I just thought this was an interesting photo; any particular metaphor you may see there is based entirely your own perception:

(Source.)

Well, that last entry was something of a buzzkill, wasn’t it? Sorry about that.

(Incidentally, in case you’re wondering why an entry date-stamped last Tuesday didn’t appear until Wednesday night, it’s because your humble proprietor is a dolt who forgot to switch the entry’s status to “published” after he finished writing it. Sometimes you just have weeks like that…)

Anyhow, consider this fair warning: I don’t know if today’s topic is going to be of interest to anyone but myself, as it’s all self-reflective and musing and wool-gathering-y. It is also political and pro-Obama, so my conservative readers who are cringing at every stroke of our new president’s pen — and you know who you are — may want to skip this one. Unless you like getting all worked up at the thought of America hurtling pell-mell toward a gloomy and uncertain future that seems likely to be the exact opposite of everything you personally stand for or have ever believed about your own country. I know the feeling, believe me.

Continue Reading…

And just like that, one era is over and another begins.

Is it just me, or was it all kind of… anti-climatic? Of course, it’s supposed to be anti-climatic; that’s the way the founders intended it. A peaceful transfer of power, with no palace coup, no martial law or rioting in the streets, just one guy handing the keys to another. But the past eight years, and the past six months especially, have been so emotionally intense, so harrowing, that I guess I expected to feel something… more. Pride that my country finally made good on its ideals and elected a black man to be its president. Pleasure that the first black president comes from my preferred party instead of the other side. Relief that the most hated presidential administration of my lifetime — yes, even more hated than Nixon’s! — has finally been sent packing. Ah, yes, relief. That was the sensation I was really counting on. But honestly? I’m not feeling much of anything, at least not to the extent that I thought I would be. I seem to have gone rather numb.

Well, no, that’s not entirely correct. I’m not numb. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m feeling very much like somebody who’s awakened on the fifth morning of a four-day bender, cottonmouthed and head pounding, and wandered out into a kitchen filled with weak, watery daylight to find a sink full of dirty dishes and a scatter of empty bottles on the floor. If you’ve never been in that condition, trust me when I say you tend to experience a bleary sense of resignation at the clean-up that awaits as well as a single recurring, shameful question: “Man, what the hell went on here?”

The Bush era is over, but our troubles remain, and while I’m happy with our new president and hopeful about what he may accomplish, for me there is a nagging sense of letdown on this inauguration day. I don’t know, maybe that doesn’t make sense. Maybe there’s something inside of me that’s broken, that prevents me from feeling the delirious joy that seems to have infected so many today. All I know is that I have felt so much for so long, and now it’s all come to… what? No reckoning, no accounting, just an oath, some fabulous parties, one man headed home and another man with his work cut out for him.

I loathe the term, because I think it’s been overused and its importance overemphasized, but in this instance, I could genuinely use some closure… and so far, I haven’t really experienced it.