I guess this is old news, but I don’t get out much.
Last week Obama gave a speech in which he pronounces corpsman, as in “Navy corpsman” as “corpseman”
He did it twice so it wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. I wouldn’t really care, except for years I’ve heard what a total moron President Bush was because he pronounced “nuclear” like “nucular”. This was especially distressing because that’s the way I usually pronounce it myself!
Both W and I can now both walk with our head high once more– We’re at least not that bad. I wonder if he knows how the Marine Corps is spelled?
Yes, yes, I know– Weather doesn’t equal climate, but I couldn’t resist. Also, tell that to the crazies the next time there’s a bad hurricane season (or for that matter to Danny Glover the next time there’s an earthquake).
In any case, it’s snowing like crazy again here in DC.
BTW, here are few pictures from last Saturday night after it stopped:
Here’s what it doing right now (Noon today) :
The big difference right now is that the wind is blowing pretty well so it’s starting to pile up against structures, rather than just falling straight down.
I started working as a janitor two weeks ago. I clean bathrooms, hallways, and classrooms - from top to bottom. On a daily average, I take on 25 toilets, 10 urinals, 15 sinks, 10 floors, 2 carpets, 4 classrooms, 10 trashcans, 10 mirrors, and 2 glass doors. Most of this work is simple manual labor - brooms, mops, dusters, spray, paper towels, and so forth. And I love it. There is a very nice feeling that comes with making something clean, and having done it with my own two hands.
About a year ago, three separate things triggered a long reflection upon human work, particularly in the use of machines. I read Pope Benedict’s encyclical Spe Salvi, I stumbled across some readings in my wife’s course (Dominion and Techne, by Dr. Schindler of the JP II Institute), and I took a course on the Theology of the Body. Put together, I started to question whether machines really made life better, or more precisely - whether it was possible to do genuinly human work through the operation of machines. In short, I found my answer to be ‘no’ - human work ought to be manual and skilled, using non-automated tools.
So the second I come to this conclusion, God sends me a job that fits the bill. And though I only have two weeks on the job, I thought I’d do some reflection on it, because parts of the job do require machinery - elevators, vacuums, chemical dispensers, electronic timekeeping, and of course, electric lights and heating.
The best part of the job is when I’m either mopping or sweeping. The swish-swish of the mop, to the left, to the right, gives me an immense satisfaction, especially as I feel the gritty-sluggishness of the initial dirt make way to a smooth-polish feeling. I can feel the resistance give way through the handle of the mop. I have also learned how to turn the mop at exactly the right time and exactly the right angle, so as to brush up against the walls perfectly - like an olympic swimmer kick-turning at the end of the lane in a race. I can also flip the mop to the other side with one nifty little flick of the wrist. If I’m doing a good length of floor, my thoughts eventually cease, and I become totally absorbed with the swish-swish of the mop. Othertimes, I might daydream a little, or pray a little, but the thoughts usually settle down after some time into a sort of zen-nothingness. Before I know it, the work is done. The same process repeats with the broom and dustpan - sweep, sweep, in goes the dirt, walk a few steps (”there’s a speck of dirt!”), sweep, sweep, in it goes, and repeat. I find that my eyes are becoming sharper at finding the little pieces of dust - none is safe from my roving dustpan and broom.
This stands in sharp contrast to my vacuuming. I use the vacuum when I’m told - otherwise I use the broom and dustpan. I noticed today, that although the vacuum cleans fast, it doesn’t clean very well. It misses corners that my broom easily fits into. It misses the little pieces of dirt that need that extra two or three swaps. It misses the little metal staples that are stuck in the floor (which I can now spot and pluck between my fingers in about 1/2 a second). It is also very loud. I cannot take a vaccum into the office areas, but I can take my broom. Moreover, the cord always gets in the way. And I’m always searching for places to plug it in. And then, as it happened last week, a light goes on, it stops sucking, and you open it up and realize that the person put in the bag wrong - ruining the vacuum. In short, the broom wins hands down over the vacuum - but only if you have the time to do the job manually. If you have to clean ten classrooms, and there’s only one of you, the vacuum gets the job done.
But that leads me to the most distressing part of this reflection - not that the manual labor is inherently skill-building, and worthy of human effort, but that if I truly look deeply at my job, I realize that it should not exist. I exist to clean things that should probably be cleaned by those using the bathrooms, the classrooms, the hallways, the offices. My job only exists because no one has figured out how to make a machine that can climb stairs, fill mop buckets, and mop floors, while picking up trash and throwing it in dumpsters. These are tasks that have been deemed unworthy of human work. And yet someone has to do it, right? So who does it?
I am the only white male working there that I’ve met, out of at least thirty workers. Almost all of them are African-American, about half men, half women. My employer gives good benefits, and the wages are decent - about $10 and a half an hour. Yet it surely isn’t enough money to raise a family and save money, let alone buy a house. Why is it that only minorities work this sort of job? Self-segregation? A matter of it being an inner-city sort of position? To get back to my original thought - this is a sort of job that isn’t deemed as intrinsically valuable, but only valuable in a utilitarian sense. If machines could be created to do the job, humanity would buy the machines and be glad that no human ever had to do such tedious work again. And yet, because such machines do not exist, we have the working classes. In this case, the working class is almost completely made up of minorities.
There is something deeply ironic to me about this - that the upper class spend their time in front of computers, papers, books, and presentations, while the lower classes spend their time doing manual labor. The upper class think they are getting the good deal - more pay, less manual labor, and more ‘meaningful’ work. And yet, having just come off years of such work, I can honestly say that I find more meaning in the manual labor than in all that intellectual ‘work’, mostly done through computer interfaces.
I have to say that I enjoyed mopping the floors today more than I enjoyed writing this little reflection, and I think it may have made more of a difference - not only in other people’s lives, but my own.
Someone asked me how long I was going to work at this job. I don’t know. It doesn’t pay enough to raise a family, I’ll say that. My wife would have to get a job, and then we wouldn’t be raising our family - someone else would. But I think I’m being taught some valuable lessons, and being given some very intriguing opportunities through the benefits my employer gives. One thing is for sure - tomorrow, I hope to avoid vacuums at all cost.
Well, it’s good to see that there’s finally some indication that the the wheels are falling off the Global Warm… oops, I mean Climate Change bandwagon. It looks like it soon may be ok again to actually express scientific skepticism of the fevered claims of Gaia’s acolytes without be labeled a “denier” and threatened with prosecution for crimes against humanity.
The Copenhagen summit was a gratifying bust, and then to see the MSM finally report on the dishonesty of the advocates of this crock has been a real treat.
Of course when you’re dealing with religious fanatics it’s never easy. How many times has Al Gore or Prince Charles or some other brain-damaged dweeb announced that “THIS IS OUR LAST CHANCE!! IF WE DON’T TAKE THE DRASTIC ACTIONS THAT I ADVOCATE WITHIN THE NEXT 30 (60, 90) DAYS, WE’RE ALL DOOMED!! DOOMED I SAY!!!” Like the Christian sect that keeps re-calculating the end of the world every time the last prediction didn’t come true–but all the rank and file just keep accepting the changes! These guys need some of those sandwich-board signs to walk around downtown with.
The only question I have is what percentage of this fable is spearheaded by scientists to climb onto the gravy train, and how much of it is about the anti-American Left’s never-ending crusade to strip us of sovereignty so we can all be good little suffering socialists together?
Speaking of anti-Americans, more good news on the Obama front. Remember the Dems whining that conservatives were really, really bad because we didn’t want the President “to succeed”? As I mentioned at the time, that all depends on what he’s He’s trying to do. Well, as that becomes clearer, it appears that we’re not the only ones who don’t want what Barry’s selling.
In Massachusetts of all places. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s He’s smart enough to start triangulating himself towards the center as Bill did after 1994. Of course Clinton was just for Clinton, while Barry (NMI) Obama is a real internationalist Messiah who can’t bear to give up on his His dream of American socialism.
All we can do it keep our fingers crossed and hope the trend continues.
I could have put this in the comments of the other post on this topic, but I want to be sure everyone sees it.
We located or at least taken account of several of the items that were missing before.
-Karl’s leather chair was tossed as was the short leather couch in the basement.
-The indoor chaise lounge was delivered to the house– It was in storage with the State Department.
-The wide wooden bookcase was seen in the container that WEF2 stored with BoxCarts Storage company, which we’ll have delivered sometime next week, I think.
-I suspect the black stereo case will be there too, but I’m not sure.
Three further items that we need to locate are 1) the antique brass table lamp that used to be in the family room on the round table next to my leather chair. I thought that had been in the house but I’ll have to ask Daniel about it. And 2) & 3) the two small refrigerators that were downstairs. Anybody know what happened to them? I got my truck back a couple of days ago but still have to take a driving test(!) on Wednesday to get my license and then register the truck after that.
The ability to see the absurdity of others is an easy ability to master. The ability to see your own absurdity requires a companion with great insight, tact, and love.
It is of priceless worth to be able to acknowledge that life is innately ludicrous and to respond to the insanity of those around you with laughter and good humor.
It is of inestimablely more worth to be able to acknowlege that this means everything you do and say is also inherently laughable and respond accordingly.
We’ve had most of the stuff delivered that was salvageable to the rental house, but we could use some help on reconciling the list that was salvaged with the list of items that were destroyed. There are some items that I don’t recognize from the description, so even though they didn’t get delivered, I don’t know if they were in the house when we had the fire or not. We want to make sure nothing is missing and unaccounted for. The following is a short list of furniture in that category and I’d like all of us to look at it and tell me what you know about each of them. Some may be in West Virginia, some may have been put in storage by WEF2, and some may have been thrown out. It would be particularly helpful if the person who actually took, stored, or threw out to let us know so we could be sure. I’ll get into the storage soon, and WEF5 and I will have to go to West Virginia in the near future and see what’s there.
WEF5 and WEF6 have seen what’s there so if they think of some other items that we’re not sure about, please add them to that list.
Here’s the list
1) WEF5’s really beat up old leather chair that he brought back from Gould.
2) The short leather couch that was in the basement.
3) The light-colored indoor chaise lounge that was in WEF2’s office on the second floor.
4) The large wide wooden bookcase which was (when I left for Baghdad and before we put up the walls around the laundry room) in the basement against the wall on the opposite end from where the TV was, underneath the circular fluorescent light.
5) The small cabinet on wheels (black) for stereo components. we didn’t have any stereo equipment in it but we did have some record albums (if you can remember what they are) in it. It was also in the basement next to the bookcase listed above.
Please respond to this post even if you don’t have any information on these items, so I know you’ve seen it.
Warning: Parental Advisory– the following contains some images of a graphic nature that may not be suitable for fans of stuffed horses.
First things first:
Yes Mountain Lion and Tigie made it.
Alas, Horsie did not .
I’m still pretty busy with adjusters and contractors, but I thought I’d take the time to provide some photos that WEF5 took of the WEF Headquarters DC. Stand by for future posts asking for WEFers’ assistance with some questions about what was in the house at the time of the fire so we can figure out exactly what was lost.
Here’s the front door:
the other side, inside the foyer:
The foyer ceiling, looking back at the closet:
The front room wall, looking forward:
Front room ceiling:
Another view of front room ceiling:
The mantle in the dining room looked like it did pretty well:
But the window in the dining room did not:
Dining room ceiling:
the stairs and banister look ok:
Wall of Mom’s office/Terry’s room:
Same room, other wall towards the hallway:
Attic, looking forward from the top of the staircase– This is the small room:
Attic, looking through the “wall” into the larger room., at the forward corner of the house. Note where we lost some of the brick fire wall:
Another view of the larger room, showing the wall dividing the living area from the storage area:
Looking into the storage area:
Basement, not sure exactly where:
Basement ceiling:
Basement ceiling, again:
If you’re depressed about our house, just look at the one next door where the fire started:
Or even better, the back of that house. Not much left:
Finally, on a more positive note, here’s the rental house in Arlington we moved into today.
Just in case any of you hadn’t heard, the house in DC was involved in a fire around 1:30am last night when the house next door (the “drug dealers’ place”) apparently suffered an explosion (gas? arson? meth lab?) that resulted in a fire that pretty much destroyed that house. Our house and the house on the other side also caught fire.
WEF5 is fine, and got out with not much more than his cell phone. He was taken in by David across the street, and has since been able to get back into the house to get some clothes, his wallet, and other necessary stuff. Aunts Terry and Mary Jane are coming in tomorrow and we’ve arranged for WEF5 to stay at the same hotel with them for a few days.
Here’s a couple of pictures of the house taken by David after the fire was pretty much out and the smoke had cleared. Apparently the house where it started is toast inside. It’s difficult to say what the damage is to out house, but WEF5 says it looks like the attic at least is pretty much gone (this is unconfirmed), and the second floor may have been affected as well. You can see the windows are gone there where they hosed things down.
Certainly, there is at least extensive water damage throughout, with about three inches of standing water in the basement. No telling how that affected the plaster and hardwood floors on the other levels.
I know for the next several days, we’ll all remember stuff that was in the attic and is most likely gone, including boxes of WEFers who had left stuff in the attic, as well as WEF4’s bedroom furniture and associated stuff. For me, the worst is virtually all of my books- You remember that I had put them all in bookcases up there. Of course, it’s important to remember how lucky we are that no one was hurt. Property can usually be replaced, and even if it can’t, it’s only property.
Fortunately WEF2 decided last year to pay for pretty much the most complete coverage available, so that’s a good thing.
We’ll probably be getting set up in an apartment or other lodging by the insurance company when we get back to DC after Christmas. WEF2 will likely be returning with us for a week or so to make sure the insurance company is properly energized. Of course as you can imagine everything is up in the air except for our vacation, which will go on as scheduled (WEF2 and I are leaving Baghdad on Thursday, me for the last time).
Somehow the fire found it’s way on to UTube- the video was apparently taken from the other side of 14th street:
Like the past several years, I’ve missed you all on Thanksgiving. I hope next year will be very different (but no guarantees).
We all have a lot to be grateful for on this day, but for me I am especially grateful for how the year has turned out.
I’m thankful to God (or whatever higher power you may subscribe to) for getting us through the past year more or less in one piece. I’m also more thankful than I can say for the support of all the family during this period, and I firmly believe that all of you, in each of your own ways, were largely responsible for the the positive outcome.
I hope to re-engage on WExForce once I get back to the States in January. I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank you all and to let you know what a great and meaningful Thanksgiving this one is for me.
The End is like the girl who wanted to eat a real apple. “Never seen a real one,” said her Dad. “Real ones make you sick,” said her Mom. “Apples used to rot on the ground,” said her Uncle. But her brother wanted one too, and so flew her to the museum. They found the farm exhibit and the old tree in the window-house. The tall brother picked an apple from a branch and took a bite. But it was a real apple, and not yet ripe. “Gross,” he said, and spat. The girl knelt and took an apple from the ground. She bit in, then spat out worms and rot. “See?” her brother said. But she took another apple, bit, stopped, chewed, smiled, and swallowed. “Don’t eat it, it’s rotten!” her brother warned. But she had discovered the truth: not everything fallen is rotten.
It is I. WEF4. I have returned to the clan only to find it silent. Where, dear WEFers, is the humour? The philosophy? The arguments, battles, wars and horse-drawn carriages? News of the wee wilderbaby is scant. As is news of trials, tribulations and triumphant victories. I demand news of the WEF people! But worry not, you will not go gentle into that good night without a torch to guide you. I AM THE TORCH!!!
As you may know WEF4 now resides in the small town of Buea, Cameroon. I am in the process of making a poster that will explain how I feel about buea. It will look something like this:
CAMEROON
TAXI
CARWASH
DINNER
I think it will sell.
Documentaries for Change is going well - I have a class of six girls that meet twice a week. They are super awesome. We have had two sessions thus far and they were all on time, attentive and excited. When I told them our Saturday classes wouldn’t start until November they were visibly (and vocally) disappointed. It was adorable. The paperwork has proven more difficult. I have obtained permission to exist from the Ministry of Culture but am yet to formally register the NGO here. The man I spoke with suggested I not do this until the NGO had grown some but I would hate for volunteers to get in trouble here while I am not around so I think I certainly must make it official before moving onto the next stage.
The small children here all yell “white man, white man” in their squeaky little child voices. I have been instructed to yell back “black man, black man” but cannot bring myself to do it.
The documentary on micro-finance has been slower to start than the video classes. Jess still had quite a bit to do before she was ready to do case studies -which is where the stories will best come through. We have finally finalized the list of women we’d like to do case studies with and will hopefully be starting to film next week. Even just imagining the editing job I’m going to have to deal with makes my head spin.
There are fewer ex-pats here than there were in other places I’ve lived in Africa. There is a strong peace corps contingency. Aside from that there are a few people nearby working as engineers, a couple of guys who started an IT company about an hour out (they may be able to do my footageshare project on the cheap, fingers crossed) and a lovely South African woman who is married to a Cameroonian and owns a very Western-style restaurant near the beach - which is about an hour away. There are also a few people working at the Wildlife Center. I have not yet had a chance to visit but they raise and rehabilitate apes.
I tried to surf. Epic fail.
I know everyone is a bit concerned that I will never work again and end up defaulting on my loans and living on the streets so to put you at ease I have been applying to jobs. I still want to take the internship in Ireland if I get it, but if I do not there are other options so worry not. Still looking for work in Iraq/Afganistan so if you see anything where I will NOT be stuck on a compound let me know…
I am taking French classes at the language center and trying to learn Cameroonian Pidgeon. It will take time but I am confident that both will be more successful than my surfing endeavor.
“The real mystery of things is not what they are, but that they are.”
I don’t want to scandalize anyone - but for some time now, I’d say almost two years, I’ve not felt something I’ve felt my entire life, ever since being a little boy who looked up into the night sky and saw the stars and thought and felt, “God exists.” I still have faith in God’s existence. I still know, in a sense, that God exists. But how do I feel? That intution, that feeling, and even my reasons, have somehow left me. It is very odd. Because I have memories of those feelings and reasons, but I no longer really have that feeling or think those reasons. I have memories of my logical reasons for believing - but these memories are old, dusty, and have little daily impact except that I know that I once proved God’s existence to myself as a settled matter. But this reasoning isn’t at the ‘tip of my mind’, so to speak. The settled matter remained settled, but somehow forgotten. It is just a memory of sorts. And so I find myself praying, asking God to guide me, and I find him saying - ‘return to the beginning, to the stars, to the reasons that you had in the first place, to seeking me with your whole heart and whole mind’.
And so I begin again, by asking myself, does God exist? I feel that I still have faith - I still choose to follow God, even as I grope numb and blind. I have not turned from him, though I no longer perceive him as I once did. So I turn my thoughts and my heart again to this vital question - does God exist? Not in the sense of questioning his existence, but in the sense of - where are you, why are you, how are you, who are you?
I think that this will become a series of posts about my renewed search for God. Does it seem absurd to search for something you already know exists? Well, think about losing your car keys. You know the keys exist. You know you need the car to get where you’re going. You even know what the keys look like. But for your life, you can’t remember where those keys are. You can’t find them. You’ve kind of stopped looking for them. You ponder the idea that they are lost forever. But no. They are here somewhere. They are simply misplaced. And so too is my conviction in God’s existence - my subjective feelings and reasons that believe in his existence. I know he exists. I still follow him. But I want to see him again like I used to - dare I say, almost face-to-face.
Follow me on this journey if you like! I’ll be examining every possible argument, and do my best to formulate my own reasons and ideas. I’m not out to convince anyone but myself. Please don’t hesitate to leave your best criticisms and insights - I want to leave no stone unturned. I hope we can all further our pursuit of truth together, even if we end up (mostly likely) disagreeing sharply.
Just reading the newspaper this morning, and realizing how much trouble America is in. Does anyone even disagree anymore - whether we are liberal, conservative, or whatever, it seems like we can all agree that things are getting worse and don’t look to be getting better anytime soon.
So my question for the WEF minions is this - at root, why are things going so wrong with America (and with the world). I mean not only politically, not only economically, but also socially and culturally. The whole deal. If you can isolate one thing, what is it? My answer is in the comments.
I broke up with Kelly. Mayhem has ensued as he informed me that the only reason he isn’t committing suicide is because his parents couldn’t afford a funeral. Needless to say, the likelihood of our relationship being even somewhat civil next year is pretty low. With Kelly out of the picture, my circle of friends is a small, small affair.
Katie and I are close but her family lives in town, so, even though we’ll be roommates, I won’t necessarily see her that often. I’ve already begun, through facebook, to send out probing friendship tendrils. I have an acquaintence from freshmen year picking me up from the airport and I have another acquaintence from last year who has invited me to meet some of his townie friends, based on the theory that no one sane can survive only Johnny friendships. So, there’s hope there.
But I find my thoughts returning to Annapolis. At this point I have a group of four people I would know over there and I like them all quite well. Further, I’ve always sort of wanted to transfer to Annapolis and the ties holding me to Santa Fe at this moment are pretty soft. But transferring would mean that I would have a new set of tutors and students to deal with, which would affect me academically. Further, since we have to write our senior essays next year, it would be difficult for me to find a tutor to be my advisor. And at our senior paper orals there is a panel of four tutors; in Santa Fe I have a good chance of knowing them…in Annapolis, not so much.
Any advice? I can’t seem to see this picture clearly enough to make an intelligent decision. Of course, even if I decided Annapolis, it would take quite some finangling to transfer so late…thoughts?
