tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34527937689827679832024-02-08T12:04:15.075-05:00Peachy KeenUnnecessary and unapologetically derivative.Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-71953911705427474692010-04-26T20:50:00.003-04:002010-04-26T20:57:32.886-04:00old essay from high school<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">December 2 was the run-off election for Georgia's senate race. That day, after polls closed at 7 PM, I stopped canvassing at 6:58 PM and was able to jump in the car (having to sit on doorhangers) and rush downtown from the suburbs to see Howard Zinn, one of my idols, speak.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Years ago, Zinn cemented my convictions of helping the people, the importance of grassroots, and community with </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A People’s History of the United States</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">. I could envision no better way to top off long months of community organizing than to see this man speak. My coworkers (fellow organizers from across the nation) agreed with me and we dashed to the swanky Woodruff Arts Centre.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> We were the last ten people admitted to the plush theatre for the preview screening of the documentary. My dreams were being realized, in spite of the depressing returning results of the day.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> And then these dreams were challenged. Howard Zinn, who I esteemed so much, seemed to look down on the work done by Obama organizers. More than doubting the sincerity and follow-through of the then president-elect (perhaps correctly, it is true), Zinn claimed that the work done by the field team was not true community organizing, as it was too candidate-centered.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Now, I respect Howard Zinn more than I can express. However, having read Alinsky's </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Rules for Radicals</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and taking to heart the message of "think globally, act locally" I must disagree with Zinn. The only explanation I can comprehend is that Zinn is not aware of the scope that this particular brand of organizing has had over the nation and its participants. Maybe it is easy to criticize something from the comfort of a theatre with red velvet seating.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> Obama's field structure was based on the concept of neighborhood volunteer teams reaching out to their communities. Organizers, under the direction of regional and state field directors, managed turf. They found volunteers and employed the snowflake model, in which everyone is dependent on each other. With things like the Story of Self (reason for personal involvement), Story of Us (community), and Story of Now (call to action), these neighbors become friends who work hard for each other.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I was a part of that. The motto of "respect, empower, include" is flawless. It was used on me by organizers, getting me to become an intern and eventually, after they were taken out of Georgia, help to run the areas they had once run. I could not let down Sonya, who lost her voice so she canvassed instead of making calls, or René, who, after two hip replacements, walked an entire packet by himself each day in the week before the election and on election day. For them, I stayed the extra hours and worked harder. After the session, my organizer friends and I spoke to Zinn. He said he respected how hard we had worked but doubted the program could continue.</span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Zinn was wrong. My volunteers still care, even after the election of Obama and Jim Martin’s loss. They have gotten involved in county politics, run a book drive for underprivileged kids, and taken me to dinner for my birthday. They have plans to canvass apartments twice a year to keep the lists clean and people informed. With spreadsheets, confirmation calls, and the strength of the bonds they built, I believe in them. </span></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">With nights like that night one in December, with all the people sitting around agreeing with Zinn, I can get frustrated. They were thinking about and believing in making the world a better place for everyone. Some of the people, though, would rather sit and discuss and criticize than make some phone calls from a call list with a script, making a start on fixing the life they say is wrong. I used to be one of these people, so I can sympathize to a point. But get up and take a stand. Grab a walk pack and a water bottle and have faith in something. I was apprehensive, too, but it has been more than rewarding for me. “Regular” life is boring and makes me feel guilty. Talking is not quite enough, which is why it is important to think globally, act locally.</span></span></span></p>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-69151463252391907052009-08-05T16:46:00.006-04:002009-08-06T16:48:48.668-04:00QT Drinks Now Cost $1.05<span style="font-family:arial;">which signifies the end of my summer. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">This summer has been a perfect mix of two songs:</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXvYZzXzyD0">Mstrkrft</a> <span style="font-family:arial;">(probably too applicable)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">and </span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWNoDxM2k2Q&feature=related">this song, which was last summer too but now I like it more.</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Hellyeah. Summer 09.<br /><br /><br />And, can't believe I forgot <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQ8ViYIeH04">this</a>.<br /></span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-28139029679909210702009-06-01T12:58:00.000-04:002009-06-01T12:59:16.206-04:00I got a tree as a grad present.<span style="font-family: arial;">I graduated from high school last week. </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">(I think I should have graduated back in 2006, but who is keeping track anyway?)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Am I any different? It’s supposed to be a milestone, but for me, it’s more just a sheet of paper (the diploma, I mean). I’m not any different. I’ve had no epiphanies or life-changing moments. </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"> I’m the same eighteen year-old girl with the same tendencies as I’ve been since December. And that milestone, turning into a legal adult, made me no different than I was before that. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I’m basically the same kid I’ve always been. I’ve lightened up, maybe. If anything, I may have gotten younger. I think I was born a solid thirty, but rather than getting closer to middle-aged each year, I’d like to think of myself as more of a mid-twenties kind of gal. I’m as self-sufficient as I can be at eighteen while I live with my parents, but I still shirk responsibilities I know that I can. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">That’s change I can believe in. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">So’s this--</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I’m comfortable. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I once tried to write a research paper on how people need to stop searching for the elusive happiness and smell the fucking proverbial roses. Contentedness is heavily underrated and we should appreciate what we’ve got. </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">(Needless to say, that’s a terribly tough thing to prove and cite sources for.) But it’s relevant, I swear!! </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">See, so far this summer, I’m the most comfortable I’ve ever been while killing time. That’s how I see summer, as the in-between time. Usually I hate that time. The interminable time spent waiting for something better. I’m at a spot now though where I’m completely okay with both where I am and where I’m going. I can’t wait until August and moving to New Orleans. But I reallllly genuinely like my friends. I like drinking and listening to Alanis Morissette. I like hitting up QuikTrip and the park. I like surviving suburbia. I take naps and smile. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I’m living the dream. And I’ve finally got the first of a few diplomas that say I can. </span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-19000341780996976912009-04-14T20:55:00.003-04:002009-04-14T21:16:58.722-04:00Oh! Darling<span style="font-family: arial;">...believe me when I beg you, don't ever leave me alone.</span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">(AKA I always need something in my life. A new revelation, actually.)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I rewatched Brideshead Revisited with my parents the other day. I was in awe of how completely this family took over this guy’s life. </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I mean, really. To the point where, after five years, he picked up and went to Morocco because the mother asked. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I began thinking that was ridiculous and being glad that I would never be that malleable. My own life would be mine, and I’d do what I wanted to do in it. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Then, of course, I realized my folly. (Wouldn’t be writing a blog entry if I hadn’t, yeah?) Letting things completely and utterly take over your life? Isn’t that what always happens to me? In some weird way, I constantly need an obsession. Something to occupy my time and save me from seasons of mediocre tv and other, worse, vices.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">What are some previous things that occupied my time? </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Well, potentially embarrassing, but I’m enough of a cliche to have done high school theatre. But I’m cutting edge (hahah) enough to have started that phase back in middle school, so it was out of my system by halfway through sophomore year. Don’t doubt my dedication, I’ve slept on that stage, on the apron, in the wings, in the greenroom. Not because I was getting out of working, but because I’d been there all night, after school until 11 for tech week, and the like. When you’re fourteen and school starts at 7, that is sort of a big deal. No, I didn’t do theatre because I am Gus Langley’s sister. I hated when people assumed that. “Why are you here? Oh yeah. You’re Gus’ sister.” NO. We both did theatre because we’d been bred to do theatre. Our dad did it. Our mom did it. I’d have done it with or without my brother’s influence. But thankfully, because of my brother’s said influence, I could get out of that world a little bit more quickly. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I participated in Odyssey of the Mind for ten years and was a spectator even before that. It’s been in my life longer than my little brother has. I’ve donated hours, puns, tears, and arguments to regional, state, and world competitions for nearly as long as I can remember. And how does it end in my senior year? We completely fuck up. Don’t even write a script. I’m okay with that. It’s not a part of my life anymore at all. Went out with a bang, at least, and had some of the most fun I’ve ever had with it. Still. Something that was a big part of my life fizzled. A phase, albeit a long one.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Then there’s that whole school business in general. I cared a whole heck of a lot back in middle school, when nothing mattered. I was in nine clubs. I was Gifted Student of the Year. I tried. I did my work. I was involved. I’ve got nothing to show for that now, except the suspicion that this early dedication is what made me something of a burnout by the age of fifteen. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Let’s blame Barack Obama for a minute. It’s his fault, in a sense, that I can now drink black coffee. I did my college applications (A former, similar obsession, I assure you. For two and a half years, my “11:11 wish” was to get into Brown. I tried to start my application essays back in middle school. Ughh) in just two nights (with plenty of that aforementioned black coffee) since they were due in the midst of GOTV weekend.</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Not quite picking up and leaving for Morocco, but pretty damn close for the old me. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I’ve always made fun of people who commit and have causes. That sounds bad, but, oh well. I did. I’m sick of trying out passions and going through phases. I want to be done with that and either have one or not. Ideally, I’d like to keep the one I’ve got -- I like organizing. If I can go two weeks with no more than three hours of consecutive sleep, I feel like I’m doing good things.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I think I’m probably writing this because I’m terrified that I will similarly “snap out” of the community organizing kick I’m on, like some people are so certain that I will. </span><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">I reallllly hope not. Once an organizer, always an organizer, yeah?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">(This is the part where you reassure me, please)<br />:]<br /></span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-36109834902545714832009-04-07T19:04:00.005-04:002009-04-17T06:37:50.238-04:00SB09? A Found Poem.<span style="font-family:arial;">Do they drive like that in Michigan?<br /><br />Things I like:<br />Jack and Diane</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">jet engine planes</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">free wifi</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">the sound carrots make</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">you guys</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">color me happy</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">John Mellencamp</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">crunchy peanut butter</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">New Orleans<br />grand marnier<br />blue monster<br />watermelon<br />shut up.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Caitlin:</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">my mom is a nurse practitioner fml. LOL deborah is a bitch fml. i wish i had a room to myself. and u guys of course. i wanna fuck *****? lolz fml. i want anyone. fml don't give me his phone number sarah i will strangle you not really though because i love you much more than idk anything what is on my left leg????LOL idk..... take off your pants and jack it.... lolz all the leaves are brown and the sky is grayyyyy</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">the end.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">P.S. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Ooh baby I love your way. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Ooh chile things are gonna get easier.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Gonna pull a superchug with that?</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">BQ???</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Oh. That's your foot.</span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-38538559649582962792009-03-13T11:18:00.003-04:002009-04-14T21:01:20.235-04:00Heart It Races<span style="font-family:arial;">I was asleep yesterday, taking a nap. My mother ran into my room, screaming and waking me up. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />My diabetic little brother took 24 units of his fast-acting humalog instead of the slow acting lantus. For those without a family full of diabetics, just know that this is bad. Really bad.<br /><br />So we called 911. EMTs came in a fire truck. We busted out the half-2 liter of Coke that we had from Thanksgiving and realized we had nothing else in the house that's not diet or low-carb. My older brother was sent to the gas station up the road and bought more Coke with all the change from his car. When he was told by our parents that wasn't enough, he drove back up to the gas station where the man gave him a snickers bar, saying he'd given him more than enough change and to go! go! back to the house. They threw the dog at me, so he wouldn't jump on the medics etc. and told me to look up on the internet anything we could do.<br /><br />This was the most terrifying night of my life. I had to sit with the puppy, looking at all the ways an overdose of insulin can kill you, how when there's not enough food in your system (And know that there's no way to have enough food to justify 24 units. Average after a meal is like 5.), the insulin will start basically to break down your organs and this is how people commit suicide. Arthur had to have like 230 carbs to justify that much insulin. Eight ounces of Coke is only 27.<br /><br />So my ten year old brother had to drink Coke and eat cookies until he was sick, while his heart rate slowed down, he sweated, and had low blood sugar and talk to EMTs. My family was freaking out. My neighbor called, assuming my grandmother was the one hurt. "It's Arthur? NO." It was the longest hour and a half ever, waiting for his sugar to go back up and know that he wasn't going to go into hypoglycemic shock and then a coma.<br /><br />You know what my older brother said, after the medics left and everything calmed down? "Think of all the times we did this right. In five years, we only messed up once, and it was still this bad."<br /><br />We only messed up once.<br /><br />We only messed up once, and it was still this bad.<br /><br />I was shaking all night and couldn't get to sleep. My heart didn't return to normal speed until I woke up to get to school. Arthur is fine now. He's fine. But we're lucky. My little brother who draws Mario figures and told me he voted for Obama in his school election "so other kids with my diabetes can get healthcare" is going to be okay. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It's scary how it only takes so little for everything to mess up. I'm not entirely sure what I'm getting to here -- maybe something about how we should all be careful and grateful or maybe something about how life isn't really fair -- but I think more than those things, I'm telling this story to show how people come together to handle things. I'd never have believed my family could have gotten through that as smoothly as we did. Sure, I was shaking. But not even my mother cried during the ordeal. My neighbor offered to come help. Even the man at the gas station did his part to make sure things worked out.<br /><br />Despite that comfort, I know I never want to wake up to that again. </span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-53203367987999149962009-03-04T09:41:00.006-05:002009-04-14T21:01:04.631-04:00It snowed in Georgia<span style="font-family:arial;">Hospitals turn off coffee makers on the weekends.<br />But I found money in my pocket this morning and am going to eat a chikfila biscuit. Everything is proof of balance, I'm still convinced.<br /><br />Somewhere along the line, I got the idea that things in life are balanced. No, I’m not suddenly overly interested in Chinese philosophy and yin yang signs. It’s more that I had to think that in order not to go crazy.<br /><br />Call it self-fulfilling prophecy, but this idea of mine has just been reinforced repeatedly. Even if it is all in my head, I'm okay with that.<br /><br />(My mother is reallllly into serendipity and signs and being spiritual. I’ve never been convinced of that whole God business and signs and all, so you can’t chalk this up to that.)<br /><br />What do I mean? Well. I had a pretty awful July, but it was followed by some of the best months of my life. I thought everything was crashing in September, but without that scare I wouldn’t have appreciated October.<br /><br />I lost powerfully in a senatorial election I worked on (even with landscape maps), but I got into college. I didn’t get into my “dream school” but did get to work on a campaign.<br /><br />Yeah, this mindset makes me nervous when things are going well. But I also think it makes me enjoy it even more. It’s modified karma, I guess.<br /><br />Blehhh. The chicken biscuit connection fell through. But hey, my art history teacher shared her coffee creamer with me, and I am going to the river after school. Things will ultimately be okay. Or balanced, at least.</span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-81405084423512207372009-03-04T06:14:00.005-05:002009-04-14T21:00:51.684-04:00An elegy (but without the poetry part)<span style="font-family:arial;">They said it wouldn’t be worth it to fix anymore. Not worth it? They just don’t know. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I’d known you for half my life. You watched me grow up, in a weird way. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />I went from watching sing a longs in the backseat with revolving OM teams to driving around at all hours of the night. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />I sat in Waffle House parking lots and even a liquor store one on Halloween. A long, not funny story. Not bad either. Just. A story.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />You were the quirkiest car I’ll ever have. The lights turned on when we made left turns, locks locked and unlocked, a scar down the right side, and a missing handle that was a battle wound from the night you spent in a Denny’s parking lot. My car sounded like a go-kart. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Up until the end, I found door hangers in places all around the car. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />I’ll remember you always. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />I’ll remember going to drop off more walk packs, only having that one Janis Joplin cd and singing Me and Bobby McGee more that anyone should. And I’ll remember another election day, futiley saying, No, please don’t bring a wine glass into my minivan at 2 in the morning when I’m already past curfew, not supposed to be driving other people, and don’t have my license since I lost it a few months before and have been driving anyway. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Seriously. I’ll miss my minivan. </span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-85972010006146896262009-02-13T18:30:00.004-05:002009-04-14T21:00:29.962-04:00Purrrfect.<span style="font-family:arial;">High school Valentine's Day has got to stimulate the economy at least a little. So many balloons. My homeroom teacher called the whole ordeal VD -- infectious and drippy. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I woke up at 4 to make cookies for a friend's birthday and was overall not in a good mood, sleepy and alone and sad that I have to put my trusty minivan to rest. On my way out of my lit class, my friend Sammi points to a Valentine on the floor. I pick it up. It's for Sarah! From Allie. Apparently, Sarah is purrrfect. There's a picture of a cat on it too, in traditional elementary school style.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So this is for Allie, wherever you are. I hope the intended Sarah doesn't miss her valentine too much, cause I needed it. Made my day.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I left it in a different hallway for another Sarah to find. My little contribution to somebody's happiness for the weekend.</span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-68423876648904567502009-02-08T16:56:00.007-05:002009-04-14T21:00:15.823-04:00Town Mob Meeting<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I went to a town hall meeting with my congressman Representative John Linder yesterday. It broke my heart.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">In case I’d forgotten where I live (I guess I’ve surrounded myself with too many people who read blogs and care about the world), I was reminded that Georgia is indeed red. There were a couple hundred people crammed into the Sugar Hill Community Center. Palin bumper stickers outnumbered black people (there were seven).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The Fair Tax crazies and even one ardent Anti-Federalist who went everywhere with his copy of the Constitution and defending states rights came out to the meeting. I was one of maybe ten people under thirty. I’d have been surprised if there were more than a dozen Democrats. One of my vols who came left twenty minutes in because she couldn’t stand it. I’m glad she left. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">It was frustrating. I’d forgotten people could be so hateful.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Linder was very paternal in his sweater, citing classical economists and Cicero for his opposition to the bailout and championing the Fair Tax as the solution to the country’s ills that were being caused by illegal immigrants and unwed mothers. He, as well as at least half the people in the room, genuinely believed this. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">When one brave woman praised FDR (not even Obama), she was booed and laughed at. Even Linder chuckled. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">He made sure to call on a black person. When she asked, “Since it looks like the bailout will pass, how do you plan to secure some of those jobs for Gwinnett?” she too was booed. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">One man stood and asked, “Senator, how do we fire Washington?”</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So many things are wrong with that question, the least of which is that Linder isn’t a senator. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /> Another man suggested we hold another Constitutional Convention. When everyone started talking over each other about how they wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, another of my volunteers and one of the seven black people in the room said out loud, “I don’t want to be a slave.” She was shushed.<br /><br />Of course there was the Second Amendment question. "Obama is on the bullet train to taking away our bullets," said one guy in the audience. Linder said he wished Obama would try and that he wouldn't let that happen. How comforting, just like Big Daddy Saxby.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"> The bailout was of course a popular topic. One person asked Linder what he was doing to stop it and who he could call. He said that Washington should leave America alone and let the market fix itself. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">We can’t use this as an excuse to pay off all the interest groups that bought the election, said the woman standing next to me. She and I then had a “discussion” that ended in her yelling at me in whispers about ACORN and then stalking off when I mentioned how a third of the campaign funds came from donations under $250. I finally got a chair to sit in.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Another man asked when the Republican Party would kick out Olympia Snowe for voting with “those Democrats.” At one point, Linder said (and I quote, because I wrote it down it made me so angry), “Thankfully, all the big newspapers are dying,” so then the liberal media would stop influencing the country so much. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I don't know if I've been living in a bubble where there's hope for the world or if they all are living in a bubble that still wants plantations.<br /><br />At the end of the meeting, one man from the crowd came to the front and took the microphone. He told us he’d been in Nam (cue the standing ovation) and had the solution to the economy’s troubles. Pause for dramatic effect. Pray. We just all needed to pray and leave it in God’s hands. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I was really impressed my car didn’t get keyed. I came home and cried.</span></span>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-25028435318613471022009-02-06T17:15:00.009-05:002009-02-06T19:24:09.131-05:00I hate myself a little bit.<div id=":21" class="ArwC7c ckChnd" style="font-family:arial;"><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Earlier this week, I was at a show in Atlanta. The guy in front of me, in his sweater over his plaid shirt (I'm always shocked by how much plaid I see when I'm at a show), said of the people on the floor, "Yeah, all the hipsters are down here." From the way he said it, it seemed like he didn't consider himself one of them.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And, embarrassingly enough, I scoffed at him. Like I didn't consider myself one either. Like I was removed from the scene.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Isn't that what I didn't like about him?</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Is that wrong? I mean. I knew where to find the cheap parking around Variety Playhouse just like everyone else. The secret exit to the secret parking lot? Dozens of hipsters streaming out of it after the encore. Why do I think I'm better than the girl who wore cat ears? The multitudes in their wool hats? We were all there to watch Andrew Bird. I was no more entitled to enjoy the show than they were, just because I starting listening to his albums three years ago.<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The term "hipster" originated in the 1940s, describing people, who, sort of like the beatniks etc., smoked a lot of weed, rejected their supposed roles in middle class society, and liked the alternative jazz music of the time. Seems sort of familiar.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I think, essentially, what makes a hipster is the qualification that you need to believe that you are not a hipster. Not many people embrace the term, despite what Stuff White People Like may suggest.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I know a kid who has a tan line from his American Apparel deep-V shirts. He doesn't think he's a hipster. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Today, these people "escaping" the mainstream have coalesced and created their own. You like Girl Talk? Isn't it a shame that Arrested Development got canceled? What's your favorite Wes Anderson movie? Is Chuck Klosterman too much like Dave Eggers? These are all conversations I've had at least once. (Yes, oh yes, Rushmore, and No! Go read Killing Yourself to Live.) After a bit, I wonder if I actually like the things I like. Or if maybe since we're all the same, we subconsciously just adopt the same interests and then pretend we discovered them. Or it could be coincidence?<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The hipster movement is post-postmodernism cemented into a culture. It's the reaction to postmodernism, the reaction to being self-aware—being so self-aware that you realize you don't want to be. That that's not cool. It's wearing non-prescription glasses and pretending you don't read Pitchfork. And, I guess, it's writing blogs about hipsters.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Maybe I'm too hard on myself. I hope.<br /></span></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span></p> </div>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-55716470835730794552009-01-25T23:30:00.004-05:002009-04-14T21:02:53.650-04:00All I Want<span style="font-family:arial;">Back in November, I was a field organizer in the Georgia Senate runoff and going to school. Needless to say, I wasn't getting much sleep. I was in AP Lit one day, exhausted, busy, and stressed (probably my favorite way to be), and I said to my friend Sammi, "All I want is to take naps and make cookies."</span><div style="font-family: arial;"><br /><div>I think that's the truest thing I've ever said. At the point when I said it, it was true. Tonight, when I'm supposed to be catching up on a week's worth of schoolwork, it is still true. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe these seem like simple requests out of life. Sure, I have an inescapable urge to try and fix things and help people. I'm an organizer, whether I'm in school or not. But sometimes, goals and ambitions are too much to handle. I just need to take a break from everything and wait for the oven to preheat. </div><div><br /></div><div>Instead, I've got another book and a half to read tonight. All I want right now is to take a nap and bake some more cookies. </div></div>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-47407699865472194572009-01-24T01:17:00.001-05:002009-01-24T01:39:06.674-05:00A Conscious Double Standard<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">On the way home from Washington DC, yesterday, I found myself telling a Midwesterner that, while it was okay for me to make fun of the South, I wouldn’t tolerate it from him or others who didn’t know what they were talking about. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I realized this came up several times in the past week, so I’ll address it.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I’ve talked about being a Georgia girl with Jonae. We’re typically nice, warm, and take care of people. If we don’t like somebody, bless their hearts/God love ‘em, we’re still cordial and accommodating. We can’t hide our emotions. We care probably too much and, as typical of the South, have large and loving families. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I can’t help that, on one side, my grandparents’ first date was the Gone With the Wind premiere and the others met because he sold her dad moonshine. I make damn good cornbread in my grandmother’s cast iron skillet and have never picked up a date at a family reunion. Surprisingly enough, our schools do have running water, and I even wear shoes sometimes. While we have some of the lowest SAT scores, it’s partly because we make everyone take it. We’re in the teens when ranking AP scores by state. Really. I couldn’t make that up. </span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">We’re by no means perfect. We’re still a red state, barely turning purple. I’m not saying the South will rise again and I’m not about to lecture on the War of Northern Aggression or anything. I have every intention of moving away and will be among the first to make fun of my state. Lots of Georgians are dumb and some are racist. Same with lots of Americans, though. We have a higher concentration of them, sure, but my aunt makes sweet tea that converts even Northerners to liking sweet tea. So don’t write us all off. Otherwise, you’d have no Otis Redding or Sarah Langley. </span></span></span></p>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3452793768982767983.post-20744511004043120372009-01-24T00:47:00.000-05:002009-01-24T01:37:19.040-05:00Unassuming<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It's been a pretty crazy week. Lots has happened, and I'm not quite ready to reflect on all of it.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But I promised I'd do this, so here it is. Not sure what it is but that'll come. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I remember this one conversation I was having with Jonae, a community organizer and friend, who told me I was utterly unassuming. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I think how much I liked that description alone disproves her and am pretty sure in its very nature, blogging is self-aware and thus, well, assuming. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">But I wouldn't mind if you, too, found this and me unassuming. </span></span></div>Sarah Langleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00252580490800550747noreply@blogger.com0