Full Engagement is Enough
Feb. 18th, 2013
"If I’m really honest, and ask myself why I engaged in such theory worship I
think I prioritized these frameworks so much because I felt disempowered and
unworthy—to theorize, to embrace with a hermeneutic of faith (Josselson 2004)
what our data revealed about deficiencies in existing theory. Oral histories that
initially read like blatant disregard for our questions during data analysis were in
retrospect attempts to enlighten the research team on the true intertwined sources
of inequalities in the South Bronx [...] I started out this journey
confident and insurgent, passionately enthusiastic at the prospect of conducting
research for women who so resembled my ma, granny, and aunties and with
young people who could have been (and later became) my little sisters and
brothers. Later I felt overwhelmingly oppressed by the literature on oppression.
I’m not quite sure what happened."
"The False Paths, the Endless Labors, the Turns Now This
Way and Now That: Participatory Action Research,
Mutual Vulnerability, and the Politics of Inquiry"
Jul. 21st, 2012
I can sense that people here do not look for other states’ support, you know, countries, states. We look for people support. We value people’s solidarity. We want the people to go on the streets and to support the revolutions anywhere in the world, not just in Syria. We don’t trust governments. We don’t trust politicians. And this has been very clear over the very last six months, when protesters are taking to the streets and raising the banners, saying that we don’t even care about your statements, Kofi Annan or people like Clinton. We only care about the people, the people of the world—the Egyptian people, the Yemeni people, the Bahraini people and other people in the world.
Jul. 17th, 2012
(11:50:59 PM) Marco: i am so glad that there are no chupacabras here
(11:51:49 PM) Marco: yay for no land bridge
(11:52:54 PM) moi: you only have flying horrors to worry about
(11:53:18 PM) moi: winged clowns, lawyercopters, all the sort of thing.
(11:53:18 PM) Marco: naw, that's australia
(07/16/2012 12:01:40 AM) moi: they have lawyercopters in australia?
(12:02:11 AM) Marco: sure
(12:02:21 AM) Marco: but i more meant, scary animals that attack from above
(12:04:23 AM) moi: no pedal-powered housing inspectors?
(12:04:56 AM) Marco: dunno
(12:05:09 AM) moi: it's horrible in new york, phalanxes of pedal-powered housing inspectors descending on the squats and progressive meeting spaces. the sky turns black with them.
(12:06:08 AM) Marco: oh i know
May. 5th, 2012
(06:59:42 PM) moi: back with veins full of grease.
(07:15:12 PM) Marco: yum
(07:16:38 PM) moi: gotta die of something.
(07:17:40 PM) moi: and heart disease is a hip illness. the stress of destroying so many lives, combined with their perfect physical safety, makes it a popular way to go among the urban financial elite.
(07:19:32 PM) Marco: i'm gonna die from tuberculosis
(07:19:42 PM) Marco: it satisfies my love of things victorian
(07:21:20 PM) moi: call me when you take to bed and i shall send for the carriage to fetch doctor fitzpritchard from anglofetish manor.
(07:22:11 PM) Marco: no need, i still have leeches and a bleeding kit
(07:22:41 PM) Marco: if i keep my choleric humor in check, the disease isn't terrible
(07:25:38 PM) moi: will you still be taking gentlemen callers, then? or shall i tell mr. pritchard, the east wing butler, to send them away? it is tuesday, after all, and your bukakke club should begin arriving within the hour.
(07:26:20 PM) Marco: ah i am in no state to receive them, please send them apologies. do allow the spiritist to come however
(07:30:50 PM) moi: of course, mr. fitzmarco. perhaps miss trafikhedd shall manage to prise a remedy from her spirit guide, chief red eagle. why, i hear in america there is a medium who draws consumptives for miles around, healing them merely with glasses of water and knots in thread. knots in thread! think of it.
(07:32:04 PM) Marco: i love that you assume i'd be monied...not with my family
(07:32:15 PM) Marco: i'd likely work in a coal mine
(07:32:48 PM) moi: but black lung is so much less romantic.
(07:33:07 PM) moi: you can't daintily collapse onto a day bed in a coal mine.
Mar. 15th, 2012
Anyone who has ever lost someone to suicide knows this feeling, and everyone else does not. The guilt, re-framed relentlessly, over the rest of your life: if I hadn't been so into my work; if I hadn't been so wrapped up in tennis; if I hadn't been cheating on my wife; if I hadn't been so religious; if I hadn't watched TV every night and instead devoted that time to him; if I X, if I hadn't Y.
The truth is there is no real answer there, because when you hit the bottom of that devotional cycle you wind back up the other way: maybe if I had given him more space, if I had given him more time alone, if I hadn't forced him to spend so much time with the family, if I had worked longer hours to teach him that life is work, or X...
The only thing I've ever found that works, in the absence of a God who can forgive you, is to understand your guilt as not coming from the failing but generated by you as self-punishment, so that you can go on with the rest of your life. Have you suffered enough today? Then go have a Reuben, they're tasty. You've earned it.
The guilt always stays with you. Always. It never goes away. Never. I'm of course not saying you deserve it, but I know it is your inevitable tormentor. So either you reach some kind of stalemate with it or it beats you down. That stalemate is sublimation.
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