Underground Political Society

            I recently attended an hour-long panel discussion of political professionals at SMU, and I thoroughly believe I have solved the mystery as to where all of our noble and virtuous politicians are hiding.

            I love politics. Ever since I can remember, I loved watching the nightly news with my family. I waited for the big news story from Washington or Austin. I’ve always been captivated by the principle of politics. Politicians have earned the respect of their constituents and they enforce a mission that the Founding Fathers began over 200 years ago. It always seemed so honorable to be chosen to ascend to such a position. That was when I began to consider a career in politics.

            In the years since, my commitment has not waivered. I continue to monitor political happenings both in Washington and Austin. However, my attitudes and opinions have begun to shift. For one thing, it’s incredibly difficult to find any politician who is not positively obsessed with his or her re-election. Yes, it is important to listen to your constituents in order to most accurately represent their interests. However, your constituents should be at the very core of all of your decisions. Every vote, every piece of legislation that you put your name on- it needs to be done with those constituents in mind. Not lobbyists. Not arm-twisters. Not even party lines.

            That’s I find the root of this problem. I knew coming in to SMU that I wanted to be a Political Science and each time I announce that, I am hit with the question “Oh, so you want to go to law school?” to which I answer “No.” (I ruled out law school a long time ago- my opinions are not for sale and I would have a terrible time representing clients who were of a different opinion.) The prompt reply is “Then you must want to be a politician?”, and for a long time, the answer was a “Maybe,” or a “We’ll see.” However, given the recent news coming from Washington, I’ve decided that I could never be a politician either. Sadly (and ironically), they’ve become too much like lawyers. Their opinions are constantly for sale, and they’re even less willing to compromise, particularly across the aisle.

            I have been interested in and fascinated by politics my whole life. I genuinely desired to be a politician. I have a desire to be a public servant. I would be a well-qualified candidate, and I fit the descriptions given at the panel- willing to work hard, character to stand up and do the right thing. Here’s the problem: if a textbook candidate like myself doesn’t feel comfortable entering Washington in its current state, then who does?

            Put simply, the wrong types of people. People who care exclusively about money and power and re-elections and not about the goals and missions set forth by our Founding Fathers all those years ago. Washington “insiders” aren’t insiders at all- they’re people with the power to manipulate and get what they want. Until we find a way to reverse this trend, and bring honesty back to Washington, the true politicians will remain as far from Washington as possible.

Solitude and Sickness

            I have an immune system of steel. Seriously, I can go months without an illness. But when I do get sick, I am critically ill and out for at least two or three days. I got sick over Spring Break (go figure), and thankfully I was home. But the end of Spring Break hit too soon, and now I’m recovering at school. That’s a brutal transition, let me tell ya, and I’ve come up with the top 5 reasons why being sick away from home is quite possibly one of the worst feelings in life.

(1)  No one reminds you when to take your medication

I can’t tell you how many times this week I have started to feel terrible, and I think “When was the last time I popped an Advil?” and it was yesterday.

(2)  No one listens to your complaints

Yeah, being sick sucks. I’ve had plenty of people ask what they do to help, can they bring me anything, etc. But they don’t actually care how you’re doing. They don’t ask how your head feels, or if you’re fever has gone down. They have their own lives to keep them busy. They don’t remember the minute details of yours.

(3)  No one checks in on you

If you want to lay in your bed for 48 hours straight, go for it. No one is going to notice. Except if you have things you’re supposed to be at. Then they pay attention. No one asks if you want something to drink, or what you’ve had to eat. You go get it if you’re hungry or thirsty.

(4)  It becomes extraordinarily difficult to tell how sincere people are

Random people can tell you’re sick, and they’re constantly telling you to let them know if you need something. These people are just popping out of the woodwork- how do you know if they’re being genuine or not? You’re also in your medication-induced haze, and that makes it even harder.

(5)  You’re alone for extended periods of time

Some people might like this. I don’t. I need to spend time with other people and be busy. I don’t like being left alone with my thoughts. So when I’m left alone to wallow in my germs and my only thought is how my head feels like it’s constantly being slammed in a door, life’s pretty miserable.

            Maybe I was a spoiled kid and now I’m just a spoiled and whiny one, but my mom did all these things for me. Fed me, talked to me, brought me pain pills. It’s hard to leave home and go back to a place where people offer to help, but no one who comes close to being your mom. That’s why I will argue any day that being dreadfully ill and alone is one of the worst things to ever happen to me.

Hypocrisy on Bourbon Street

Every year, I am alternately fascinated and perplexed by Mardi Gras. I’m from an old Cajun family, and it’s always been a deep tradition. But I’ve never been to New Orleans. As a lifetime Houstonian, I’ve only ever been to the much smaller celebration on Galveston Island.  Why? Why, as a Cajun and Catholic, have I never been to Mardi Gras?

Okay, so I never actually made the decision to go or not go. My mom wasn’t going, and therefore, I was not going either. But I still saw all the news stories and caught all the headlines. Even from the perspective of a ten-year-old, the pictures and music and throngs of people looked like a good time. I didn’t understand why we never went. I even understood why Mardi Gras was happening from my Catechism classes. It was always right before Ash Wednesday, which was the start of the Lent season when I would give up some arbitrary item to indicate my lack of attachment to the physical world and focus on my spiritual health.

Enter the celebration of Mardi Gras. To prepare for this forty-day sacrifice,  everyone heads down to New Orlens to indulge themselves.  Therefore, since I would also be participating in Lent, I should also attend this celebration. Thus  completing the logical reasoning of my ten-year-old self.

As I grew older, I realized how deluded my reasoning was. Mardi Gras appears to have lost most of its religious context. It has turned into a reason for people of all denominations to fill the streets of New Orleans and engage in a weekend full of indulgence for no apparent reason.

I don’t so much mind that that’s what has become of Mardi Gras. If it attracts huge crowds and is good for business, go for it by all means. What bothers me is that it’s still called Mardi Gras and maintains a connection to the Catholic church. Catholics began as a minority in this country, and they’ve shared in the same difficulties as other minorities. And now Mardi Gras, a preparation for one of their most holy holidays, has strayed so far from its original purpose to include people who have never set foot in a Catholic mass.  That’s my real problem, I guess. If you’re going to celebrate Mardi Gras, you don’t have to Catholic. Just be reverent and respectful of it as a tradition and understand the sacrifices that were made to get it to such a nationally accepted status.