Dear Mr. President,
Classes were cancelled for me today, and all over the city, businesses, schools and bus routes were shut down in response to (generously) 2 inches of snow. I'll admit I love this about my city, our complete inability to function at the slitest freeze. It's a sad reality, but we don't often get weather like this, meaning that it is just more dangerous to be out. Drivers don't know what they're doing, the city doesn't have a particularly organized response, and the recognition of this danger by local officials and private employers is sort of refreshing. Instead of demanding that we brave the dangerous streets for class or work, they're just willing to put aside these interests for the sake of keeping more people safely at home. It's cute. And comforting.
My roommates and I are bundled up and trying to keep from turning the heat on as long as possible. (Being on the 5th floor helps this, but not much.) We've got both environmental and financial reasons for doing this, but, with temperatures heading to the teens overnight, I'm sure we'll have to give in before too long. We're watching Love Actually, a romantic comedy we've each seen dozens of times since it was released in theaters. (I'm still convinced this movie is the reason my mother suggested we spend Christmas 2006 in London, a trip I continue to be grateful for.) There isn't anything particularly special or profound about this movie; love conquering all is certainly not a new theme, and the cinematic wisdom of getting as many famous people as possible in one movie is questionable. But, no matter how many times we see it, no matter how many lines we quote at one another or how many songs Becca sings along with, we still love this movie. It brought us together, in a way, several years ago before we moved in together, when we gathered in their tiny studio to watch this movie and promise ourselves that particular Christmas would be good for all of us and our respective romantic interests. It was cold, the city teetering on the brink of what would later be called Snowpocalypse, a city-crippling storm that few Seattle natives had ever seen the equal of. But I remember that night and the intense, hopeful warmth that we shared as friends certain our lives could only get better if we believed hard enough.
The next day my life took a memorable turn for the worst, and snow began to fall. I can't help but associate my own downward spiral with the rapidly deteriorating weather. Even now, the very sight of snow and ice, the prospect of months of cold makes me fear another winter feeling alone and depressed. I have to choose to remember the good things- our store closing early and the staff having a snowball fight at Linda's bar. Trudging through snow to feed my mother's cats, only to have them cuddle with me by the fire in her freezing condo. Laughing with these girls before they were my roommates as we made light of the disastrous way things turned out. No matter how hopeless it seemed, it did get better. The snow melted. The city recovered. My heart mended. Getting through this winter may require that I remember this, and remember that no matter how bad things get, I still have my lovely friends.
With the country still suffering from economic depression and the prospect of the Holiday season too much for many families to handle, I hope that we all pull together and keep each other warm, keep each other sane and keep each other safe this winter. (With Republicans already set against extending unemployment benefits for those still struggling, this seems unrealistically optimistic, but whatever, Hugh Grant makes me think the world is not all selfish and terrible.) Putting others, especially those less fortunate than us, ahead of our own selfish concerns is really the kind of love that this holiday season is supposed to be about. I think that if we do that, we'll all make it through till spring in more or less one piece.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Day 242- Difference of opinion
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight I saw a movie with friends. Upon exiting, we all had vastly, radically different reactions. Some hated it, the others loved it. Few were in between. The ensuing shouting match, which might charitably be described as a debate, revealed both camps to be intractable. Luckily, we were arguing over Piranha 3-D and not health care, the environment, or anything that actually matters. I understand having different tastes in entertainment, but the stark contrast between those who loved what they saw and those who hated it reminded me of the kinds of shouting matches that political debate usually devolves into. How is it that we can have such differences of perception, even over verifiable facts?
Lately I've been cringing at the all-too-fresh memory of a situation I badly misjudged and, as a result, badly mishandled. I was so sure, so confidently convinced about my perceptions that, once I was slapped back into reality, it was as though the ground below me shifted. This is probably just another aspect of my control-freak personality disorder, but being so wrong about something I was so sure of has thrown me into intense self-doubt. What else am I sure about today that will seem laughably off-base tomorrow? If I'm capable of being so self-deceived, what other perceptions of mine are false?
This kind of doubt is actually good for me. It keeps me from the kind of arrogance that I am often prone to and it keeps me asking questions that need to be asked. In the end, it also often confirms my views, giving me stronger faith in the things I believe and helping me to articulate these beliefs more clearly in the future. I learn not to be so sure of anything that I can't process contrary evidence. I think that maybe a little self doubt might be good for some of the more ideologically entrenched in government. Our society is facing so many problems that we all ought to be wondering what beliefs we've falsely clung to, what choices we've badly made, and how we can change these as we go forward. I think this especially applies to those in government (particularly career incumbents) who continue to do what has always been done without wondering why; to declare the earth isn't getting warmer no matter how much new evidence comes to light, or to define family and citizenship and education in the same tired old terms. Evolution cannot happen without recognizing our mistakes and reaffirming what is important to us.
You have always struck me to be a contemplative individual. Mr. President, I know that flip-flopping is not something a political figure likes to admit to, but have you honestly re-evaluated any of your positions since the campaign? Has the work of government changed the way you view certain issues? How can we reward public servants with the courage to change their mind when presented with new information or alternate views, and encourage more of it in those who lack it?
I suppose for now I'm going to take comfort in the things I am certain about. Like the fact that Piranha 3-d is the worst movie ever made. No matter what Eric says.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight I saw a movie with friends. Upon exiting, we all had vastly, radically different reactions. Some hated it, the others loved it. Few were in between. The ensuing shouting match, which might charitably be described as a debate, revealed both camps to be intractable. Luckily, we were arguing over Piranha 3-D and not health care, the environment, or anything that actually matters. I understand having different tastes in entertainment, but the stark contrast between those who loved what they saw and those who hated it reminded me of the kinds of shouting matches that political debate usually devolves into. How is it that we can have such differences of perception, even over verifiable facts?
Lately I've been cringing at the all-too-fresh memory of a situation I badly misjudged and, as a result, badly mishandled. I was so sure, so confidently convinced about my perceptions that, once I was slapped back into reality, it was as though the ground below me shifted. This is probably just another aspect of my control-freak personality disorder, but being so wrong about something I was so sure of has thrown me into intense self-doubt. What else am I sure about today that will seem laughably off-base tomorrow? If I'm capable of being so self-deceived, what other perceptions of mine are false?
This kind of doubt is actually good for me. It keeps me from the kind of arrogance that I am often prone to and it keeps me asking questions that need to be asked. In the end, it also often confirms my views, giving me stronger faith in the things I believe and helping me to articulate these beliefs more clearly in the future. I learn not to be so sure of anything that I can't process contrary evidence. I think that maybe a little self doubt might be good for some of the more ideologically entrenched in government. Our society is facing so many problems that we all ought to be wondering what beliefs we've falsely clung to, what choices we've badly made, and how we can change these as we go forward. I think this especially applies to those in government (particularly career incumbents) who continue to do what has always been done without wondering why; to declare the earth isn't getting warmer no matter how much new evidence comes to light, or to define family and citizenship and education in the same tired old terms. Evolution cannot happen without recognizing our mistakes and reaffirming what is important to us.
You have always struck me to be a contemplative individual. Mr. President, I know that flip-flopping is not something a political figure likes to admit to, but have you honestly re-evaluated any of your positions since the campaign? Has the work of government changed the way you view certain issues? How can we reward public servants with the courage to change their mind when presented with new information or alternate views, and encourage more of it in those who lack it?
I suppose for now I'm going to take comfort in the things I am certain about. Like the fact that Piranha 3-d is the worst movie ever made. No matter what Eric says.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Day 220-Inception
Dear Mr. President,
By now I feel like the last person in the country to see the movie Inception. This is probably not the case, and I don't often feel comfortable writing to you about pop culture, but this is slightly less inane than knowing who snookie is, I think. Movies, like any art, make me feel things. Love, Actually or Pride & Prejudice still make my skeptic's heart believe in the possibility of a true and lasting love. Star Wars still inspires my childish dreams of heroics and adventure. Being moved by these experiences may be temporary or even contrived, but I still enjoy it. Which brings me to Inception, a film that asks the viewer to question the nature of reality.
When I was a little girl I often wandered into empty rooms, looking for a place to be alone. I would lie down, close my eyes, and imagine the whole massive, complex world, and then the whole span of history (which, at that age, I could barely conceive of as anything more specific than immense.) I would feel so small that I would cease to exist. An impulse at the back of my mind suggested that this meant I did not exist. How could I, a girl of exactly no consequence, be real? A girl of only a few years, with no apparent purpose or significance? It was, on the whole, a preposterous notion. I wondered how I had ever thought that it was possible to have my own place in the infinite. Once I had finally reached the point of truly doubting if I could exist at all, I'd open my eyes. I don't recall if I enjoyed more the feeling of oblivion or the reassurance of my own senses. I recall reading once that the great Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had such an extreme egocentric view of the world as a child that he insisted his classmates did not exist unless he was around. Allegedly, one day when he was home sick, the class came to visit him to prove that they still existed without him there. When I read this I wondered if my own obsession with existence and nonexistence was somehow a variation on this.
Don't worry, I'm not going to try to convince you that we're all dreaming. Actually, while watching Inception, I couldn't help but think about foreign policy and the different ways we perceive our own nation in relationship to every other nation. Are we in a constant state of war, guns drawn and fingers on the trigger, enemies pausing only because of the size or number of weapons pointed back? I think some people must see the world that way, and I don't know that I can necessarily disprove their version of reality. As for my view of the world I see the way that those in power use violence and, more often, fear of violence to keep those without power believing that the enemy speaking a foreign tongue is much more threatening than the system telling people to be afraid. I don't know that any one could prove or disprove this reality, either. I can believe, all I want, but I can't convince others to share in my reality. I wonder if this is why we tend to reject evidence or information supporting politicians or policies we ideologically oppose. If my younger self was dwarfed, not by the number of people that had ever lived, but by the number of contradicting realities that must simultaneously exist to make them all right. Does my conviction about the state of reality do more harm, than good? Should we all give up these differences in perception and agree to live in the same world? Which one? Who decides?
Ok, this is perhaps venturing too far into theory for me to be really comfortable with its relevance. I experience this sensation too rarely these days, and I don't often get to the movies, so forgive me, but I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I wonder, does being President make it hard to distinguish between the office and your self, at times? Do you find yourself perceiving or reacting to things differently, as President, than you might have as just Barack Obama? Is there a single paradigm shift that you think is in order for the American people or for the American government, by which I mean, If you could change the way this country collectively perceives something, what would it be? For me, I would change the way we perceive our own isolation. I would have us see ourselves more clearly in strangers and better understand how the harm and injustice and exploitation we perpetuate, even through apathy, comes back to directly affect our own existences. But that's enough philosophy, for now. I want to lie in bed, close my eyes, and, just for a moment, doubt that any of us exist at all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
By now I feel like the last person in the country to see the movie Inception. This is probably not the case, and I don't often feel comfortable writing to you about pop culture, but this is slightly less inane than knowing who snookie is, I think. Movies, like any art, make me feel things. Love, Actually or Pride & Prejudice still make my skeptic's heart believe in the possibility of a true and lasting love. Star Wars still inspires my childish dreams of heroics and adventure. Being moved by these experiences may be temporary or even contrived, but I still enjoy it. Which brings me to Inception, a film that asks the viewer to question the nature of reality.
When I was a little girl I often wandered into empty rooms, looking for a place to be alone. I would lie down, close my eyes, and imagine the whole massive, complex world, and then the whole span of history (which, at that age, I could barely conceive of as anything more specific than immense.) I would feel so small that I would cease to exist. An impulse at the back of my mind suggested that this meant I did not exist. How could I, a girl of exactly no consequence, be real? A girl of only a few years, with no apparent purpose or significance? It was, on the whole, a preposterous notion. I wondered how I had ever thought that it was possible to have my own place in the infinite. Once I had finally reached the point of truly doubting if I could exist at all, I'd open my eyes. I don't recall if I enjoyed more the feeling of oblivion or the reassurance of my own senses. I recall reading once that the great Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had such an extreme egocentric view of the world as a child that he insisted his classmates did not exist unless he was around. Allegedly, one day when he was home sick, the class came to visit him to prove that they still existed without him there. When I read this I wondered if my own obsession with existence and nonexistence was somehow a variation on this.
Don't worry, I'm not going to try to convince you that we're all dreaming. Actually, while watching Inception, I couldn't help but think about foreign policy and the different ways we perceive our own nation in relationship to every other nation. Are we in a constant state of war, guns drawn and fingers on the trigger, enemies pausing only because of the size or number of weapons pointed back? I think some people must see the world that way, and I don't know that I can necessarily disprove their version of reality. As for my view of the world I see the way that those in power use violence and, more often, fear of violence to keep those without power believing that the enemy speaking a foreign tongue is much more threatening than the system telling people to be afraid. I don't know that any one could prove or disprove this reality, either. I can believe, all I want, but I can't convince others to share in my reality. I wonder if this is why we tend to reject evidence or information supporting politicians or policies we ideologically oppose. If my younger self was dwarfed, not by the number of people that had ever lived, but by the number of contradicting realities that must simultaneously exist to make them all right. Does my conviction about the state of reality do more harm, than good? Should we all give up these differences in perception and agree to live in the same world? Which one? Who decides?
Ok, this is perhaps venturing too far into theory for me to be really comfortable with its relevance. I experience this sensation too rarely these days, and I don't often get to the movies, so forgive me, but I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I wonder, does being President make it hard to distinguish between the office and your self, at times? Do you find yourself perceiving or reacting to things differently, as President, than you might have as just Barack Obama? Is there a single paradigm shift that you think is in order for the American people or for the American government, by which I mean, If you could change the way this country collectively perceives something, what would it be? For me, I would change the way we perceive our own isolation. I would have us see ourselves more clearly in strangers and better understand how the harm and injustice and exploitation we perpetuate, even through apathy, comes back to directly affect our own existences. But that's enough philosophy, for now. I want to lie in bed, close my eyes, and, just for a moment, doubt that any of us exist at all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Day 66- Oh no, I'm writing about the Oscars
Dear Mr. President,
I started watching the Academy Awards tonight, but had made other plans in the evening, and decided not to watch the second half. I hear that Hurt Locker beat out Avatar for best picture. I doubt you've seen either movie, but if you have, I hope you'd agree that this was a good call. One movie suggests the audience contemplate, even question their emotional response to the story, the other manipulates and demands certain emotions from its views.
I think what upset me most about Avatar was the false sense of sympathy it would generate in many fans. Of course, the way the story is told, the Innocent Blue Natives must be the sympathetic characters. The audience would see them, like them, and cheer for them in the Epic Battle scene at the end. But then, as the credits rolled and the lights came on, the audience files out, goes about their daily lives, living, as too many of us do, without concern for the consumptive, greedy, materialistic existences we unconsciously lead, or how they affect the rest of the world. I'll admit the ignorant American stereotype is not a fair one, but every year there seems to be one blockbuster extolling the damages of our lifestyles to the rest of the world and to ourselves, and every year we seem happy to pay $8 to ignore the message being spelled out for us.
I do think Americans live in a way that is damaging to the developing world. We ignore the struggles of our own dwindling native population, minimize the crimes committed against them in the early days of our nation, and continue to ignore, condone or even support the oppression and extermination of other native populations by imperial projects around the world. And then we watch multi-million dollar movies about how wrong this is. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
What frustrates me more is that I don't know the answer. I don't know how we could make up for our past crimes, or how we can live better now, or how we can avoid them in the future. It isn't enough to be angry about it, it isn't enough to feel guilty about it, it isn't even enough to write a letter to the President about it. We've got to have a plan.
Tonight I had drinks with a friend, who told me that all white Americans suffer from the same combination of power and privilege. She contends that it makes all of us, to varying degrees, racist, and that the only thing we can do is make a conscious effort to work against the programming. I agree with this, but how responsible are we as individuals to convince others to fight this programming, as well? I suppose this struggle is the same one that religious people go through all the time. I think I know the right way to live, and I can try to do that every day, try to make the right choices and think the right thoughts and work to ensure that my life doesn't come at the expense of others. But I'm only one person. Should I then be attempting to convert others to my way of thinking? I think this is why I'm so bad at religion. I have beliefs, and I'm pretty confident in them, but I'll never be sure enough that I'd want to proselytize others.
This is why cultural phenomena like Avatar are so frustrating; even if this particular film's anti-imperialist message is close to my own political views, its simplification of things, its forcing this nuanced and complex idea into a palatable and didactic doctrine, does not ask its audience to think. We're losing our critical thinking skills, and accepting what we are told, what is forced upon us, because it is simpler and easier and more convenient. I'd like to think, at the end of the day, that is is more important to engage with an issue, to try and understand it from as many perspectives as possible, than to come up with an answer or a conclusion about it.
Anyway, I'm not entirely comfortable pontificating quite this much about an award show. What role, if any, does pop culture play in your own life? You have a healthy appreciation for Harry Potter and Jay-Z, so you can't be completely insulated from these trends, but I'd imagine your job prevents you from being exposed to much of it these days. Do you think that we place too much value on the entertainments that distract us from issues? Or do you think that some degree of escapism is necessary, even healthy?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I started watching the Academy Awards tonight, but had made other plans in the evening, and decided not to watch the second half. I hear that Hurt Locker beat out Avatar for best picture. I doubt you've seen either movie, but if you have, I hope you'd agree that this was a good call. One movie suggests the audience contemplate, even question their emotional response to the story, the other manipulates and demands certain emotions from its views.
I think what upset me most about Avatar was the false sense of sympathy it would generate in many fans. Of course, the way the story is told, the Innocent Blue Natives must be the sympathetic characters. The audience would see them, like them, and cheer for them in the Epic Battle scene at the end. But then, as the credits rolled and the lights came on, the audience files out, goes about their daily lives, living, as too many of us do, without concern for the consumptive, greedy, materialistic existences we unconsciously lead, or how they affect the rest of the world. I'll admit the ignorant American stereotype is not a fair one, but every year there seems to be one blockbuster extolling the damages of our lifestyles to the rest of the world and to ourselves, and every year we seem happy to pay $8 to ignore the message being spelled out for us.
I do think Americans live in a way that is damaging to the developing world. We ignore the struggles of our own dwindling native population, minimize the crimes committed against them in the early days of our nation, and continue to ignore, condone or even support the oppression and extermination of other native populations by imperial projects around the world. And then we watch multi-million dollar movies about how wrong this is. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
What frustrates me more is that I don't know the answer. I don't know how we could make up for our past crimes, or how we can live better now, or how we can avoid them in the future. It isn't enough to be angry about it, it isn't enough to feel guilty about it, it isn't even enough to write a letter to the President about it. We've got to have a plan.
Tonight I had drinks with a friend, who told me that all white Americans suffer from the same combination of power and privilege. She contends that it makes all of us, to varying degrees, racist, and that the only thing we can do is make a conscious effort to work against the programming. I agree with this, but how responsible are we as individuals to convince others to fight this programming, as well? I suppose this struggle is the same one that religious people go through all the time. I think I know the right way to live, and I can try to do that every day, try to make the right choices and think the right thoughts and work to ensure that my life doesn't come at the expense of others. But I'm only one person. Should I then be attempting to convert others to my way of thinking? I think this is why I'm so bad at religion. I have beliefs, and I'm pretty confident in them, but I'll never be sure enough that I'd want to proselytize others.
This is why cultural phenomena like Avatar are so frustrating; even if this particular film's anti-imperialist message is close to my own political views, its simplification of things, its forcing this nuanced and complex idea into a palatable and didactic doctrine, does not ask its audience to think. We're losing our critical thinking skills, and accepting what we are told, what is forced upon us, because it is simpler and easier and more convenient. I'd like to think, at the end of the day, that is is more important to engage with an issue, to try and understand it from as many perspectives as possible, than to come up with an answer or a conclusion about it.
Anyway, I'm not entirely comfortable pontificating quite this much about an award show. What role, if any, does pop culture play in your own life? You have a healthy appreciation for Harry Potter and Jay-Z, so you can't be completely insulated from these trends, but I'd imagine your job prevents you from being exposed to much of it these days. Do you think that we place too much value on the entertainments that distract us from issues? Or do you think that some degree of escapism is necessary, even healthy?
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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