Caterwauling

I was reading Bigwig’s extensive documentation on the death of Rachel Corrie, who was killed by army bulldozer in Rafah, and I got to thinking … and not just about how f*ing stupidly she allowed herself to die.

Just a note, I’m not a warblogger and never will be, and I’m certainly not eulogizing this woman who chose to devote her life to her own definition of peace activism. I do, however, wonder what drove her to believe that she alone could make a difference in the world … and what drove her to jump on the bulldozer that unquestionably would drag her to her fatal injuries.

It’s hard to become a hero these days. Everyone wants to be known for something, and I suffer from the same illusion (and some days it feels like a delusion) of wanting to put myself on the world map in some remarkable way. I guess I wonder if Rachel truly was passionate about her cause or if she were overwhelmingly motivated by martyrdom. We don’t have any real martyrs anymore these days — in America, we’re surrounded by people becoming heroes simply by making it to the final rounds of “American Idol”. And then you have existing “rock stars” trying to make political statements when they should seriously limit what comes out of their mouths to nothing but lyrics written for them by Diane Warren. Really, I hate to say it, but Ryan Seacrest will be remembered for a lot longer than she will ever be, and all he does is wear mousse in his hair and read bad lines off the TelePrompter.

One wonders, on a more global level, if our political leaders are chasing the same dream of wanting to be known for something, anything. My mom is a very impatient type (like me), and she always says, “Do something, even if it’s wrong.” Meaning, don’t just sit on your ass and be useless — move your fucking feet and accomplish something, whether it’s making a decision or just sucking up your courage and tackling a task at hand. Perhaps Dubya is suffering from the same syndrome — I don’t think the war on Iraq is really a multi-billion-dollar ego trip on his part, but hell, wouldn’t it be cool for him if he rid the world of Middle Eastern terrorism? Talk about heroism — getting revenge for the tragic events of Sept. 11, 2001, will certainly ensure that future history textbook authors don’t spend one paragraph on his presidency and sum up his term of office as unremarkable compared to his father’s legacy.

And Rachel — and billions of other average world citizens like the rest of us — will probably never truly have a chance to be anything more than a footnote in a college student’s dissertation, if that. I mean, really, I will never be known for doing anything to change the world, and I’m okay with that. But what was in her mind when she jumped on that bulldozer blade, especially when that driver refused to stop? Was she begging for her life, was she begging for him to consider the children in the refugee camp, or was she hoping that she will have given up her life in such a violent manner as the last act of travesty before the terrorists of the world said, “Well, damn, because she cared so much about our people, we should really call off the hounds and go have a tea party with Dubya and his friends”?

I admire her passion — I’ll give her that. No matter what was running through her head (if anything), she went with that voice and died for her cause. And she died believing that she was doing the right thing. But when ti all comes down to it, it wasn’t her war to win. She was well within her rights to stand up for what she believed in, but at what cost? The irony of her peaceful activism was that she suffered as gruesome a fate as the citizens of third world countries who aren’t able to enjoy the rights of the people of the rest of the free world. But she chose that destiny — she didn’t have to die as she did. A true martyr is the Mother Theresa type — she accepted that the world was fucked up, and she made it her mission to ease the suffering of those she could reach. And my best guess was that Mother Theresa never once knew or cared that she was known worldwide for her compassion and her own activism. And that, to me, is a hero worth remembering.

***We now return you to your regularly scheduled navelgazing.***

Tooth still hurts, worked till midnight last night, still no word from Susan about Miss Chloe’s debut into the world, tire fixed, J-Ho labeled “frigid” by Demure because she’s upset that she didn’t get my job, paper’s at press and I’m trying to get my office in order before I leave town.

Several of our attendees as well as our presenters at our upcoming convention are canceling left and right, due to the threat of war and expected terrorism. It’s sad, really, because everyone’s on hyper alert, waiting for the worst to happen. I was wondering, if I were to fake a nervous breakdown, could I stay behind and not leave D.C. (although this ain’t really the greatest place to be these days).

I awoke this morning when the Percocet wore off, around 5:45 a.m., to see a B-rate soft porn airing on Showtime. The most interesting part was when an alert began flashing across the screen. “This is a test of the Fairfax County system. There is an emergency situation in Fairfax City/Falls Church. Tune to Fairfax cable channel 16 for updates.”

I started to panic but my head was too heavy for me to shoot out of bed. I turned on channel 16, but it was an infomercial. I turned on the news and heard nothing more of it, although there was some joker in a tractor, armed with explosives, parked in the reflecting pool at the National Mall. So I took another Percocet and went back to my happy land — I can’t deal with this shit right now. Although, I think we’ll arrive in Anaheim unharmed, but coming back to D.C. will be the problem. Oh well. At any rate, can’t wait to drive to Reagan National Airport through morning rush hour traffic! (I feel that anxiety-induced seizure coming on. …)