I
The missteps I have made in life, have caused me to meet certain people I would not have met otherwise. This is something I would not like to trade away. One of my students has had some life problems lately, and she is moving to where the wind does not blow so cold through the cracks in winter. It is a good idea. She has little backing beyond her family’s sincere good wishes. These have power, and she will do well. Still, the precariousness of her situation worries me.
Her party was at the most working class bar I have yet been to in this town. To say that is to say a great deal, since the town itself is so working class. And ever vigilant about maintaining class privilege, some colleagues of mine would look askance at my having attended this event. And driving across broken branches on country roads to find the place, with blues on the radio, and then walking into the zydeco, even after all this time the atmosphere and people still seem foreign, even exotic to me, but it is so nice to be home.
II
Carmen’s homeboys have not been to college yet, but some have been abroad. Abroad, to where they saw their friends blown up by mines, and civilians killed, and as one put it, got gay-bashed by their peers while fighting for their country. The mountains of Afghanistan are indescribably beautiful, they say. The sky is high and clear, and the people, sweet and wonderful. “I love my country,” said one, “and I learned so much that I do not regret having gone. But I can no longer look at the American flag without crying.”
Tomorrow we vote, and it feels ominous. I hope we will not be signing our death warrant. I have some comments I have declined to publish, from Europeans seeking venues in which to bash not U.S. policies, but Americans. This site is well aware of what U.S. foreign and domestic policy is and has been for some time. And I know very well what the young men I spoke with tonight have been doing in addition to admiring the Afghani sky. And I, like the commentators whose words I have not published, had backing at eighteen which made it unnecessary for me to consider signing the papers these men did.
III
In addition to banning these politically correct, but mean Europeans, I marked as private some posts of the ephemeral nature I do not normally leave up for long, but which jangled the sensibilities of at least one reader. Then I marked them public again, with “notes on the text” in bold. I may change their status yet again. And I may soon write more posts, about jobs and the therapeutic industry. I may or may not leave these posts up permanently.
People who know this site may remember that it is my thinking space, and some posts are ephemera. Most of my characters are composites, and their actions are examples of actions, not necessarily reflections on their entire being. Nor does this site reflect all of me. Here, I am an architectural detail from the Casa de la Muerte at Copán.
There is pain in some of these posts, but that does not mean this is a counseling site for so-called Christians. If you are one such, that is why you have not been published. I do not go to your site and make complaints about your tin God or assumptions about who you may be. Look at my window if you wish, but leave your supercilious preaching at home. I have some actual Christian readers, and I am not impressed with fakes.
IV
When in human form I vote tomorrow, I will have the whole world in mind, but also the people I drank with tonight: that they not be forced to leave school too soon, or called back to launch missiles while contemplating equatorial sunsets or Afghani skies.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
But I can no longer look at the American flag without crying.
Damn. If that doesn’t just sum up the last half-decade better than any pundit I’ve read, better’n all the millions of words I’ve jammed into my head, truer’n all the poses whorin’ up tha op-ed….
i like what you had to say very much – the missteps i have made in life…they can bring the most wonderous people and places…
And ever vigilant about maintaining class privilege, some colleagues of mine would look askance at my having attended this event,
An example of the hypocrisy in academia. The whole doctrine of academia is fairness, justice, diversity, so how is there room for maintaining a defining line of class privilege.
Oh I hate trolls. But I have been learning to deal with them better by pitying them. You do not go to their site but their is some unexplainable force that is drawing them to yours. They will say it is to save you, but I think it is to expose them to a world outside of their bubble and an avenue to possibly save them.
I have done some things that hurt me and some things that hurt others, and I can’t say I’m happy about either, but in the end, I see nothing as a misstep. I am who I am, finally, because of all the steps I have taken, even the ones that made me skin my knee, even the ones that caused an avalanche.
Blessings on your student as she heads to warmer climes and blessings on the young men who suffered and caused suffering. It is hard to be young in a world gone mad.