2009 in review (cont.)

I suspect I'll do this a lot--review the past year--as it gives me a chance to do two of my favorite things: think about stuff, and try to make sense of it.

In so many ways, personally, it's been a great year.

I went to Australia and had an unforgettable experience there. There are moments--maybe I'm washing dishes (it happens every once in a while!), or trying to fall asleep, or silently cursing the driver in front of me who suddenly stopped to make a left but didn't use a turn signal--and I'm back down under. I'm nuzzling up to that stoned koala bear; I'm snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef. Megan and I are trying on fashion hats and picking out boomerangs.

In July I went to Paris with my brother and his (then) girlfriend. I so enjoyed showing him the sights I had loved as well as experiencing new parts of the city.

And I've continued to write pretty regularly. Actually, when I look at the monthly breakdown, in 2008 I was only writing an entry about every week or every other week. But in 2009, I went from two or three posts a month to ten or fifteen per month. The increase roughly corresponds with my switch from full-time library work to part time (lose benefits, gain writing time!) Whether I'm feeling depressed, excited, melancholy, nervous or even, every once in a while, happy, I've updated.

It's through writing and reading my posts that I came to realize that I want to enter an MFA program; I've realized that many times. (Though realizing something and acting on it are two completely different things... Pending post: "Goals for 2010!")

Someone recently tweeted that 2009 is the George Bush of years. Looking at national and international events of the past year, it's easy to see that. Me, I'm still floating a bit, bouncing off walls, watching, waiting so see if I'll land. Maybe not until 2012 or 2015 (or whatever year in the future) will I be able to see the significance of this year (or lack thereof).

2009 in review

Sometimes things take a while to sink in. Reality changes, but we don't recognize the paradigm shift until much later.

I watched an interview last week with a mom and her two children who were a part of a larger group of African-American mothers and daughters who went to see Disney's latest movie, "The Princess and the Frog." This was the first Disney movie to have an African-American protagonist, and the mom discussed how important it was for her daughters to see a princess who "looked like them." It wasn't that she wanted her daughters to grow up and become princesses but that she didn't want them to grow up thinking that their options were somehow limited because of the color of their skin. She brought up the experiment, first conducted in 1939 but then replicated many times thereafter, in which little girls who were African American preferred white dolls over black dolls. How sad, she suggested, that they thought the doll that looked most like them wasn't beautiful.

But our reality is changing, and the moral arc of the universe is bending. Until this year, we only had one image of what an American President could look like (Morgan Freeman notwithstanding). I'm reminded of a Langston Hughes poem, written in 1925, called, "I, Too, Sing America":

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

When I hear the rhetoric about "Real America," the unfounded challenges to Obama's nationality, I also hear the echoes of those who sent Hughes to eat in the kitchen. I think, aren't they ashamed? But those voices are on the wrong side of history and will slowly become more obsolete. I look back at this past year and think Obama has accomplished a great deal; once (and if) the noise dies down, we'll better recognize that.