Yesterday me an' Willie B saw that new film, Juno. Not only did I think the film was incredible, but Ellen Page, the actress who plays the film's namesake, gave one of the greatest performances I've seen in a long time. Of course, Charlie Wilson's War was also freakin' fascinating, with each actor playing their part just right. I would love to have Charlie Wilson as my Congressman. Instead of Aderholt. Then I met with Shawn Wick, on furlough from the trenches Over There, for the American tradizchuan of pizza and beer. Today I did almost nothing except get some stuff for my new bike.

Tomorrow morning at 6 AM we make that trip to Winter Conference 2008 in St. Louis, MO.


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Here's hoping to jump-start some minds.

The Hero in P. Rhea

CAMPBELL: Myths inspire the realization of the possibility of your perfection, the fullness of your strength, and the bringing of solar light into the world. Slaying monsters is slaying the dark things. Myths grab you somewhere down inside. As a boy, you go at it one way, as I did reading my Indian stories. Later on, myths tell you more, and more, and still more. I think that anyone who has ever dealt seriously with religious or mythic ideas will tell you that we learn them as a child on one level, but then many different levels are revealed. Myths are infinite in their revelation.

MOYERS: How do I slay that dragon in me? What's the journey each of us has to make, what you call "the soul's high adventure"?

CAMPBELL: My general formula for my students is "Follow your bliss." Find where it is, and don't be afraid to follow it.

- The Power of Myth, "The Hero's Adventure"

When I read this passage in The Power of Myth, they struck me down. It hit me as if begging me to let it be my John 3:16, my Preamble, and the foundation of my Mantra. It is exactly what I have been seeking, the description of what I have been trying to metaphorically relate to my friends about what I am searching for - I used the term "lifequest." But here it is the soul's high adventure. My heart beat about as fast as it can without making me pass out as I read over it again.

Live the Dream. Follow your Bliss. Solar light. Slaying the dark things. All of these threads are coming together at the perfect time - when in less than two weeks I will be back "on track," even though I never left the Path. I just got off the train for a while.

It was especially pertinent because this was the first Christmas in which I voluntarily did not participate in communion. I knew I was not going to, having concretely decided to pick up my sentiments and organize them months ago when I read that there was no record of George Washington ever taking communion, and even having denied it on occasion. Of course, although I believe in the Author - Newton's "clockmaster" - this book, along with inklings in the Ishmael trilogy, has made me think significantly about the importance of a kind of ritual and mythic understanding in my life in a serious way. While my own currents were coalescing around me, I thought of two distinct and important parts of my life that have been described by others, for others, as religion - Alabama football and live concerts.

Football is so popular in the South, not solely for this one reason, but certainly most directly and mythically - the Alabama vs. Washington Rose Bowl game of 1926. Ever since Reconstruction, the South was (and has been) maligned by the economically and influentially dominant North, which was really just fanning whatever flames were left from the Civil War - and prejudice against Southern culture smarted extra-badly when the poverty and ruined infrastructure of the South after Reconstruction was taken into effect. The underdog of Alabama upsetting Washington for the Rose Bowl championship united the entire South in this one thing that they could manage pride for, and the SouthEastern Conference of the NCAA continues that pride to this day. It was that foundation of pride and myth that spawned great import and figures, most notably the coach Bear Bryant and as his symbol the immediately recognizable houndstooth hat he wore, which has become to Alabama fans what red is to Socialists. (Crimson is also like that to Alabama fans). There are ritualistic qualities in a football game, especially one which you attend on a regular basis: it is split into quarters, with music coming at halftime, and the cheers you repeat are designed to get everyone on the same page. "BAMA" shouted by 80,000 people sounds like "Amen" chanted by 100 if you are in the right state of mind. You always hold four fingers up at fourth quarter, because "the fourth quarter is ours." If you come often enough, you hold season tickets and always sit in the same place - just like sitting in the same pew at church. And as with any established religion, orthodoxy, heterodoxy, and all kinds of arcanities and submyths are built up - legends like the Van Tiffen kick are retold side by side with factions of agreement or anger over the administration's banning of the Rammer Jammer cheer, which can either be compared to the Council of Nicaea's state-enforced declaration of the homoousia of Jesus and the Father or the decisions and fallout after the Second Vatican Council. Finally (though not exhaustively), if you switch your allegiance to Auburn not just in heart but in practice, your family and friends will literally undergo the same kind of feelings and actions that are undertaken when a tribe or sect "shuns" its members for heresy or breaking the law of the land. I like Alabama football and Georgia Tech football, but I always thought - and think - my mom screams too loud when we are just watching on TV.

Concerts - shows - gave me more serious thought. Duane Allman once said "Music is my religion, and it never hurt nobody." Butch Trucks, in defense of his former bandmate, described the Skydog as "Messianic" in his effect on those around him. People wouldn't make fun of heads for talking about seeing God and the universes colliding while seeing a Grateful Dead show if they didn't mean it in the first place, psychoatively aided or not. I was raised on the Allman Brothers Band by my mother, which also drove me pretty deeply into the blues I have come to share with Atlanta when I was the host of the Friday Night Fish Fry on WREK. I also, thankfully, had a musical mind that was probably first molded by singing in church, as is the case with many Southerners, Methodists especially. But my true consciousness was not awakened until I saw my first Widespread Panic show at Oak Mountain Amphitheater in the destroyed Medina of Panic shows: Pelham, Alabama. Like the Dead, thousands of young people disillusioned of what their parents had in store for them and empowered by (if not drugs) the sense of freedom they had on the road with their fellow Spreadheads would dance and "worship" at the shrine of Havin' a Good Time. In fact I do not even know why I put worship in quotation marks. It was worship, of the same type that most any congregation that does not bow before idols participates in around the world in any manner of toungues, names, traditions, and divine aims. It was different every time. The ritual was most founded in the reliable structure of a good show versus the way many acts play their concerts. A Panic show is an hour-long first set, followed by twenty to thirty minutes of setbreak to get your beer on, and then a second set that lasts anywhere between an hour and two hours, followed by the requisite exit before the encore, and always (in those days) at least two encore songs, if not three to cap off a heady three-night run. As in any "respectable" society of worship, what you wore mattered - don't get caught with official swag, get Shakedown Street T-shirt gear. My favorite was my "Action Man" T-shirt. If you are in tune as you should be, then your emotion will sway with the quality the band is producing. I had seen someone on a message board describe going to shows as their own worship service, but until I read The Power of Myth I never considered it potentially valid. I definitely found something there for me, but not everything I need.

Then, there are finally the ideas that have come to me as a result of the incredible people in AIESEC around the world. These are the ideas that are beating away the faulty parts of me and most effectively encouraging me to reexamine myself and my Mantra. I never knew people consciously and presently living as heroes and legends until I met AIESECers and AIESEC alumni, and now here I am, drawing out the hero in me. Time and trial will bring about my ritual and my own relation to the Myth, and I am confident in my honesty to myself. I will never stop following my Bliss so I can live the ultimate Dream.

Also, I am kind of proud of my picture of my girlfriend enjoying the Hobohookah on Christmas Eve being a part of the Hobohookah holiday greeting.

Close the Gap

Tomorrow I return home for Alabama, then Winter Conference in St. Louis, upon my return to Atlanta I will move into my new digs for the rest of my college career, and come January 7, I will re-enter a Georgia Tech classroom for the first time in seventeen months.

Although many scramble to get the piece of paper that gives them a disproportionate and increasingly obsolete feeling of security before they turn 23, I think that the time I have had away from GT, especially the entirety of 2007, has been one of the most formative and important times for me. It certainly has made me appreciate my environment, both immediate and remote, more than before, and I believe that it will make my graduation much more valuable than if I had just rocketed through and even gotten a Co-op designation. My reflections are more sincere than ever before, I have gotten a better sense of place in Atlanta by working as a bartender at the Fox Theatre, and I have had a free hand to prepare my team to handle AIESEC GT for 2008. How thankful I am for that Fate which made Ozymandias of my constructed plans, because had I been in Ecuador, Turkey, or Panama this fall I certainly couldn't have prepared for LCP like I should have.

I finished a large but important book, Einstein on Politics, the other day. He is a fascinating character who I not only respect as a fellow man of the sciences, but also for his way of thinking and acting with his peers to engage the world on his deeply-felt passion for pacifism and a "world government" to abolish war and conflict. I drew a lot of parallels for AIESEC, but I especially noted that kind of culture that used to exist, and which we have all read about: learned men of old meeting for this conference and that, be it in the upper floor of a tavern or in a parliament hall in Geneva. I draw a convoluted parallel, that of personal connection, in my mode of operation today.

Now I am reading The Power of Myth with Joseph Campbell, which is proving highly influential on me and the way I think. I am seeing the motifs and stories everywhere, including in myself and the parts of my life and those of people around me which I have found interesting. I hope to read a good bit more in general before I return to servitude.

I have enjoyed my week and a half of unadulterated relaxation, which has resulted in many a late rise. I intend to sieze the days I have left, however, so no more such late rises. And this has become a late night - away.

Awake and alone

I am sitting in the theater, watching the new film Awake, and I am the only person in the theater.

Desktop Tower Defense

Wow, this is an addictive game: Desktop Tower Defense

Kampf

The AIESEC US Leadership Team Meeting occurred this weekend in New York City. I had many waves of differing expectations for it: the ultimatum meeting, the desperation meeting, the opportunity meeting, the just-another-worthless meeting (kind of like the just-another-worthless US election).

Ultimately, I was very frustrated by the meeting, as were most students there. Luckily (if my spider-sense hasn't failed me), the deep-seated issues of mistrust and "versus" began to be eroded, thanks in largest part to Missy's general change of modus operandi in comparison with her predecessor. She is actively trying to create trust and participation rather than deliver ultimatums. The frustration however came from the entering mistrust and the format of the meeting itself - a large plenary with a single straight agenda, in which there is no way that everyone manages to have even a single comment for the duration of the weekend. People pay what it takes to come up to NYC and then are infuriated by the definite lack of their input, because that format just doesn't allow for that. I felt it very much and began to get kind of demotivated by it, but I think that based on some conversations that were had at a remarkably affordable BYOB Cantonese restaurant called Phoenix Garden a model to reshape the leadership team can be implemented with the right hand-shaking. There was more frustration on some people's parts as they were brought in a separate small meeting to talk about their frustration in the meetings according to the comments they had made - I would say, rather, that it was because they exhibited leadership in the room. The weekend did end on a positive note with a sweet new financial system unveiled, and the creation of a committee to deal with "how AIESEC US relates internationally." I am on that committee, of course, and it will turn out to be a significant thing I hope.

I had to deal with some problems in my team today as well, but those will have to be explained later.

New York, for its own sake, was a great time. It is so much better than Atlanta in every way (except in the general prices, it devoured my wallet). It was great to stay with my old friend Mischa in Astoria and to see friends from around the nation currently in AIESEC as well as Dagan, who I hung out with a good bit especially on Saturday night. Friday I arrived at a fresh 9:10 AM into LaGuardia, from which I took the M60 to the Astoria Blvd. metro stop on the NW and rode that horse into Manhattan and got out at the Plaza Hotel right next to Central Park. After wandering for a bit I called my West Coast people who I knew were in town since 6 AM, and they came to meet me in the park. We then had a decidedly unauthentic Italian lunch in Little Italy, the girls went shopping while Colin (LCPe Bay Area) and I had a couple of pints at a local cafe-bar and talked about everything from his time in Norway to IT systems (he is a software engineering master student). We then checked out Ground Zero, followed by a ride up to Midtown to meet Dagan and sit at some random restaurant-grocery store where you can basically sit and buy nothing. Then at 9:00 it was off to Dallas BBQ for Emily's 21st, and I have to say I was impressed both by the size of the margaritas and the quality of the "wings" (actually real Southern fried chicken). Then myself and Sarah S. and Colin went to a pub in the Lower East Side called the Blind Pig to have one beer, which turned into more, and I went to bed at 5.

The next night was less crazy, but equally fun. Several of us, after dinner at the Cantonese restaurant, went on a lifequest and eventually found, after two false prophets, a bar called simply "Karaoke" on Avenue A. A fun time was had by all as we tried the local Brooklyn Lager and waited a worthy hour-and-a-half for me to sing "Sweet Home Alabama," and Shannon and I sang "Beast of Burden," and Sarah arrived just in time for everyone in the bar to sing "Don't Stop Believing" with Amanda. After that high point we walked in search of someplace quieter and found an amazing Afghan place called Khyber Pass with great ambiance and, most importantly, shisha. We closed the place. Needless to say I am exhausted from all of this because I got in at midnight on Sunday.

But tonight I was glad to hang with a currently domestic nomad, none other than Burbs. He was in town for an HIV/AIDS conference and we had a great evening of conversation about people and experiences and communities at Mellow Mushroom and then the bar next to Slice. It is always excellent to mind-meld with the great people that inspire you and your vision from time to time.