Tuesday, September 13, 2005
No really I'm not suicidal.
Yesterday I had my first day of Senior Seminar. We went around picking dates for the presentations of our field notes, which was accomplished by assigning the date to the person who could shoot their hand up the fastest when the date was called. I wanted one of two dates in November, but when I shot my hand up so did another girl across the room. (Yes, it was totally one of those moments from elementary school where you wave your right hand around while supporting it with your left. Ooo me, pick me, ooo ooo.) It was decided by the friend sitting next to Girl 1 that she was the winner of this contest, but because it was so close, the professor gave me first choice for any of the remaining dates. But they were all in December and I had wanted a November date. While the apportioning of dates continued, my friend A asked me why December was so bad. "I have so many papers due. I'm gonna wanna kill myself," I whispered back. Of course I don't know how to whisper. When I whisper, people in Mongolia can hear me. I sound like Li'l Jon. WHAT!? OKAAAY! Just then the professor came back to assigning me a date by saying, "I'll let two people go on the 28th. Vicky seems distressed." She had heard me. Great, now I'm the suicidal sociology student.
Monday, September 05, 2005
End of Days
Today is officially the last day of my last summer. Tomorrow I have my last first day of school. I know that there will be other summers; I know that it will get hot again and that the air will hang languidly above New York. There may even be other summers when I won't have to work and spend the whole day by the pool, but they won't be the same. Summer is a break from reality, but once you pass into adulthood there is no break anymore.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?
I feel that this blog is so insignificant that I shouldn't even post about something so serious and so tragic, but I've really been disturbed by the events of the past week. The death and destruction that turned into anarchy in New Orleans is so tragic mostly because it could have been preventable. The city could have been evacuated in time. Supplies could have arrived earlier. The National Guard could have been called up to keep order instead of being thousands of miles away in Iraq. Instead thousands of people have died and even more are suffering because not enough is being done to help them.
It's true that this catastrophe has exposed the vast racial and social inequality that our nation is rife with. I always thought that a hurricane, an earthquake, a tornado affected everyone equally. It was a force of nature; it couldn't discriminate. But this hurricane has proved me so wrong; the ones that have suffered the most are black and poor, who were left in the most untennable neighborhoods. I want to believe, naively perhaps, that through this tragedy we will learn to respect each, to be fair in our political policies, to help our neighbor, to do unto others as we would have others do unto us. I saw in New York after September 11th and the black out two years ago, how a city could pull together in times of crisis; that it was possible to reach across the boundaries that seperate us. I began this entry intending to critize those people who have been pointing fingers at the Republicans, at the Democrats, and even at the residents of New Orleans, and instead to say that this is a time for us to pull together as a country to help those in peril.
Yet the longer I sit hear, unable to do anything, the more angry I become at the people who do have the power to help. Flying over the affected areas and giving press conferences is not going to help the people who need food, water and medical care. A lot of people are donating to the Red Cross, which is excellent, but another (non-monetary) alternative is to donate blood. http://www.nybloodcenter.org/index.jsp And don't forget the pets, a lot of them are being left behind: http://www.aspca.org/site/PageServer.
It's true that this catastrophe has exposed the vast racial and social inequality that our nation is rife with. I always thought that a hurricane, an earthquake, a tornado affected everyone equally. It was a force of nature; it couldn't discriminate. But this hurricane has proved me so wrong; the ones that have suffered the most are black and poor, who were left in the most untennable neighborhoods. I want to believe, naively perhaps, that through this tragedy we will learn to respect each, to be fair in our political policies, to help our neighbor, to do unto others as we would have others do unto us. I saw in New York after September 11th and the black out two years ago, how a city could pull together in times of crisis; that it was possible to reach across the boundaries that seperate us. I began this entry intending to critize those people who have been pointing fingers at the Republicans, at the Democrats, and even at the residents of New Orleans, and instead to say that this is a time for us to pull together as a country to help those in peril.
Yet the longer I sit hear, unable to do anything, the more angry I become at the people who do have the power to help. Flying over the affected areas and giving press conferences is not going to help the people who need food, water and medical care. A lot of people are donating to the Red Cross, which is excellent, but another (non-monetary) alternative is to donate blood. http://www.nybloodcenter.org/index.jsp And don't forget the pets, a lot of them are being left behind: http://www.aspca.org/site/PageServer.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Negative Things
So I got a new job! Yea! I would post more about it, but the number one rule of blogging is do not blog about work. (It's the second rule too.) But anyway I call my mom to tell her the news, and I receive a voicemail in return, which essentially says, "Congratulations! Oh and you sound constipated in your voicemail greeting." I know I sound like I'm eight years old; no need to bring the c-word into the equation.
Negative thing, the second: I've been noticing a disturbing trend among young New York men. This could be a national thing, but my anthropological studies only take me to northern Brooklyn and lower Manhattan. In talking to random guys at bars, parties, and the check out line at the supermarket, I've gotten an increasingly large number of backhand compliments. One insulted my job, another my taste in movies. I wrote it off as poor social skills; that these people were raised by wolves. But after a weekend of purusing mens' magazines, I've discovered that this is a pick-up tactic advocated by said magazines and various late night infomercials. They call it a neg. Apparently the thinking behind this strategy is that women have such low self-esteem that any negative comment will just eat away at them until they have won the approval of the commenter by giving him a blow job. My problem with this is not that it's exploitative, which it is, or that it works on women who would probably give anyone with a five dollar bill a blow job in the parking lot anyway. What bothers me is that these people are not interested in meeting someone, they're not even interested in the sex; they are just interested in subjugating someone else to make themselves feel better. We all do it to a certain extent, but when you work so hard at it, it's just sad.
Lastly, something positive. It's welcome week at NYU, and all the frosh have moved into their dorms. The frosh look so delicate and virginal. The seem as if they are hothouse plants just exposed to the sun. I remember that feeling so well. My welcome week was three years ago. For the first time I had had the freedom I craved, and I was finally able to test my limits. My freshman year was a mess. My sophmore year was only slightly better. I had wanted to become on the outside the way I felt on the inside for so long, but I'd felt too constrained by everyone else's expectations to do that. I don't know if I ever did reach that goal. I can't tell; I don't feel the same on the inside as I did then.
Negative thing, the second: I've been noticing a disturbing trend among young New York men. This could be a national thing, but my anthropological studies only take me to northern Brooklyn and lower Manhattan. In talking to random guys at bars, parties, and the check out line at the supermarket, I've gotten an increasingly large number of backhand compliments. One insulted my job, another my taste in movies. I wrote it off as poor social skills; that these people were raised by wolves. But after a weekend of purusing mens' magazines, I've discovered that this is a pick-up tactic advocated by said magazines and various late night infomercials. They call it a neg. Apparently the thinking behind this strategy is that women have such low self-esteem that any negative comment will just eat away at them until they have won the approval of the commenter by giving him a blow job. My problem with this is not that it's exploitative, which it is, or that it works on women who would probably give anyone with a five dollar bill a blow job in the parking lot anyway. What bothers me is that these people are not interested in meeting someone, they're not even interested in the sex; they are just interested in subjugating someone else to make themselves feel better. We all do it to a certain extent, but when you work so hard at it, it's just sad.
Lastly, something positive. It's welcome week at NYU, and all the frosh have moved into their dorms. The frosh look so delicate and virginal. The seem as if they are hothouse plants just exposed to the sun. I remember that feeling so well. My welcome week was three years ago. For the first time I had had the freedom I craved, and I was finally able to test my limits. My freshman year was a mess. My sophmore year was only slightly better. I had wanted to become on the outside the way I felt on the inside for so long, but I'd felt too constrained by everyone else's expectations to do that. I don't know if I ever did reach that goal. I can't tell; I don't feel the same on the inside as I did then.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)