by Maristel Aguilar, intern in the Texas Legislative Study Group
I have had so much trouble getting myself to write this blog post. This experience has come to an end, so to speak, but the applicability to how it has shaped me as a person is just beginning.
There was one day last month where I sat through a House Committee on Appropriations meeting in awe of how something that was supposed to be transparent and understandable by the community was just…not. I needed an escape within the walls of the Capitol, so I found a bench in the Capitol Extension and turned on Spotify to my favorite band, Switchfoot. I listened and watched my surroundings as the lyrics “we were meant to live for so much more, have we lost ourselves” and “it’s hard to fly when your wings are tied” played in my ears and reached a place inside of me that had fallen asleep throughout this past year.
On that day, there were substantially more advocacy groups, student field trips and average people in the building. Some were there for tours and others to look around this historical and majestic building on their own. Some were on their best behavior and in their best outfits as they took deep breaths and prepared to enter committee rooms for their testimonies before intimidating legislators. Some held signs, sang songs and gathered in hopes that they would be heard and perhaps seen as more than just protesters. Others were on the phone sharing the results of hearings and frantically searching for more strategies.
At that moment, I just wanted something to make it all make sense. The false sense of urgency, intimidation, majesty, and grandeur that hides corruption like a freshly painted home with a completely rotted and cracked foundation, had taken me to a point of exhaustion and I needed clarity in that moment.
Then these lyrics played in my ears:
Welcome to the Holy City; the silver screen
Built with the lens of the low self esteem
A teenager’s plea for meaning and means
We’re selling the news
See, opinions are easier to swallow than facts
The greys instead of the whites and the blacks
If you shoot it too straight it won’t come back
We’re selling the news
See, money speaks volumes louder than words
And virtues with wings, maybe not quite at first
But salaries are paid with the eyes not the verbs
We’re selling the news
See, all men are equal; all is for sale
A powerful dog has been chasing his tale
The lowest common denominator prevails
We’re selling the news
America listens as the story is told
With the eye on the truth as the story unfolds
But the ratings determine which story was sold
We’re selling the news
Begging the question, mongering fears
Stroking the eyes and tickling ears
The truth is seldom just as it appears
We’re selling the news
Substance, oh, substance, where have you been?
You’ve been replaced by the masters of spin
Who make good looking books and write history in
We’re selling the news
The lines start to blur; I get so confused
They get shiny new models mixed up with the blues
They get binary code mixed up with abuse
The facts are simply one option to choose
When nothing is sacred, there’s nothing to lose
When nothing is sacred, all is consumed
We’re still on the air, it must be the truth
We’re selling the news
I wanna believe you, I wanna believe
But everything is in-between
The fact is fiction, the fact is fiction
Suspicion is the new religionArtist: Switchfoot
Up to that point I had felt like I was falling apart in so many ways. A toxic work environment, a falsely transparent committee and dealing with my own personal grief of losing my dad just a month before this experience began, all added up to not feeling quite like myself anymore. But these lyrics served as a reminder of where I was and how it needs to change. They served as a reminder for why I signed up for this experience in the first place. It was never about allowing it to destroy my hope, it was always about fueling my drive to impact lives. It was never about keeping my wound camouflaged, it was always about letting the light shine through the pain.
Because this is where people are truly found. They are found in their desperation and need to be seen, in the crossroads of their dreams and doubts, hopes and fears, and the search for more than just justified ends to a means. They are found in the very place where I was on that day in the Capitol extension, Where I Belong.
So, I may be heading into the next chapter a bit tired, but I am more hopeful than when I began. Not because of the building where I spent the past 140 days, but because this experience was a Beautiful Letdown.
I’m not sentimental
This skin and bones is a rental
And no one makes it out aliveFeels like we’re waiting, waiting
While our hearts are just breaking, breaking
Feels like we’ve been fighting against the tideUntil I die I’ll sing these songs
Still looking for a home
In a world where I belong
On that final day I die
I want to hold my head up high
I want to tell you that I tried
To live it like a songSong: Where I Belong
Artist: Switchfoot
Austin Legislative Internship Program 