They pre-empted American Idol for this?
Apr. 14th, 2004 12:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pauraque_bkSince I rarely post about politics, perhaps I should start by saying that I don't support Bush, but neither do I villify him. That said...
That was a very bad press conference. I was frankly a bit shocked at how ill-prepared the President seemed. To the question, "What mistakes do you think you've made?", he responded that he wished the reporter had submitted the question in advance, because he had nothing prepared.
???!!!
On several other questions, his answers were rambling or didn't address the point. I was especially underwhelmed with his response to a question on whether he felt he'd failed as a communicator -- ie, failed in getting the whole nation behind him in the war effort. He responded that the election will decide that, which struck me as an extremely ill-considered answer. I don't think he would have lost points for acknowledging that large portions of the country still aren't convinced, and I do think that he missed an opportunity to gain respect simply by answering that it's part of his job to commit to getting his point across -- which, if his point is valid, should be possible. His answer sounded like "I don't care what those who oppose me think".
I didn't watch the post-mortem news stuff -- I had to go to dinner -- so tell me, was I the only one who saw it this way? How about those who support him? What did they/you think? (I know I have at least one Bush supporter on my flist, and I imagine there are others. I'd be very interested to hear your take on it, and I promise not to bite your head off if you disagree with me.)
*
Interview questions from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chresimos:
1. How well do you feel your personality type fits you? What INFP traits do you find you normally display?
It fits me very well. I definitely have a strong sense of wonder and fantasy, easily imagining sentience in objects and animals. And as Typelogic puts it:
INFPs have the ability to see good in almost anyone or anything. Even for the most unlovable the INFP is wont to have pity.
That's me. I can empathize with anyone, and take pleasure in doing so. As you might guess from my reaction to the press conference above, I find learning about others' viewpoints to be an enjoyable end in itself.
I also have a sense of a "cosmic balance" of pleasure and pain -- when I do something hurtful, I'm not just concerned about the immediate impact, but about the fact that I've increased the net pain in the universe. This is also an INFP trait, though it's more often phrased as a concern over good and evil.
2. I don't know if you have any original fiction projects, but. If you were to write a novel, what would you be most interested in writing about? What would you want to achieve with your fiction?
I do write original fiction, though I find it more difficult than fanfic. I like to write sci-fi and magical realism. I'm very interested in exploring radically different viewpoints, particularly alien ones -- this goes hand-in-hand with my INFP personality. I suppose what I want to acheive is getting people to see the world like I do, at least for a moment -- as a universe of infinite sensations and experiences, only a minute portion of which each individual gets to feel.
3. If you had to spend a day with one character from the HP books, who would it be?
Neville. He seems like a pretty nice kid. Most of the other characters I like in the books are either nutcases or jerks, but Neville is an exception.
4. What was the single happiest moment of your life?
I'm going to do something very weird here and copy out an entry from my paper journal, which I write with the expectation that it won't be read by anyone but me. It isn't a direct answer to your question, but perhaps addresses the point.
1 July 2001
I'm no child, but I can't help wonder -- it seems like some kind of spell you're under.
Los Angeles [Rocky Horror Picture Show] convention, anyway. No, not Los Angeles, of the big blue bus and Violent Femmes cover band. Hollywood, of the anesthetic air and tackiness without the soulful joy of camp. Trash without irony.
The moments, though, that I would not give away. Trudging back and forth across the cabana to the bright brownred smell of cooking human flesh. Spontaneous singing of Denton, USA as we march through the park. Leaning back in the claustrophobic car at 1:00am, straining to make it back home. Funny thing to see, Rocky people getting tired so early. But he is tired after driving ten hours already, of course.
"It would be nice if one of you would stay awake and talk to me," he murmurs, "so I don't fall asleep." And she does talk to him, not really audibly above the engine and the air conditioner and the soft-edged music he keeps in his CD changer. But I find listening to his muffled voice delicious because it is private and casual, neither the boisterous obscenity as he crouches in the aisle, waiting for his cue, nor the awkward caution of setting out on a long trip with two people you only know from how they look while you're crouching and yelling in a movie theater aisle...
I brace my elbow against his sleeping bag in the seat beside me, liking that, and watch him as he drives and talks to stay awake. He is tall and heavily built, his right hand on the wheel is large and appealing. Everyone has a certain sex appeal, I think, if you know where to find it, and I have found his. The thought had not occurred to me before today, but I am finding him sexy now, fantasizing lazily about pressing against him in the dark and cramped back seat of a car with someone else driving, his hand warm and rough on my cock.
I lean back, and can see out the back of the car, upside down. I gasp because the sky is beautiful, clear and black with the stars shining like you don't expect them to do outside the ceiling of a planetarium. Taken aback, I glance forward again fro a moment to confirm that all he and she are seeing is the hazy glare of civilisation's nighttime horizon. And I tilt my head back again to see that my view is real, Ursa Major and Orion, and then -- glory -- a shooting star. I open my mouth to tell them, to tell them to look back and see what they're missing -- to make a wish!
But I don't. It's mine to see. I can have something of my own, and that doesn't make it less real. I watch the stars for a long time as she talks to keep him awake, and he mumbles his casual responses as he listens to the baseball game.
~
The time I saw him before that was at a Bawdy Caste show when I was guest-performing. He was telling me the blocking, quickly, giving away the secrets of behind-the-scenes that might seem as good as gold to a 14-year-old initiate. I sidled up to him so he was speaking in my ear, because his talk is often fast and sloppy and difficult to understand. He showed me the metal brace that stuck out of the wall just backstage, telling me that he hooked his finger into it and hung off it during "There's a Light", just a little conspiratorial trick of the trade.
After the show I turned to find my stuff in the front row. I had my glasses, but my makeup was still on. I hauled my foot up onto an armrest to find the laces, noticing that my finger had stopped bleeding since I stuck it bad with a safety pin during the frantic 8-minute costume change.
A girl approaches me from the house -- an audience member, an initiate -- and catches my attention.
"Um, okay, random comment: You're, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen. End of random comment." She is embarrassed, awed, and flushed as she says this.
I can't do anything but laugh and reach out to shake. "What's your name, honey?" I ask, squeezing her hand.
"MacKenzie," she says.
I tell her my name -- foolishly, because she already knows who I am, apparently. I talk to her for about a minute, asking if she comes to the show often.
"Oh, I'm here sometimes," she says, "but now I'll *definitely* be back!"
Unbelievable. Who could ask for a neater circle? I couldn't have desired a better payoff for five years of struggling to find this perfect, point-blank acceptance.
That was a very bad press conference. I was frankly a bit shocked at how ill-prepared the President seemed. To the question, "What mistakes do you think you've made?", he responded that he wished the reporter had submitted the question in advance, because he had nothing prepared.
???!!!
On several other questions, his answers were rambling or didn't address the point. I was especially underwhelmed with his response to a question on whether he felt he'd failed as a communicator -- ie, failed in getting the whole nation behind him in the war effort. He responded that the election will decide that, which struck me as an extremely ill-considered answer. I don't think he would have lost points for acknowledging that large portions of the country still aren't convinced, and I do think that he missed an opportunity to gain respect simply by answering that it's part of his job to commit to getting his point across -- which, if his point is valid, should be possible. His answer sounded like "I don't care what those who oppose me think".
I didn't watch the post-mortem news stuff -- I had to go to dinner -- so tell me, was I the only one who saw it this way? How about those who support him? What did they/you think? (I know I have at least one Bush supporter on my flist, and I imagine there are others. I'd be very interested to hear your take on it, and I promise not to bite your head off if you disagree with me.)
*
Interview questions from
chresimos:1. How well do you feel your personality type fits you? What INFP traits do you find you normally display?
It fits me very well. I definitely have a strong sense of wonder and fantasy, easily imagining sentience in objects and animals. And as Typelogic puts it:
INFPs have the ability to see good in almost anyone or anything. Even for the most unlovable the INFP is wont to have pity.
That's me. I can empathize with anyone, and take pleasure in doing so. As you might guess from my reaction to the press conference above, I find learning about others' viewpoints to be an enjoyable end in itself.
I also have a sense of a "cosmic balance" of pleasure and pain -- when I do something hurtful, I'm not just concerned about the immediate impact, but about the fact that I've increased the net pain in the universe. This is also an INFP trait, though it's more often phrased as a concern over good and evil.
2. I don't know if you have any original fiction projects, but. If you were to write a novel, what would you be most interested in writing about? What would you want to achieve with your fiction?
I do write original fiction, though I find it more difficult than fanfic. I like to write sci-fi and magical realism. I'm very interested in exploring radically different viewpoints, particularly alien ones -- this goes hand-in-hand with my INFP personality. I suppose what I want to acheive is getting people to see the world like I do, at least for a moment -- as a universe of infinite sensations and experiences, only a minute portion of which each individual gets to feel.
3. If you had to spend a day with one character from the HP books, who would it be?
Neville. He seems like a pretty nice kid. Most of the other characters I like in the books are either nutcases or jerks, but Neville is an exception.
4. What was the single happiest moment of your life?
I'm going to do something very weird here and copy out an entry from my paper journal, which I write with the expectation that it won't be read by anyone but me. It isn't a direct answer to your question, but perhaps addresses the point.
1 July 2001
I'm no child, but I can't help wonder -- it seems like some kind of spell you're under.
Los Angeles [Rocky Horror Picture Show] convention, anyway. No, not Los Angeles, of the big blue bus and Violent Femmes cover band. Hollywood, of the anesthetic air and tackiness without the soulful joy of camp. Trash without irony.
The moments, though, that I would not give away. Trudging back and forth across the cabana to the bright brownred smell of cooking human flesh. Spontaneous singing of Denton, USA as we march through the park. Leaning back in the claustrophobic car at 1:00am, straining to make it back home. Funny thing to see, Rocky people getting tired so early. But he is tired after driving ten hours already, of course.
"It would be nice if one of you would stay awake and talk to me," he murmurs, "so I don't fall asleep." And she does talk to him, not really audibly above the engine and the air conditioner and the soft-edged music he keeps in his CD changer. But I find listening to his muffled voice delicious because it is private and casual, neither the boisterous obscenity as he crouches in the aisle, waiting for his cue, nor the awkward caution of setting out on a long trip with two people you only know from how they look while you're crouching and yelling in a movie theater aisle...
I brace my elbow against his sleeping bag in the seat beside me, liking that, and watch him as he drives and talks to stay awake. He is tall and heavily built, his right hand on the wheel is large and appealing. Everyone has a certain sex appeal, I think, if you know where to find it, and I have found his. The thought had not occurred to me before today, but I am finding him sexy now, fantasizing lazily about pressing against him in the dark and cramped back seat of a car with someone else driving, his hand warm and rough on my cock.
I lean back, and can see out the back of the car, upside down. I gasp because the sky is beautiful, clear and black with the stars shining like you don't expect them to do outside the ceiling of a planetarium. Taken aback, I glance forward again fro a moment to confirm that all he and she are seeing is the hazy glare of civilisation's nighttime horizon. And I tilt my head back again to see that my view is real, Ursa Major and Orion, and then -- glory -- a shooting star. I open my mouth to tell them, to tell them to look back and see what they're missing -- to make a wish!
But I don't. It's mine to see. I can have something of my own, and that doesn't make it less real. I watch the stars for a long time as she talks to keep him awake, and he mumbles his casual responses as he listens to the baseball game.
~
The time I saw him before that was at a Bawdy Caste show when I was guest-performing. He was telling me the blocking, quickly, giving away the secrets of behind-the-scenes that might seem as good as gold to a 14-year-old initiate. I sidled up to him so he was speaking in my ear, because his talk is often fast and sloppy and difficult to understand. He showed me the metal brace that stuck out of the wall just backstage, telling me that he hooked his finger into it and hung off it during "There's a Light", just a little conspiratorial trick of the trade.
After the show I turned to find my stuff in the front row. I had my glasses, but my makeup was still on. I hauled my foot up onto an armrest to find the laces, noticing that my finger had stopped bleeding since I stuck it bad with a safety pin during the frantic 8-minute costume change.
A girl approaches me from the house -- an audience member, an initiate -- and catches my attention.
"Um, okay, random comment: You're, like, the hottest thing I've ever seen. End of random comment." She is embarrassed, awed, and flushed as she says this.
I can't do anything but laugh and reach out to shake. "What's your name, honey?" I ask, squeezing her hand.
"MacKenzie," she says.
I tell her my name -- foolishly, because she already knows who I am, apparently. I talk to her for about a minute, asking if she comes to the show often.
"Oh, I'm here sometimes," she says, "but now I'll *definitely* be back!"
Unbelievable. Who could ask for a neater circle? I couldn't have desired a better payoff for five years of struggling to find this perfect, point-blank acceptance.
