Saturday, June 12, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
there and back again
New York feels like love on crack. I had forgotten the dizziness, the loudness, the intensity, the indifference of this city. It's comforting to discover that my feet still know the well worn paths through the subway systems, onto the M104, through Columbia's campus. I'm actually sitting in Butler library, where I spent many, many caffeinated hours reaching for academic coherence, reading and writing. It's strange that everything is the same.
I feel almost like I've folded my life now--from last year's graduation here in NYC, I traveled to the great plains of South Dakota, to the incredible complexity of Chilean geography, to the rowhouses and urban gardens of DC, and back again here to the Upper West Side. A neat little packaged year, but not, really. I think sometimes I want to assure myself that places still exist, not just in my memory.
Anyways, stay posted for upcoming updates on my new adventures as a labor organizer for the SEIU--who knows what corners of the US I'll find myself in next.
I feel almost like I've folded my life now--from last year's graduation here in NYC, I traveled to the great plains of South Dakota, to the incredible complexity of Chilean geography, to the rowhouses and urban gardens of DC, and back again here to the Upper West Side. A neat little packaged year, but not, really. I think sometimes I want to assure myself that places still exist, not just in my memory.
Anyways, stay posted for upcoming updates on my new adventures as a labor organizer for the SEIU--who knows what corners of the US I'll find myself in next.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
where the heart is
Yesterday, I worked serving champagne and chocolates on a moonlit tour of Washington, D.C., which took place mainly on three large tour buses. I was listening to the very old tour guide recite the names of the museums as we drove by, thinking about how slaves built the Capitol and the White House, thinking about how different northwest is from southeast and Shaw from Dupont Circle, etc., and what kind of "tour" of DC these older white folks were getting, and I realized that at the end of the day I'm always going to reluctantly love DC, with all its idiosyncrasies and hypocrisies and absurd segregations and tame nightlife.
I also think that Maryland will always feel like home. If not the manicured suburbs and ridiculously competitive schools, at least the word, the name, knowing I'm in Maryland. I guess I have bought into this myth of home, that hearing about the Chesapeake and seeing the Maryland flag and looking for black eyed susans has rubbed off on me. And why shouldn't it? I think often immigrants and the children and even the grandchildren of immigrants don't get involved in local politics partly because they haven't seen themselves in the story of the place they live. Why should we take charge of something that we have never been a part of, and that often tokenizes minority participation and fundamentally silences alternate histories? But listen, even if I'm not a waterman living on an island, making my living off crabs and poling through small rivers, I still live in Maryland, and what I do is part of the life of Maryland, too. (Does re-writing a national/state story become part of writing it?)
Unless I get this job in Atlanta, and then perhaps I'll have to re-orient myself to Southern culture? Oh dear.
I also think that Maryland will always feel like home. If not the manicured suburbs and ridiculously competitive schools, at least the word, the name, knowing I'm in Maryland. I guess I have bought into this myth of home, that hearing about the Chesapeake and seeing the Maryland flag and looking for black eyed susans has rubbed off on me. And why shouldn't it? I think often immigrants and the children and even the grandchildren of immigrants don't get involved in local politics partly because they haven't seen themselves in the story of the place they live. Why should we take charge of something that we have never been a part of, and that often tokenizes minority participation and fundamentally silences alternate histories? But listen, even if I'm not a waterman living on an island, making my living off crabs and poling through small rivers, I still live in Maryland, and what I do is part of the life of Maryland, too. (Does re-writing a national/state story become part of writing it?)
Unless I get this job in Atlanta, and then perhaps I'll have to re-orient myself to Southern culture? Oh dear.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
delusion/disillusion
Definitely going from the almost absolute freedom of traveling alone with no real agenda but see cool things and meet new people and learn Spanish etc. to wearing a tuxedo+timbs (haha I can still rebel in little ways... kind of...), serving very rich people prosecco and prosciutto and oysters and crabcakes while trying to politely convince some organization to give me a lot of money if I show up to their office every day has depressed me a little. Nevertheless, some things, like having a real running partner (yay Pin-Yi!) and discovering the cheapness of Montgomery County liquor stores (six packs of good beer for $5!!!!) and sleeping in in my own bed are still happy. As are some of the ridiculous things I overhear while catering.
A few highlights:
1. "Number one rule in business school--always be prepared to wear a tie." This coming from a man whose being and pin-stripe suit exuded pretentiousness. I'm also hoping that he was wrong, that business schools are teaching people more than just how to wear expensive, conformist clothing.
2. "This is the best Asian in the whole world." Directed at a South Asian. Um. What? Really? What?
So tonight I worked at a fundraiser for the Children's Memorial Hospital, put on by the Board of Visitors. This is the second fundraiser I've worked at this part month. At both, I was astounded by the amount of (expensive!!) alcohol that was consumed and the amounts that people were throwing down. Granted, some were luxury items (I guess $6000 for a lunch for 30 catered by Susan Gage is reasonable in the ludicrous standards of today), but some were just extraordinary. For example, $500 for handprints made by small children.
But, both events were honoring children. One for a private school that apparently was considered by the Obamas, and the other for sick children at Children's Memorial Hospital. I still can't help but wonder at this trickle down method of redistribution. So, these very rich people who obviously have exceeding amounts of wealth beyond what is necessary for a basic or even luxurious lifestyle, attend an extravagant event--$100 bottles of wine from every inhabited continent, endless buffets featuring fresh seafood, premium beef/lamb/everything, 109825098109 kinds of dessert--and donate lots of money to the hospital. Ok, great. But how much damage has been done; and I'm not just talking about the waste, or the environmental expense of shipping and storing and preparing all of these foods, but about people's mentalities. That is, many people who no doubt are in positions of power will go home tonight thinking they did a good deed by diverting some of their preposterous incomes to a good cause, and never take a moment to think about the failures plaguing our health care system that will not be solved merely by providing some cash for continuing existing programs.
All right, I may be a little cynical after working a lot these past few weeks, but honestly, this lucrative business is clearly far from sustainable and yet persists, and I'm still part of it, because it still pays me well. God, I hate these cycles.
Anyways, to end on a positive note, at least I got to participate in the 2010 Runamuck DC, and ran through mud dressed as Dora the Explorer with three co-conspirators, amongst many other happily costumed runners. Good to know that there are people still willing to be crazy and muddy in this area.
A few highlights:
1. "Number one rule in business school--always be prepared to wear a tie." This coming from a man whose being and pin-stripe suit exuded pretentiousness. I'm also hoping that he was wrong, that business schools are teaching people more than just how to wear expensive, conformist clothing.
2. "This is the best Asian in the whole world." Directed at a South Asian. Um. What? Really? What?
So tonight I worked at a fundraiser for the Children's Memorial Hospital, put on by the Board of Visitors. This is the second fundraiser I've worked at this part month. At both, I was astounded by the amount of (expensive!!) alcohol that was consumed and the amounts that people were throwing down. Granted, some were luxury items (I guess $6000 for a lunch for 30 catered by Susan Gage is reasonable in the ludicrous standards of today), but some were just extraordinary. For example, $500 for handprints made by small children.
But, both events were honoring children. One for a private school that apparently was considered by the Obamas, and the other for sick children at Children's Memorial Hospital. I still can't help but wonder at this trickle down method of redistribution. So, these very rich people who obviously have exceeding amounts of wealth beyond what is necessary for a basic or even luxurious lifestyle, attend an extravagant event--$100 bottles of wine from every inhabited continent, endless buffets featuring fresh seafood, premium beef/lamb/everything, 109825098109 kinds of dessert--and donate lots of money to the hospital. Ok, great. But how much damage has been done; and I'm not just talking about the waste, or the environmental expense of shipping and storing and preparing all of these foods, but about people's mentalities. That is, many people who no doubt are in positions of power will go home tonight thinking they did a good deed by diverting some of their preposterous incomes to a good cause, and never take a moment to think about the failures plaguing our health care system that will not be solved merely by providing some cash for continuing existing programs.
All right, I may be a little cynical after working a lot these past few weeks, but honestly, this lucrative business is clearly far from sustainable and yet persists, and I'm still part of it, because it still pays me well. God, I hate these cycles.
Anyways, to end on a positive note, at least I got to participate in the 2010 Runamuck DC, and ran through mud dressed as Dora the Explorer with three co-conspirators, amongst many other happily costumed runners. Good to know that there are people still willing to be crazy and muddy in this area.
Monday, April 5, 2010
in between
While the spring air here is nostalgically reminding me of the spring air above Puerto Montt at Camping Anderson, a spot I stumbled across through the recommendation of a traveling friend which was absolutely gorgeous, perched above the bay, with the clearest air and a view of three volcanoes, I am still in Maryland and still looking for a job.
Yesterday, I saw a posting for a managerial position in Akron, Pennsylvania, and couldn't help but think only about the Office, picturing myself in an awkward small town with a delusional boss and absurd co-workers. Which might happen anywhere, but at least in DC or New York I could escape to an even more dysfunctional urban environment.
I swing between wonderfully optimistic at all the possibilities that Idealist.org and LionShare display so tantalizingly, to terribly depressed that I have to submit my entire life on a piece of ivory-colored (eco-friendly, ancient forest friendly, 100% recycled and recyclable, will actually produce more trees, magically) resume paper to random strangers who will determine my professional fate. So, it's been good to discover all the cool gardens and people talking about food access, but I just want someone to call me back already.
Yesterday, I saw a posting for a managerial position in Akron, Pennsylvania, and couldn't help but think only about the Office, picturing myself in an awkward small town with a delusional boss and absurd co-workers. Which might happen anywhere, but at least in DC or New York I could escape to an even more dysfunctional urban environment.
I swing between wonderfully optimistic at all the possibilities that Idealist.org and LionShare display so tantalizingly, to terribly depressed that I have to submit my entire life on a piece of ivory-colored (eco-friendly, ancient forest friendly, 100% recycled and recyclable, will actually produce more trees, magically) resume paper to random strangers who will determine my professional fate. So, it's been good to discover all the cool gardens and people talking about food access, but I just want someone to call me back already.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
city dreaming
Yesterday, on the way to CVS from my house, I was driving behind a Chevrolet Tahoe (for those who don't know, a large SUV) that had three lovely bumper stickers: 1. "Nope" in the Obama "hope" style; 2. MoM, on fire. Yes, with flames; and 3. "Socialism: A good idea until you run out of other people's money." (And the capitalism we have today is a great idea, until we run out of other people's cheap labor and lives.) I am definitively back in the suburbs.
To console myself, I will put up more pictures. These are pictures I actually took, as my family in Buenos Aires kindly lent me a camera for my week there. Oh, to walk city streets and hear Spanish again.
La Boca, a strange mix of extreme touristiness and somewhat sketchy neighborhood.
A work at the Proa Foundation in La Boca, where Jorge and I watched a storm descend on the port, and then had to take a bus that literally swam through flooded streets back.
Centro Cultural de Borges--which we originally entered this building to find... it was slightly confusing because the center is actually in the top levels of a massive shopping gallery, filled with Upper East Side style stores.
Cafe Tortoni, where Melody taught us how to conjugate vos, and where apparently famous people go. Many men in tuxes serving excellent coffee. (strange how high end places seem to always have men as servers instead of women.)
The Museo de Armas, a somewhat unsettling testament to the devices of war from all over the world. These are all the different ways we can kill each other.
Still working on the film pics...
To console myself, I will put up more pictures. These are pictures I actually took, as my family in Buenos Aires kindly lent me a camera for my week there. Oh, to walk city streets and hear Spanish again.
La Boca, a strange mix of extreme touristiness and somewhat sketchy neighborhood.
A work at the Proa Foundation in La Boca, where Jorge and I watched a storm descend on the port, and then had to take a bus that literally swam through flooded streets back.
Centro Cultural de Borges--which we originally entered this building to find... it was slightly confusing because the center is actually in the top levels of a massive shopping gallery, filled with Upper East Side style stores.
Cafe Tortoni, where Melody taught us how to conjugate vos, and where apparently famous people go. Many men in tuxes serving excellent coffee. (strange how high end places seem to always have men as servers instead of women.)
The Museo de Armas, a somewhat unsettling testament to the devices of war from all over the world. These are all the different ways we can kill each other.
Still working on the film pics...
Sunday, March 21, 2010
más imágenes
Chiloé, home of bruhas (witches), lots of rain, and myself for a month and a half--though I lived in Ancud, about an hour north of Castro, shown below (also from Dan and Clare):
This photo I stole from Gisselle, my roommate in Valpo last fall; it's from the beach in the Chiloé national park, where I felt like I had reached the edge of the world.
When I was sitting on the side of a gravel road in a small drizzle, a red truck picked me up on the way to Coyhaique. I ended up spending the whole day with Magdalena (what a name!), who actually knew my host in Coyhaique, her niece Daniela, and their friend Mimi. These photos are from Dani, and don't even begin to capture the enormity of Patagonian nature.
My exit from the Aisén region was a prolonged one--my journey on a boat was beautiful but ridiculously long. Fjords, etc., were pretty cool--something about mountains in mist gets me every time.
This photo I stole from Gisselle, my roommate in Valpo last fall; it's from the beach in the Chiloé national park, where I felt like I had reached the edge of the world.
When I was sitting on the side of a gravel road in a small drizzle, a red truck picked me up on the way to Coyhaique. I ended up spending the whole day with Magdalena (what a name!), who actually knew my host in Coyhaique, her niece Daniela, and their friend Mimi. These photos are from Dani, and don't even begin to capture the enormity of Patagonian nature.
My exit from the Aisén region was a prolonged one--my journey on a boat was beautiful but ridiculously long. Fjords, etc., were pretty cool--something about mountains in mist gets me every time.
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