Harold Crick Made Me Cry

I don’t think Sarah and Zack noticed, but I got pretty choked up at Stranger Than Fiction. Harold Crick, of course, is intended to be Everyman in his purest form: so completely bland, with such universal bad habits, and played so sympathetically that it’s simply impossible not to project ourselves onto his blank canvas. That’s not criticism. Think about how great an accomplishment this is. The movie seeks to engage people like Harold – utterly disconnected from the people and the world around him – and remind them that they are, in fact, human beings. For the Ana Pascalls among us, the movie reminds us how much courage those first steps into the world take.

And now I realize it’s a movie starring an SNL comic and that girl who did the babysitter voice-over in Monster House.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I almost cried at Will Ferrell’s acoustic version of “Whole Wide World.”

Today’s Musical Insight (Collegiate Harold Crick Edition):

“Twenty years – it’s breaking you down, now that you understand there’s no one around.”

Glasses to Glasses, Dust to Dust...

The thing about losing your glasses is, when you’re looking for them, it’s a pretty good bet that you’re blind while you're doing it. I found myself in this situation a moment ago, getting quite upset, until I had one of those liberating “Ah, screw it!” epiphanies and slouched into bed.

I was ambivalent about dating again – that is, my mind said “Uh, why not?” and every fiber of instinct said “Um…not so much.” This is actually how I visualized the debate in my mind’s eye. I ultimately opted for the former because – get this – my mind’s comma after “Uh” seemed more decisive than my instincts’ ellipsis after “Um.”

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what we in the business like to call “annoyingly self-piteously fucked up,” or ASPFU. ASPFUs are unable to concentrate, exercise, or form normal human relationships. However, they are not unhealthy enough to justify therapy, not at a going rate of $70 per hour.

C’est le vie. I saw a movie with Al Gore in it. I got to know a nice, smart, pretty girl a little better. The general spirit/purpose of the meeting was ambiguous enough that I could conceivably call it a date. So far as I know I didn’t humiliate myself in some irreversible fashion. All told, this begins to look more and more like a little victory.

I hear the voices in my head – I swear to God it sounds like they’re snoring. I’m pretty sure nobody reads this blog. I might prefer it that way.

Enough of this.

In the news – A leaked White House memo says Hadley has doubts about Maliki’s ability to stand up to Moqtada al-Sadr. I’ll throw this into the category of “You don’t fucking say.” Of course our friend Nuri won’t stand up to the man that controls the most vicious and (short of ours...barely) best-equipped army in the country – an army that probably includes Maliki’s own bodyguards.

See, this was my argument for Howard Dean all along. Howard is a nationalist. Howard opposed the invasion, but his unmitigated support for our other adventures demonstrates a certain level of bloodlust that I like to see in an American president. Howard is a Scorpio and something of a bully. Howard perversely enjoys making tough decisions that piss a lot of people off. And only President Dean could have the political capital to install an autocratic but functional government to make Iraq safe, the way that only Nixon could have opened up China. Enough of this ‘oasis of democracy’ bullshit. I want our troops safe. I want Iraqis safe. By now those are the only things that should matter.

Who agrees with me? Nobody, naturally. Bah. Even hindsight is blind nowadays.

The most interesting thing about this story – an instantaneous flash of sanity in the Bush Administration is enough to make the front page of the Times. People already know the Iraqi “government” can’t get its head out of its ass. What’s remarkable is that the neocons are discovering this as well.

Where are my fucking glasses?

Today’s Musical Insight (Post-Election Republican Edition):

“In between the lines of fear and blame, you begin to wonder why you came.”

The Devil Went Down to Louisiana. Today We Kicked Him Back Out.

Hurray for reelection!

The Gulf Coast Revival Housing Act passed unanimously! How much money did the Congress give to my district today?

$15 billion? Right? That’s it, right? Right.

At the moment, I am now free to vote for or say anything I choose. If my Disaster Recovery Bank Act passes, I could very well make a floor speech commending Ahmadinejad on the excellent work he’s done to keep the Administration on its toes. (I won’t of course, he’s an asshole.)

Very satisfied that the leader of the opposition said he was impressed with my bill. Good times. Very satisfied with all the conversations I had in class today. :-D

Today’s Musical Insight:

“Can she take me for awhile? Can I be a friend? We’ll forget the past? Well maybe I’m not able; and I break at the bend. We’re here right now – will we ever be again?”

The Future Wives Club

I checked myspace for the first time in a month and a half this afternoon. Looking through some of the blogs I had missed, I happened upon a particularly interesting blog topic by a long lost fellow debater. This is my twist on an exceptional prompt. Fictitious names, occupations, and general temperaments have been used to protect people I haven’t even met yet.

Possible Future Wives of Christopher Kaasa:

Danielle was born into an upper-middle class family of small business owners and financial professionals. She is spoiled but honest, usually hardworking, and generally well-intentioned. We both share a passion for fine wine and food that was cooked and served by someone else, like the same kind of movies, and enjoy reading. We both get jobs in offices adorned with beautiful dark oak desks; these jobs are high in stress and low in natural sugars, threatening to make us bitter and obese. Luckily, she insists upon exercising every time we go out to eat, so our cholesterol levels don’t really become a problem until after early retirement at the age of 54. Sources of conflict include my constant complaining about the exercise and the tiny yapping dog that bites my toes for no reason.

Ralina is attractive because she’s unstable and unpredictable. A playwright by trade, I love her passionately but cannot bear to be in the same room with her colleagues, friends, family, or anyone remotely like her. She expresses herself by loudly proclaiming her aesthetic tastes, yet it seems that all the books she reads, movies she sees, and music she listens to have only one thing in common – violent shifts between tones of elation and tones of anger and despair. We fight about goddamn-near everything, but needless to say the sex is fabulous. Underneath it all, her nature is warm and wise, and she cools down with age. I see my primary role in the relationship as ensuring that we don’t become a gun-owning household, for both our safety.

Ally is a workaday girl-next-door brunette who hides an amazing depth and intellectual brilliance beneath an exterior of charming down-to-earthness. She scoffs at romance on TV but remains a sucker for it in real life; an occasional rose on the dashboard or a well-timed “Today I woke up more in love with you than I ever have been” will inspire just a tiny tear of pure joy. On the flip-side, you know her temper is lost when she refuses to speak more than three syllables at a time. She starts her career over several times, always at entry level, and by virtue purely of merit and a personable nature rises to one supervisory position or another in a matter of months. She lets me work long hours at a job I love, but wisely takes firm control of the credit cards and bank accounts. Sources of conflict include my tendency to splurge on chocolate and other creature comforts and her need to have pets in the house.

Hannah, like me, is a fiery and (if I may say so) cunning attorney. The only difference is that my political convictions led me to join the ranks of the state Attorney General’s legion of anti-monopoly public interest prosecutors, while she felt obligated to protect good old fashioned American corporate enterprise. Our relationship began one late night in the law school library when, after being forced to work on a project with a person whose entire philosophical framework we despised, we discovered we both consider Rousseau to be a fascist; appropriate fireworks proceeded from there. Our home is an extremely well-furnished mess, we’re too busy working to spend money, and neither of us eats enough. At home we engage in epic battles over progressive taxation and clean air regulations. The minister who conducted our wedding said that we wrote the most beautiful, eloquent vows he’s ever heard, and our best memories are lying together in bed watching ancient reruns of The King of Queens and Frasier.

Today's Musical Insight:

"Just because I'm sorry doesn't mean I didn't enjoy it at the time."

Election Night #2: The Day After

Hmm. Rahm Emmanuel just became a legendary Democratic hero, and so did Chuck Schumer but to a lesser extent. The only one that looks like an ass here is meeeee, but I’m perfectly content with that under the circumstances.

A fellow polisci major with strong Democratic leanings: “I’ve followed four big elections in my life and this is the first one that turned out right!” Amen, brother.

Rumsfeld resigned this morning.

Not a moment too soon. This galactically arrogant bastard spent the past five years destabilizing the world with a brand new military strategy – just enough men and equipment to fail utterly. Here’s a lesson in the exercise of power, free of charge. You can EITHER (1) Tell the world (i.e., the countries you conquer, the terrorists that hate you, the international community that fears you, the opposition party that could very well one day take back control of Congress) to fuck off, OR (2) Skimp on the troops and body armor to invest heavily in technological crack dreams to try to make war more like a video game. You can’t do both.

Not a moment too late, either. The Republicans are going to have just enough time to nominate and confirm Rummy’s replacement. Rumor mill – George, Jr.’s gonna go with a Texas A&M professor. And my feeling is, if George Allen is out of work, why pass him up? A true good ol’ boy without the lib’ral ‘stablishment taint of university teachin’? Good Lord only knows what kinda papers them A&M boys come across from NYU or Harvard…look who they named their School of Government after, for Chrissakes…

Careful, oh party of Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Johnson. You may have taken control of the House and (probably!) the Senate, but you did it by electing some real conservatives. The 110^th Congress is not going to be the one to abolish the death penalty, institute universal health care, make our public schools into palaces, or codify gay rights. At best, this will be the Congress that sets us on the course to winning in Iraq, stabilizing the war on terror, cutting deficits, funding education, and ushering in an era of slightly greater national sanity.

But things are looking auspiciously up.

:-D

Today’s Musical Insight:

“Hey now, hey now, don’t dream it’s over…”

Election Night #1

As a responsible polisci student, I am making my own Election Day 2006 predictions. As a responsible Democrat, I’m not getting too optimistic. I may want to hang the President, Vice-President, Secretary Rumsfeld, Senator Frist, Speaker Hastert, and Rep. Boehner by their entrails and say, “This is not unlike what you’ve done to America.” I remain unconvinced that the rest of America feels similarly.

Everyone is downplaying the impact that Saddam Hussein’s conviction is going to have on the election, I think. It will have an impact for these two reasons: 1) It’s the kind of news that travels fast, and 2) It’s the kind of news that’s easy to understand.

Christopher’s Predictions:

-Dems gain 12-15 House seats, but do not take control

-Dems gain only two Senate seats

-Cantwell wins 55-45

-Reichert barely scratches by in the WA 8th

-Our uniquely fabulous congressman, Brian Baird, will keep his seat and rise in seniority

-In Ohio, Brown beats DeWine 55-45

-In Penn, Casey beats Santorum 57-43

-In Virginia, Allen beats Webb 50-50

-In Missouri, Talent beats McCaskill 50-50

-In Montana, Burns beats Tester 52-48

-In Conn, the Great Bitch crushes both Lamont and Schlesinger

-In RI, Chafee beats Whitehouse 55-45

-In Tenn, Corker beats Ford 53-47

-Rahm Emmanuel is going to look like a royal ass

-So is Chuck Schumer but to a lesser extent

-The Republicans are still going to have no idea what to do about Iraq

Today's First Musical Insight:

"Why do you build me up (build me up), buttercup baby, just to let me down (let me down) and mess me around?"

Axiomatic Christophometry

Let not a man be judged by the amount of alcohol it takes to get him inebriated, but by the integrity with which he conducts himself in a condition of inebriation.

Let not the Democratic Party win an election, for He does not abide what is not natural.

Let the lords of good acoustic taste tremble at the feet of Kaasa, for he now bears the mark of the iPod!

Let the best of friends become closer yet, and see that bond become stronger than any romantic tie will permit.

Let not the act of listening to Sarah McLachlan while drinking cheap red dessert wine in a candlelit bubble bath be considered the exclusive domain of the fair sex.

Let not that criminal Jim McDermott enjoy another virtually uncontested reelection campaign.

Let that bastard Moqtada al-Sadr hang right alongside that bastard Saddam Hussein, and let the Americans install a functioning government in the place of Maliki’s criminal farce.

Let the Peace Corps be a viable post-graduate option, for I have fallen in love with the idea of contributing something substantive to the world.

Today’s Musical Insight:

“I heard the world up, late night, holding my breath tight, trying to keep my head on right. There’s a chill in the air, and nobody could care how you’re caught up in the fight of your life.”

Oxygen Therapy

THERAPY ON TAPE: Close your eyes, and take a deep breath. In...out...

[CHRIS breathes in...out...]

TOT: Now imagine yourself on a raft...floating...floating in the middle of a calm, warm Caribbean bay...

[CHRIS wonders what season this is, when the Caribbean is both warm and calm, but tries hard to push those distracting thoughts away]

TOT: It's nighttime. Lay on your back and look up at the stars... Say to yourself, "I am alive, and I am on a raft. I am looking up at the stars."

CHRIS: "I am alive, and I am on a raft." [CHRIS pauses to remember what came after that...ah, yes] "I am looking up at the stars."

TOT: You lose yourself in the stars.

CHRIS: I lose myself in the stars.

TOT: You become dizzy and sleepy, and you realize something. Do you know what you realize?

CHRIS: What do I realize?

TOT: You realize that the focal point of the universe is far, far away. You feel small. But do you know what else you feel?

CHRIS: What else do I feel?

TOT: You feel...free.

[At the sound of this hippie bullshit CHRIS opens his eyes and flicks off the CD player. All he feels is tired and he's got a midterm in 10 hours.]

Today I've had to remind myself that world does not revolve around me, and considering the current condition of the world and most of the people in it, that's an extremely positive thing.

Today's Musical Insight:

"I wanna get off one time and not apologize. I wanna get off one time and look you in the eye."

(I don't know.)

The Perils of Blogging

I did something quite foolish yesterday, just 12 hours after posting my first real blog in six months. I bought a latte at Cafe Allegro on 15th, which (last time I checked) is a favorite hangout and study zone of an ex. And here's the kicker...

...I did it mainly so that I could write about it here. Ewww.

Yes, I was half hoping to see her there. Why? I have nothing to say to her, of course, and there's certainly no way the hope was reciprocated. Because - trite and true - despite the frantic efforts of several experts, I remain crazy. I guess it's this thing I have about important people I haven't seen in awhile. After I spend several months structuring my day around one individual - thinking about her all the time, telling secrets, sharing a bed and all that - I like to have visual confirmation that she's alive from time to time. This is not a "thing" that she shares. That was made very clear to me early on.

She wasn't there, or at least near the counter where I bought my coffee. So I built up the nerve to check her LiveJournal for the first time since mid-April. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that come December she's doing one of the most romantic things in the history of people who are not movie characters. I am, however, troubled by one aspect of this romantic adventure (and naturally that troubles me).

It sounds like she's going to be alone, across the Atlantic, on her birthday and Christmas. That's a tough swallow.

Maybe it's just another thing I have.

Today's Musical Insight:

"With the empty sand just flowing through our empty skin, we're searching for what we were promised, reaching for the cold and rain and we never let go..."

Stravstoytiya! (Or, The Extremely Rough Phonetic Translation Of The Russian Word For 'Hello!' From Cyrillic to Latin)

I’ve never actually read Through the Looking Glass, so my apologies to those purists among you who are wondering why the title of my blog makes no literary or philosophical sense (or does it? I really have no clue). I chose it as a self-satirical kind of ploy, a way of being self-deprecating and subtly condescending at the same time. Despite our professed poverty and our daily encounters with the "Ave-rats" and the good fellow that sells Real Change in front of Safeway, we ultimately confine ourselves to our white-washed universe of high-speed internet and parlor socialism. It's okay to laugh at it.

From now on this will be the repository of my idle thoughts because I can’t stand to let them be idle. Idle hands entice the devil; idle thoughts invite him in for lunch and a beer. And the devil is like Kramer or a stray cat – feed him and he’ll never leave.

Wasn’t that beautiful?

More and more, my life this quarter is revolving around my Congressional simulation class. I was happenstanced into a committee chairmanship and now I can't stop checking the website. This feels an awful lot like that four months or so when I was obsessed with following the Dean campaign - reading the newspaper in class and occasionally slipping away to the library computers to check out the latest in the fundraising and endorsement horse race. Ah! but this time I don't have to put up with Kjell's daily reminder that it doesn't matter how much I know, I can't exert any control over the Iowa caucuses or the New Hampshire primaries. Welllllll, the the cart is hitched to the other donkey now, isn't it? And he favored Kucinich…

I also remember how deflated I was when Kerry and Edwards smashed little Howard in Iowa. Not looking forward to that next quarter. Solution to That Problem: Get a real job. Get a girlfriend. Get a life. Oh, I suppose that is a good idea.

In related news, Nevada changed its political calendar and now its presidential caucuses are right smack between Iowa and New Hampshire. Both states are quite pissed that they won't be getting the spotlight and sweet candidate promises. My Prediction: Disaster in Reno and Vegas. It takes a certain level of organization and competence to run a decisive caucus that the whole country will be watching. Unless Hillary and McCain are the super-clear winners - that is, if the votes are actually going to have to be counted - this isn't going to be fun to see.

Today's Musical Insight:

"They say that the road ain't no place to start a family..."