The girl who cried nervous.

So, I have this weird tendency to cry when I'm especially nervous. I first identified this "issue" in the sixth grade when I was asked to read, in front of the entire school, an essay I had written regarding the D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program I had recently completed. The reading took place at my D.A.R.E. "graduation", with all the other kids and sixth graders' parents in attendance.

Essentially, when I took the stage and stepped up to the mic, I immediately began tearing up. I proceeded to cry through the entire reading and I'm sure my words were barely intelligable. I was completely mortified but I hung in there, and scurried off the stage with great haste afterward.

I didn't realize at the time why that happened. Later, when I started having to give talks in front of the church congregation, I cried too, but then I thought it was because I was overcome with emotion for my religious convictions, or something. I thought it was a trait inherited from my mother, who often cries when speaking of topics she's emotionally invested in. So I blamed it on emotions and Mom. To be fair, I thought the public speaking element played at least a minor part.

But in the last several months, on four-and-half-separate occasions - sometimes one-on-one, others while in front of groups - I have broken down in similar fashion (I include a "half" occurrence because one time I was able to reign it in before full exposure). It's like it's getting worse. Two of the times, I thought it was, again, the consequence of some underlying emotional connection to what I was speaking of, but the others there was no valid reason for. It didn't occur to me until it happened again today - approximately 15 years after the first incident - that it was a result of nervousness. I was asked by one of my former professors to speak to her class about some resources I had compiled for students on international affairs, media literacy, human rights, activism, and the like. While I do have some emotional connection to what I was speaking of, I consciously talked around them. Yet, true to form, I got teary-eyed TWICE over the course of my talk. I am so embarrassed by this because I am not usually a cry-happy sort of gal, and especially not so around perfect strangers.

So, what the hell is up with this compulsion? Why is my nervousness manifest in such an embarrassing (for myself and others) sort of way?? I am truly upset about it, and I wonder what sort of effective activist and advocate of human rights I can be when I can't get through a 10 minute speech without ugly facial contortions and ready waterworks. I think this crying detracts from my message and that is what particularly irks me. I don't want to be the weird chick that showed up to class and cried for apparently no reason. I want to come with something to say, because I have lots to say. It makes me wonder if I ought to just have stayed with the journalistic ambitions 'cause I can cry all I want from behind the veil of a computer screen. Obviously the point here is that I dont "want" to cry, but you get my drift.

I am beginning to wonder if there is something I haven't dealt with from my past, and perhaps I need a little therapy to suss out what is going on here. I've got to figure out something because I'm just not willing to accept that this is how my life will be; I'm just not. I'm far too proud and have too many professional ambitions for that.

Some brilliant musicians you've never heard of.

There is no shortage of crap music and film in the world today. Or, maybe it's always been that way. But, it seems as though there's so much more bad than good, especially where music is concerned; at least if we're considering the "successful" artists. However, a few months ago I saw a beautiful independent film that managed to renew my faith in both media. It's called Once, and it stars two real-life musicians (Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova), the former being the frontman for a long-succesful-in-Ireland band called The Frames and the latter a classically trained Czech performer. I'd never heard of them before seeing this film, nor did I encounter a ton of buzz for the film itself (sad to say), so I had no expectations going in.

In short, I was completely blown away. Mesmerized. Even now, months later, I find myself daydreaming, reveling in its wonderfully quirky, yet simple joys. First of all, the musicians/actors are f-ing brilliant (and, rightly, so is the soundtrack). Secondly, as they are not actors by profession, they both exert this lovely awkwardness and self-consciousness that is absolutely endearing.

When my girlfriend and I left the theater, grinning ear-to-ear and figuratively floating, we both said to the other, "I think I've got a crush now." On Glen, the "guy" (as he's referred to in the credits) from the film. His charms and humor and vulnerability were irresistable. The next day, I bought the soundtrack, and proceeded to let in marinate in my disc player for a good six weeks, on repeat. (A rarity, indeed.)

A week after the viewing, I came across an advert in the local independent weekly about the duo. They'd be performing as "The Swell Season" at a small venue here in town. After freaking out, then gaining composure, I called my friend and told her we simply had to see the show.

After waiting with baited breath for two months, we finally drank in the goodness, as it were. Just last week. Suffice it to say that it was one of the best live performances I've ever witnessed. I am in no way understating when I write that that show completely revived my spirits and renewed my faith in the power of music in a way I've not experienced in many moons. On a few occasions, I was nearly brought to tears by the sheer power of the lyrics, the haunting violin, the piano ballads...the whole lot. Simply gorgeous.

As you might guess, I'm still high from that performance. I don't know that I have ever had such a profound reaction to music and for such a period; frankly, I'm loving it. Since the show I've purchased The Swell Season's self-titled ablum, as well as two cds from Glen's band, The Frames. These guys kill it, I tell you.

I love music. I don't think I could live without it, I feel it in my soul. The Swell Season and The Frames have become artists I can't live without, and I'm ashamed it took me so long to discover them. I just can't say enough about them, and I don't bestow such compliments lightly, but if I go on much longer it will just be embarassing.

It's criminal that they're not headlining names in the States. That said, it seems this "little movie that could" has struck such a chord with audiences that it's generated Oscar buzz...and it was also this year's Audience Award Winner at Sundance (yay!). Methinks it's only a matter of time now...

So, here I am well into a (healthy!) obsession with these musicians, buying up their booty, and counting down the days until the DVD release. Well over 8000 songs in my music library and I'm recycling - almost exclusively - theirs. It's strange, I feel like I did when I became a fan of the New Kids on the Block as a young girl (thankfully, my musical tastes have evolved with age). I had a crush on Jordan - one of the group members - and daydreamed about our eventual matrimony, I recorded their TV appearances (and then watched them repeatedly), hung their posters on my walls (kissing them before bed), bought the various figurines and tee shirts. You know the drill...sad, but true.

I feel so juvenile again - sans some of the more eccentric behavior - and there's a purity to it that's just delicious.

Do yourself a favor and give them a listen.

Jus in bello?

Jus in bello means "justice in war" and it is one of the principles of the just war theory that has, for centuries, been widely accepted in international relations.

This concept is such that nation-states agree to adhere to certain principles and practices when engaged in war with another/other nation-state(s)...such as offering fair treatment of POWs, engaging in proportionality (that is, an eye-for-an-eye, not a heart-for-a-fingernail sort of thing), limiting civilian casualties, and so forth.

I've been thinking about how in "our" latest campaign in the Mideast, we have either deliberately ignored this principle, or we've tried to find stealth ways around it. Obviously, there is the infamous scandal involving prisoner treatment at Abu Ghraib, as well as prisoner treatment and alleged torture practices at Guantanamo, Cuba, to what I, and many others, would consider unacceptable civilian casualties (iraqbodycount.org shows documented body counts at somewhere between 75-82,500 since 2003). All the while, the lofty goal of establishing an operational democracy has remained elusive and militia in-fighting is worse than ever.

These thoughts bring me back to the idea of American exceptionalism. Why do we think that we can slap some moralistic moniker on a military operation, and justice goes out the window along with geniune morality? We can say we want to spread democracy and our supposedly universal values, and on that basis, the ends we employ justisy the means. Torture is an acceptable reality of the interrogation process because it is assumed that every last one of "these guys" will stop at nothing to anihilate the American people, even if the grounds for such assumptions are shaky at best. Why do taxpayers spend ridiculous amounts to employ the likes of Blackwater to provide security for every Tom, Dick, and Harry from the States, when their are untold numbers of Iraqi civilians who REALLY need protection?

Sadly, the list goes on. The point is, the means that are being employed are counterproductive if the ends being sought are those that have been publicly espoused. Too, these gentlemanly principles of war ought not be viewed as purely symbolic, but as ethical constraints and rights of all people.

Jus in bello is a lovely idea. It should be respected by every nation-state. For us, however, only when convenient.