I'm running- or, at least, jogging- for President

Or at the very least, a candidate nomination. That's right, people, this person: 

                   Look real close, and you can see who I voted for in the last national election! 

could be the next leader of the free world. (Note that this photograph can also be used as a visual aid for how to vote, in the event that you are unsure of how to vote and/or live in the state of Florida.) Goal: achieve the Independent (or Libertarian, or Scientologist, whomever will have me really) party nomination for 2012 presidential candidacy. Of course, I have created a summary of my platforms for interested and civically engaged persons (i.e. anyone who is still reading). 

Platforms:

1. I will be the best-dressed President in history, not only because of the extended options culturally available in terms of wardrobe to a female president (see skirts, dresses, the occasional skort to keep it interesting) but also because I plan on dressing exclusively in "PowerWear", the high fashion clothing line based on the former Libyan leader (let's all agree that's a very generous noun) Gaddafi's histrionic style. 

                         The devil wears... well... that has got to be his own brand, right?

2. I will mandate a reworking of the national anthem to a simpler, more catchy version, preferably with lyrics that Christina Aguilera can remember. Rebecca Black will be hired to produce the song and accompanying video. 

3. I will forgive all student debt, regardless of whether or not it apologizes, or means that apology from the heart. 

4. I am the only openly declared pro-hat candidate, and I will continue to support the free wearing of hats by men, women, members of the LGBT community, and children alike. Here I am pictured with some of my hat-enthusiast constituents-- YOU CAN JOIN THIS MOVEMENT:

                                  Cover your heads. Cover America. 

5. I will make a mix cd for every voter (pending changes in DRM once I assume office) that is guaranteed to include at least one Black Keys track and no Nickelback songs whatsoever.

6. I will overcome the hostility and division within our current administration, beginning with mandatory field trips for all members of Congress. This is including but not limited to a trip to Goodwill in which they will all have to choose outfits for each other and then wear those outfits until a bill is successfully signed into law.

7. I will address the national fiscal crisis by implementing cost-saving and revenue-generating ideas, such as leasing out Camp David on weekends for hosting parties. Discounts will be available for any parties with open bars; no parties that require guests to wear costumes will be accommodated. 

Look for my campaign launch coming soon with chalk on a sidewalk near you. 

rkb

Lighting Up

You crouched close to show me your technique

and I was thrilling at our night of debauchery

and your pursed lips.

We laughed around mouthfuls of smoke.

Frustrated matches flamed out from between my cold novice fingers,

scattering onto the concrete like wasted snowflakes

that no child tried to catch on his tongue.

Finally, you pulled me over to crouch behind a truck,

my hands triangling and yours

lifted close to help. We lit up.

You suggested we walk because I was cold,

the suggestion helping more than the action.

Words dripped like ashes and left meaning glowing and protected like the cherry.

I didn’t like you much at the beginning of the night,

but once the cigar freed your tongue

you dropped bits of truth into the air

and that I liked.

Our group wandered the parking lot like vagrants,

worrying the ladies closing up shop

with little more than our presence

and slanted laughter.

The nicotine stung my lips for hours later

reminding them of the touch

of the cigar

and the smoke settled into my clothes to mark

the night on me. 

rkb

Interview

Today I had my first round of interviews at a high school for a teaching position.  It would only last three weeks, but it may turn out to be something if I'm able to impress.

Anyway, I'll keep you posted.  I didn't do abysmally, but I'm not a good judge of myself (who is?).

-M&y

**EDIT**

Tomorrow I have my second round.  Anxiety is continually building.  I'll post later if it's a KO.

Something

“We’re right on time.”

Josie looked at her husband in the passenger seat with a reassuring nod. “Right on time,” she repeated.

“For once.”

“What was that, dear?”

“Oh nothing.” His nose scooted across the window. He was quiet for a few moments, then, “Are we sure about this? All this, kid business? I mean, how are we going to tell it’s them?’

“There aren’t going to be many children in groups of three at the train station, dear,” Josie said.

Her husband rubbed his eyes. “We don’t have children.”

“I thought that was pretty obvious.”

Her smirk was lost on him. “Then why take on three children for the summer? We aren’t qualified for this sort of thing.”

“You’re winding yourself up again, Simon.”

“You never seem to get wound up about anything!”

The wife laughed while the husband sank lower into his seat.

He folded his hands grimly. “Besides, what are we to do with them?”

Smiling fading, Josie gripped the wheel. “Well, of course we’ll… Um… There’s always…”

“You see, it’s hopeless.”

The car rolled to a stop, and she jammed the shifter into place. “Hopeless or not, they will arrive in a few minutes.” Opening the car door, she grabbed her purse and then her husbands chin. “Do try not to wear that face; it’ll scare the children off.”

Simon produced an even bleaker expression.

“Oh dear.”

Simon’s face, Josie had learned throughout their years together, was a better almanac than anything printed in some journal. It was like an arthritic hip when it rained, a frantic dog at the approach of a stranger. Simon knew trouble when it was coming, and although she had managed her best to ignore it that morning, she was realizing the dark circles around his eyes were not disappearing on their own.

She decided to remain cheery. “There’s no helping it now!”

The couple made their way on the misty platform as they train heaved itself to a stop. Inside, passengers gathered their belongings and stooped or stood on the balls of their feet to retrieve their bags. Josie and Simon scanned the dark windows for the children they were to retrieve.

“What do you suppose they’ll look like…”

The husband remained silent almost as if protesting their presence there.

Women bustled by them, and men with papers clipped past as well. They must have been off to another platform, for not many people stopped to stay at their little town. Or at least not for long. Little towns like theirs had a way of rejecting you or swallowing you up whole like a goldfish.

“Wait, that must be them.”

Josie grabbed a hold of her husband’s sleeve and pulled him down the platform. There was a gangly boy with a heavy bag next to a little girl. Their sister appeared with two more bags.

“You must be Rachel, Sarah, and Roger.”

Henry Ian Cusick

You know what, everyone? This is just because I like you:

 rkb

This has nothing to do with the post- but I voted today :)

The line between prayer and poetry is blurring for me recently. The block poem that is today's entry is a scrap of an ongoing internal discourse re: faith and sanctification in the real world. ("Real world" meaning, for me, mundane, prosaic, longing, fear, and beauty. If that definition makes sense to you, or if it doesn't but you're at least interested, then I think we're on the same page.)

Anyway, it was born out of my prayer this morning and I think still holds remnants of the questions I have about how my faith fits into the metrics of my daily life. Ontology and eschatology are easy for me (well- as easy as they can be), in the sense that I get how my faith demands certain assumptions, creates a specific worldview that dictates the beginning and end of this whole thing. What's curiously obscure is how faith winds into life through the redundant and the required, the workday and the laundry and reorganizing the pantry and taking out the dogs. Because I think it does; or rather, I think it must in order to be relevant and meaningful.

There must be true worth and value and love and gritty spirituality mixed in with life here. Because this is life. This is how it works, for most people, most of the time. Where is sanctification? Is it in the pride of being, doing something important or interesting? Like I know my life is holy because, here, here is the cause, and I can point to it with a commanding righteous hand, and it's erect in front of your face like a pylon or Lot's wife turned to salt. Or is it that grinding of humility that works itself into your skin and through your bones and inches toward your heart when you set your shoulder against life and push. When relationships are not what they used to be on paper, in an email update- roommate, boyfriend, classmate- but the places where we commingle our lives, and fill in the dark spaces between the globes of light cast on the concrete by the streetlights.

So come beside me, or don't, because where you stand is less important because it doesn't matter where I am, either. Write notes while I speak on a pad with preset lines- lines if you're an American, grids if you're European- and arch a brow to make light of the whole proceeding and when I'm done, call me back as soon as you get my message because you thought I might not be ok and you care enough to be wrong about that and know you've written enough notes if you're right. Make plans to mix drinks with me and mouth cigars in a smoky city room where we've never been before or tear walls and floors out of your new house, and it's good because we're filling in the dark spaces with life. And sanctification costs this much: as much as a pad of paper, a mixed drink, and a hammer broken on your old house. 

rkb

Quickster

I'm in the middle of deciding whether or not I want to take on a second job.  This job would be at the library, which sounds romantic and comfortably nerdy like a person such as myself; however, I would basically be costumer service (i.e. the person who checks out your books and helps you renew your library card).

That sounds like all kinds of boring.

Other than that, there's no prospects for me as of yet.

Oh, also, on the topic of my other job, I am constantly reminded of how I want another, better job when I go.  That doesn't mean I hate my job there, but I get paid next to nothing and yet they demand me to be there on certain days. This is my part time job.  When I tell a job I'm going to be out of town, and I don't expect to be paid for the day I am away, they should just let me go.  Especially for a part time job.

Anyway, enough negativity.

I know I teased this out in the last post, but I will be discussing what I think about Halloween--I'm just going to combine that with my philosophy on Christmas post, probably.  Or not, who knows.