Bet you didn't know there even were degrees of separation between the revolution and me. Not because the revolution and I are inseparable, but because you can't have degrees of separation when things are simply utterly unconnected. Me, I am a child of the corporate 80s and complacent 90s and if I am a revolutionary, well, then my mom's a revolutionary, and she's not.
I just finished watching the excellent documentary The Weather Underground, about, yes, the Weather Underground. It was quite good. It blew my mind slightly: I grew up thinking of nearly everything that the 60s and 70s produced as out of touch, ineffectual, irrelevant, and ludicrous. Which is not to say that the Weathermen may not have been out of touch or ineffectual -- that's somewhat beyond me to say -- but I don't now have the impression they were irrelevant or ludicrous. [Edit: if it looks like I have rearranged my adjectives, that is because, on careful consideration, I have.] That they had clear and resolute ideas about what was going on around them, that they saw themselves not as an idealistic fluke but as simply the first to choose sides in an actual revolution that was actually supposed to happen, was to me a total shock. That surprise right there, that's the 80s talking. But this is not the point.
The point is that, in the credits of this excellent documentary, the film's creators thanked someone who just sent me a letter.
Weather Underground, organization
Weather Underground, documentary
Vanessa Renwick, filmmaker, Oregon Department of Kick Ass
My desk. Observe.
I periodically Google "wear your fucking helmet" to see if anyone has started talking about my stickers yet, and in six months the internet has given me exactly one mention. It popped up some time ago, and, with all the enthusiasm of a person who believes she's gotten her first mention of many instead of her first and only, I Googled the commenter, tracked her to her awesomely-named independent filmmaking enterprise, and mailed her a sticker. Between then and now she replied, sending me a nice thank-you note on awesome stationery with a sticker of her own (I'm still deciding what to do with it).
There you go: my credentials neatly arranged in a single frame. I'd say "let me show you my credentials" if I didn't think it sounded dirty. And now, if you'll excuse me, this nearly-being-connected-to-the-revolution is exhausting; I need to eat a bagel and go to bed.Posted by dianna at March 29, 2008 11:10 PM