From Death, I Return; or, I dreamed of Sonia Sotomayor

Wow it's been a long time since I've posted anything on my blog and I continue to be impressed by how many many people have commented on my pitiful few postings. What can I say, I've been busy. The 2009 Louisiana Legislative gavelled to order on April 27th and at the same time I died. Not the kind of death that turns you back into worm food, but a Catholic kind of death in which one lingers in some weird purgatory of endless committee meetings and mindless deliberations on such issues as whether or not Louisiana needs to do more to protect the freedom of religion in the state (The answer is yes, according the votes of our legislators) or whether we should appeal the motorcycle helmet law (an issue which rumbles through every legislative session since it's repeal several years ago, and which will return next I'm sure, as it failed). Yes, there was a budget shortfall of somewhere around $1.3 billion and yes, there will be more budget troubles in the upcoming year, but that's not the issue that consumed most of the time and energy of the session. I don't want to say much here about political issues because I can get fired--you can ask me my opinion when I see you. But I don't really need to because the 2009 Legislative Session ended in the glorious spectacle of Hurricane Chris performing his best-selling rap song "Halle Berry (She Fine)" before the House of Representatives. Mr. Chris was called to the floor by his godmother, Representative Barbara Norton (D-Shreveport) who asked for a "Pernt" of Order for Personal Privilege and then introduced the young rap star. I'll post the first two stanzas:

Bow bow
Bow bow bow
Bow bow
Bow bow bow
Bow bow
Bow bow bow
Hurricane
Bow bow
Bow bow bow
Bow bow
Bow bow bow

Bum bum bum
Bum bum bum
Bum bum bum
Bum bum bum

And with those opening lines, Hurricane Chris artistically and accurately captured the political rhetoric of this past legislative session. It was wonderous.



So what about me, the walking dead? Purgatory doesn't end with a siren call in the form of a young rap star, nor did it end with the bang of the gavel at 6pm on June 25th. I stayed dead for a few days, including the following Monday (which I took off work) and the rest of the short holiday week (July 4th) in which I tried to purge the legislative demons by spending my time catching up on my reading (8 issues of the New Yorker behind!). No, I officially awoke from death just before the holiday when I was visited in my sleep by Sonia Sotomayor. I have been very interested in the future Supreme Court Justice, obviously because of her politics but also because I'm just fascinated with the Court in general and the possiblity of being vested with that sort of power--being the final word, the final opinion, having a lifetime appointment in which no one can remove you no matter how crazy you become, etc. (Maybe I'm even a little bit jealous?) Anyway, in the dream Sotomayor was just walking past me in some white moo moo dress and well, for supposedly being so brilliant and powerful she's really frumpy. I thought to myself in my dream, "Sonia, girl, you need to get rid of that dress and do something with that hair, you're about to be a Justice on the United States Supreme Court!" I guess her frumpiness had occurred to me in real life but I hadn't given it much thought. So, in my dream as I stood judging her in that moo moo, she looked my way but seemed not to notice. She just walked on by. In my insignificance, I was dismissed! And by such a homely looking chica! I tossed and turned, drenched in sweat, wrestled with the sheets and cried out, "I'm here Sonia Sotomayor! Look at me! I'm smart! I'm not frumpy!" And then I woke up. Not just from my dream but also from my purgatory. I awoke refreshed and renewed, with a new sense of purspose and direction. No more committee meetings this year, no more debating whether or not we should save higher education, no more wrangling over whether or not healthcare providers should be able to refuse to treat someone based on whether it violates their moral sensitivites. I am free!

So today is the first day of a string of months in which I don't have to worry about legislators and their bow bow bow bum bum bum-ing and instead can worry about me and what I love. Sonia Sotomayor came to me in a dream and showed me that I shouldn't be insignificant, that I need to cultivate the things I love (my book, my paintings, my realtionship with Chris). So these months of relative freedom I plan on doing just that. Look for more insightful postings on this blog, a book manuscript, several oil painting masterpieces, some great bread, and just all-around fabulousness--and I won't be no homely chica while I do it, either!