I've read a lot of books so far this year. Most of them have been fiction that explores the lifestyles of other cultures in places like India, China, and Africa.
Over the summer I read The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, which told the story of an American missionary family trying to survive and "spread the Gospel" in the Congo. It was fascinating. A few days ago, I finished Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. Taking place in Nigeria, it is often compared to the great Greek Tragedies. Now I'm right in the middle of A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali by Gil Courtemanche (translated from French). If you've seen the movie Hotel Rwanda, you'll be familiar with the subject material of this fiction-based-on-fact novel: the 100-day genocide in Rwanda in which approximately 800,000 people were viciously murdered in 1994.
This morning on the way to work I caught a story on NPR about the conviction of a Rwanda army colonel and two others for their roles in the genocide. Here's the CNN story. I always think it's interesting when past and present link up like this for a split second on the morning news.
And? Today is the anniversary of the day the 13th Constitutional Amendment abolishing slavery went into effect back in 1865.
The irony gives me the chills.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
the edge of panic
Warning: complaints ahead.
Friday night is the boss's annual holiday party. Ryan and I will arrive fashionably late, head straight for the bar, and spend a couple of hours socializing with the people I already spend more time with than anyone else.
Saturday morning will come way too fast, when I will have to run out to church to meet the piano tuner at 9:00 a.m. for an emergency piano-tweaking before choir rehearsal at 10:00 a.m. By 11:00 I will be yelling myself hoarse because no one listens to me when I say things the first time. What page are we on again? What measure are we on? Oh, I didn't know you were starting there. Are the men supposed to sing here, too?
Saturday afternoon we will not be having a brass ensemble rehearsal because everyone decided at the last minute that they can't make it.
So, I will go home to deal with my parents who want to come over so my father can perform "odd jobs" around the house for me, such as hanging wreaths and any other appropriate decorations. However, what this really means is that my mom and dad will come over, later than they said they would, and hang one wreath only. Then my mother will ask me if I want my father to do anything else. I will politely decline. My mother will then try to take me aside and "encourage" me to come up with something else for my father to do so he will feel needed.
Meanwhile, my father will begin poking around in the fridge for beer or other alcohol. When I finally think of something my father could do, he will have already consumed one beer and will have started sucking down a second. He will also complain about how he is now ready to go home and it is "all about control" with my mother.
It will be more of the same in the next week and a half until Christmas and then afterward. While we are eagerly awaiting the arrivals of my sister and brother and my brother's SO on Christmas Eve, neither Ryan nor I is excited about spending the majority of Christmas Day with my parents.
I don't necessarily want to air all of my family's dirty laundry here on this blog, but I do want to do a bit of venting. Alcohol plays a large part in the problems my siblings and I have with our parents. Couple that with over-emotional guilt-tripping and other assorted manipulative tactics and you've got a potentially volatile mix of personalities that keep my brother, sister and me on edge, all the time. (Yes, I realize at the beginning of this post that I mentioned I would be heading straight for the bar at the party tomorrow. Since alcoholism appears to run in my family, I am extremely careful to watch my intake and not go over-board. I monitor my coping mechanisms and believe me I am very aware of where my own personal imbibing can lead.)
I haven't fully enjoyed a Christmas in a very long time. Probably not since I was a kid, when I was too young to understand what was actually happening.
More on this at a later time. Maybe.
End of rant.
Friday night is the boss's annual holiday party. Ryan and I will arrive fashionably late, head straight for the bar, and spend a couple of hours socializing with the people I already spend more time with than anyone else.
Saturday morning will come way too fast, when I will have to run out to church to meet the piano tuner at 9:00 a.m. for an emergency piano-tweaking before choir rehearsal at 10:00 a.m. By 11:00 I will be yelling myself hoarse because no one listens to me when I say things the first time. What page are we on again? What measure are we on? Oh, I didn't know you were starting there. Are the men supposed to sing here, too?
Saturday afternoon we will not be having a brass ensemble rehearsal because everyone decided at the last minute that they can't make it.
So, I will go home to deal with my parents who want to come over so my father can perform "odd jobs" around the house for me, such as hanging wreaths and any other appropriate decorations. However, what this really means is that my mom and dad will come over, later than they said they would, and hang one wreath only. Then my mother will ask me if I want my father to do anything else. I will politely decline. My mother will then try to take me aside and "encourage" me to come up with something else for my father to do so he will feel needed.
Meanwhile, my father will begin poking around in the fridge for beer or other alcohol. When I finally think of something my father could do, he will have already consumed one beer and will have started sucking down a second. He will also complain about how he is now ready to go home and it is "all about control" with my mother.
It will be more of the same in the next week and a half until Christmas and then afterward. While we are eagerly awaiting the arrivals of my sister and brother and my brother's SO on Christmas Eve, neither Ryan nor I is excited about spending the majority of Christmas Day with my parents.
I don't necessarily want to air all of my family's dirty laundry here on this blog, but I do want to do a bit of venting. Alcohol plays a large part in the problems my siblings and I have with our parents. Couple that with over-emotional guilt-tripping and other assorted manipulative tactics and you've got a potentially volatile mix of personalities that keep my brother, sister and me on edge, all the time. (Yes, I realize at the beginning of this post that I mentioned I would be heading straight for the bar at the party tomorrow. Since alcoholism appears to run in my family, I am extremely careful to watch my intake and not go over-board. I monitor my coping mechanisms and believe me I am very aware of where my own personal imbibing can lead.)
I haven't fully enjoyed a Christmas in a very long time. Probably not since I was a kid, when I was too young to understand what was actually happening.
More on this at a later time. Maybe.
End of rant.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
belated thanks
I was catching up on some blogs today from WAY back and stumbled across the following. I think it is a nice way to put things in perspective, don't you?
I am thankful for…
Well said.
I am thankful for…
the mess to clean after a party because it means I have been surrounded by friends...
the taxes I pay because it means I am employed...
the clothes that fit a little too snug because it means I have enough to eat
a lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing because it means I have a home…
my shadow who watches me work because it means I am out in the sunshine…
the spot I find at the far end of the parking lot because it means I am capable of walking…
all the complaining about our government because it means we have freedom of speech…
my large heating bill because it means I am warm…
the lady behind me in church who sings off key because it means that I can hear…
the alarm that goes off in the early morning hours because it means I am alive…
the piles of laundry and ironing because it means that my loved ones are nearby…
weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day because it means I have been productive…
Well said.
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