chasing the sun

So angry I can hardly draw breath, I am writing so I can stay a little bit sane through it.

I hate this war – that people are dying for oil and misogynistic domination of the Middle East. I mean no disrespect to the dead and wounded or to those serving, doing their duty, I just feel pissed that they have to do it at all.

I swear this war is turning into Vietnam. Not to be dramatic, but seriously, there are a lot of similarities between LBJ – the country boy from Texas who escalated the “police action” in Vietnam – and our man George W. No set deadlines, commitment to success that is marginal at best no matter what he says. Never retreat, never admit defeat, never concede a damn thing until all possible hope of victory is lost (Remember the Alamo!) and then run out the back door, tail firmly tucked between your legs. It’s what Johnson did. And soon old George will be saying his goodbyes and leaving the mess to someone else…maybe Hilary Clinton…hmmmm…

It’s amazing that we’re calling this a fight for democracy, yet we are aggressively barging into people’s private property (a highly prized American value) and taking away their rights to free speech, to bear arms, to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness all because we have some jumped-up idea of what will make people happy and what will “make the world a better place.”

All this while evils are being perpetrated against helpless and oppressed peoples all over the world…I’ve been watching BBC news and reading stories online about wars and rumors of wars and psycho corrupt dictators who are kicking poor people out of their homes in an effort to “Drive Out Rubbish.” (No, seriously, that’s what they’re calling it in Zimbabwe). I’m not for killing for the sake of killing, but surely we can spare a few snipers to run off and assassinate a few fascist world leaders.

And I read that Benny Hinn (faith healer/worker of miracles) successfully insulted about a million Nigerian Pentecostals because he wasted four million dollars on a conference that was supposed to attract six million people, money in hand and looking for miracles. Instead, he only managed a measly one-million attendees, six-hundred thousand of whom he berated from the stage for their lack of integrity. He’s refused to pay for anything…except for maybe the flight home on his private Gulf Stream jet, and his body guards and a shopping spree on Rodeo drive to calm his nerves when he returns to his Bel Air estate in Cali. Oh wait…he won’t actually be paying for any of that either…

And finally, I’m fully annoyed with Tom Cruise. He’s turned into the white male version of Oprah all of a sudden talking about “Don’t use psychotherapy drugs because I know since I’m well-versed in the history of psychiatry!” and “I’m crazy in love with the chick from Dawson’s Creek that I met 3 weeks ago!” and “Become a Scientologist, it’s like a cult, but without the kool-aid!”

Ok, I’m done ranting...

For now

“In other words, fallen man is not simply an imperfect creature who needs improvement: he is a rebel who must lay down his arms.” -C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

I think a lot…probably too much. Lately it seems that thinking is all I do…read a little, think a little, read a little, think a little (cheep-cheep-cheep) think a lot, read a little more…[fans of the Music Man will appreciate that little throw-back to Broadway – sorry, I recently watched the Tony Awards and couldn’t resist]. Anyway, I am most definitely on my way to becoming a bona fide hermit. I think I’ve successfully pushed the need for human contact to the very end of my priority list right below visiting the dentist and starting a retirement fund.

I’ve been such a grouch lately too…the past few weeks have been dreary and I am feeling very melancholy and cantankerous (Don’t you love that word? It sounds so dramatic and romantic and I am rambling on and on about very little.). So, I think I am grouchy because school is over and I no longer have an outlet for my intellectual energy. Also, a friend of mine from Dallas was in town for only a few hours and left before I was ready for him to leave. And I am feeling strongly that my time in Chicago is coming to an end and I am definitely pulling away.

Shouldn’t it be the opposite? Shouldn’t I being trying to spend my time here doing productive and fruitful things that ensure that those with whom I interact are left with fond and pleasing memories. Rather, I think, in a few months time they will have forgotten me completely – okay, okay, I know this is drama…

Honestly, I feel like God is punishing me. And I’m being serious when I say that. I feel like He is angry with me for my sins, my lack of faith, and my continual imperfectness. I’m going to church tomorrow, but probably only because my aunt and uncle are in town and want to go with me. What a rebel I am! Only I can’t find the strength to surrender just yet and that only makes me feel worse.

I want out of this skin. I want a do-over – to be someone else, someone better than I am being.

Three weeks since my last post, well, nearly that and I have yet to be inspired. Though I can’t help but think that won’t matter much if I can just start writing something…anything.

These past few days of warm weather have been brilliant. Today, in honor of the positive change in the weather, I took a new way home: two buses and a short walk through the park. Currently, I live right near one of the most beautiful parks I have ever seen up-close. Although the city lets it get a bit wild and there’s more than a little trash in some areas, it’s still a gorgeous place to walk, run or relax.

I don’t have many pairs of good durable walking shoes. I proved that earlier today by ruining my favorite pair of strappy sandals on the tough streets of Chicago - I’m often amazed to see women wearing stilettos striding confidently and quickly past me on the sidewalk when I’m only in flip-flops. Anyway, when I finally stepped off the bus and into the park, I yanked off my shredded shoes and made for the freshly mowed grass.

It smelled like spring. The storm clouds were looming but the park was full people daring them to pour rain. I passed an old-fashioned snow-cone stand (that really only means poorly crushed ice and extra strength strawberry concentrate slung into a cheap plastic cup with a little water so you don't go into a sugar coma). There was a small group of kids taking turns in a made-from-scratch hammock consisting of a camouflage tarp and some yellow rope tied between two enormous trees. A group of boys with their shirts and shoes off were playing soccer on the gentle slope of a hill. Two of them were tumbling over each other to be the first to reach the ball.

When I was a kid, I never wore shoes. I grew accustomed to hot sidewalks and even hotter streets. I climbed trees, scaled fences and walked to and from my friends’ houses in only my bare feet. It’s hard to feel so young, but so old at the same time. I don’t feel the freedom I did when I was 10, but then again I probably didn’t feel it when I was 10. Sometimes, it’s only in looking back that we can view things rightly. But I do know one thing for sure…I still don’t care much for wearing shoes…