One loves because one loves.

I love love. There's no better way to say it. Even when it's ripping me apart, I can't help but draw my little moth self to that flame. This is sometimes a major flaw, you can imagine, as I end up getting my heart trampled on. Inevitably, though, I just pick myself up and start all over again. Happily. Ah well....

The other day I watched a wonderfully-done docu/drama about Vincent Van Gogh on BBC's iplayer. It's no wonder this thing won awards. Beautifully shot, fantastically edited and laid out, it uses only the words of Vincent himself and those around him (people who wrote letters to him, doctors' reports, etc) to tell the story, with just minimal biographical information supplied by a host. The fact that Benedict Cumberbatch (of Sherlock fame) plays the title role makes it positively genius. I haven't watched anything of this caliber in quite a while. Two thumbs up.

At one point in the film, Van Gogh is smitten with a cousin of his who had come to stay at his parents' house while he, too, was living there. He falls deeply for her, becoming slightly obsessive and causing outrage and scandal for all the adults involved. He writes to his brother, though, that not loving fiercely was simply not an option. Now, while I don't endorse stalking or pestering or harassment—not in the least—I can completely understand his sentiment. What's the point if you're not going to throw yourself right in there and get messy, take chances, and make mistakes? (Thank you, Miss Frizzle!) I love fiercely and, though it's definitely not always good for me, I will probably always do so. Thanks to the Google machine I was able to find the full text of Vincent's original letter. Below's the passage quoted in the movie. Delivered flawlessly and trembling with emotion by Cumberbatch.

From the very beginning of this love I have felt that unless I threw myself into it sans arrière pensée [unreservedly], committing myself totally and with all my heart, utterly and for ever, I had absolutely no chance, and that even if I do throw myself into it in this way the chance is very slight. But what do I care if my chance is great or small? I mean, should I, can I, take that into account when I am in love? No, no reckoning up, one loves because one loves.
Perfection.

Pray Me to Death

I spend my mornings watching the Rachel Maddow Show on itunes. Given the time difference, I have to wait till the morning after it airs to see her show. It's a nice way to wake up, drink some tea, find out what's going on in the world and especially American politics. Today's episode brings up some ridiculousness. I mean ri-di-cu-lous: Rick Perry.

Rachel loves election politics. The more out-there a candidate is, the more she eats it up because she just finds it so entertaining and so hilarious. So Rick Perry and his wooing of a possible presidential run is one thing she keeps her eye on, and then reports to the rest of us. His latest thing? A prayer meeting. He's invited all the governors of the other states to a day of prayer in Texas and his website has all kinds of videos inviting the "American people" to join him, either physically (and then - boy-oh-boy! - financially with a donation) or spiritually from wherever they happen to live. One of the conservative sponsors of the event has a list of all the pastors attending this thing online. They've also conveniently compiled a bunch of these pastors' videos. Oh. My. God.

I refuse to watch these people's videos myself - I won't give them the satisfaction. Also, I'm not a fan of vomiting. But having seen the clips Rachel highlighted (so as to make a point about the company Perry keeps), these people are insane. Not the usual "you're-on-the-right-I'm-on-the-left-so-we-disagree" kind of crazy. One of them thinks Oprah is the harbinger of the Apocalypse. Another thinks God sent Hitler to Earth to move the Jews back to the Middle East. Another thinks there's a harlot who comes around to the nations of the world, sleeping with their leaders and causing chaos. Apparently, her sleeping with the sun god caused Japan's economy to tank. This is serious wack-o territory.

No large portion of the population will take those kinds of things seriously. But what annoys (or worries?) me is that Rick Perry is translating these ideas into the background of his more mainstream packaging. A prayer meeting to fix the economy?! In his video, Perry literally asks people to pray for the economy to get better because, after all, government never actually gets anything done. Politicians just sit around like fat cats. It's prayer that will turn this recession around for good.

Seriously?! I'm all for people praying (in private or with their own community). If you feel better afterwards, if it makes you calmer or more confident, go for it. I'm not going to judge. But praying without then doing anything for yourself? This is when I get too annoyed to look these people in the face. When someone walks up to you and says something along the lines of, "I got a parking space today because I prayed for one," it makes me want to punch them. No. You got a parking space because you drove around until you found one. "If I pray hard enough, I'll get funding to go to college." Not if you don't fill out some applications, you won't. By all means, pray as you fill out the funding. Pray after you send in the application. But you have to do some work yourself, too. This idea that we can all just passively go through life, always counting on someone else to do the legwork just makes me so annoyed. That's the real crux of this issue for me: you're not faithfully expressing some all-mighty maxim of Christianity, you're being lazy. You're waiting for me to go out and vote, or pay into your retirement fund, or call my Congressman/woman to get a jobs bill on the floor. Stop praying and start working on something.

Historicize Me

So this past Monday was the Fourth of July. I am living in Edinburgh, Scotland, and so it was a different celebration from the one I normally engage in. When I'm in the States, the Fourth is always a day of gorging myself on hot dogs, baked beans (the Boston kind, not the crazy tomato-based kind they eat here), chips (crisps), potato salad, and then a vast array of desserts, most of which would be red, white, and blue, the white always being some kind of cream product, making it the best of the layers. The evening is then spent watching some kind of fireworks with friends and family, probably drinking. Although, let's be serious, the drinking happens all day long. When I'm in the South, these all tend to take place at a state or national park - last year involved my parents' canoe. In Buffalo the evening always happens at Niawanda Park on the Niagara River (known to locals as just "the river") because the fireworks are set off from a barge in the middle of the river, paid for jointly by 3 communities so they're usually pretty spectacular. In fact, that is my favorite way to spend the Fourth. And not just because a local staple and phenomenal ice cream shop Mississippi Mudds is right across the street from the park...


But so yes, I missed Buffalo and fireworks and such this year, but things weren't bad because there's quite a few Americans in this town and we got together on the Meadows (Edinburgh's biggest public park, conveniently located right next to the main university buildings) and had a mini barbeque. Now, when I say mini, I mean positively miniscule by American standards. But one makes due. We played a little touch football (yes, the American kind - it *was* the Fourth of July) and had some drinks and all in all it was a fun time. Even with British friends trying to throw the ball like a rugby ball - psshh, lame-os. Overall, a good day though nothing spectacular. Perhaps when I have a backyard and a grill here I'll put on a proper celebration. Until then it'll be make-due central for American holidays.


There was one aspect of the day, however, which gave my Intellectual History muscles reason to flex. The day before Independence Day I had an English girl ask my why we celebrated it (then quickly add that she knew it was Independence Day - she had studied abroad in the States). As in, what were we celebrating independence from exactly? It was hard not to make a very snarky comment that it was her own culture we had thrown off so many years ago. I went with a cheeky grin and a simple, "You. And the British monarchy." 


But it is funny in some ways to be in Britain on the day Americans celebrate specifically not being British. Well, that and having created a new nation on our own. As a historian, it's an interesting thing to think about from various angles. Especially given today's political climate in les États, people are often asking "What would the Founding Fathers think?!" Sometimes in wonder, sometimes in exasperation, always with reverence. Here's the thing though: those men are dead. They would not recognize our world in myriad ways. So much about what we do and have today would be so totally alien to them, the same way that much about their world would be incredibly alien to us. People like to romanticize history a lot and pretend that the chord between past and present is really a telephone line that they can tap into at any moment and suddenly be completely immersed in the past (though with all modern amenities and probably without having left their couches). This is not only slightly absurd, it is sometimes dangerous. Enshrining anyone as demigods is never a fantastic idea - it's how Egyptian slaves ended up being killed when the Pharaoh died so he could take them with him, being a demigod and all. When NASA creates a spaceship, they don't wonder what Newton would think. Similarly, asking what the Founding Fathers (and first you'd have to define who exactly you mean... I like to include Melancton Smith of NY even though he didn't vote for ratification of the Constitution) would think of being in Britain on Independence Day is pointless unless taken in a spirit of fun and tongue-in-cheek speculation. Jefferson spent quite a bit of time in Paris and the John Adamses spent time in London, as did Franklin and lots of the other big names, so assuming they'd be appalled at the idea is probably a bit arrogant if not just completely false.


All I can say is, I'm looking forward to Bastille Day and questions of what the sans-culottes would do to today's CEO and banker fat cats. Now *that* is a scenario I would love to see play out.