Thursday, March 04, 2010
When Driving through Georgia with Jersey Plates, Know This . . .
You're going to be asked two questions. First, a total stranger walking past as you climb out of your (rental) car will look you right in the eye and ask, "how you doing today?" Upon answering, you will then be asked the second question, "you're a long way from home, aren't you?" A third question that may or may not follow, depending on the situation, is this: "are you married?", which I always find a bit forward. Why not let that topic just come up in conversation on its own? What's the rush? Anyway, this basically sums up my experience driving a rental car with Jersey plates through Georgia and Alabama, my home state. In just a three-day journey, I was approached by at least as many people. Having never been on the receiving end of southern hospitality as an outsider, I was warmed by the friendliness of my people. But, on second thought, I think they just wanted to hear the accent, and hear one they did, though sadly not the exotic, northeastern dialect they were probably hoping for. I think I revert to my native tongue the second my plane reaches the delta. However, as one who grew up on a military base surrounded by many varieties of accents and dialects, I pride myself on my ability to alter my accent such that it mimics those around me. I think it was a survival skill I picked up along the way, like a chameleon changing the color of its skin to blend in with its surroundings. But when I'm totally relaxed, or when I'm headed home, my true local color resounds from my mouth (my boyfriend says it's redneck-like, which is neither flattering nor true). It usually takes a few days for the accent to wear off when I get back to Austin. It usually takes a few days to stop feeling lost and homesick, too.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
The 'Burbs
So, the other day I'm driving back from a friend's house, crossing the highway over the greenbelt and back into the city. The friend lives in a suburb at the southernmost part of town, not far, as the crow flies, but culturally leagues away from the heart of downtown. Many of the people I work with live out there and make this daily trek in to work. These 'burbs have everything you could want, a Target, Gold's Gym. It even has some of the things you'd find in the heart of Austin, some of the things that give Austin it's unique flair -- a Torchy's Tacos tucked into the corner of a limestone strip mall, next to a Costco. There's even a walking trail that winds around a grove of cedars. But still, something is lacking, you get the feeling (or at least I do), that something just isn't quite right. For one thing, it's too clean. The limestone exteriors of the strip malls are too pristine: they aren't weathered or worn. For another, with the exception of a lone retiree shuffling along the park path, there are no pedestrians, no kamikaze cyclists fighting for their share of the road. There are no siren wails or clock tower gongs, no jolly canines with tongues lolling out the sides of their mouths as they trot alongside their jogging partners. These things are the lifeblood of a city - they are what create the unique flavor of a place.
A suburb, on the other hand, is a fake city. It has the accoutrements, the facades, but no heartbeat. It is simply a manequin, a portrait, a reproduction. Not quite the city, but no longer the country, it is a limbo between heaven and hell, and a place where I could never live. In city or country, I could be happy; in heaven or hell, I can find my place, but not out there, not in fakeland. If I did, I'd probably go back to drinking and then die an untimely death.
A suburb, on the other hand, is a fake city. It has the accoutrements, the facades, but no heartbeat. It is simply a manequin, a portrait, a reproduction. Not quite the city, but no longer the country, it is a limbo between heaven and hell, and a place where I could never live. In city or country, I could be happy; in heaven or hell, I can find my place, but not out there, not in fakeland. If I did, I'd probably go back to drinking and then die an untimely death.
Friday, November 27, 2009
My NaNoWriMo Experience
So, after years of refusing the opportunity, this time I finally decided to take on the challenge of NaNoWriMo. 50,000 words in a month - and this around a full time plus overtime work schedule, a high-energy dog, a relationship which, at the very least, requires that I cook a meal every once in awhile, and various other responsibilities. Suffice it to say, the NaNoWriMo challenge is a rather daunting task.
Well, it is now November 27, 2009, Black Friday, and I'm at less than 20,000 words. I admit, I do feel a tinge of disappointment at not making it to the winner's circle, but only a tinge and here's why. For one thing, one would need to write 1666+ words per day to make the 50,000 word count. At my composing speed, this would require an average of 2 writing hours per day. Unfortunately, many of the chores of my weekdays do not end until around midnight, and at my age, I need my beauty sleep. The other reason is the writing process itself. For the first time, I allowed the writing to come first. I put the internal editor, who hates everything, to bed, with the promise that she could get to work after I'd reached the word count goal. This was a most-liberating experience - I just put words on the page. I even skipped the boring parts, telling myself I could go back and fill in those details later. Then, an interesting thing happened - my story - the ideas and outline for which I'd been tossing around in my head for a few years now - completely jumped the track. It has gone in a direction I didn't intend it to, but it works. This has presented another challenge, however, in that I wasn't sure where it would go next and this uncertainty was really blocking me. I had two to three different directions I could take, and wasn't sure which one would have the best outcome. So, last night I stopped and, with pen and paper, sketched out the logical course of events that would follow each particular course of action. One result/ending was too cheezy, one hit a wall, and one ending doesn't have the resolution a reader might be looking for, but it is the one most true to the intention of the story and the authenticity of the central character. Oddly enough, this was also the natural direction the story was trying to take, but I kept stopping it thinking, "No, no, no, this isn't what I wanted!" But, it's what the story wants to do, and so it shall. If, when I sit down and get back to writing, the story wants to go in a different direction than what I have worked out on paper, I will let it. I'm not going to force the story to do anything it does not want to do, I'm going to trust that, as it develops, it will go where it is supposed to go. This trust in the process of story development requires a lot of faith, and I think that is where the writer's block comes from - from not having faith in the writing process, in my subconscious, in a higher power or whatever. My point is, when writing, just sitting down and letting the ideas come forth, the story begins to take on a life of its own and I have to get out of the way and let it grow.
Well, it is now November 27, 2009, Black Friday, and I'm at less than 20,000 words. I admit, I do feel a tinge of disappointment at not making it to the winner's circle, but only a tinge and here's why. For one thing, one would need to write 1666+ words per day to make the 50,000 word count. At my composing speed, this would require an average of 2 writing hours per day. Unfortunately, many of the chores of my weekdays do not end until around midnight, and at my age, I need my beauty sleep. The other reason is the writing process itself. For the first time, I allowed the writing to come first. I put the internal editor, who hates everything, to bed, with the promise that she could get to work after I'd reached the word count goal. This was a most-liberating experience - I just put words on the page. I even skipped the boring parts, telling myself I could go back and fill in those details later. Then, an interesting thing happened - my story - the ideas and outline for which I'd been tossing around in my head for a few years now - completely jumped the track. It has gone in a direction I didn't intend it to, but it works. This has presented another challenge, however, in that I wasn't sure where it would go next and this uncertainty was really blocking me. I had two to three different directions I could take, and wasn't sure which one would have the best outcome. So, last night I stopped and, with pen and paper, sketched out the logical course of events that would follow each particular course of action. One result/ending was too cheezy, one hit a wall, and one ending doesn't have the resolution a reader might be looking for, but it is the one most true to the intention of the story and the authenticity of the central character. Oddly enough, this was also the natural direction the story was trying to take, but I kept stopping it thinking, "No, no, no, this isn't what I wanted!" But, it's what the story wants to do, and so it shall. If, when I sit down and get back to writing, the story wants to go in a different direction than what I have worked out on paper, I will let it. I'm not going to force the story to do anything it does not want to do, I'm going to trust that, as it develops, it will go where it is supposed to go. This trust in the process of story development requires a lot of faith, and I think that is where the writer's block comes from - from not having faith in the writing process, in my subconscious, in a higher power or whatever. My point is, when writing, just sitting down and letting the ideas come forth, the story begins to take on a life of its own and I have to get out of the way and let it grow.
Friday, July 04, 2008
Looking Both Ways
One of my boyfriend's greatest annoyances is people who jaywalk across busy streets whilst dragging a child along by the hand. I hadn't really noticed before the frequency with which parents taught their children these bad habits, but after my boyfriend started pointing them out (often by violently honking his horn at these "scofflaws"), I began to see them everywhere. I'm a bit of an armchair anthropologist, so when I become aware of a certain behavior, I want to know why it is performed. From probably pre-school onward, the following guidelines were grilled into me:
1. Look both ways before crossing the street.
2. Never run across the street.
3. Use the crosswalk and observe the stop/walk signals.
I would like to speak with the children of these dodge-and-dash runs to find out if they have been taught these same guidelines. I do recall that nearly all of my crosswalk safety training came from school, by teachers who were much more law-abiding, apparently, than my own parents. So perhaps these children are being drug across streets against their will - their cries of protest and admonitions on traffic safety falling on the deaf ears of their parents.
Most of the parents I see darting across the street with child in tow are older than me, so I am left to wonder: Was there an entire generation that missed out on traffic and crosswalk safety training? Was this training a concept not developed until the 1970's, as an offshoot of Sesame Street? Furthermore, I can't say that I have observed this behavior pattern anywhere else, so is this lackadaisical attitude toward the dangers of being hit by a car something unique to Austin?
I was pondering these very issues when I caught myself walking into the pathway through a parking lot, without stopping to check for traffic first. "Wait! What am I doing?" I thought to myself. Granted, this was a parking lot and not a busy street with a 40mph speed limit, but nevertheless traffic did flow through here and often rapidly enough to warrant at least a semi-cautious approach. So I stopped, glanced to my left, then to my right, and proceeded towards my destination. "When had I become so lackadaisical?" I thought. This thought was quickly followed by the contrarian in my head, who always jumps to my defense when under the assault of that ever-present Self-criticism. "I didn't hear anything," it said defensively, "if a car had been coming, I would've heard it."
"What if it had been a quiet car, like one of those super-quiet electric cars?" Self-criticism countered.
"Then I would've seen it with my peripheral vision." The contrarian retorted.
"In time to avoid collision?" Self-criticism asked, eyebrow raised.
The contrarian stuck out her bottom lip, sulking. Self-criticism wins again.
Once all of that was over with, I was free to wonder how my sense of self-preservation had become so, well, slack. I started to tally it up. Used-to-be, I wore my seat belt with an almost religious devotion. I couldn't even drive down the block without feeling naked if it weren't strapped across my chest. Nowadays, however, I find myself making short runs to the corner store and the supermarket and the video store without buckling in. So, what gives? Overconfidence? Laziness? I don't think that's it. For one thing, I've never been overconfident about anything in my life, and also, how much energy does it take to reach over your shoulder, across your body, and snap in a simple device? Not much. No, I think the answer lies in the nature of these trips, these "short runs" to complete errands. The answer, then, is time or, rather, a lack thereof. It seems that we have become so busy in our daily routines, trying to get everything done in one day, that we are willing to risk our lives just so we can check off all of the action items on our lists. I can really only speak for myself, but I know my own life seems to acquire more responsibilities with each passing day, and I don't even have children - it's just me (and my cat) that I am responsible for. I can't imagine also tacking on the responsibilities of parenthood to my chore list. So these parents I see, dashing across the middle of busy streets, not even in a crosswalk, dragging their children along behind them, are probably also in a mad rush to get to the store before it closes or pick the dry cleaning or whatever. But is all this risk worth it? No, it is not. We need to slow down. The dry cleaning can wait till tomorrow, or the next day if need be. Who cares? Isn't it better to make it home, in one piece, than to return the video on time? We should really look at it this way: how much time are we saving if we have to make a trip to the emergency room and spend a long stay in a hospital recovering from an accident? In the long run, you wayward parents out there, it's much faster to just walk a little further down the street to the crosswalk, and wait for the walk signal. As for me, rather than getting in such a hurry that I skip the seat belt, I'm going to take my time and take my bike on any short errands. It may not be any safer in Austin traffic than driving without my seatbelt, but at least I'm getting some exercise and reducing my carbon footprint while I'm at it!
1. Look both ways before crossing the street.
2. Never run across the street.
3. Use the crosswalk and observe the stop/walk signals.
I would like to speak with the children of these dodge-and-dash runs to find out if they have been taught these same guidelines. I do recall that nearly all of my crosswalk safety training came from school, by teachers who were much more law-abiding, apparently, than my own parents. So perhaps these children are being drug across streets against their will - their cries of protest and admonitions on traffic safety falling on the deaf ears of their parents.
Most of the parents I see darting across the street with child in tow are older than me, so I am left to wonder: Was there an entire generation that missed out on traffic and crosswalk safety training? Was this training a concept not developed until the 1970's, as an offshoot of Sesame Street? Furthermore, I can't say that I have observed this behavior pattern anywhere else, so is this lackadaisical attitude toward the dangers of being hit by a car something unique to Austin?
I was pondering these very issues when I caught myself walking into the pathway through a parking lot, without stopping to check for traffic first. "Wait! What am I doing?" I thought to myself. Granted, this was a parking lot and not a busy street with a 40mph speed limit, but nevertheless traffic did flow through here and often rapidly enough to warrant at least a semi-cautious approach. So I stopped, glanced to my left, then to my right, and proceeded towards my destination. "When had I become so lackadaisical?" I thought. This thought was quickly followed by the contrarian in my head, who always jumps to my defense when under the assault of that ever-present Self-criticism. "I didn't hear anything," it said defensively, "if a car had been coming, I would've heard it."
"What if it had been a quiet car, like one of those super-quiet electric cars?" Self-criticism countered.
"Then I would've seen it with my peripheral vision." The contrarian retorted.
"In time to avoid collision?" Self-criticism asked, eyebrow raised.
The contrarian stuck out her bottom lip, sulking. Self-criticism wins again.
Once all of that was over with, I was free to wonder how my sense of self-preservation had become so, well, slack. I started to tally it up. Used-to-be, I wore my seat belt with an almost religious devotion. I couldn't even drive down the block without feeling naked if it weren't strapped across my chest. Nowadays, however, I find myself making short runs to the corner store and the supermarket and the video store without buckling in. So, what gives? Overconfidence? Laziness? I don't think that's it. For one thing, I've never been overconfident about anything in my life, and also, how much energy does it take to reach over your shoulder, across your body, and snap in a simple device? Not much. No, I think the answer lies in the nature of these trips, these "short runs" to complete errands. The answer, then, is time or, rather, a lack thereof. It seems that we have become so busy in our daily routines, trying to get everything done in one day, that we are willing to risk our lives just so we can check off all of the action items on our lists. I can really only speak for myself, but I know my own life seems to acquire more responsibilities with each passing day, and I don't even have children - it's just me (and my cat) that I am responsible for. I can't imagine also tacking on the responsibilities of parenthood to my chore list. So these parents I see, dashing across the middle of busy streets, not even in a crosswalk, dragging their children along behind them, are probably also in a mad rush to get to the store before it closes or pick the dry cleaning or whatever. But is all this risk worth it? No, it is not. We need to slow down. The dry cleaning can wait till tomorrow, or the next day if need be. Who cares? Isn't it better to make it home, in one piece, than to return the video on time? We should really look at it this way: how much time are we saving if we have to make a trip to the emergency room and spend a long stay in a hospital recovering from an accident? In the long run, you wayward parents out there, it's much faster to just walk a little further down the street to the crosswalk, and wait for the walk signal. As for me, rather than getting in such a hurry that I skip the seat belt, I'm going to take my time and take my bike on any short errands. It may not be any safer in Austin traffic than driving without my seatbelt, but at least I'm getting some exercise and reducing my carbon footprint while I'm at it!
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Death Tolls and Tiaras
I had a dream about you. You were being hunted by a wolf. I followed its tracks in the snow and found you hiding out in the top of a sycamore tree, the wolf loping about the base beneath your feet. I climbed the tree and tried to comfort you, helped you down. We ran hand in hand to a cabin, locking the door behind us, just in time.
The cabin was completely empty - just one long, barren hallway. My bare feet were cold against the wooden planks of the floor. Through the window, we could see the wolf pacing back and forth across a snow bank. We knew we couldn't stay there for long. We knew that, eventually, we would have to make a run for it.
Carefully, you lifted the bar from across the door, slowly pushed it open. I could see a patch of snow on the ground - pristine, blinding, white. A million sparkling diamonds.
Then I woke up.
You were gone. You had already left for work. The empty space in the bed still held the indentation of your body next to me. I reached out from beneath the covers with my pale hand and pressed into the empty space to see if it still held the warmth of your body, but the sheets where had had lain were cold as a desert, a vast empty space, a fresh bank of snow.
I withdrew my hand and retreated beneath the covers. I had not yet opened my eyes when a bubble of static burst from the alarm clock radio. Forty more killed in Iraq. On a lighter note, the White House was holding a state dinner for the Queen of England. Formal attire is optional, but those wearing medals and tiaras won't be considered overdressed. At her last event, Her Majesty was unable to reach the microphone; therefore, a miniature lectern has been specially created to accomodate the petite monarch.
This is how my day began, with death tolls and tiaras.
The cabin was completely empty - just one long, barren hallway. My bare feet were cold against the wooden planks of the floor. Through the window, we could see the wolf pacing back and forth across a snow bank. We knew we couldn't stay there for long. We knew that, eventually, we would have to make a run for it.
Carefully, you lifted the bar from across the door, slowly pushed it open. I could see a patch of snow on the ground - pristine, blinding, white. A million sparkling diamonds.
Then I woke up.
You were gone. You had already left for work. The empty space in the bed still held the indentation of your body next to me. I reached out from beneath the covers with my pale hand and pressed into the empty space to see if it still held the warmth of your body, but the sheets where had had lain were cold as a desert, a vast empty space, a fresh bank of snow.
I withdrew my hand and retreated beneath the covers. I had not yet opened my eyes when a bubble of static burst from the alarm clock radio. Forty more killed in Iraq. On a lighter note, the White House was holding a state dinner for the Queen of England. Formal attire is optional, but those wearing medals and tiaras won't be considered overdressed. At her last event, Her Majesty was unable to reach the microphone; therefore, a miniature lectern has been specially created to accomodate the petite monarch.
This is how my day began, with death tolls and tiaras.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Trapped in a Bubble Gum Factory
When I was a kid, I used to love Bazooka Joe gum, mainly for the comic strips within the wrappers of each piece. The bottom of the comic contained a one-line fortune for your day -- the sort you find inside a fortune cookie. Anyway, every once and awhile, I'd get a piece with a fortune that read: "Help! I'm trapped in a bubble gum factory!" The first time I saw this, around the tender age of 8 or 9, I thought it was actually a cry for help. I envisioned some poor factory worker being held against his will, forced to crank out print after print of Bazooka Joe comic strips. And this secret message he sent out, probably made on the rare opportunity when the boss wasn't looking, was his only chance for escape. It was a message in a bottle, an S.O.S. I showed it to my parents - they assured me it was probably just a joke. But I was always skeptical. I am to this day, especially now that I'm older, and therefore get the irony.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one
In my senior year of high school, my school held a luncheon and awards ceremony in the cafeteria for graduating seniors. At the ceremony, one of my classmates sang "Imagine" by, well, you know who sang it first. It was a beautiful rendition, none of us had known we had such a gem among our graduating class, and by the end our eyes were filled with tears, our hearts swelled with joy for having reached this milestone and with hope for the exciting, unknowable future ahead. The year was 1992, just before Bill's first term in office. When he began campaigning, he was popular among many of us, including most of my friends, we found him personable, likable -- he seemed to offer us new alternatives - he seemed to care about some of the things we were taught to care about, having been raised on Sesame Street and occasionally lucky enough to have teachers still in touch with their hippie ideals: the environment, technology, education, human rights, a concern for the welfare of human beings the world over. I remember having favorable discussions about him, well into my college years. We were hopeful, we believed in the future he promised us. And for the most part, I think he did a damn fine job. As for NAFTA, well, nobody's perfect.
Unfortunately, the administration of the current Commander-in-Chief has cast a long and dark shadow over any of the progress made by the Clinton years. During the past seven years, we have been thrown into a dark age. I have hardly been able to turn on the radio or the news because of the reports from Iraq. I could hardly believe the things I was hearing from my fellow Americans. I began to lose all hope.
And then, when I began to fear all was lost, when I started signing up for language courses to go live in another country, I began to hear whispers of a name through the grassroots organizations; I began seeing this name in association with worthy causes, I began seeing this person in YouTube videos talking about these causes. I've watched this campaign grow and gain strength and momentum. The leftists are worried he's too soft, too much of a dreamer, that the Republicans are going to "chew him up." Well, maybe that's how it is, but I think it's going to take a dreamer to yank us out of the muck of the past so that we are no longer stuck in tradition.
A friend of mine had one of those quotes as the electronic signature for her email. I'm butchering the hell out of it, but the gist of it was that it is more dangerous to cling to old ideas than to take a risk on new ones. I see Obama representing these new ideas - scary, risky - in the way that change always is, but for the first time in a long time, I have hope.
Friday night, midnight, laying in my bed, I could hear the tail end of the Obama rally 17 blocks away at the corner of 11th and Lavaca. The crowd cheered, fireworks burst, a booming voice over a loudspeaker, which may have been Obama's, drifted up into the chilly, starry night. And circulating within that rally, drifting down the streets and into the night, I could hear it - a battle cry, a call for change, a rhythmic, chanting heartbeat: "yes we can! yes we can! yes we can!"
Unfortunately, the administration of the current Commander-in-Chief has cast a long and dark shadow over any of the progress made by the Clinton years. During the past seven years, we have been thrown into a dark age. I have hardly been able to turn on the radio or the news because of the reports from Iraq. I could hardly believe the things I was hearing from my fellow Americans. I began to lose all hope.
And then, when I began to fear all was lost, when I started signing up for language courses to go live in another country, I began to hear whispers of a name through the grassroots organizations; I began seeing this name in association with worthy causes, I began seeing this person in YouTube videos talking about these causes. I've watched this campaign grow and gain strength and momentum. The leftists are worried he's too soft, too much of a dreamer, that the Republicans are going to "chew him up." Well, maybe that's how it is, but I think it's going to take a dreamer to yank us out of the muck of the past so that we are no longer stuck in tradition.
A friend of mine had one of those quotes as the electronic signature for her email. I'm butchering the hell out of it, but the gist of it was that it is more dangerous to cling to old ideas than to take a risk on new ones. I see Obama representing these new ideas - scary, risky - in the way that change always is, but for the first time in a long time, I have hope.
Friday night, midnight, laying in my bed, I could hear the tail end of the Obama rally 17 blocks away at the corner of 11th and Lavaca. The crowd cheered, fireworks burst, a booming voice over a loudspeaker, which may have been Obama's, drifted up into the chilly, starry night. And circulating within that rally, drifting down the streets and into the night, I could hear it - a battle cry, a call for change, a rhythmic, chanting heartbeat: "yes we can! yes we can! yes we can!"
Monday, February 25, 2008
Hope in My Heart
This is a little belated - so it may have lost some of the enthusiasm initially experienced, but the sentiment is still the same. Thursday night I watched the Democratic debates between Hillary and Obama at the University of Texas. I couldn't get tickets to attend the actual debate, but this was even better because I was able to watch it, live, from the comfort of my own home office chair while also working on Walter's scarf. Thus, I was able to experience my two favorite things at the same time - politics and knitting! It felt so perfect, and not only because of the knitting. This was the first debate I actually watched -- catching only the gist of all the others on NPR the following mornings, then awaiting the results of the state primaries from the same source or a news web page. But this one, being held in my home town, at the beginning of the primary in my home state, and therefore, my turn to show up at the state primary and make my voice heard, and not to mention, being the historic event that this whole election is, I came straight home from work and sat down to watch - resolving not to get up, not to answer the phone, not to even talk to my boyfriend until it was done. And that, dear friends, is exactly what I did. I was so moved by the whole experience - not just by what they were saying, those wild, radical, liberal ideas coming out of their mouths that I was emphatically nodding my head in agreement with, but in the commercial breaks in between, by the moments I took to pause and fantasize about what it would be like to have either of those two leading the country, serving as role models for millions of Americans like myself. In Hillary, we would find a strong and powerful leader - a female role model performing the most challenging and scrutinized role in American society. A woman president of the U.S. - can you imagine it? What kind of changes would this have on our society -- on our society's view of women and their place in the world, the man-woman debate, even on popular culture? On a personal level, I think that having a woman for president, any woman, would, to some degree, legitimize my own experience as a woman in the workplace. I think for the first time ever, I wouldn't feel like I was struggling alone - out there fighting on a front line that only women could see, hear or feel. Even when I've worked where there was a group of us - men and women working together for the same cause - it has always felt like a small group, and one that had to be absolutely perfect, flawless, fierce, and unfaltering, not letting our guard down for even a split-second lest the vagaries breach the stronghold. I think if a woman were elected president, even if just as an honorary position, like our current commander-in-chief, I can only imagine that this underlying feeling would change one-hundred fold, instantly, and overnight. I can also only imagine that it will be a similar experience for African Americans, as well as other minorities (such as women!) if Barack is elected president.
And race and gender issues aside, the candidates themselves present figures of character, intelligence and substance. Both appear sincerely compassionate about the state of our nation, human affairs (both locally and globally), the health of American citizens, to name a few of the issues they have been so heatedly arguing lately. So, with not only one but two candidates so closely representing the characteristics I want to see in our next Commander-in-Chief, how does a working girl like me decide where to cast her vote? Well, the decision has not been an easy one, but after much deliberation, rumination, discussion, and research, I have decided to cast my vote with hope.
While I have no doubt that Hillary is a mover and a shaker, and I am impressed with the goals of her health plan as well as the action items she provides for achieving those goals, in my heart I believe that America is long overdue for a changing of the guard. This is still a young century, times have changed, the world is changing and changing rapidly. A host of new and unforseeable challenges lie just up ahead and we need a leader with innovation, fresh ideas, unorthodox solutions. We need a leader who inspires hope in Americans, both old and young, and at least a blossoming curiosity with the rest of the world.
And race and gender issues aside, the candidates themselves present figures of character, intelligence and substance. Both appear sincerely compassionate about the state of our nation, human affairs (both locally and globally), the health of American citizens, to name a few of the issues they have been so heatedly arguing lately. So, with not only one but two candidates so closely representing the characteristics I want to see in our next Commander-in-Chief, how does a working girl like me decide where to cast her vote? Well, the decision has not been an easy one, but after much deliberation, rumination, discussion, and research, I have decided to cast my vote with hope.
While I have no doubt that Hillary is a mover and a shaker, and I am impressed with the goals of her health plan as well as the action items she provides for achieving those goals, in my heart I believe that America is long overdue for a changing of the guard. This is still a young century, times have changed, the world is changing and changing rapidly. A host of new and unforseeable challenges lie just up ahead and we need a leader with innovation, fresh ideas, unorthodox solutions. We need a leader who inspires hope in Americans, both old and young, and at least a blossoming curiosity with the rest of the world.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Photos - like I need another hobby!
I don't really know what to do with these - was just messing around.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Promises, promises
Really, I have no excuse. I've had my own computer for a week now, and before that, I've had full use of a borrowed laptop and yet, still, no posts. The last one is over a month old. Looks like this is going to be harder than I thought.
And speaking of harder than I thought, turns out it's not so easy building a fair trade wardrobe either. My goal was to only buy items from companies who supported fair wages - there are few. It looks like I'm not going to be able to take the all or nothing approach I was hoping for, but at least I'm trying. For Christmas I just broke down and did some shopping at Target - lack of time and resources sort of forced the issue. I did, however, buy a few things from my friend's sale of items she had purchased fairly and brought back from S. America in her many travels there.
Back from the holidays and determined to get back on track, I got online and did some shopping with Fair Indigo. So far, the experience has been fairly pleasant. The sizes tend to run a little large and it's also hard to judge how something is going to look by viewing an online picture, so I've had to send a few items back. The nice thing is that they try to make it easy by including a return form and shipping label in the package. What's not so great is that they also deduct the cost of postage from your refund or exchange, so if you return something you have to pay for shipping twice (a fixed price for returns, though, so if you have a bulk of items the cost of returning them is cheaper than the price of shipping them to you. On the other hand, if you're only sending one thing back, it's probably cheaper to take it to the post office yourself, and of course you always have that option.)
The clothes are just lovely, and well made. The 100% cotton blue jeans I purchased were the most comfortable things I've ever worn, even pre-washed. However, I bought a 10, which was just a bit too large, so I had to return them. I think the next size down would've fit like a glove, but they were sold out of my leg length (yes, they sell by waist and leg length, a real bonus for petites). The front part around the zipper was kind of pouchy, but not especially noticeable, just as described by one of the reviewers. Each item online has a space for product reviews by customers which are extremely helpful when trying to figure out what something is actually going to look like when worn. For the most part, the reviews are positive and my experience is that they are also pretty accurate. Something else you will find in reading the product reviews are references to discussions with customer service people - real live people! People answering questions and listening to suggestions. When I made my order, I received what seemed like a personalized email thank you from one of the store representatives. It's currently a small operation, with only one store in Madison, WI and of course the online store and catalog. Time magazine has more information about the company's origins.
The items were a bit pricey, so I only shopped from the sale page, which had plenty to choose from and considering the quality, not to mention that good feeling you get from supporting a good cause, it's a pretty good deal overall.
One thing I've learned as I have delved into this journey of responsible consumerism is that this is a much bigger issue than just fair wage alone. The short film on this website: http://www.storyofstuff.com/ provides a concise run down of what else is at stake here - namely, the health of our planet and the survival of its inhabitants.
And speaking of harder than I thought, turns out it's not so easy building a fair trade wardrobe either. My goal was to only buy items from companies who supported fair wages - there are few. It looks like I'm not going to be able to take the all or nothing approach I was hoping for, but at least I'm trying. For Christmas I just broke down and did some shopping at Target - lack of time and resources sort of forced the issue. I did, however, buy a few things from my friend's sale of items she had purchased fairly and brought back from S. America in her many travels there.
Back from the holidays and determined to get back on track, I got online and did some shopping with Fair Indigo. So far, the experience has been fairly pleasant. The sizes tend to run a little large and it's also hard to judge how something is going to look by viewing an online picture, so I've had to send a few items back. The nice thing is that they try to make it easy by including a return form and shipping label in the package. What's not so great is that they also deduct the cost of postage from your refund or exchange, so if you return something you have to pay for shipping twice (a fixed price for returns, though, so if you have a bulk of items the cost of returning them is cheaper than the price of shipping them to you. On the other hand, if you're only sending one thing back, it's probably cheaper to take it to the post office yourself, and of course you always have that option.)
The clothes are just lovely, and well made. The 100% cotton blue jeans I purchased were the most comfortable things I've ever worn, even pre-washed. However, I bought a 10, which was just a bit too large, so I had to return them. I think the next size down would've fit like a glove, but they were sold out of my leg length (yes, they sell by waist and leg length, a real bonus for petites). The front part around the zipper was kind of pouchy, but not especially noticeable, just as described by one of the reviewers. Each item online has a space for product reviews by customers which are extremely helpful when trying to figure out what something is actually going to look like when worn. For the most part, the reviews are positive and my experience is that they are also pretty accurate. Something else you will find in reading the product reviews are references to discussions with customer service people - real live people! People answering questions and listening to suggestions. When I made my order, I received what seemed like a personalized email thank you from one of the store representatives. It's currently a small operation, with only one store in Madison, WI and of course the online store and catalog. Time magazine has more information about the company's origins.
The items were a bit pricey, so I only shopped from the sale page, which had plenty to choose from and considering the quality, not to mention that good feeling you get from supporting a good cause, it's a pretty good deal overall.
One thing I've learned as I have delved into this journey of responsible consumerism is that this is a much bigger issue than just fair wage alone. The short film on this website: http://www.storyofstuff.com/ provides a concise run down of what else is at stake here - namely, the health of our planet and the survival of its inhabitants.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Stolen Moments
My poor, neglected blog. I had such high hopes for you. You were to be the holding pen for my ideas. thoughts, ramblings, and political interests. A launch pad for creative writing and a means of promoting completed works. Sadly, due to a job change, I had to return "my" laptop to my former employers just as my inspiration to use you began to grow. Now, here I am, with no computer of my own and only limited usage of boyfriend's computer - either late at night, when my energy levels are dropping, or five minutes here and there with boyfriend standing over my shoulder sending out "are you done yet?" vibes that hinder my concentration on you. Thus, you suffer. Your posts are old, outdated, and no longer reflect my current projects and state of emotions. I now see you as an ailing pet - withering away from some incurable malady and I am at my wit's end what to do. Alas, the Christmas holidays are fast approaching, soon to be gone, and then, oh! sweet mercy! the annual after-Christmas sales! Perhaps then, prices will be low enough, I will have savings enough, to buy a computer of my very own! We must hang on till then, dear blog, we must endure. Things could be worse - at least we still can have these little stolen moments in the meantime! They will have to sustain us until then. And then, I promise you, frequent posts as long as you are free! At least once a week but possibly, on occasion, even daily! Till then my dear blog, let me use these precious moments to tell you what's going on with me now . . .
I have made it my mission to be a conscientious consumer as much as is possible. Unforturnately, this means that I can't buy anything, and I mean anything! It seems that our entire nation is either made of corn products or made in China. The only item that seems readily available as a Made in USA product is a pair of socks. Yes, it seems the sock industry is alive and well in America. However, my goal is not so much to support the American labor market with its unions and labor laws and fair(er??) wages, but to not support the slave trade, er, I mean sweat shop industry. I have yet to look this up on the NOW website to see what they are doing to try to do away with this appalling means of production, but I hope, and to some degree I am sure, they are trying to take some action against it. Or, at least they should be, because it really is very much a woman's issue. Most of these sweat shops hire women & children - girls - because they are easier to control and the factory managers don't have to pay them as much as they would a male worker. Refer to the documentaries - China Blue and Made in China - I'm quoting actual factory owners and managers here. It's a pretty sad state of affairs - just as it was when this nation was industrializing (still doesn't make it okay though). So, in an attempt to not support this type of system, I thought I'd try a few alternatives. Here's what I've discovered so far:
First of all, you can forget about Target. Everything in there has the Made In China label on it, and since I don't know if (and seriously doubt that) Target is dealing only with Chinese factories that offer fair wages, I can't buy products from there - so, now where do I buy pj's?? Target does have a few cosmetic and bath items that are made in the USA and France (haven't heard anything about sweat shops in France), so I can shop there for mascara and deodorant.
TJ Maxx: Forget it!
J. Jill: this is a hard one for me because I've recently discovered this store and it has an excellent petite section. Pants that actually fit properly? Shirts that don't come down to my mid-thigh? No way!! I went in there this past week and started reading labels - Made in China, Made in Hong Kong, Turkey, India. I did find, and purchase, some very nice Made in USA products, though - 3 very nice pairs of socks (and the 4th pair was free!).
REI: Okay, I thought that, it being kind of a granola-ish store, it would be a fair trade type of company - ha! Made in China, Made in India etc., etc. I did find some Made in USA items and guess what? They were socks! So, I bought a pair. And, I have to confess, I did buy an REI sweater - it was made in China and on sale and it just turned cold here and I haven't bought a new sweater in a few years so I broke down and bought it. Hey, I'm human and I am weak!
I did a little searching on the Net and discovered Fair Indigo, a lovely website with some very nice, professional type of clothing that you could wear to the office. Their selection isn't huge, when I was looking at the website the other day they didn't have much by way of winter clothing, and the items are a bit pricey, but it seems like a good place to start. Another internet-based company is No Sweat, they have a lot of cute, hipster street clothes but not exactly the kind of stuff I wear and certainly not the kind of thing I would wear to the office. Next time I'm shopping for a hoodie, though, I'll make sure I check there first. There's another clothing website too but I can't remember the name of it, probably for the best though cause I thought the clothes were ugly and I'd hate to slam a fair trade organization. There's also American Apparel, which everyone mentions whenever I bring up fair trade shopping. Umm, that one isn't for me.
And of course, there's vintage! Even if it was originally made in a sweat shop, at least I'm recycling! That's not so bad - right? right? right?
Or, you could always make your own stuff. That's becoming more and more popular and, as a novice knitter & crocheter, I'm all for this one! Of course, the yarn or fabric or needles you use to make your own stuff are probably made in a sweat shop too, so I don't know how much we're helping there. It just seems impossible to not be a part of the problem, no matter what you do!
Okay, so this isn't going to be easy. But I'm not giving up! I don't think I can do the all or nothing approach I had in mind at the start, at least not right now, but I am definitely going to support those businesses and companies involved in fair trade efforts, and I'm going to make my own efforts to raise awareness and support fair trade as well. I will keep you posted and let you know how that goes. I will also start a separate section of this blog that lists links for fair trade stores, as I come across them.
I have made it my mission to be a conscientious consumer as much as is possible. Unforturnately, this means that I can't buy anything, and I mean anything! It seems that our entire nation is either made of corn products or made in China. The only item that seems readily available as a Made in USA product is a pair of socks. Yes, it seems the sock industry is alive and well in America. However, my goal is not so much to support the American labor market with its unions and labor laws and fair(er??) wages, but to not support the slave trade, er, I mean sweat shop industry. I have yet to look this up on the NOW website to see what they are doing to try to do away with this appalling means of production, but I hope, and to some degree I am sure, they are trying to take some action against it. Or, at least they should be, because it really is very much a woman's issue. Most of these sweat shops hire women & children - girls - because they are easier to control and the factory managers don't have to pay them as much as they would a male worker. Refer to the documentaries - China Blue and Made in China - I'm quoting actual factory owners and managers here. It's a pretty sad state of affairs - just as it was when this nation was industrializing (still doesn't make it okay though). So, in an attempt to not support this type of system, I thought I'd try a few alternatives. Here's what I've discovered so far:
First of all, you can forget about Target. Everything in there has the Made In China label on it, and since I don't know if (and seriously doubt that) Target is dealing only with Chinese factories that offer fair wages, I can't buy products from there - so, now where do I buy pj's?? Target does have a few cosmetic and bath items that are made in the USA and France (haven't heard anything about sweat shops in France), so I can shop there for mascara and deodorant.
TJ Maxx: Forget it!
J. Jill: this is a hard one for me because I've recently discovered this store and it has an excellent petite section. Pants that actually fit properly? Shirts that don't come down to my mid-thigh? No way!! I went in there this past week and started reading labels - Made in China, Made in Hong Kong, Turkey, India. I did find, and purchase, some very nice Made in USA products, though - 3 very nice pairs of socks (and the 4th pair was free!).
REI: Okay, I thought that, it being kind of a granola-ish store, it would be a fair trade type of company - ha! Made in China, Made in India etc., etc. I did find some Made in USA items and guess what? They were socks! So, I bought a pair. And, I have to confess, I did buy an REI sweater - it was made in China and on sale and it just turned cold here and I haven't bought a new sweater in a few years so I broke down and bought it. Hey, I'm human and I am weak!
I did a little searching on the Net and discovered Fair Indigo, a lovely website with some very nice, professional type of clothing that you could wear to the office. Their selection isn't huge, when I was looking at the website the other day they didn't have much by way of winter clothing, and the items are a bit pricey, but it seems like a good place to start. Another internet-based company is No Sweat, they have a lot of cute, hipster street clothes but not exactly the kind of stuff I wear and certainly not the kind of thing I would wear to the office. Next time I'm shopping for a hoodie, though, I'll make sure I check there first. There's another clothing website too but I can't remember the name of it, probably for the best though cause I thought the clothes were ugly and I'd hate to slam a fair trade organization. There's also American Apparel, which everyone mentions whenever I bring up fair trade shopping. Umm, that one isn't for me.
And of course, there's vintage! Even if it was originally made in a sweat shop, at least I'm recycling! That's not so bad - right? right? right?
Or, you could always make your own stuff. That's becoming more and more popular and, as a novice knitter & crocheter, I'm all for this one! Of course, the yarn or fabric or needles you use to make your own stuff are probably made in a sweat shop too, so I don't know how much we're helping there. It just seems impossible to not be a part of the problem, no matter what you do!
Okay, so this isn't going to be easy. But I'm not giving up! I don't think I can do the all or nothing approach I had in mind at the start, at least not right now, but I am definitely going to support those businesses and companies involved in fair trade efforts, and I'm going to make my own efforts to raise awareness and support fair trade as well. I will keep you posted and let you know how that goes. I will also start a separate section of this blog that lists links for fair trade stores, as I come across them.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Need More Love
This book is fascinating! I first opened Need More Love in the comic books store on N. Lamar after hearing an interview with the author, Aline Crumb, and her husband, the infamous Robert Crumb, on NPR a few months ago. From the moment I started reading, I couldn't put it down. My boyfriend had to drag me from the bookstore, and I continued stealing sneak peaks during every trip to BookPeople until finally my birthday rolled around and I received (from darling boyfriend) my own copy of the book. That was less than 2 weeks ago and I'm nearly finished. I've slowed down the pace to savor it a bit longer. Consisting of pages of Aline's comics and interspersed with old photographs, paintings, and pages of autobiographical narration, the book is a quick read only if you don't take the time to appreciate the artwork. In addition to her own drawings, the book includes those of her fellow female comic authors as well as those by her husband in the collaborative pieces they drew together. (Interesting their depictions of themselves in these pieces - she draws herself so much bigger than he does his character, as if to represent how much psychic space she fulfills in the relationship - a larger than life character).
More review to come . . .
Monday, May 01, 2006
Sunday, April 30, 2006
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