What's in a Name?

So here it is, after weeks of promises, and only 4 months after starting my first blog; the debut of my second.

The reasons for this new blog are simple.
1) The premise of the old blog became obsolete.
2) I wanted to keep doing it.

Why I wanted to keep doing it (armchair psychology, or simple megalomania) is an interesting matter, but not one I'm willing to delve into here. Suffice to say that I enjoyed the added connection I had with you, my readers, and that I'm intrigued by both the processes of deeper analysis of the everyday assumptions, and the farcical treatment of accepted social norms.

See that? Grad schoolin' pays off already with these $30,000 words.

So what the hell is a Lame Texpatriot?

First, let it be known that I was born in Oklahoma. Not only that, I grew up there, spending 19 years or (or 2/3 of my life) therein. So when I tell you that I never felt like an Oklahoman, an Okie (from Muskogee or otherwise), or a Sooner, this is a case of self-identity. I am an Oklahoman in every way, except in how I choose to present myself to others. I even fit classic Okie stereotypes (an affinity for wind and wide open spaces, a genuine interest in meteorology, an inability to correctly pronounce foreign capitals - "Pray-guh"). Still, it took a couple years in a foreign land for me to find an identiy I felt comfortable associating with, and that I find most appealing upon my departure.

To be an ex-patriot Texan -hence Texpatriot-, one must first 1) be a Texan. 2) Not live in Texas.

I'm all aces on the later definition having recently transplanted to the least-Texan place on Earth - New York City! (*thanks Pace). As to the first, I started thinking of myself, grudgingly, as a Texan in fall 2004. Oddly, this was tied to national politics, and adversely to a character as closely tied to Texas as I wish to be distant from by association - George W Bush.

Having lived in Texas since 2000 as a student, I was living high on my Oklahoma Drivers License with my parents address still my only permanent residence. Then I graduated, got a place of my own, shifted my mail, pillar of the community, etc. What sealed the deal was that I needed to vote - and after my abortive Ralph Nader write-in ballot for the Oklahoma 2000 election, I knew absentee wasn't going to work. I needed to vote - in Texas. That required a TX drivers license, and with it the corresponding Texas Voter ID card. Don't let people tell you that a little paper can't tell you who you are - in my experience there is nothing more absolute. There's some poetic justice in it: I became a Texan (at least in name) in order to vote against George Bush (who is a Texan just in name himself).

Shockingly, as I spent more time in TX I grew more and more enamoured of the place, but the final blow was my summer 2008 Eurotrip. On this eye-opening 3 month adventure I went a lot of place, met a lot of people, and did a lot of thinking. But I did it all as a Texan. Rather than introduce myself as an American (or even Canadian as I was encouraged to do), I just came out with it. "Hi, my name's Ryan. I'm from Texas."

It's either sad or glorious testament to the power of American cultural imperialism that never, in 3 months of travel, did anyone ever ask, "where is texas?"

I won't lie, I conceived this plan from devious roots. I was laying claim to some social assumptions with this loaded association, and taking equal joy in the more positive innuendo (independent, stubborn, honest) as well as exquisite irony in the less desirable -and less accurate- connotations it carried (conservative, rural, simple).

Everywhere I went, people said things like, "I didn't know there were people like you in Texas." Not sure that was always a positive for me or the state, but it was a sentiment I savored.

As for "Lame," that's a harder explanation. Writ short, it attests to both my specific inter-Texan loyalty for San Antonio, and also for the continuing spirit of self-depricating humor with which I hope to both entertain you and enlighten myself.

The San Antonio aspect is an in-joke, and for those in-the-know my apologies, but it must be explained and I'll leave it to the comments for you to object to my version. There's a motto in Austin that declares, "Keep Austin Weird," in deference to that city's long-standing reputation for open-mindedness to the point of absurdity. The counter-point is that San Antonio, Austin's closest major neighbor at 90 miles, is the antithesis of Austin. It's not young, it's not cool, it's not weird. It's old, stoggy... lame.

Hence started a reactionary grassroots bumper sticker campaign to make a mockery of the Austinite charge, "Keep San Antonio Lame." In other words, "you hipsters can say (and smoke) what you like, but we love San Antonio just the way it is, and if that's what you call Lame, then so be it; Keep it Lame." I ascribe to this both in principle and it attitude, and I want to take some of both with me wherever I go.

Props should be paid to whoever was involved in the inception of this local gem of wisdom.

My purpose henceforth will be to keep you apprised of my limited travels and manifold travails as I make my way in this wide world. I reckon to do some thinking on subjects mundane and deep, and I'll pass those along not only for your amusement, but for your participation. These blogs allow comments, and by god I demand them.

So saddle on up and forgive the jargon. I'm here to keep your peace incomplete and your vision painfully impaired by pixelation. And for your trouble and patronage, I will be eternally grateful in the Texan manner of stoic, silent appreciation.

Ya'll take it easy.

Weber (on the Lame)