of Shakespeare and Truth

Fakespeare movie

Monday morning I was quite ready for a break from the weekend. For the past month or so I’ve greatly enjoyed having Mondays off. I generally have to work to some degree on Saturday and Sunday with my family is not truly a day off so Monday is the catch all of relaxation. It’s a fun little thing for me, I legitimately do not have anything I HAVE to do, but I still feel like I’m playing hookie and that makes it all the more enjoyable when I go to see a movie at 11:35 am on a Monday morning (with all the retirees of Brandon).

I was excited this particular Monday morning that a movie I feared would not be playing in my neck of the woods had finally made its appearance at the theatre closest to my house. You can see from the poster over there to the left that the movie is titled Anonymous and it’s a conspiracy theory movie about the identity of Shakespeare.

Being a native English speaker I’ve had plenty of interaction with The Bard. In high school I not only read some of his major works but got the opportunity to visit his childhood home in Stratford-Upon-Avon as well as his wife, Anne Hathaway’s, farm. (Before you get too impressed they’re much like our State Fair’s Cracker Country… and they tell you about the cons of sleeping under thatched roofing). I’ve seen several movies about Shakespeare and Queen Elizabeth I. At this point they’re very common as a motif. Modern society is much interested in the life of the Tudors and their contemporary peasants.

All this to say, I knew a little bit of the controversy of Shakespeare being who he was. Yet, I was never concerned (and today remain unconvinced) by this anomaly of talent springing from obscurity because talent, historically speaking, has a way of latching itself onto some of the least likely suspects. I mean 8 year olds churned out entire symphonies in our illustrious history, so to me a man like Shakespeare coming from nowhere works.

However, this movie sort of blew me away. It was a fantastic piece of cinematographic beauty. But are we surprised at all? The director is Roland Emmerich a man famous for making movies that blow the viewers out of the water (and also, in the case of 2012, cause them to yell mean things at him for being a conspiracy peddler). He may well have earned that title. And he orchestrated a fascinating case against Will Shakespeare. At the Anonymous movie website there’s a cute little video where Roland, armed with black quills, reveals his top ten reasons he believes the man from Stratford was not the same man to pen Shakespeare’s famous works. It’s a cool little website to play around on. You can see the possible relationships the characters share, which is really a sort of a tangled web of incest since Emmerich is not only set on debunking Will Shakespeare, but Elizabeth’s status as virgin queen, as well.

I read an article a week or so ago in which James Shapiro lambasts Emmerich and the rest of Hollywood for defaming Shakespeare. Mr. Shapiro wrote one particular line that greatly influenced my agreement with what he posits:

In dramatizing this conspiracy, Mr. Emmerich has made a film for our time, in which claims based on conviction are as valid as those based on hard evidence.

This is very truly a characteristic of modern (public opinion) justice. The courts are not often swayed by the lynch mob, which is a good thing, however in the minds of the public, and especially the grade school students that will be shown Emmerich’s documentary, Shakespeare is all but dismissed.

Wikipedia, shoddy research, and influence from Showtime & HBO’s dramatic programming informs a lot about the internet age’s knowledge. We have access to SO MUCH EASIER to information than ages past, but it’s difficult to develop a standard, a plumb line, that allows the reader/seer to determine what is true.

People have always been skeptical of the truth of history. Unfairly, things are most often recorded by the “winning” team and the voices of the oppressed or ill-educated are ignored in historical tomes. The search for truth is a noble pursuit. I am curious though to what extent skepticism is fruitful. We’ve already seen people with major platforms claiming that The Holocaust was a hoax. Re-writing history is a trend of late, something my grandfather complained about when I saw him at Christmas last year. It’s dangerous territory. And I find myself asking: to what purpose?

Are the power of The Bard’s words diminished if they came from a noble? Are they any less impressive? What does it matter if the “Soul of an Age” resided in a peasant from a small town or a noble thriving in London?

One element I did greatly enjoy from Emmerich’s movie was de Vere’s insistence about the power of the written word. He claimed that words would win Elizabeth over. That they could sway the opinion of a kingdom. This is something very important to keep in mind whenever we open our eyes and move them across the page or the screen.

(p.s. has anyone else noticed my new tendency to be longwinded in these blog posts now that NaNoWriMo is upon us? I’m so good at procrastinating…)

monitor lizards & childlike awe

Yesterday I went to Busch Gardens with my friend Jenna. We went with the express purpose of petting kangaroos and wallabies.

wallaby

Don’t you just want to pet him? It was pretty cool, but here’s the anecdote.

After we pet the marsupials we wandered around the park to see the cheetahs and meerkats. And finally we made our way into the section with Busch Garden’s Animal Ambassadors and the Cave of Curiosities. I found out that Burmese Pythons and Boa Constrictors make me want to hurl. And bats totally freak me out.

We passed a family standing in front of the monitor lizards. They were surprisingly active when we passed by and the little girl in the family persistently declared that one of them was attempting to escape.

don't want to pet him

It made me chuckle and remember that iconic scene in Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone when Harry visits the zoo and releases the python. I haven’t talked much about Pottermore here yet (it’s sort of unique and difficult to describe) but this scene was fairly cool in the “experience”.

The zoo, the aquarium, MOSI, all of these places you visit as a kid and are amazed are so much fun for me to revisit. It’s like caffeine for my imagination. I’m overwhelmed with fanciful ideas and nostalgic memories from my childhood. Theme parks are designed to entertain but I think they also do a good job of revealing the bits of everyday magic. The sort we forget and often pass over.

Speaking of everyday magic – Publix Pumpkin Pie Ice Cream is just perfectly delicious and magical. I’d suggest dipping out a scoop or two and settling in for some evening reading.

narcissus gazed

The past two days I’ve sort of wallowed in Narcissism. It’s all part of my dismantling and dealing with process. And it does help me to recharge. But it got me thinking about how my life has changed the more I identify myself as a writer. Especially one that has been recently influenced by the works of Wilde, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Capote, and any other writers who write fascinating characters based on real people.

So, I sort of have to apologise to those of you close to me – I tend to think of myself as a heroine and as all of you as a supporting cast of characters. I view moments we spend together as potential fodder for writing which keeps me from being fully present in any social setting. I indulge my quirks because a heroine has to have quirks to be interesting (I’m afraid I’m not interesting).

Last night I went to bed dissatisfied with a lot of things. I’ve been lamenting the situations of my life, the inevitable change of friendships, tough decisions I’ve made because I thought they were the best. I’ve felt nostalgic for a time period that was not necessarily better, but at this juncture seems easier. Normally I save these sorts of posts until I have a neatly tied up ending for them. Or the writing process provides me some clarity. I don’t have any of that today. There’s just a few things I do know:

1. I feel raw, shaky, and pretty fragile.

2. I’m tired of feeling this way.

3. I’m trying not to repeat the mistakes I’ve made. It’s tough.

4. This all could have something to do with my 25th birthday being just around the corner.

Anyway, 280 words is more than enough wallowing. Tomorrow the blog will return to its usual function reviewing Literature and talking about books. Thanks for hanging out.

Isn’t that just like a Thursday?

Today I felt super productive. Until about 30 minutes ago.

I got up at 6:45 in order to get ready to go down to Manatee County to see Jeffrey. We mostly talked about how he’s smelly and how he has read more books than I have in the past three weeks. (So, now I feel like I need to read faster). Apparently he’s really enjoyed Bobby Bowden’s autobiography. But he didn’t enjoy some book about teenagers who were given bird wings and had fast heartbeats like birds. I think it was a book from a James Patterson YA series.He gave it up for someone else to read. Other than that he naps a lot and plays Sudoku. He finally got paper and wrote Allison a letter that will go up on his blog tomorrow (at the usual time 5 pm). The information is up over there if you want to send him a postcard. Apparently that’s the only type of mail this facility will allow him to have.

It was good to get to talk to him and see him and tease him a bit. He seemed to be doing well. And now we’re just waiting until they get ready to transfer him again. Transfer days seem like the most difficult. The last time he was in the a cold, cement booking cell for 10 hours.

After our visit my dad dropped me back off at home and my little sister took me to work where I guarded and then taught a private lesson with one of the most adorable little boys ever. He’s 22 months and talks a lot of baby gibberish. The expression on his face when he talks is very serious though, so I pretend we’re having a serious conversation. It’s quite cute.

Lunch today was at Chipotle again! It’s been so awesome to have one so close to our house now and you can expect about 50 more tinfoil creations to go up over at our Tinfoil Creations blog in the next couple hours… Just kidding, it’s only like four. They’re starting to recognize us there already. And today they finally got our sort of odd orders just about right.

When we got home Camille started cleaning, but I felt super nappy. So, I laid down and The Flurf

The Flurf

kept harassing me. And Camille is making me clean the bathroom (punk). Anyway, it’s five minutes until 5 o clock now and I’m freaking out because I want to get this up in time. I feel like it’s sort of a lame blog update. But here are some cool things -

1. I got 41 views yesterday which is my all time high for a single day! Yay! And much thanks to the four of you who looked at my blog 10 times each

2. Tomorrow Camille is recording! And keep your ears peeled for a concert launch date in November. It’s gonna be a super blast.

3. I signed up officially for NaNoWriMo (which I also officially hate typing) and I’m excited/nervous/sort-of-nauseous thinking about the endeavor. 50,000 words in 30 days… think I can do it? Your vote of confidence will help me greatly.

Now, I need to prepare for this weekend of crazy lifeguard training extravaganza and get back to kicking butt at the two Words With Friends games I have going on right now.

Happy Thursday Guys!

Being Girly

@ 9 am

There are three things I want you to notice about this picture

1. I made that strawnana smoothie all by myself WITHOUT making the kitchen asplode.

2. My finger nails have words on them via the tbt* which is a project I found on Pinterest. I was so happy to pull it off with success.

3. I finally figured out how to fishtail braid!

I know that some of you may be wondering why I feel the need to celebrate these accomplishments via the blogosphere. But any of you that graced my Harry Potter Party in July know what a challenge blenders present me with. And I’ve never been the strongest at nail painting. And finally the fishtail braid has been an elusive creature for me for quite some time. The frustrations of which my family has been the sounding board for the past few weeks.

The fourth thing you might notice is that I am currently rocking my fifth grade tshirt. Unfortunately you cannot see my awesome 11 year old signature. But rest in the knowledge that I’m repping the class of ZOOS today.

There will be another post this afternoon that expounds some more on Water for Elephants as promised.

Happy Hump Day, guys!

I smell like Chlorine

As I’m preparing for my eight hour shift at the pool today I (which I will be almost finished with by the time this blog goes up) I thought I’d share with you my top five reasons I love working at my pool. But first some pictures, to set the scene.

It's sunrises like this that help me love my job

The frosty version of a pool view

this is what I look like most summer days

 

So here are the things I love about my job:

-First of all, the tan. I absolutely love the fact that having an awesome tan is a perk of my job.

-Some of my favourite people come to my pool. I’ve been able to make some really cool friends at the pool over the past couple of years. Joy chose the name Joy and tries everyday to be exactly that. Curtis is a professor at UT and he gave me several books (and verbal quizzes) and helped jump start me back on the road to higher education. My pastor Bobby and his family often come to the pool. Not to mention the hundreds of kids I’ve bonded with over the past seven summers who are now on swim teams and love the water.

-The kids. Twice this summer I’ve had two little bittys just get swimming and take off. It’s fascinating to me, working with kids. They’re so small but so entertaining. I helped one elementary age kid get ready for swim team and had another little girl just figure out how to float the other day. It’s so awesome. When I was first certified to teach I didn’t think I would enjoy swim lessons as much as I do now. They are exhausting and sometimes the expectations are a little bit ludicrous. But gosh, they’re about the most rewarding part of my job.

-It’s a challenging job. Physically, emotionally, even the act of developing patience. There’s so much about it that is challenging and even on the days I come home frustrated I can look back on the past seven years and see the really solid qualities I’ve developed from working outside with a bunch of teenagers.

This month I’m being re-trained so that I can then teach our lifeguards new rescue skills and things. I was very concerned about my physical ability to do all of the things we would need to do so yesterday I decided I would swim every day leading up to the training. I swam a 500 in about 10 minutes and then trod water for five minutes without my hands. My legs felt like jelly afterwards but I did it. Not many jobs force you to stay physically active I love this about my job. I also love that our training is always being amped up. Guys, I cannot completely convey to you how awesome it is to know beyond a shadow of doubt that you’ll be able to help someone in danger.

-Where I work puts an emphasis on giving back. We call ourselves “The charity where you belong.” And every staff meeting we hear about people whose lives are changed because of our facility. I work at a pool in a suburb. But it’s not just a pool in a suburb. And there are stories I could tell you that would bring tears to your eyes. And that is why I do what I do. I stand in the hot Florida sun for hours on end and I stand in the pool until I look something like an orange California grape, and then I come home and mostly sleep mainly so I can make a difference. So one less kid drowns this summer. So one more family learns about water safety and has a safe place to come and play; a place where they belong regardless of income, race, or religion.

 

That’s why  I love my job. That’s why I continue to do my job. If you’re in the area, make sure to come visit.

Language

Last semester I wrote a short story titled “I Don’t Know How to Write the End”. Today, my biggest struggle is that I don’t know how to write the beginning. The problem is I’ve been so excited about sharing this video that I’ve been thinking about it all week.

My friend Michael put this video on my Facebook wall last Thursday along with the comment “I don’t direct this at anyone.” It’s a kinetic typography video from a Stephen Fry transcript about Language.

Stephen Fry Kinetic Typography – Language from Matthew Rogers on Vimeo.

I’ve long been a linguiphile. And though that word is not recognized by most dictionaries, and it would be just as easy to say  ”a lover of words” I like “linguiphile” better. My cheerleading squad in high school called me “Homeschool” because I, as I put it, had “quite an extensive vernacular” and I put it to use, often during cheerleading practice. Most of the girls I cheered with were rather smart and knew what I was saying, yet chose to truncate their communicative skills. I embraced mine and was marginalized. No, that makes me sound like a martyr. They teased me. I got over it.

My friend Michael often teases me. The same class for which I wrote “I Don’t Know How to Write the End” featured weekly workshops. In one of these workshops I used the word “bacchanal” instead of “party”. I won’t transcribe the entire argument that followed between Michael and myself about the specificity of “bacchanal” vs. “party”. But I was quite miffed. Again, I got over it (quickly, no worries) and we’ve gone on to tease each other about much sillier things. But when he shared this video with me I chalked it up to a victory in my column.

Watching this video made me want to jump up and down in excitement. Finally, I’ve encountered someone who understands my love for words, my need to express myself in new and challenging ways. Not to rub my lexicon in other’s faces, but for the sheer enjoyment of words.

I have never read the Dictionary cover to cover, though I have perused it from time to time. And I did once read a novel about the genesis of the OED. I often wrangle over which word will better illuminate what I am attempting to communicate and I also admit that I use a thesaurus about 20 times for each blog post. I wish to avoid sounding redundant or silly. Which brings me to another video featuring Stephen Fry from his satirical A Bit of Fry and Laurie days:

I believe my favorite part of that video is when he exclaims, “And yet we, all of us, spend all our days saying to each other the same things time after weary time.” With so many words available to us for speaking, writing, communicating, why do we repeat the same things? “I love you” is an important phrase to repeat, people need to hear it.

Yet I would argue that it is also vitally important to use the argot you have command of to gently coerce others into a higher jargon. Or by using bigger words force other people to learn and use bigger words. Not for an intellectual parade of verbiage, but for the challenge of illuminating articulation, for the fun of

 the tripping of the tips of [our] tongues against the tops of [our] teeth [to] transport [us] to giddy euphoric bliss

      – Stephen Fry

Happy word hunting

I’ll see you Monday with another brand-spanking new original work post!

For further reading:

Don’t Mind Your Language

Lamb by Christopher Moore

When I told my friend Jenna that I couldn’t wait to read for leisure this summer she immediately planned three books that I had to read from her own collection. Two of them are by Tamora Pierce (a writer we both have loved since our teenage years) and were pleasant quick reads after the trying semester of EIGHTEEN challenging books. The third sat on my shelf for a bit until I finished a couple graphic novels and Dorian Gray. I first saw this book on a shelf in my former boss’s office and flipped through the opening chapter on a brief break from actual work. It seemed offensive and sacrilegious and I don’t think it was time for me to read it then.

Jenna gave it to me saying that it was hilarious and that I would enjoy it. I’ll be honest, even though I feel I’m a bit more mature and willing to hear new ideas than I was when I originally saw the book I still felt some trepidation as I began reading. For those unfamiliar it’s a bit along the same lines as The Life of Brian though most likely less offensive. (I can’t speak categorically because I only made it through the first 20 minutes of TLOB whereas I finished this novel).

And I chuckled. A lot.

There’s a lot of wonderful subtle humour. The narrator, Levi, who is called Biff, claims that he created sarcasm, the original “two Jews walk into a bar” joke, and Judo (which was spelled a little differently, you can imagine). Overall, I enjoyed it. I’m not sure about the theological concern with imagining Jesus’s life as between his birth and recorded ministry (not counting that whole temple thing when he was 12). And for me, someone who has grown up with stories of Jesus my whole life, it was weird to see the story imagined through a different set of ideas.

It’s definitely an exercise in imagination. The narration and storytelling remind the reader that the world was a big place when Jesus was walking around. And the people around him were very real. Biff provides some humour and humanity to a story that sometimes just feels difficult. And I think Christopher Moore just had fun. Imagining Jesus attempting to teach an elephant yoga or learning kung fu (though anachronistic) are just fun things, and I don’t think they do any harm to one’s concept of Jesus as God’s Son.

There are some things that I could’ve done without. But that’s true about most books, movies, and music that I’ve encountered. It’s preference, eh? Anyway, if you know things about Jesus, or don’t, it will serve as a great conversation piece for someone else who does/doesn’t. I’d suggest shooting for the opposite though. Especially if you don’t know that there are no books in the Bible named Dalmatians or Amphibians.

I give it  out of 5 for entertainment. And as Moore is a modern author I consider it a good  out of 5 for instructional writing. It features fast paced humour, creative story telling, and witty dialogue and a warm/fuzzy ending that makes you feel like God is really interested in us down here.

Next on the list:

Maus I & II by Art Spiegelman

And the rest of the waiting stack, in no particular order, and not complete:

Palo Alto: Stories by James Franco (yeah, that guy!)

All the Sad Young Literary Men by Keith Gessen

A Summer to Die by Lois Lowry

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

RVs and Mindless drones

One day I will fly one of these

 

A few years ago I learned about this group of retired Methodists called NOMADS, who are probably the coolest people I’ve ever heard of. After hearing about them my dream of one day having my own RV/Camper was born. But I want to do it in my 20s, or basically for the rest of my life. With the housing crash of the “oughts” my desire to ever own a home faded and I plan on pretty much always living in an RV, teaching my (eventual) kids that from the Keys to the tip of Oregon State and everything between is their backyard. It may be a little optimistic, but hey, I’m a dreamer.

The reality of living in a motor-home vehicle may be just a little bit trickier than I imagine. Especially considering my penchant for running out of gas, forgetting to get oil changes, and not having the best track record when it comes to basic cars. Max, who has been a friend of mine for about two years and has witnessed some of these more ridiculous vehicle issues, reminded me that even if I ran the dreamed- of-VW bus on corn diesel I would still have to make sure it had enough.He declared himself part of the “RV dream” so that I don’t wind up in backwoods Georgia without gas, talking to a person who speaks “Georgian” (a dialect of Max’s imagination which sounds something like Muttley ) who would suggest that deer eat vegetables so deer jerky is just fine for vegetarians to eat. Later in the day Max made a sort of off-handed, frustrated comment about not wanting to join the ranks of Corporate America. Sounding a bit like Muttley himself he muttered something about losing his soul in an office building.

I could chase rabbit trails in my mind forever with all the connections I make in moments like this. But I found it startling when in my 19th Century British Novel course I found this description of the Victorian working class: “If there was ever a time when the English masses approached a state of downright bestiality, it was then.”

I expect that you’re all good students of Victorian history, but just in case you’re not, here’s why Mr. Richard Altick would describe them in such a way: essentially the Industrial Revolution destabilized the centuries of unchanged cultural centers in a way that can only be described as “rapidly”. In order to find jobs men, women, and their families moved from towns to ramshackle urban tenements and lost most of their sense of individuality and worth in the 16 hour work days in dim, poorly ventilated factories.

Now, rapid change is something that we of the iPod generation are very familiar with. But for the Victorians a jump from travel at 10 mph via horse drawn coach to 35 mph by steam train caused some to declare moving at that speed dangerous to one’s health. It’s quaint to think about now, sure, and watching Pride & Prejudice (no matter the version) inspires feelings of nostalgia. Yet, these dear, “quaint” Victorians were really the first group to experience a modern age. Along with steam power came all sorts of feelings of disillusionment, purposelessness, and life expectancy of only the early-mid 20s for the average working man. (Guys, in Victorian England, I would likely already be dead, and probably leaving behind some 3 or 4 orphans.)

Granted, life expectancy, working conditions, and housing have improved some. But the feelings of disenfranchisement, disillusionment, and loss of personal identity have only increased. Modern man has developed psychosis of losing himself within the machines he created to ease his workload. We consider it slightly absurd and comical when an undergrad says their life is over because their computer has crashed along with their “entire life,” (not to mention the addictive nature of Smartphones that gets them dubbed things like “crackberry”), but it isn’t comical. It’s desperately pathetic.

And here we find Thoreau, who 156 years ago created one of my favorite melancholy quotes, “The mass of men lead quiet lives of desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.” Not much has changed in 156 years my  dear, quaint Victorian. But I will be different. And now thanks to Michael I plan on living long enough to have an airbus or blimp.

All Things for All People

I was introduced to the phrase “all things for all people” about ten years ago in the auditorium of Covenant College up on a mountain in Tennessee. It wasn’t just a phrase, it was the name of the drama team that was part of the Student Life camp. They really were a little bit of everything: planned comedy in the mornings, serious drama at night, improv during the late night blitz… literally, all things.

Three years ago, when I worked with Student Life I spent a lot of time with the AT2AP actors. They are still some of the most diversely talented people I know. It blew my mind to watch them perform essentially the same things for 12 weeks and bring a level of energy and freshness to each performance. I consider myself a sort of artistic kid and I could appreciate the doors they opened for some of the students to be captured by the message. I know at 14 it was often the drama troupe that spoke more to me… though Wade Davis was a wonderful speaker and I did learn a lot from him as well.

This morning I was spending some time in thought. I’m not sure what that’s like for other people, since I can’t really get into other people’s brains, but for me it’s sort of like wandering through a knick-knack shop filled with all sorts of objects. These objects can range from the things going on in my life, to things I’ve learned recently,  or weird factoids that have gotten caught in my mind, and odd things I’ve imagined that need a home. Contemplation is sort of like wandering through the shop picking up various things until I find one I want to spend some time with.

Today’s object was a conversation I had with a dear friend named Chelsea who recently told me about two very popular food companies that use their resources to fund nefarious projects. If I remember correctly one of our favourite Hummus brands funds the Pakistanis’ fighting effort and a popular fast food chain uses their resources to fund legislation that negatively affects human rights. She was telling me that though she thinks one person abstaining from these two companies will hardly be felt by them it’s something she has to do. It’s called personal integrity, and I’m a fan of it, which I told her.

Since that conversation I’ve been faced with what I will do with this information. I probably won’t buy Sabra hummus anymore. I don’t want to consciously put my money into the hands of someone running a war (I can’t really avoid taxes, though, so there’s that). And if I continue to live a vegetarian lifestyle then I won’t have much cause to go to that fast food restaurant. But it’s more a convenient avoidance than a conscious decision to no longer support them.

The thing is, most places aren’t just what they appear on the  surface; a hummus brand isn’t just a hummus brand, a convenient store isn’t just a convenient store. Sometimes they’re very bad for America, or the family unit, or the collective self-image of teenagers. There are many stores and aspects of our consumer driven society that are much more devious just past the shiny veneer of their first layer. Most days it’s easy to glide along, pretending we’re blissfully unaware of this devious nature. But then something is illuminated, and that “blissful ignorance” is interrupted and a decision must be made. No longer can you be all things to all people. Sometimes you can only be some things for some people.

Today, I will attempt to be an advocate for someone with less rights and resources than me, because were our positions reversed I would hope they would extend the same courtesy. And that’s all I can really do.

 

01.11.11 EDIT: upon suggestion I looked more into the hummus situation. Turns out I was incorrect about which country/fighting effort Sabra was funding. Silly me for not fact checking before word-vomiting. Turns out Sabra supports the “infrastructure of occupation” or two elite branches of the Israeli military that have some shady dealings with the West Bank and have been charged with abusing Palestinian rights. Which, you know brings a whole new level of concern to the whole thing for me. And more contemplation. Here’s something about the boycott and here’s a snapshot of  Sabra’s website from October 31, 2010.

What I said about not wanting to fund a war holds true for not wanting to fund infringement on human rights. I have more control over the things I buy than I do how my taxes are appropriated. Sabra is an Israeli company supporting their own military… sort of like Starbucks and our soldiers. It’s a tricky business. And learning more about this after publishing this post is a good lesson in looking further into issues before creating an opinion.

I will continue to attempt to be an advocate for someone in hopes that were our roles reversed they would do the same for me.