September 6, 2010
Presidents are judged rhetorically on their inaugural addresses.
A first inaugural involves the obvious pressures of speaking, for the first time, as commander-in-chief, priest of our national civil religion, and the ultimate sole authority and center of power in the United States of America. Of course there are the appropriate balances of power within the executive, legislative, and judicial branches, but when the president speaks, we as citizens view him (or her, of course, but for the sake of argument we will refer to past presidents) as speaking for our nation, to our nation, as the representative authority of our nation.
However, it is the second inaugural which carries more weight. Some presidents do not receive this luxury. To give a second inaugural, he must survive (mostly politically, but also physically and emotionally) four years of intense pressure, scrutiny, and the events of the world. He must convince the American people he is worthy of reelection, worthy again of their trust. He must defend his actions and decisions from the past four years against his opponent. And then, if and when he is elected to a second term, he must give the people something even better, greater, further reaching and visionary, braver and stronger and deeper. The first inaugural sets the standard; the second must far surpass it.
Since the unifying theme of this blog is presidential rhetoric and my study of it, I began almost a year and a half ago with this inaugural address. I had just been rejected from grad school but told I should take some classes to “get my feet wet” and then reapply the following year. Disappointment has its various stages, and this blog emerged at the top of what we might call the disappointed yet determined dialectic.
1. Embarrassment + Anger + Emotional Letdown = Wanting To Curl Up And Hide Under The Bed (WTCUAHUTB)
2. WTCUAHUTB + Feeling Like You Put Yourself Out There And Got Rejected = Scene Incredibly Similar to Julie when She Attempts to Truss the Chicken
3. Above Scene + Supportive, Encouraging, Grounded Husband Who Knows How To Handle You In These Situations = “You Should Write A Blog”
4. “You Should Write A Blog” and A Husband Who Brainstorms For Days On What You Should Call It = Rhetorical Expressions
In all honesty, I started writing with this goal of grad school in mind, but I really thought that having something rhetorically-related to focus on would help me get rid of my itch and later cope when the rejection letter came the following year. I just needed to get the “grad-school-wanna-be” dream out of my system.
But now it’s 18 months later and here I am. I’m humbled, astounded, still in shock, terrified, a bit queasy, and also really hoping my bus doesn’t crash on the way to my first day of school. There’s a part of me that feels like this blog has served its purpose. It distracted me, challenged me, and even though it didn’t get rid of my itch, I think I’m okay with that. And then there’s another part of me that says, “Isn’t blogging narcissistic? Why spend all this time writing about yourself?”
Such questions have made me pause and consider the purpose of Rhetorical Expressions now, here in this new chapter of life and the new adventure which is beginning. And so, dear reader, here is my rough plan for this new “term”:
- Provide a glimpse into the books, papers, relationships, classes, colleagues, professors, debates, questions, joys, struggles, and everyday-ness of grad school life at a public university in the Midwest.
- Attempt to convince you that rhetoric really does matter and is not something which existed in Ancient Greece or Rome.
- Help you to skim the surface of the classes I’m taking / teaching full-time, so that by the time this semester is over you will have learned something about critical media studies, public speaking, the rhetoric of pop culture, and modern rhetorical theorists.
- Make you laugh. Laughter is good for the soul, and I am very sure I’ll need to make a habit of it if all the grad-school-scare-stories are true.
- Reflect on God’s goodness and grace. In the end, all of this is not about me — it is about Jesus. If we are to glorify God “in whatever you eat, drink, and whatever you do,” then He will and must be honored in grad school, in rhetoric, in teaching and taking classes. Nothing is to big or small for Him.
