CIA Man and Disney on Ice

Wow, things have been busy lately. Two stories. 

The other night, I walked into my apartment to find an older man in a suit holding a clipboard earnestly talking to my roommate about another person. I thought maybe it was someone investigating a missing person, but after listening in for a bit, I figured out what was going on.

He was a CIA man. 

I did my dishes slowly as I listened to him ask all sorts of questions about a girl who used to live in the apartment complex. The CIA certainly digs deep--and they certainly want clean-cut people working for them. 

How long have you known her? the CIA man asked. Do you know of her living anywhere else? Did she spend time with people who did drugs? Did she do drugs? Over the counter medication? Was she an active person? Did she have hobbies? What were they? What would she do if she had some free time? Was she emotionally stable? Was she one of those people who was always looking to be the center of attention? Did she act her age? Does she stay in contact with any foreigners? What are their names? Where do they live? Did she have any kind of secrets that could be used against her? Did her family? Was she patriotic? Was she involved in any kind of anarchic or subversive group? Would you trust her working in a high-security clearance position for our government? Is she a moral person? 

I wondered how the CIA man felt about his job. He probably has the same high-level security clearance, and this is what he does--finds and interviews people about other people. It might be interesting to put together a picture of a person, at least. 

Yesterday, my friend Natalie and I went to see Disney on Ice: Princess Wishes. Natalie's friend, a year away from becoming a civil engineer, sent an audition video to Feld Entertainment and is now a professional skater. She has been on the road since last August skating parts like Dopey the dwarf and Princess Jasmine in the ice show. They came to Salt Lake, and she got two free tickets for Natalie, who invited me to come along to see her.

There is a scene in the show--the Ariel section--with guys dressed up as sailors who come out and do their thing. For part of the number, they have a seesaw, and one skater stands on one end and then two jump onto the other end, sending the first skater flying. They did this three times--the first time, the flying skater was caught and lifted over the head of another skater who was standing on a big platform; the second time caught dramatically; the third, they hoisted a chair on a long pole and the skater flipped in the air and landed sitting on it. 

This was neat to see, but freaked me out a little--and even more so when Natalie's friend told us about the stunts while we were having lunch after the show. Last year, they went to do the first flying skater move, and something missed, and the guy fell and cracked his head open. There was blood everywhere--so much blood that they had to stop the show. 

It was a first for Feld Entertainment, the company that runs Disney on Ice shows, and also things like circuses. She said that people have died in shows before--saying that people have fallen off of high wires, things like that, and they just drag them off and keep going. 

They cut the seesaw-flying-skater moves out of the show for awhile, and now they just do them every-other show. And the guy who cracked his head open is out there doing them again. 

Long Day

Today, I saw someone trying to cross the street, and the car that finally stopped was a hearse. 

Speakers Who Say Nothing

I went to a lecture today. It was supposed to be this big expert on pornography and its effects on the brain and on society--that's what the pictures on the posters made it look like, at least. The auditorium was packed full of people who wanted to hear what this guy had to say.

But he didn't say anything. 

I left after a half hour of the fifty-minute lecture, during which time he had established several times that he has spoken at several big events, that people have called him after and that he tells them he is not a therapist and can't heal them but that he is a "trench warrior" against pornography, that he went to the prison and spoke to people, and that the prisoners wanted to talk to him after...and after thirty minutes, I left wondering, "so what did you talk to them ABOUT?" 

We had a stake conference last weekend with a similar kind of speaker. A speaker who talked about how many people he knew but who never really got to a point. I am disappointed by these speakers. I am disappointed if they think that they have enough experience that they do not have to prepare. Speakers should have a thesis statement and a plan to support it. If people--be it twenty or two thousand--are going to invest their time listening to you, you should at least have a point. 

Smells Like Spring

Walking home from classes today, it was too warm for my coat. 

I didn't take it off, though. I was reading as I walked--I have been a busy bee lately, and can't quite keep up with reading assignments. I had my camera with me, too, and was taking pictures from time to time with the non-book hand. Documenting for the sake of it. I didn't want to take off my coat and carry one more thing in my arms. 

It made me think of walking home from elementary school at this time of year. You need a coat in the morning, but it warms up in the afternoon. You can feel spring coming even inside, locked up in a classroom or down in the basement of the library, studying. You can smell the movement. Last year around this time I was walking around reading a culture guide to Switzerland, getting ready to go do research there. 

I am presenting my Switzerland research in a couple of weeks at the Inquiry Conference for International Research, a student conference on campus. I went to a consultation meeting for it today, and felt somewhat ill as I talked about my project. This is exactly the kind of thing I want to be doing, but also the kind of thing that makes me loose my appetite. I spoke at a fundraising luncheon for Girl Scouts once, and was happy to lunch and to chat until they announced my name--then I set down a half-eaten Thin Mint and couldn't think again until it was over. 

Goodness. 

So Long, Castro

I read today that Fidel Castro is stepping down from power. Permanently. It turns out he isn't immortal. He's old and sick, and in a few days the national assembly will meet and select a new head of state, according to the New York Times. 

I read this, and I felt a little nostalgic. Castro was such an anomaly--or at least always seemed like it to me. History was bridged in one man--with him, JFK and Che Guevara were still part of the present. 

But so were Marx and Engle. And he proved dictatorships are not part of history--they are alive and well. When I see guys in red Che Guevara tee shirts, I wonder if they know this. I wonder if they know what all that face symbolizes, its link to Castro and to corruption.

But if they know the story, I think they wear it for that dream that it represents. Marx, Engle, Guevara, Castro, they all hoped for something better--for freedom. Freedom from poverty, from corruption--ironically, freedom, I think, from things they turned around and created again. I have often thought that better than a line showing right and left, a more correct way to model political philosophies would be a circle. The extremes come back around and meet each other. A dictator is a dictator whether fascist or communist. 

But these ideals are seductive. I think this seduction is fascinating, and I've started taking pictures of leftist merchandise and such that I see. Here are some of the collection. 

Cherborug, France 

Brussels, Belgium. (Rough) Translation: "To vote is to accept capitalism and to reinforce the bourgeoisie. It is collaborating with our own exploitation. Let us vote a blank ballot! We will fight! " 

Old Town, San Diego, California 

Brussels, Belgium 

Super Fat Tuesday

The most obscure holiday ever. But a fantastic one.

Because I didn't get an absentee ballot, and because I'm registered to vote in Salt Lake, not in Provo, I didn't think I was going to be able to vote in the primaries yesterday. But my roommate Aubrey mentioned something about going even though she was registered in Logan...and I learned I could vote provisionally! The two of us went down to the polling place. She had time to go look at an apartment while I waited in line--for about an hour and a half. But I made it, by golly, and the two of us voted. And got stickers. When we got back, we told my roommate Jessica (who was registered to vote in Provo) where to go, and she went and did it, too.

Yesterday was also Mardi Gras. I have always wanted to give something up for Lent--and this year is my year. I developed a serious chocolate habit while I was in France that I haven't been able to kick. When I mentioned to Aubrey and Jessica that night that I was going to give up chocolate, they said something to the effect of that being a good idea. Aubrey suggested we watch Chocolat to celebrate Mardi Gras, so the three of us put it on and assembled a pile of chocolate, which we ate until we got sick (or at least I did).

Happy Super Fat Tuesday.

Meta-blogging

I feel like writing, but I don't really have anything to write about.

The reason I started the blog in the first place was so that my family could see what I was doing while I was in Europe for the summer. And that was pretty good blogging. I wanted to put a map or something on the page: "where am I now?" My little icon would have jumped between Switzerland and around France. Now, though, my theoretical icon would just sit in Utah. Which is great, just not as interesting for the blog as constant traveling is. I get to go to California in a couple of weeks, though. That is neat. And I just got research accepted to an on-campus student research conference, which I am excited about.

Yep, that's all I have to say. Here's a picture of my hip nephew.