Good god, there is
hope. At last, proof of that elusive dream....
I have never cried so much listening to a politician in all my life. I have never cried so much listening to anyone--except Tohru Honda--in all my life. Change is coming to this nation, and I pray that it comes on his heels, that speaker who holds the heart of America itself in his hands.
I pray for it, I pray for hope and strength and wisdom. But not only for me, anymore. I realize now that that was my fallacy all along--I prayed for myself or for those closest to me. But I know now that what we need is a wilder prayer, one addressed not to a god, but to each other. A prayer for hope and strength and wisdom. A prayer for
change that rings clearly across the lands, that resonates through the ages.
---
This reminds me.
Friday went pretty well I guess. I got more and more worked up as the day went by, and the hours passed until I presented the poem. When I finally gave it...I realized that I didn't want a cheap laugh. I began to shake, not with nerves--at least, not in the way that it would sound that way--but with power. I shook very slightly, and I gave my speech, and paced around the room, meeting people's eyes. The final line "Dare to fill in the blank" I think I must have said with enough strength to shock people.
And Jay was expecting a smut. In all honesty, I might have disappointed him. As I returned to my seat, I felt high, as though I had fire running through my veins where blood should be and I realized that I wasn't afraid or regretful or awkward--I was powerful and honest and direct, and I knew that even by those who didn't understand the poem itself, I was understood. As I returned to my seat I heard Peter say, "Well, nothing's going to top that." And I at once found sheer bliss and terrible grief in his words, because for once, I
wanted to be out-competed. In all honesty, I think he was right. The only other one that stood a chance was, ironically, Jay's own presentation.
Oh, the things that fate weaves. Sometimes, I feel like someone is pulling a
deus ex machina on me, as if I'm only the writer in the greater literature.
---
I was talking to a friend today in Latin, John, who I often do crossword puzzles with. He's very conservative, but we agree on many things. But we spoke of the 'free market' today, and I realized how shortsighted he could be.
Or...was I being shortsighted?
See, we talked each other up a tree. He gave me anecdotes about how private business and incentive help fuel the economy and drive people--and society--to higher action. I countered, bringing up elitism and slavery, which could be products of the ironically named 'free market', and noted on the oil companies and the stagnation of real advancement as they sit and gain money.
You get the idea.
This continues for many minutes, until the bell rings. I can't stop thinking about it.
I don't think that it was just that he held these views. It was that he really didn't seem to care much about the repercussions of our actions, trusting a system ruled by greed and governed by ruthlessness to right its own wrongs. But what's more, he didn't seem to care about the
people. I get the distinct impression that he sees the world just as he sees his own chosen field of mathematics--as a system of equations and inequalities with neither right nor wrong but only
profit. To me, it seems an empty and heartless existence. I have received reconnaissance (of sorts) from codename Whimsy that he is against gay marriage. Universal health care, general social programs, and limiting trade with China (or reforming NAFTA) also seem to be in his con category.
It's sad, really, but I'm drawn to him. He interests me, and I know that this is a dangerous thing. A crew boy, a mathlete, a puzzle solver for all times, and yet...he seems to be so...unimpassioned. I would think that with all his skills and talents, that our
salutarian would be more...fiery about his world. But the most I've ever gotten out of him is a deep blush, and actually, I still feel kinda bad about that.
*sigh* I guess we'll see what happens from here.
Love and Vale,
-Andrew
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