In Transit

The Gossip.

I headed down to Lawrence last night to see the much anticipated Sleater-Kinney concert, and was completely surprised to find that the opening band stole the show. The Gossip gave an awesome performance--if the witty in-between-songs banter and the sexy tatooed lesbian drummer don't convince you, their somewhat bluesy-punk Arkansas soul-belting songs surely will. They were full of energy and you could see how much they were pouring into each song. And did I mention the drummer? Yeah.

If they're coming to your area, do yourself a favor and see the show. Sleater-Kinney rocked as well, but there were a few technical cliches that made their music unbearably loud in that small of a venue-it was hard to even distinquish between vocals and guitar, and the crowd wasn't feeling it. 

Anyhoo, I'll be listening to Fire Sign until their cd arrives, which will hopefully be here before my trip to St. Louis next weekend.

No Takebacks!

When I was a child, I really enjoyed the little things about adults. Oddball that I was (am), I thought it'd be so cool to grow up and have to hold paper shopping bags while wrestling your keys into the door, study out of a real hard covered text and then jot down tidbits in a notebook, and wear men's oversized shirts around the house (shut it--it was the 80's and I watched a lot of Dallas), in addition of course to having money and going where ever you want and being able to drink.

As happens with most dreams, I realized that being an adult may not be quite as thrilling as I first assumed. Who the hell ever thought going to grad school full time while working full time would be FUN? Now I 1) have little money 2)don't have time or aforementioned money to go anywhere and 3) can only afford bottom of the well drinks (we're talking $5/handle rubbing alcohol).  I do manage to have a social life (the group I'm surrounded by self-admittedly looks like a sloshed version of an after school special), but I'm looking forward to the day when I can burn my research methods book, sleep in on weekends, and hopefully, one day, not exist with a constant sense of guilt that there is surely something more productive I could be doing at night than sleeping.

This over-bearing sense that I was a bit hasty to step into the "real" world is compounded by the fact that I am increasingly spending more of my time in high schools, facilitating youth programs. Not that I would want to be in high school again, EVER, but it does make me reminisce over all of the free time I used to have.

And just so you know, one of the scariest things you can do is to stand in front of a room full of bored teenagers, who are infamous for their sarcastic torturing abilities, and ask them to discuss the word "bitch" with little idea of how they will respond and what lawsuits you may be creating for yourself. Teachers of the world, I salute you.

New Orleans

Like so many, my heart goes out to the victims of this horrific ordeal. I know as a nation we will be effected in so many unforeseen ways by this tragedy, but for now, I can only think of those still trapped in that cesspool shell of a city,dying, and observe how many of them are not only poor but also black. While I give as much as I can to the various charities, I still feel like I'm not doing enough, not only to relieve their immediate suffering, but also to attempt to stop what seems to be a form of genocide.

A vast majority of those trapped come from a class which is on the outskirts of the society we know as America, and now, they continue to suffer and whats more be blamed for their actions provoked by the very situation in which they were forced to live. Harsh words have been spoken against looters and rioters and how they're needlessly complicating efforts made to save them, but these criticisms are made in ignorance. This population for the most part has had few positive experiences waiting for the system to work for them. A quarter of New Orleans lived in poverty, with little help or relief from the government. No one assisted them in evacuating the city before the levees broke, and when they were deposited in a large structure with no food, no water, minimal supplies, no information and their dead for 4 days, can a reasonable citzen expect anything but riot? Their actions in the aftermath seem to me a response to their environment; they have no reason to trust that anyone will help them, because few ever have. To me, this is not only a disgrace, but proof positive how atrocious race and class relations continue to be in America.

The Summer of Reunions

I absolutely love reunions, simply for the fact that they seldom last long enough for drama to occur, but still entail people who know you well enough that awkward starter conversations and accompanying bullshit aren't required. AND you can convince yourself that you really should have spent what you did on those drinks--seriously, how often do you get to see these people?

This whole summer, fortunately, has been one of reunions. Not just the constant one at my apartment with my dear roommate Kristin, but I got to see the Texans for a mini-college reunion, C-lee, "camp" buddies*, and now Kendra! I'll be making some trips of my own pretty soon (Thanksgiving in Miami!!!), but if anyone else wants to stop by KC, I promise a good time--we've almost perfected the visitor agenda.

*"camp" was a work thing which required me to be a facilitator at a high school summer camp, one which educates on issues of oppression and provides tools for teenagers to utilize in supporting diversity, yada yada yada. It turned out to be an amazing experience, and I've been been "reunion-ing" with my fellow advisors every weekend since. And not only can those fools still argue internalized oppression after multiple rounds of tequila shots, but they play the dirtiest game of Catch Phrase I've ever had the pleasure to be a part of. What comes to your mind when you see the word "tight-end" or "plug"?

Two Birds with One Post.

I don't write much anymore (I know how much that bothers those who read my blog, and I'm sincerely trying to keep all five of you happy) So here are the events of consequence that have taken place:

1) I got my first apartment!

It's a shot-gun layout  in a classic six with hardwood floors, large windows, and live tapings of COPS every night from 6-12pm from my front porch. (We have balcony seats since its a 3rd floor walk-up). The rent's decent and it's walking distance to Westport, so I'm pretty satisfied. And for now I'm considering all of the "hiccups" (refrigerator not working, being locked out of the building at 2am because the lock was jimmied with, no hot water) part of the charm of living in a slightly blighted neighborhood. I specify "slightly" because we are definitely movin' on up: there's a gay church across the street from me. Seriously. At first Kristin and I thought the inordinate number of same sex couples emerging on Sunday mornings could possibly be attributed to a little known fact that all Christians in KCMO happen to be members of the rainbow brigade, but then I learned from a co-worker that the church really was founded for the queer community. Sweet. It's pretty much an urban fact that once the gays move into a neighborhood and spruce it up, developers and yuppies are quick to follow. I refuse to dwell on which category I currently fit into.

ANYWAY.

2) I got a promotion!

I've been on pins & needles the last few weeks over my position (as a result of the merger it was only guaranteed through September), to the point of considering bugging my boss's office for tidbits that would clue me in. This was of course all before I became the calm, suave PROGRAM ASSISTANT yesterday at 1:34pm when my boss informed me that they'd like me to stay on,  they're willing to work around my class schedule, and want me to eventually take over one of the youth programs. The last time I experienced such a sense of security was back in the day when I could relax with a good thumb suck.

None of this should be taken as an indicator that life at times doesn't completely blow, but all and all, I'm pretty happy with where I'm going.

Coke Zero: The New Antidepressant? -or- Wanted:Biochemist to Tutor Liberal Arts Conspiracy Theorist

I purchased Coke Zero initally as a result of clever packaging and low low prices, and enjoyed it for the most part.

Until I read the ingredients.

Of which there were none.

Except for aspartame, which is a common ingredient in diet sodas. But the FDA-mandated warning that this product contained phenylalanine gave me reason to pause, since I had absolutely no idea what that was or why the FDA thought I should care of it's presence in my frosty beverage.

So like any good employee bored at work and looking for a little online distraction, I researched it. And this initial search freaked me out. Were we being drugged by Coke? Why was one of the few ingredients of this soda an amino acid that could increase weight loss/control, sexual interest, memory inhancement, and allievate symptoms of depression? And frankly, it didn't help that the tag line is "Everybody Chill." As some who has said, at least to myself, that I will go out like Braveheart before UNNECESSARILY medicating myself, I was ready to boycott the drink and well, that's pretty much it. Until it occured to me that 1) I don't drink that much soda anyway and 2) Perhaps there was a more rational explanation to the inclusion of this ingredient than my original hypothisis that Coke was out to drug the world.

Ah well--at least I still have the results of the G8 Conference to piss me off.

I have culture, damn it!

I was listening to David Roediger discuss his new book, Working Toward Whiteness: How American Immigrants become White, and the question was repeatedly asked and subsequently addressed: What is white culture?

After having this debate several times over the past few weeks, I deliberated over the possibility that my strenuous objections to the belief that whites have no culture stemmed from personal disgust at being essentially told that I have no culture, but then I reconsidered. Whites have culture, it's just not based on the color of their skin, like other races in this country. Culture consists of a shared set of values, standards or experiences--If an entire race is oppressed, they share common experiences that shape their values and therefore create a culture based on the color of their skin. But race is only one group in which norms and standards can develop, and some do not consider how regional, religious, class, and sexual orientation distinctions can create communities.

Our belief that race defines culture is a self-fulfilling ideal; By assuming that all members of a race hold the same values and standards, forced assimilation causes a culture to actually develop around their race. So when examining the culture of whites only from the perspective of their race, it does appear that we are experiencing at some level a sense of anomie. But this is partially because our group identifications are around more specified identities than the color of our skin. My other question is, if one race makes up 70% of any country's population and they are not oppressed by another group or race, do they have a unifying culture? Can we have cultures based on race with no persecution involved?

That's my sermon for today.

We Shall Overcome--The Gap.

I do believe I have just found my people. Thank you, NYTimes. Thank you.

pssst--over here.

I know I've been out of the news loop for the past few weeks, but now that I feel fully caught up on runaway brides and the Brad/Jen/Angelina incident [which I happen to believe was all a publicity stunt for that lukewarm movie], I was just wondering--what's going on with the post-tsunami situation? Has there been any news on efforts to rebuild, severity of water contamination, growing death rates due to pestilence, etc.? Some of you web-savvy folks most know where to find this info; please clue me in!

Random fun fact learned-on-the-job: There are at least 3 times more dog shelters in the U.S. than there are women's shelters. At least Fido has somewhere safe to sleep tonight.

Precious Moments When You're Glad the Boss is Out of Office for the Day

co-worker: What's that noise?

me: [referring to the "manner mode" on my cell phone] I think it's my vibrator.