were to learn that it was considered medal-worthy for a soldier to avoid killing, to avoid inflicting more unnecessary pain and loss on your community. Such behavior should be expected, it should be the norm. It should not be something one receives a pin on their uniform for.

Again, if nothing else, it’s just bad PR.

Think twice before walking home at night…

Perhaps the emerging global system has good potential. Certainly the tyrants of the world will always want to exercise control over others, but certainly also, the internet has made that more difficult for them. The ability of anyone with access to it to be able to communicate with… well, anyone else, really – has given way to more demand for democracy, equal rights, and individual freedom. Yet, I can’t help but wonder how and why our policing authorities have been given so much unchecked power.

Last night, as I was walking home from my friend Andrew’s place, I got… er, “pulled over” …by the cops. Yes, I did say I was walking.

Was I shooting off fireworks, carrying a knife, handgun, or a .577 T-rex? Did I have crack cocaine powder on my shirt? Were there hypodermic needles falling out of my bag? No, but I don’t blame you for wondering.

Here’s how the encounter went:

As I was walking up 19th street, not three blocks from my apartment building, a cop car was driving slowly towards me. Its headlights were bright and obnoxious, and I don’t enjoy cops in general (they’re never my first choice for conversation), so I averted my gaze and pulled out my cell phone, all the while ignoring the vehicle. As soon as it passed me, it did something odd. It backed up so to be parallel with me. Not only that, it continued to reverse slowly so that it was moving at the same speed that I was walking. While at this point I was irked, tired, and just wanted to get home, I finally turned to my left and said, “Can I help you?”.

The "business card" offered to me by the sidewalk cop... obviously the name and badge number have been obscured for diginity's sake.

The short, female cop with a buz cut already had her window down. “Hi there. Mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m on my way home, and I have no idea why you’re ‘stopping’ me.”

Before I could even start moving again, both officers got out of the car and stood rudely close to me.

“Where are you coming from?”

“Excuse me?” I said. “That’s none of your business.”

“Yes it is.”

“I don’t see how. I’m not doing anything illegal, I’m in my neighborhood, walking home, and you have no right to stop me.”

“Actually, I do.”

“Wow, that’s… amazing if that’s true,” I responded -  more aggravated and disturbed by that idea than scared of the situation, but the fear was starting to challenge my senses.

The thing about cops is that, often times, they are really petty people. And, as I’ve always said, when petty people have petty power – they abuse it. Now, I know this is going to be tremendously offensive to some, but I do acknowledge there are police officers who truly want to “serve and protect” and genuinely want to help their community and keep people safe. However, it seems to me that the type of person who wants to be a cop is genuinely someone who enjoys powertrips, likes harassing and punishing people who don’t give them the submissiveness they crave, and just generally wants to have control over others. These assumptions are just that (assumptions), but one must look to patterns in life to make judgments, and the aforementioned are judgments I’ve made (and stand by) from observing recurring behavior. As I can’t relate to these sociopathic desires for ‘superiority’, I consider them bizarre; and, when I am accosted on my way home from a friend’s house – while living in a city where the murder and violent crime rate aren’t exactly low, it makes me feel upset.

In any event, I might apologize for writing ^ that at some future date, but in the mean time – I digress.

The two officers continued questioning me, asking where I live, who my friend was, how I knew them, where I work, and finally asked for my I.D. “I really believe that you lack the authority to be questioning me to this extent, but I am tired, so I am going to, in fact, show you my passport.” I don’t have a DC driver’s license. The other officer asked why I didn’t. I explained that I’ve never had a DC license and that my Maryland license was lost recently with my wallet after my jacket was stolen from a nightclub. I have not gathered the patience to go to the DMV. I still think this conversation was as ridiculous as it was tedious – and it was very tedious.

Furthermore, as soon as I told her where my friend lives, and thus where I was coming from, she immediately said – and this is a direct quote, “Yeah… there’s a HUGE meth problem there.”

Huge? Meth problem? And then:

When she asked where I worked, and I told her, “Oh yes, I know it well, there’s a LOT of drug activity there.”

“At the hotel?! Are you serious?”

“Oh yes.”

“Um… you mean among the employees? (At this point, I was so baffled at so many aspects of this conversation that it was hard for me to compose myself. For one, she would have no way of knowing where I worked, or where my friend lived, had she not stopped me on my way home and starting asking questions, and now she was acting as though it was somehow suspicious that I be affiliated with these places. Secondly, I understand that the District of Colombia, like most cities, has a very significant drug problem – but despite that being said, it seems so odd to single out any one area, especially objectively ‘safe’ neighborhoods, as ‘problem areas’. Also, not having noticed any drug activity – ever – at my place of work, I found it odd she would say, very matter-of-fact-ly, that there happened to be LOT of ‘drug activity’ going on. I continued:

“Among the employees?”

“The customers.”

Ok, at this point any semblance of reality that may have existed in her assertion blew away with the breeze. I am (at least relatively so) a young, hip employee at a luxury hotel located blocks from the White House. I am close with many of the people I work with, so much so that I hang out with a number of them outside the hotel. We are a marvelous team, and even people from different departments know one another and talk often throughout the day. My reason for mentioning all this is to make the point that even if the employees were the ones using, smuggling, or dealing illicit drugs, I feel pretty comfortable saying that I would be aware of at least one instance. Luckily, no one I work with is stupid enough to be doing that while at work. But, to suggest that the clientele of the hotel (which includes, on a weekly basis, foreign government ministers, Fortune 500 corporate executives, celebrities, international tourists – who assumably had to be thoroughly screened before coming… as in, checked for weapons, illegal activity, and… drugs – and anyone else willing to shell out a couple grand for the pleasure of being our guest for a few nights) is ludicrous. Literally illogical. There are some things it would be naive or ignorant to say for certain, and I am not saying drugs have not ever been brought into, or used in the hotel (we did have Ziggy Marley and his band there a while back), but the notion or belief that there is “a lot of drug activity there” is not logically sound.

Moreover, she then proceeded to give me her card. She asked me to give her a call if I ever see anything suspicious.

So…

This experience was not an enjoyable one, and certainly not an expected one either. I have never felt so unsure of what was going on around me. Again, when I stated (thinking I was correct) that the officer had no right to stop me and no reason to question me, and the response was “Actually, I do”, all I could think to say is, “Wow… that’s amazing…” It is amazing how, in a time where so many are so able to pursue creative freedom, individual thought, etc., that we are also finding ourselves having to demand our basic rights more and more. We have to communicate with each other. We have to express ourselves. We can never forget the importance of art, and creativity, and basic individual freedom. We also have to pay attention to what’s going on in our communities. We cannot let demands for foolproof ‘security’ and ‘safety’ override our inherent desire to be free from unreasonable invasions and harassment.

Petty joys I don’t want my memory to lose

Today, after a weekend where I was supposed to do many things and didn’t, I realized it was Monday.

After leaving work, I took the metro back to my neighborhood, walked across the bridge to my apartment, and realized that there was no food, milk, juice or bottled water there. I don’t drink tap water. I put on my running shorts and flip flops and walked two blocks to the store where I bought, among other things, two gallons worth of spring water. After returning to my place, I changed into running shoes and packed an overnight bag. I walked across DuPont, heading to 14th street. I called my father and left a message, mother (who wanted me to make her a reservation at a restaurant she couldn’t remember the name of – J’adore ma mère, truly), and then my friend Andrew.

“So… I’m going to go to Whole Foods and get wine, and then drop my bags off with your front desk, then go running, stop by the hotel and pick up your keys,” I said.

“Just call me when you get here,” he said.

Andrew’s apartment is much closer to where we both work than mine is. While I often miss entertaining people since moving into my current apartment, it’s often easier to meet up with people at other locations, and Andrew’s apartment is one of those locations. Anyway, tonight was going to be a chill night – after I finished running through horrifying humidity and feeling more dehydrated than I usually feel in July.

So, I went to Whole Foods, stopped by my friend’s building, where the front desk lady knows me and waved me in. I asked if it was ok to give her my carry bag and grocery bag to hold while I ran to meet Andrew, get his apartment keys, and come back. “It just doesn’t make since for me to carry these bags, since you’re on the way, ya know?” I said.

“You know how we roll, baby,” she said.

I thanked her, and with only my cell phone in hand, started running. I stopped at the hotel and walked to the right of the front doors – even though I wasn’t in my suit, and it would be unlikely any guests would recognize me – I did it to be professional. My running outfit isn’t exactly… ‘luxury’, and it’s not acceptable to be seen loitering outside in front of my place of work. I shook the valet guy’s hand, and saw the security guard, T, coming out, who I really like as a person. He asked if I was going running. I said I was.

“I wouldn’t even run to catch a bus,” he said.

I called Andrew, who hastily brought out his keys and returned inside. T and the valet didn’t seem at all fazed by this 9:00PM exchange outside the hotel.

I ran back to his place and sit, now, at his computer… occupying time until he gets here, we open the wine, and watch a movie, or whatever we do. I’d, at least, like to watch some weird, cerebral flick.  Andrew named a category on his Netflix account, which organizes films by taste or genre, “Cerebral”. Today was stressful, but I feel very connected to my city, which is a special feeling – and the cooler, quieter evening air brings chillaxing. I hope Andrew doesn’t mind me opening his windows…

I’m actually impressed that I haven’t opened a bottle of wine yet.

On Art

Why do people create art?

I think people have many different motivations for creating anything. For some, it’s nothing more than a functional act – no different than cooking dinner. Some do it for notoriety. Some for money. Others create art because they feel inspired. Others do it in order to make a point… Perhaps, to comment on society, or to feel heard and self-expressed. But, I think my favorite reason, or maybe it’s an explanation, for creating art is that it simply can’t be contained. The idea that one can’t help themselves, that something simply escapes from them on occasion, is by far the thing that most makes me believe that life is art, and art is life.

What is art?

…

That is a question I think any artist would hat; or love. It might depend on the day.

But, I like ChemicalMarriage‘s  ideas on it.

Relating to the current Vatican scandal

After posting the following message with an attached link on my Facebook wall:

Jameson Freeman agrees with Dawkins: ARREST THE POPE!
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/faith/article7094310.ece

A lady, whom I am not acquainted with, sent me the following message:

“There are people in all areas of our society that let us down by doing the wrong thing. Police, politicians, family, them more than others, any sector when you think about it..dont stand there.dont sit there and make a hullaballo about the Pope before you stop and think about all the good he may have done. People should just get over their indignation and start to “fix” the wrong doings in their little worlds. Small steps made by everyone can make a difference. Children making noises without thinking things through are like empty vessels.”

I have not altered any of the grammar or spelling from the original message – the above is exactly what I received on Facebook. To protect the innocent (and the irritable), we’ll call the lady ‘Brayna Washad’. Ms. Washad has two valid points, and while I do intend to rebut her message to me, I will attempt not to be defensive in my response. I did, in fact, find her message slightly offensive, not for its content, but merely its boldness. I do not know this woman, nor would I particularly want to, and yet – in the era of global interconnectedness – had to accept being bothered by her. No biggie… that was just a short rant about my annoyance at random, critical, Facebook messages… I realize this. I get my feelings hurt easily.

So, Madame Washad says that “People should get over their indignation and start to “fix” the wrong doings in their little worlds.” I agree. I think there are few things more weak and lame than condemning others or insulting them personally. Her second valid point, that “Small steps made by everyone can make a difference” is absolutely, and, I hope, obviously, true. I try more and more each day to focus on things I can change for the better, or improve amidst the world around me and not get lost in daydreams of addressing all global evils… as I have been prone to do.

Her two valid points are very sound, I think; and, one should absorb the wisdom evident in both. That we can all make the world better by doing good for the people and things around us is something almost cliché, but something that should stop being overlooked so often, and by so many. That “indignation” towards others is an unhealthy and unproductive feeling – and leads to similarly un-praiseworthy actions – is a truth I have long agreed with, even if hypocrisy can get the better of me once and a while. In any event, Brayna is due my agreement on those specific remarks.

Now, here is why this message is, to me, logically polar. Part valid social commentary and part strange, vindictive critique of individuals who’d dare to criticize one of the most famously corrupt and disgusting organizations ever established – one that has, on record, prayed upon the desperate and the poor; one that has killed and tortured not a few, but millions of human beings; and, one that has now found its attempts to cover up child molestation exposed in various media outlets. To deny this, or to argue that the church’s charity and good works for the impoverished throughout the world is an example of how it has reformed, or even as reason to dismiss its past abominations, is not only frighteningly ignorant, it is, simply, unimportant. For the purposes of this blog entry, and the sake of historical truth, I will not debate whether the Catholic Church is a good institution or a bad one. What I will debate are a couple of Ms. Washad’s other points, especially given that many would probably agree with her, and that the subject matter itself is very prescient and timely.

“There are people in all areas of our society that let us down by doing the wrong thing. Police, politicians, family, them more than others, any sector when you think about it,” Brayna said. I have certainly been disappointed in members of my family, been upset by the actions of people I know and care for, but I’m not sure why any of that matters. Moreover, police, politicians, and other public servants are not to be held to the same standard of ‘official’ conduct as say, a cashier, or my brother. This is because we allow more leniency for those in our personal lives. We need to, because we love them – or we should – and when you love someone, you see them in a more illuminating light…

The idea that we are to excuse people who choose an elevated status of influence and power from their wrongdoings – just because we admit that other people in our lives also do wrong – is ludicrous. Furthermore, the idea that the pontiff of a church whose public mission, many believe, is to spread peace and goodwill, is on par with your cousin who works the deli counter, is a little too far a stretch for me. Even if, for argument’s sake, we are to hold everyone to the same standards, we are left with only less reason to pledge loyalty and faith to the organization of the Catholic Church. If a normal person molests a child, that person (besides being an undeserving consumer of oxygen) should go to jail.  If another person is aware, and actually assists the molester in getting away with his crime, that person is (although perhaps not equally) also deserving of arrest.

When Ms. Washad says “dont stand there.dont sit there and make a hullaballo about the Pope before you stop and think about all the good he may have done”, I feel a little disturbed. To me that is like saying “Satan is very powerful, so worship him for his power alone – and who cares if he embodies all that is evil and dark, because – in the end – at least he accepts all sinners into his kingdom. Geez!” …Maybe I’m a little jaded (I hope not, but it’s possible), yet there are some things I just can’t see two sides of. The Pope is the absolute sovereign of an ancient organization that has committed tremendous wrong. Whether he – or anyone who holds that office – now expresses a desire to feed the hungry, or whatever the Vatican’s prepared-public-relations-issued-statement says, is absolutely, and entirely, irrelevant.

As hard as it is to believe, I am actually not criticizing Catholics, or even the Catholic religion in the preceding, rambling sentences. I am only defending my view of the church organization, which is run and maintained by men; and, unfortunately, men and organizations can be corrupted.  I am not a child “making noises without thinking things through”, nor am I trying to create a “hullaballo” about the Pope on Facebook. I am, however, saying that if the current Pope Benedict XVI knew of child molestations being committed by priests, and he proactively covered such things up, then (as Richard Dawkins says), he is a criminal and should go to jail.

Wine and Cigarettes

I don’t believe in addiction
Wine and cigarettes
I never have
Wine and cigarettes
I think substances get the better
- of people sometimes
Wine and cigarettes
Yet it is a matter of needed healing
Wine and cigarettes
Of weakness allowed
Wine and cigarettes
As I desire renewal
Wine and cigarettes
And try for cleansing breaths
Wine and cigarettes
I awaken to the fact
- that it all starts somewhere
Wine and cigarettes
Water…
Air…
Earth…
Fire…
You,
I,
Wine and cigarettes
I straighten out day by day
Wine and cigarettes
Work more before I play
Wine and cigarettes
Every path has its end,
- or maybe another starting place
Wine and cigarettes
I want to know
Wine and cigarettes
I want to feel
Wine and cigarettes
I don’t believe in addiction
Wine and cigarettes
And I never have
Wine and cigarettes

© 2010, Jameson Freeman

The ‘unique’ American economy

My Yogi teabag quote:

“Bliss is a constant state of mind, undisturbed by gain or loss.”