Let There Be White

During my years in DC I've seen activists dressed up in many different kinds of costumes. Political activism, at least for lefties, involves a tremendous amount of street theater.

But I'm sure I've never seen people dressed as polar bears before today. Ran into them on my way to work, before the snow began. They were headed to the Capitol, of course.

Am I suddenly scanning for polar bears, since my dream the other day? Or is there a polar bear spirit hanging around? Is it a coincidence? Because you can't plan to have a dream like that then subsequently cross paths with people from Texas, dressed as polar bears. The line between dreamscape and "real" life sometimes gets a little unglued.

I like the purse hanging around the shoulder of the bear on the right. She's got it all together.

About 10 minutes after I took this picture, it began to snow, heavily at times, though we also had rain and sleet. Still, it was winter precipitation, nice and cold. It seemed like a hopeful portent for the polar bears. I hope so.

Dance of the Seven Veils

The veil of summer in this midatlantic swamp is impenetrable, at least to what they call the "naked" eye. When fall arrives, the landscape transforms completely.

Hedges turn from solid green cubes to layers of brown lace. The trees, so full and round in summer, shake off their green petticoats. What's underneath all those leaves is an intricate network of trunks and branches, beautiful in a completely different way. Also revealed on Capitol Hill, of course, are lots of charming architectural details hidden during summer by the trees. At mid-winter I can see the Capitol from all over the Hill, something that never happens in summer. I can even see the Washington Monument. It's very cool.

Streets that are dark with shade in summer are filled with sunshine during the winter months. Tenth Street NE between Constitution and Mass Avenue is a block that feels like a convertible. During summer, there's a lid over the whole block, a roof of leaves. In winter, the top is down - the difference is dramatic. I love that.

The sky gets clearer, too, when the humidity drops. Though we never get a dark sky in the middle of DC, in mid-winter, it's possible, on certain nights, to see a few stars. Last night I saw Orion around 8:00 p.m. Also visible were Mars, Venus and the moon, as well as about 20 other stars. That's a lot of stars for DC.

All four seasons are beautiful and entrancing. I love the quiet month of January, so often called the "dead" of winter. Cold, dark ... monochromatic? Yes. Winter is anything but dead, though. I love winter.

Dreamscapes

Once upon a time, I was fixated on my dream life. It isn't the dumbest of fixations, is it? Dreams are incredible in so many different ways. Almost always I am fascinated by the tremendous amount of cleverness and creativity in my dreams. From which part of my psyche did I come up with the one last week in which a polar bear is chasing me down an icy WWI trench? The polar bear needed my help, but I was afraid. The anonymous dream people encouraged me to hoist myself out of the trench but initially all I saw were a bunch of ragged, dangerous fences. In the end, I found a staircase and got out. Poor polar bears! Sorry I couldn't help.

Though I consider myself to be creative in "real" life, I never completely surrender to it the way I do in my dreams. I'm always at least slightly rational while awake. Really I am. More annoying is the fact that I'm not nearly as clever when conscious as when I'm under the blankets, my eyelids fluttering, deep in REM sleep. Doesn't seem fair.

These days I allow my dreams to do whatever they need to. I still like to write them down, as much as I can remember of them anyway, but in general I don't focus on them too much, don't try to figure out what they mean. The exception is any dream that sticks with me for more than a day or two, like the polar bear dream. Dreams with longlasting resonance merit more serious attention, but most of them slip in and out of my head without my interference.

I've wondered why my dream life has become less interesting over time. Maybe I know myself better than I used to, or maybe I've learned, once and for all, that the mystery of me (like every human) can never be fully understood, no matter how hard I try. Maybe it's a matter of trust. Even if I don't understand my dreams, everything will be fine!

Whatever the reasons, I've decided that my renewed interest in "real" life, something that has supplanted the allure of the magical (including dreams) is a sign of health and well being. Why not?

Attention Surfeit Disorder

Why I Like Hillary for President

Anyone who has known me since the last election understands, in gruesome detail, what I think about the U.S. Presidency. But I live in Washington DC and the campaign is well underway. I can't get away from it, so ... I'm compelled to say it all again. Apologies to those who have heard this rant before.

I believe the office of the U.S. presidency is flawed. The job itself is impossible, as has been shown to us again and again. A few rise up to brilliance, but after all our years as a country, still, the number of "great" presidents can be counted on one hand. The ones who ascended to excellence did so because of circumstances at hand - big wars and such. And, too, once a person has been brilliant in the office of the presidency, they're bound to get killed or drop dead soon afterwards. The U.S. presidency "ain't right" as my friend Sharon Austin would say.

With all due respect to one of my heroes, George Washington, I see what you founding fathers wanted - fairness, equality (among white men at least). You wanted to see the CEO hat passed around from one to the other - you were sick of monarchies. I get it. When George refused the crown, it was a profoundly revolutionary moment. The idea behind the presidency is great - fair, democratic. But the reality is that we put a "renter" into the most powerful position in our country every four or eight years. It's a big problem.

Any job takes awhile to learn. "Big" jobs take a year or two, minimum, before the person doing the work gets good at it. When I think about the level of responsibility involved in being president, I imagine that to really get good at it must take longer - maybe four years, maybe six. Every four or eight years,we toss the president into the rubbish bin, place another rookie in the Oval Office. And we wonder why presidents always look dazed and confused, why they age so tragically and why many of them begin to shine only after the end of the presidency. Think of Carter, Bill Clinton.



The job itself sucks, but in addition, our presidents have to live in the White House. I am not exaggerating when I say that the White House is the most haunted building I've ever set foot in. A few years ago I was treated to a nighttime tour with a small group. I'm telling you, the White House is CREEPY. Yikes! Ugly, too - butt ugly! Even the way the house is managed is creepy. They use a system that's been in place since 1800, as much as they can. They even still have house slaves, old black men who work their entire lives in the White House as butlers, I guess is the closest polite word I can think of to describe it. Everyone on staff at the House has some bizarre title. And think about it - the White House is a southern plantation house. Lafayette Park, in front of the house (used to be the back yard until the 1940's) was one of DC's largest slave markets. Is that the right idea for the residency of our most powerful citizen? Believe me - that house is WEIRD!! The president has to work from home, too, so there's no escape (except Camp David) from the scary feng shui.

I like Hillary for president for very practical reasons. She's married to one - she knows the drill. She lived in the White House for eight years, so she certainly knows its secrets. They say the Clintons loved being at "home" - they hosted bowling and movie parties and lots of events. Who knows? Maybe the White House ghosts are fond of the Clintons, maybe the spirits didn't give them such a rough time. What I hear is that the Bushes are hardly ever in the house. Figures.

She has lived in the White House, she's married to a two term president, she has worked in Congress. Hillary's got chops. And though I don't agree with everything she says or does, I think there's absolutely no way anyone can accurately promise what they'll accomplish once they're hammered into the stiff, heavy suit of the U.S. Presidency. Campaign promises are, by their very nature, empty.

That said, I would be happy to vote for any of the Democratic candidates. Obama is really such a good guy. The Republican candidates are ... well ... just weird! I think any of them could turn out to be worse than Dubya, hard to imagine. Yikes.

OKay. Enough about the presidency, Reya! Enough!

Urban Terrain, Mid-Winter

It's supposed to stay unseasonably warm for the weekend. I'll be out and about ... yeah!

Happy weekend ya'all.

Swallowed

I don't want to complain - because Blogger is free - but ... well ... what happened to my overphotoshopped avatar? It suddenly disappeared sometime last week. Even more mysterious is that all my efforts to replace it have not worked. Navigating through layer after layer of unhelpful "help" pages in Blogspot didn't provide me with any information I didn't already know. When I logged into the "help group" I saw that lots of people have lost their avatars since November 2007.

Is there a dragon or gnome or troll hiding somewhere inside Blogger, some strange virtual monster that feeds on avatars? Who knows? (This is the way I think.)

Until something shifts, I believe I'll publish pics of myself every now and then, so I can maintain a visual presence on The Gold Puppy. Hope the Blogger troll doesn't like reflected images of bloggers, too. Could half a pic disappear? Will there be bite marks left behind? Yikes!