As part of the end of year reflection, I have come to the conclusion that I want to do a few things:
1) Keep in contact with people better
2) Reflect on my life in a more written and significant form
So to do these two things I have decided I will push myself to post an entry on this blog of my month in review once a month. Only the highlights, significant observations or major decisions since I remain determined to not drone on about myself in this blog.
This entry though will be rather lengthy because I plan to launch this greater reflexive effort by sharing with you a recap of the last year. To do this properly I'll actually have to start last August when I first made the move to Austin to start attending the University of Texas at Austin. Bear with me over the next "17 months."
Fall 2006- I moved to Austin and into an apartment with my good friend Kyle. As many of you might know, I hit the ground running! With my idealistic tendencies, practically the first week there I prepared to register the Human Dignity Society as an organization.
I am surprised that I've only been living in Austin for less than 14 months because the Human Dignity Society already feels like a relic in my past. For those who may not have heard, HDS was one of my efforts at creating an organization. The mission for this one was to help bring people out of homelessness and poverty by extending assistance BUT by ALSO building a community around them, providing a support network, motivation and friendship. I wanted the group to film a documentary featuring the stories of the homeless and adding to the film their progress as we continued through our efforts.
The honeymoon period of organizing building attempts and being lazy around the apartment with Kyle ended and school started. Classes were significantly harder than anything at community college. Luckily I was a busy community college student and had some background in AP classes or otherwise UT might have eaten me alive!
Despite them being hard, two of them that first semester were two of the best classes I had ever taken. I had arrived in the intellectual heaven I been dreaming of. Finally I picked courses in topics I loved and two of the three lived up to every expectation and more. Twice a week I went from learning about Europe in the twentieth century with one of the most dynamic, passionate, engaging professors I've ever met to struggling through Spanish to finally being rewarded with my African American Social and Political Thought course with another incredibly engaging professors who seemed to create the most insightful thoughts about the African American struggle and literary work.
Diving more deeply into the psyche of Nazi Germany and discussing how viewing the crime of rape as a significant metaphor to the domination of slavery. I won't ramble on about the interesting bits of knowledge I learned, but just take away that I had found what I was looking for in my academic pursuits.
As I mentioned before I had started HDS and while it was not successful, (I will share more later) the effort allowed me to meet many incredible people and get involved with my current organization and my greatest passion yet. Through my lengthy pursuits on Facebook to find like-minded people I came across Anna Tabor. Anna was one of my closest friends last year at UT and when we met through Facebook we hit it off as friends. She liked my idea for HDS and I became interested in her work with the White Rose Society.
I have to admit partially because I had a small crush on her, but still mostly because I was strongly sympathetic with the anti-genocide efforts, I went to a meeting of WRS. After that first meeting I was hooked. The anti-genocide cause draws upon my passion to make the world better, my interest in human rights, has a connection to my filial past and provides me the excitement of the challenge to organize people around a cause that has become the hallmark of things I have been involved in since the end of high school.
Additionally my becoming an active member of the White Rose Society also helped me take the plunge into another organization that has been paramount to my life in Austin: Texas Hillel. My siblings, including my sister-in-law, strongly suggested over and over for me to try Hillel, at least for some free food sometime. As soon as I walked into the building for that first WRS meeting, I knew I had to come back. After a few episodes in that building I knew the people and the atmosphere were both things I wanted to be a part of. If you are another student reading this or if you are visiting UT, I recommend checking it out. A lot of my non-Jewish friends love it and it is a really open and welcoming environment regardless of who you are.
Not much else significant I can recall from the fall of 2006. I do remember that there was a point where I felt very overwhelmed despite overall feeling very well adjusted to my new life in Austin. As things became the most difficult I wrote the blog entry, Homeless that is on my old blog. Things started to improve after that, but I guess I cannot hide that the transition to a new place both geographically and in my life was not without it's turmoil.
I finished my first semester at UT doing well in my grades, meeting a lot of great new friends and finding two organizations that I could consider my home while in Austin. During the break I visited my sister and her family including my adorable niece, Maya.
I will take a break from writing so that I can hopefully be more coherent in my musings. When I come back though I will tell you about spring 2007, when my activism reached levels I only dreamed about when I was stuck at community college in Plano.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Demons of my Sleep
Tonight I cannot sleep. Funny to say tonight, sleeplessness is a regular occurrence. Ever since I was young I would toss and turn sometimes for hours until sleep would come. I could never wrap my child like brain around why this would happen. I just knew that 8 hours of sleep was really 6 or 7 hours of sleep and that was that.
I am not so sure anymore.
I used to talk in my sleep. Once in Israel my mom told me that the night before I had my head turned in her direction as I was looking at her, told her that it was difficult for me to fall asleep and proceeded to act like I was playing with the dog. The whole time I was asleep and the dog was not in our room. I also did this all in perfect Hebrew.
While I have no idea if I still do this, it is on my mind tonight. There is no way of knowing, I sleep alone in my room and my entire apartment most nights. I guess it is on my mind because of something else from my childhood. I remember distinctly that on at least one occasion my family informed me that I was screaming in my sleep. I suppose nothing of the blood curdling variety because no one seemed to worry.
I always remembered that, but I also have never quite worried about it. Now that I am an overworked college student I am thinking about it because I am also thinking about another pesky sleep problem of mine. Regardless of the amount or variety of sleep I am able to get, I constantly feel like I am in a state of sleep deprivation. I do not want to attribute false meaning to an event, but I can not shake the feeling that this has been the case since I was 11, since the passing of my father.
So tonight I cannot sleep and my mind is wandering.
Yesterday I rented a few movies, a suggestion by my now ex-girlfriend. I selected what I believed were both comedies; I was in the mood to take a break from my busy week and my endeavors which on the whole are not of the humorous varieties. One of my selections was The World According to Garp since I have heard a few good things and I am a Robin Williams fan.
Currently I have made it through half the movie before attempting sleep. Shortly before I attempted to call it a night, there was a scene where they spoke of a rape of an eleven year old girl whose tongue was cut out so that she couldn’t speak of what happened to her. I was hoping for comedy, but I have never allowed myself to escape reality for too long and subconsciously I suppose my movie selection reflected my typical choice.
As an activist, as a feminist, as a human rights advocate and most importantly as a human being I do not think I need to explain why this story (although fictitious) saddened me greatly.
I have chosen this life of activism and advocacy and I typically see this choice as a blessing. It is not an easy life and I do not fool myself into think it will become easier or that victories will be plentiful. I do though cherish the fact that I consider myself to not only be enlightened on topics such as genocide, but that I do not tolerate apathy or complacency.
Tonight though, I feel like I am being consumed by demons (an odd description since I am not religious at all, but it feels appropriate). I have never been able to remember my dreams or nightmares, but tonight I feel certain I have been plagued by nightmares.
I have never seen or experienced genocide, rape or death up close. I was present in the house when my father died, but I have not seen death with my own eyes. Yet tonight, I cannot shake the thoughts of a rape of a fictional eleven year old girl regardless that the mention of such an episode was but a brief line in a half watched film. Often I cannot shake the thoughts of the concentration camps or killing fields even though I cannot even conjure up a concrete image of these places in my mind.
Tonight, as I write this, I am fighting the thoughts in my mind that make me want to scream out, “THIS IS NOT A BLESSING, THIS IS A CURSE!” But I know I do not feel this way.
I must ask of you, though, my demons:
Why do you visit me night after night when I chose to visit you day after day? I do not feel intimidated from visiting you. But I ask: do I not deserve peace if even for a few hours a night?
Monday, August 6, 2007
Weekend in Austin (Witty Title Pending)
This last weekend, Katie and I ventured down to Austin because most of all I missed that city and also my friend Ezra and his band the Harpoons have been touring and came through Texas. They played in Dallas Thursday night and Austin on Saturday. So she left work early, we ran a few errands and drove to Austin for the weekend. For those interested I'll share the basic details and highlights of our shenanigans. (The word shenanigans popped into my head and I was going to dismiss it, but Katie is a descendant of the Irish, so I thought I'd use it).
Friday
Friday was probably the most entertaining day and probably why Katie has been egging me on all day to write this blog. After leaving early and running some errands together we went to go drop off her car at her folk's house. Meeting the parents didn't produce any memorable stories, but I do have to say they are very charming people. She paints a better picture of him than I am about to, but her dad has the very classic look and sound of southern good ol' boy. The politeness that comes with that stereotype definitely applies and I look forward to meeting them again.
After picking up some snacks we hit the road at about 5:30 in Dallas. If you haven't had the joy of driving on 75 and/or 35 in Dallas during Friday rush hour than you can hit your head many times in the head and than sit in a small uncomfortable chair without moving for about an hour and you'll have had the same experience. Luckily I had a funny co-pilot who is both nice to look at and talk to.
Finally we broke through the chains of Dallas traffic and sped down Interstate Highway 35. After a short stop in Hillsboro we continued our trip. Early on I warned Katie that because of a lot of miles, my car makes some weird noises at high speeds, but I've never had a problem. Shortly after leaving Waco these she kept asking me about some of these noises.
At first I brushed them off saying we'll take a look in Austin, but I'm sure they're just the typical noises. Nothing I would worry too much about. You might say I was doing the typical macho man routine, but I seriously thought there was nothing to worry about until the noises became much worse, loud and persistent than ever before.
A quick note about my car: I bought it used at a car auction. While being relatively newer, a 2000 Toyota Echo, it had a lot of miles and some bumper damage. Every time I've asked a mechanic if this was just cosmetic or something to worry about they answered it was cosmetic. Through the last two years I've made scraped my bumped against something as I'm sure most imperfect drivers do. A few friends have commented that it looks worse than before, they may have been right but I continued on driving. Last week it started falling off, but I was able to push it back and shrug the problem off. Keep reading to find out why this wasn't so good of an idea.
With the car sounding quite awful, I relented and agreed with Katie and pulled over ASAP at the next exit gas station. As we pulled in the noises got worse and as I pulled into a parking spot we heard louder, crunching, scraping noises. The only way to describe what happened was to say the bumper mostly fell off but was attached enough to stay on and be dragged near and under the tires. Needless to say, not a safe or efficient way to drive.
I can check fluids, change a tire and I generally know the basics about a car. If anyone asked me to help fix a car, I would take a look but I would probably be more helpful on a pro-football team. Ok, that's a little bit of an exaggeration, how about a college football team? One of those that never make it to the playoffs, but still play fairly well. I'd be about that helpful.
So together we tried to think of possible solutions while calling for help. We thought about purchasing rope to tie the bumper on until we got to Austin or finding a way to pull it off. After consulting Papa O'Rear we decided to remove the bumper. Again uncertain of how to go about this we too a closer look and used the tired jack equipped me and a knife a fellow car troubled man lent us to hack and pull at the bumper. Before we inflicted any real damage, we were saved by a really nice guy on his way from northern Iowa to south central Mexico to visit his family.
He asked if we needed help and quickly went to grab his tools. After about half an hour of teamwork (mostly keeping him company and constantly repeating our gratitude) the bumper was pulled off and some flap-like parts were tied up so not to harm my tires. Closer to Austin and hoping for the best we continued the trip.
I have to repeat my gratitude for Katie for being very helpful, positive and comforting during the whole experience. Needless to say I was sad, annoyed and worried that I had made a mess of our trip. FYI: It goes uphill from here.
In little more than an hour later we made it safely into Austin and had a bite to eat with our friend Hannah at Kerby Lane. Both exhausted we headed toward our lodging. We were staying with Austin and Lisa in far Northwest Austin. Before any of you ask yourself if you know Austin or Lisa either independently or through me, I'm going to say probably not. We met them through CouchSurfing.com a very cool website that allows people to create a profile about themselves and than look for or offer "couch" space. In our case we looked for an actual bedroom and among many apologetic negative responses was a welcoming invitation from Austin.
I was careful to make sure everyone knew that it goes uphill at this point. No need to worry, neither Austin, Lisa or their dog Artemis stole our kidneys or anything of that nature. Though we did get a little lost finding their house in the first place. With their neighborhood being further from the campus or downtown areas of the city, many of the streets were not labeled well or at all. For that fact and somewhat misleading Google Maps directions we turned down some wrong streets in attempt to find the right one.
During this fiasco, we came across a few yellow signs with a picture of deer on it. Jokingly, I think it was Katie who said it would just make our night complete to see a deer. Well while turn around in one of these wrong streets we spotted three deer in the grass! We were quite humored, but continued on and finally found the house, made our way to the bedroom and slept.
Saturday
Not quite as exciting as a blog so I'll keep it shorter.
After being lazy for a significant part of the morning, we finally introduced ourselves to our warm hosts and their cute dog. Not only where they friendly enough to let us stay there and not kill us, they also told us to feel welcome to exploit their kitchen. When asked Austin even allowed me to use his laptop to find a mechanic.
We stopped into the mechanic and after finding out I needed an entirely new bumper but was probably safe driving around, we put the car troubles behind us. (Truly, the car troubles were behind us as the bumper occupied the backseat of my car.)
We proceeded to go to Whole Foods, Zilker Park and Bookwomen. Three places I have had the intention to go to most of my time in Austin, but up until this weekend had never visited. All wonderful spots to visit and enjoy.
At night we went to the Ezra show. I have to stop and say how much this guy amazes me. On Thursday he began to play for an empty house filled with only one audience member there for his show: me. Even though the other three guys that did not work at the bar were there for another bad, Ezra played his heart out. Again on Saturday he repeated this, but now with an excited Austin crowd that appreciate his childlike speech patterns (childlike as a complement, he has this poetic innocence) and his eloquent lyrics.
After the show we headed back to bed. Party poopers, I know, but we were tired.
Sunday
Nothing too exciting here, we were lazy again, got up, bought some snacks and food at Wheatsville Co-op and headed back to Dallas.
When we were almost to Dallas we made a stop in Red Oak or as Katie affectionately calls it, "Dead Oak." Red Oak is a community just south of Dallas, just outside DeSoto and Lancaster. We drove past her first home and had a stroll down memory lane.
Just like the witty title is pending, the quirky conclusion is also missing. All I can say is I had the most incredible weekend ever with an amazing woman even with some of the typical craziness that seems to follow my life.
Friday
Friday was probably the most entertaining day and probably why Katie has been egging me on all day to write this blog. After leaving early and running some errands together we went to go drop off her car at her folk's house. Meeting the parents didn't produce any memorable stories, but I do have to say they are very charming people. She paints a better picture of him than I am about to, but her dad has the very classic look and sound of southern good ol' boy. The politeness that comes with that stereotype definitely applies and I look forward to meeting them again.
After picking up some snacks we hit the road at about 5:30 in Dallas. If you haven't had the joy of driving on 75 and/or 35 in Dallas during Friday rush hour than you can hit your head many times in the head and than sit in a small uncomfortable chair without moving for about an hour and you'll have had the same experience. Luckily I had a funny co-pilot who is both nice to look at and talk to.
Finally we broke through the chains of Dallas traffic and sped down Interstate Highway 35. After a short stop in Hillsboro we continued our trip. Early on I warned Katie that because of a lot of miles, my car makes some weird noises at high speeds, but I've never had a problem. Shortly after leaving Waco these she kept asking me about some of these noises.
At first I brushed them off saying we'll take a look in Austin, but I'm sure they're just the typical noises. Nothing I would worry too much about. You might say I was doing the typical macho man routine, but I seriously thought there was nothing to worry about until the noises became much worse, loud and persistent than ever before.
A quick note about my car: I bought it used at a car auction. While being relatively newer, a 2000 Toyota Echo, it had a lot of miles and some bumper damage. Every time I've asked a mechanic if this was just cosmetic or something to worry about they answered it was cosmetic. Through the last two years I've made scraped my bumped against something as I'm sure most imperfect drivers do. A few friends have commented that it looks worse than before, they may have been right but I continued on driving. Last week it started falling off, but I was able to push it back and shrug the problem off. Keep reading to find out why this wasn't so good of an idea.
With the car sounding quite awful, I relented and agreed with Katie and pulled over ASAP at the next exit gas station. As we pulled in the noises got worse and as I pulled into a parking spot we heard louder, crunching, scraping noises. The only way to describe what happened was to say the bumper mostly fell off but was attached enough to stay on and be dragged near and under the tires. Needless to say, not a safe or efficient way to drive.
I can check fluids, change a tire and I generally know the basics about a car. If anyone asked me to help fix a car, I would take a look but I would probably be more helpful on a pro-football team. Ok, that's a little bit of an exaggeration, how about a college football team? One of those that never make it to the playoffs, but still play fairly well. I'd be about that helpful.
So together we tried to think of possible solutions while calling for help. We thought about purchasing rope to tie the bumper on until we got to Austin or finding a way to pull it off. After consulting Papa O'Rear we decided to remove the bumper. Again uncertain of how to go about this we too a closer look and used the tired jack equipped me and a knife a fellow car troubled man lent us to hack and pull at the bumper. Before we inflicted any real damage, we were saved by a really nice guy on his way from northern Iowa to south central Mexico to visit his family.
He asked if we needed help and quickly went to grab his tools. After about half an hour of teamwork (mostly keeping him company and constantly repeating our gratitude) the bumper was pulled off and some flap-like parts were tied up so not to harm my tires. Closer to Austin and hoping for the best we continued the trip.
I have to repeat my gratitude for Katie for being very helpful, positive and comforting during the whole experience. Needless to say I was sad, annoyed and worried that I had made a mess of our trip. FYI: It goes uphill from here.
In little more than an hour later we made it safely into Austin and had a bite to eat with our friend Hannah at Kerby Lane. Both exhausted we headed toward our lodging. We were staying with Austin and Lisa in far Northwest Austin. Before any of you ask yourself if you know Austin or Lisa either independently or through me, I'm going to say probably not. We met them through CouchSurfing.com a very cool website that allows people to create a profile about themselves and than look for or offer "couch" space. In our case we looked for an actual bedroom and among many apologetic negative responses was a welcoming invitation from Austin.
I was careful to make sure everyone knew that it goes uphill at this point. No need to worry, neither Austin, Lisa or their dog Artemis stole our kidneys or anything of that nature. Though we did get a little lost finding their house in the first place. With their neighborhood being further from the campus or downtown areas of the city, many of the streets were not labeled well or at all. For that fact and somewhat misleading Google Maps directions we turned down some wrong streets in attempt to find the right one.
During this fiasco, we came across a few yellow signs with a picture of deer on it. Jokingly, I think it was Katie who said it would just make our night complete to see a deer. Well while turn around in one of these wrong streets we spotted three deer in the grass! We were quite humored, but continued on and finally found the house, made our way to the bedroom and slept.
Saturday
Not quite as exciting as a blog so I'll keep it shorter.
After being lazy for a significant part of the morning, we finally introduced ourselves to our warm hosts and their cute dog. Not only where they friendly enough to let us stay there and not kill us, they also told us to feel welcome to exploit their kitchen. When asked Austin even allowed me to use his laptop to find a mechanic.
We stopped into the mechanic and after finding out I needed an entirely new bumper but was probably safe driving around, we put the car troubles behind us. (Truly, the car troubles were behind us as the bumper occupied the backseat of my car.)
We proceeded to go to Whole Foods, Zilker Park and Bookwomen. Three places I have had the intention to go to most of my time in Austin, but up until this weekend had never visited. All wonderful spots to visit and enjoy.
At night we went to the Ezra show. I have to stop and say how much this guy amazes me. On Thursday he began to play for an empty house filled with only one audience member there for his show: me. Even though the other three guys that did not work at the bar were there for another bad, Ezra played his heart out. Again on Saturday he repeated this, but now with an excited Austin crowd that appreciate his childlike speech patterns (childlike as a complement, he has this poetic innocence) and his eloquent lyrics.
After the show we headed back to bed. Party poopers, I know, but we were tired.
Sunday
Nothing too exciting here, we were lazy again, got up, bought some snacks and food at Wheatsville Co-op and headed back to Dallas.
When we were almost to Dallas we made a stop in Red Oak or as Katie affectionately calls it, "Dead Oak." Red Oak is a community just south of Dallas, just outside DeSoto and Lancaster. We drove past her first home and had a stroll down memory lane.
Just like the witty title is pending, the quirky conclusion is also missing. All I can say is I had the most incredible weekend ever with an amazing woman even with some of the typical craziness that seems to follow my life.
Past Blogs
So I wanted to be able to add the noteworthy posts from old blogs I've had to this one. I thought there was a way to put their date so that they'd fall in the right sequence, but I was mistaken. Instead I'll just post the links and either I'll go delete the blogs I'm not 100% happy with or you can chose ignore them.
From the end of senior year through most of my year at Collin County and the first part of my UT experiences: http://rememberthatjew.blogspot.com/
I particularly like the most recent two from that page.
For a period of the summer between Collin County and my first semester at UT I attempted to blog more frequently as part of this contest for a scholarship. The link is on the previous blog but I can recreate it here for ease: http://www.progressiveu.org/blog/human-dignity-activist
Tonight, I'm hoping to write another blog or two about some current happenings in my life. For now... send me an e-mail or something if we haven't spoken for awhile. With the summer ending it would be nice to reconnect (if that applies to any of you reading).
From the end of senior year through most of my year at Collin County and the first part of my UT experiences: http://rememberthatjew.blogspot.com/
I particularly like the most recent two from that page.
For a period of the summer between Collin County and my first semester at UT I attempted to blog more frequently as part of this contest for a scholarship. The link is on the previous blog but I can recreate it here for ease: http://www.progressiveu.org/blog/human-dignity-activist
Tonight, I'm hoping to write another blog or two about some current happenings in my life. For now... send me an e-mail or something if we haven't spoken for awhile. With the summer ending it would be nice to reconnect (if that applies to any of you reading).
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Gray
I’m tired of seeing gray. Ever since I’ve been small it has been gray. Never simple black and white, never the simple happy or unhappy or the simple optimism or pessimism. I suppose I should be glad that I have ability to search for and usually find the reason for hope in most situations. After all I am a human rights advocate and there is always source for despair, I am comforted by the few pockets of progress that are sources for joy.
After all I am also a survivor of a deceased father a reason for nearly any eleven year old child to see much dark shades of bleak gray and even the starkest blinding blacks that life has to offer. Such consuming dark hues that one begins to feel he may be stuck in tar and must crawl and fight to even have the hope to see the bright sunshine above.
And after all I am a product of middle class
One cannot forget that after all I am a descendent of a Holocaust survivor. While I weigh these feels of grayness, I must remember that my grandmother lived in a time that seems to be perfect for images of black and white. Perfect for black and white film. Not only perfect but less tangible, less scary in the absence of color, denoted at a distant then, not a recent now or not so far then, but a distant then. A time before color, a time where darkness denoted evil and lightness denoted good and the two were pitted in a battle for everything.
But I see the gray from that time, I even see the red. The red for the blood, pain, screaming, torture, senseless destruction and seemingly endless murder. The red of my distant relatives, the red of the Nazi flag, the red painting the map of
Red can also symbolize love and I’ve been told of this red too. The red blood flowing from the biggest hearts of their time, the warm red blood of individuals like the original White Rose who had big enough hearts to stand up against true evil. The warm red blood flowing in the veins and from the giant hearts of resistors risking their lives in save those with the mark of death: a yellow star.
But after all I started off talking about how I see gray, not red, yellow, black or white. Gray. I do perceive other colors, but I do not live them like I live gray. Since I was young I was consumed by books written about subjects that would not be a happy blue, a bright yellow or pure white. From the age of eleven while I was consumed by the dark tar-like black of the death of my father, I strived to see as much color and light as possible and as such I clawed my way out of this bog. Or so it would seem.
The darkness of all this continues to consume me. While I wear the green of the Save Darfur campaigns I feel gray. While I enjoy the yellow sun, brown chocolate, the tan skin of niece, the hazel eyes of a beautiful girl or many of the splendid colors of flowers, salads and the entire world, I feel grayness permeating my soul.
While I shift from poetry to prose, I still feel like I play the part of the poet. As the poet I have this impetus to shout my feelings and wear my heart on my sleeve. Yet how many of you taken the time to see the color my heart and really take note of its overcast tones and dreary appearance. Who among you will take the time to bring true color to my heart and more importantly true color to the world?
I am stuck in gray; I feel both the positive and the negative. I feel hope and despair. I try to enjoy life, but I am constantly reminded of death. Gray is not even a true color; it is a mix of both the absence of color and the mix of all colors. Gray is a mix of both everything and nothing all at once.
As a poet, I will let you onto a little secret of mine. I AM TIRED OF BEING GRAY. I do not want to enjoy colors as a passing hobby or as if they were part of a vacation. I do not want to live with the knowledge of black and the hope of white without the brilliance of color to embolden my hopes and make the promise of progress more vibrant. Most of all I do not want to be stuck in this tarry, gooey, cesspool of loneliness anymore.
I am a survivor of both a father and of Holocaust survivors, I am an activist of things most people do not even want to introduce into their nice white life and I am a poet. These things dance in the black, tucked away where many people do not allow themselves to go.
I am an uncle, brother, son and privileged member of the western world… all reasons to live in the white and perhaps the reasons the black is made gray. Yet WHY DO I FEEL CONSUMED BY DARK GRAY?
Why can I not color it? Why do these markers, crayons and panaceas do nothing? I use different techniques, patterns, combinations, but when I finish my Technicolor masterpieces… they all return to gray. Do I need ruby slippers to escape or does that only work when you can feel a particular variety of red? Show me the door, the paint brush, the way out!
Hold on… what’s this I see? What’s this I feel? Could that be color? Could it be vibrant greens, royal purples, soothing blues, loving reds and the gorgeous mix of hazel? Could you be here to rescue me from the gray and let me live among the colors? Or is this just a visitation? Is this just a dream? Will the bell ring and the warden shuffle me back to my dreary colorless cell? Will I wake up in my nightmare of world?
Please warden, let me sleep for a little while longer.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Living Where The Streets Have No Name
No the title of today's blog is not an attempt of a humorous poke at the rural area of North Carolina where I am currently residing. If any of my fellow U2 fans are reading this, you may have noticed the famous song title included with in the title.
"Where The Streets Have No Name" is one of most famous U2 songs, one of their many hits and the first songs of what many critics and fans call their best albums, The Joshua Tree. I have a hard time picking out a favorite album much less a favorite song, but this last Sunday I had an intellectual, philosophical and perhaps even spiritual revelation thanks to the always great U2.
While driving to Chapel Hill for my day off I was again surrounded by gorgeous deep green trees on all sides and above me was a clear blue sky. Every so often their was a pond or some small watering hole and all I couldn't stop thinking that while I doubt I could make North Carolina my home, another visit to these beautiful landscape would not be protested.
Surrounded by this beauty the car was filled with its own beauty, the man-made art of music. About a year ago my brother gave me a CD called Strung Out on U2, a CD I highly recommend. As you can tell from the introduction, I love U2 and think very highly of both the members and the music. Strung Out on U2 is an a CD of two different string quartets performing a large handful of U2's hits.
Although I do not consider myself a classical music fan, through exposure by my mom during my childhood and my experience in the Plano I.S.D. humanities program, I can say that I appreciate and enjoy some classical music even if overall I prefer to listen to something else. In the string compositions of these songs, everything in a U2 song was performed by string instruments. Even the vocals were replaced by a violin.
With my love of U2 I eagerly embraced this collection of string music and have fallen completely in love with this version of my favorite songs. The many times I have listened to the originals and my knowledge of their lyrics probably helps, but the string versions really help me to travel to that world of ideas and lose myself in the meaning of the songs.
Back to my drive on Sunday. So as I was driving through this natural beauty the song "Where The Streets Have No Name" in the its string quartet form was being played loudly enough to fill the car and take my attention hostage. From something my brother once told me and my own interpretation of the lyrics, "Where The Streets Have No Name" is at the same time about places so poor and isolated that their streets have no name, but also for the hope for a world free of divisions such as those that lead to war, a world with no name streets.
Let's just look at one stanza:
I wanna feel sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear without a trace
I wanna take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name.
Here we have a very positive image of sunlight which is almost universally identified as positive in artwork. Then the hopeful image of a dust cloud disappearing. In my opinion a dust cloud seems to be an image that brings about feelings like uncomfortable and inconvenience. So a dust cloud disappearing without a trace is hopeful within itself, but also enables the sunlight to seen and felt.
So far the lyrics refer to a positive image and a negative image disappearing and becoming positive. Then Bono writes/sings "I wanna take shelter from the poison rain." While the idea of shelter is positive, poison rain at its face value can represent a world messed up by pollution or more symbolically war, famine, illness and the many other reasons for sadness in the world.
So we start off with hope, a negative image quickly turning into hope and then the search for hope in the midst of despair. I decided to reproduce the lyrics, but to make it easier for those who just want me to get to the point I will wait until the end of the entry.
Back to my story... as I was listening to the string version of this song and driving through nature, I couldn't help but close my eyes for a brief second. I would've enjoyed to absorb all this longer, but it is hard to enjoy the beauty of the lush green around me with my eyes closed and more importantly it is much harder to drive!
What finally came to me during this drive was the answer to questions I have been asked and have asked myself repeatedly in the last few years. Why do I put such a premium on a social consciousness? Why am I so dedicated to living a social justice lifestyle? Why am I so passionate on pursuing a career focused on social justice?
Thanks to the influence of my brother and his music collection, the first real song I really embraced was "Mysterious Ways" on the Achtung Baby album of U2. I used to play it over and over whenever he was not home. It was fun, got me going and had a quality to it that made me think about things more deeply than I ever had. I think I was 8 or 9.
The first album/cd I ever bought or really had someone in my family buy for me was U2's Pop (which many fans and critics think is the weakest of all U2 albums. They have a point, but still fantastic music with some incredible melodies and lyrics).
What occurred to me was that I had been growing up with social justice in my ears, brain and my heart since that first day I started to listen to "Mysterious Ways" over and over.
Of course I still factor in my parents' insistence on watching the news and some excellent guidance of teachers, I think I have finally figured out the answer to those questions.
We are the the products of our childhood and the latter part of the childhood was filled with beautiful music that seduced me into thinking about the world around me.
Sound like a good explanation or am I just trying to hard to be artsy about my life?
"Where The Streets Have No Name" is one of most famous U2 songs, one of their many hits and the first songs of what many critics and fans call their best albums, The Joshua Tree. I have a hard time picking out a favorite album much less a favorite song, but this last Sunday I had an intellectual, philosophical and perhaps even spiritual revelation thanks to the always great U2.
While driving to Chapel Hill for my day off I was again surrounded by gorgeous deep green trees on all sides and above me was a clear blue sky. Every so often their was a pond or some small watering hole and all I couldn't stop thinking that while I doubt I could make North Carolina my home, another visit to these beautiful landscape would not be protested.
Surrounded by this beauty the car was filled with its own beauty, the man-made art of music. About a year ago my brother gave me a CD called Strung Out on U2, a CD I highly recommend. As you can tell from the introduction, I love U2 and think very highly of both the members and the music. Strung Out on U2 is an a CD of two different string quartets performing a large handful of U2's hits.
Although I do not consider myself a classical music fan, through exposure by my mom during my childhood and my experience in the Plano I.S.D. humanities program, I can say that I appreciate and enjoy some classical music even if overall I prefer to listen to something else. In the string compositions of these songs, everything in a U2 song was performed by string instruments. Even the vocals were replaced by a violin.
With my love of U2 I eagerly embraced this collection of string music and have fallen completely in love with this version of my favorite songs. The many times I have listened to the originals and my knowledge of their lyrics probably helps, but the string versions really help me to travel to that world of ideas and lose myself in the meaning of the songs.
Back to my drive on Sunday. So as I was driving through this natural beauty the song "Where The Streets Have No Name" in the its string quartet form was being played loudly enough to fill the car and take my attention hostage. From something my brother once told me and my own interpretation of the lyrics, "Where The Streets Have No Name" is at the same time about places so poor and isolated that their streets have no name, but also for the hope for a world free of divisions such as those that lead to war, a world with no name streets.
Let's just look at one stanza:
I wanna feel sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear without a trace
I wanna take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name.
Here we have a very positive image of sunlight which is almost universally identified as positive in artwork. Then the hopeful image of a dust cloud disappearing. In my opinion a dust cloud seems to be an image that brings about feelings like uncomfortable and inconvenience. So a dust cloud disappearing without a trace is hopeful within itself, but also enables the sunlight to seen and felt.
So far the lyrics refer to a positive image and a negative image disappearing and becoming positive. Then Bono writes/sings "I wanna take shelter from the poison rain." While the idea of shelter is positive, poison rain at its face value can represent a world messed up by pollution or more symbolically war, famine, illness and the many other reasons for sadness in the world.
So we start off with hope, a negative image quickly turning into hope and then the search for hope in the midst of despair. I decided to reproduce the lyrics, but to make it easier for those who just want me to get to the point I will wait until the end of the entry.
Back to my story... as I was listening to the string version of this song and driving through nature, I couldn't help but close my eyes for a brief second. I would've enjoyed to absorb all this longer, but it is hard to enjoy the beauty of the lush green around me with my eyes closed and more importantly it is much harder to drive!
What finally came to me during this drive was the answer to questions I have been asked and have asked myself repeatedly in the last few years. Why do I put such a premium on a social consciousness? Why am I so dedicated to living a social justice lifestyle? Why am I so passionate on pursuing a career focused on social justice?
Thanks to the influence of my brother and his music collection, the first real song I really embraced was "Mysterious Ways" on the Achtung Baby album of U2. I used to play it over and over whenever he was not home. It was fun, got me going and had a quality to it that made me think about things more deeply than I ever had. I think I was 8 or 9.
The first album/cd I ever bought or really had someone in my family buy for me was U2's Pop (which many fans and critics think is the weakest of all U2 albums. They have a point, but still fantastic music with some incredible melodies and lyrics).
What occurred to me was that I had been growing up with social justice in my ears, brain and my heart since that first day I started to listen to "Mysterious Ways" over and over.
Of course I still factor in my parents' insistence on watching the news and some excellent guidance of teachers, I think I have finally figured out the answer to those questions.
We are the the products of our childhood and the latter part of the childhood was filled with beautiful music that seduced me into thinking about the world around me.
Sound like a good explanation or am I just trying to hard to be artsy about my life?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Who is there to do in a small town?
No the title is not a typo, I meant to write who not what. Let me explain:
After a typical long day at work yesterday I came back to my hotel room to watch some mindless television and eat some left over pizza. While I settling into this most exciting of routines I heard a knock at my door. I thought it was my co-workers Megan, but was puzzled since up until this point she has only been to my room three times and each time she called first.
Being the lazy bum that I am, I groaned and got off my bed and walked toward the door. Not being certain who it was I went ahead and used the peep hole and didn't see anyone. Cautiously I opened the door and a small built black woman was standing out there. She asked if someone was there, I believe the name was Jack. Luckily I get a cozy hotel room all to myself and so of course there was no Jack in my room.
She then added a little bit of sadness to her tone and said she was just dropped off from Asheboro to visit an old friend who was staying at the hotel. She claimed he was part of a construction crew that was staying there. I told her the only construction crew that I knew had already left a few days ago.
Claiming that this man, Jack, was staying at the room next door to me, she asked if I could use my phone. While I know it wasn't a good idea, I probably have too kind of a heart sometimes and let her in. She used the phone and talked to the confused guy next door, thanked me and left.
At this point I was still trying to nice and believe the story, as of that moment it sounded odd. But there was no reason for me to question her and so I accepted it, and went back to watching the ending of the Daily Show. Just as the Colbert Report was in full swing and I was getting excited to watch the pending showdown between Stephen Colbert and Tom DeLay, there was another knock on my door.
Hoping that is really was a coworker this time, I crept back to the door and opened it up. Again with the almost genuine sounding of disappointment in her voice she said that it wasn't her friend Jack and asked if she could use the phone again. She didn't steal my kidney the first time, so I sighed and let her back in.
She went on talking about how she was dropped off and had no idea what to do. She asked if I was driving. Just as I started writing this I looked up the distance from Siler City to Asheboro and it turns out it is only about half an hour away. Last night I thought Asheboro was a good two hours away. Either way I was tired and my kindness has limits, there was no way I was driving this stranger to Asheboro in the middle of the night.
She asked if she could leave her purse in exchange for some money to get a cab back home. This seemed a little bit more agreeable to me, even though I didn't much like the idea. The problem for her was that I had been reliable on my debit card and had no physical cash on me except for the change on one of the hotel room tables.
I reminded her that she was welcome to use the phone, she thought about it, ask me again about the change on the table. After finding out that I had less than a single dollar in change she commented about not having anyone to call. I again apologized for not being to help more, gave her a frown to indicate my sincerity and wished her luck.
She left and I really started questioning the origins of the woman traveling over 20 miles to visit a friend who is a construction worker staying at a hotel in a city of roughly 8,000 people. Not much I could do to help her so I went back to my night time ritual except now it was my turn to be disappointed. I missed the showdown between Colbert and DeLay!
This morning at the office, my coworker Rene I was talking about a visit from a woman last night. I only picked up the conversation midway through and chimed in that I was visited by the same woman.
Turns out the woman used the old friend/telephone ploy to enter rooms and solicit sex to men who were alone. Obviously she did not discover that Rene was as physically broke as I was, but being a married man with four children and probably a myriad of other reasons he said no to her solicitation.
So I had an encounter with a prostitute and for one reason or another she either believed that I was sincere about being broke or she did not approach me with the same offer.
Either way she'd be walking away disappointed, I wasn't interested nor do I have that kind of disposable income! Not much to philosophize here... only one question left to ponder: Do I feel pity for her, tickled by the random course of events, honored that she chose to leave me alone or disappointed she so easily left me alone? I think I'm going to feel pity, a little bit of tickled and mostly indifferent about this strange evening.
All I can be certain of... it was the most interesting evening I've had in Siler City in the near two weeks I've been here!
After a typical long day at work yesterday I came back to my hotel room to watch some mindless television and eat some left over pizza. While I settling into this most exciting of routines I heard a knock at my door. I thought it was my co-workers Megan, but was puzzled since up until this point she has only been to my room three times and each time she called first.
Being the lazy bum that I am, I groaned and got off my bed and walked toward the door. Not being certain who it was I went ahead and used the peep hole and didn't see anyone. Cautiously I opened the door and a small built black woman was standing out there. She asked if someone was there, I believe the name was Jack. Luckily I get a cozy hotel room all to myself and so of course there was no Jack in my room.
She then added a little bit of sadness to her tone and said she was just dropped off from Asheboro to visit an old friend who was staying at the hotel. She claimed he was part of a construction crew that was staying there. I told her the only construction crew that I knew had already left a few days ago.
Claiming that this man, Jack, was staying at the room next door to me, she asked if I could use my phone. While I know it wasn't a good idea, I probably have too kind of a heart sometimes and let her in. She used the phone and talked to the confused guy next door, thanked me and left.
At this point I was still trying to nice and believe the story, as of that moment it sounded odd. But there was no reason for me to question her and so I accepted it, and went back to watching the ending of the Daily Show. Just as the Colbert Report was in full swing and I was getting excited to watch the pending showdown between Stephen Colbert and Tom DeLay, there was another knock on my door.
Hoping that is really was a coworker this time, I crept back to the door and opened it up. Again with the almost genuine sounding of disappointment in her voice she said that it wasn't her friend Jack and asked if she could use the phone again. She didn't steal my kidney the first time, so I sighed and let her back in.
She went on talking about how she was dropped off and had no idea what to do. She asked if I was driving. Just as I started writing this I looked up the distance from Siler City to Asheboro and it turns out it is only about half an hour away. Last night I thought Asheboro was a good two hours away. Either way I was tired and my kindness has limits, there was no way I was driving this stranger to Asheboro in the middle of the night.
She asked if she could leave her purse in exchange for some money to get a cab back home. This seemed a little bit more agreeable to me, even though I didn't much like the idea. The problem for her was that I had been reliable on my debit card and had no physical cash on me except for the change on one of the hotel room tables.
I reminded her that she was welcome to use the phone, she thought about it, ask me again about the change on the table. After finding out that I had less than a single dollar in change she commented about not having anyone to call. I again apologized for not being to help more, gave her a frown to indicate my sincerity and wished her luck.
She left and I really started questioning the origins of the woman traveling over 20 miles to visit a friend who is a construction worker staying at a hotel in a city of roughly 8,000 people. Not much I could do to help her so I went back to my night time ritual except now it was my turn to be disappointed. I missed the showdown between Colbert and DeLay!
This morning at the office, my coworker Rene I was talking about a visit from a woman last night. I only picked up the conversation midway through and chimed in that I was visited by the same woman.
Turns out the woman used the old friend/telephone ploy to enter rooms and solicit sex to men who were alone. Obviously she did not discover that Rene was as physically broke as I was, but being a married man with four children and probably a myriad of other reasons he said no to her solicitation.
So I had an encounter with a prostitute and for one reason or another she either believed that I was sincere about being broke or she did not approach me with the same offer.
Either way she'd be walking away disappointed, I wasn't interested nor do I have that kind of disposable income! Not much to philosophize here... only one question left to ponder: Do I feel pity for her, tickled by the random course of events, honored that she chose to leave me alone or disappointed she so easily left me alone? I think I'm going to feel pity, a little bit of tickled and mostly indifferent about this strange evening.
All I can be certain of... it was the most interesting evening I've had in Siler City in the near two weeks I've been here!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Where in the World is Leran?
I hope everyone got the allusion in my title. Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? is one of my favorite games from my childhood as I know from talking to people my age, it was among their favorites too.
Tough competition from Oregon Trail, but a few weeks ago while avoiding studying for exams and packing up my apartment I downloaded and played one of the older Carmen Sandiego games. Really this is becoming a long rambling justification for why I titled my blog entry the way I did, I thought it'd be interest in witty, but I'll just cut to the chase:
Where in the world am I? North Carolina. Yes, you heard (read is more like it) that right. I'm smack in the Middle of Nowhere, North Carolina... otherwise called Siler City, North Carolina.
As the school year started, I had the dreams and goals of traveling abroad OR being in Washington D.C. this summer and sadly neither of those plans worked out. First, I decided to hold off on going to London for a Maymester in social justice issues through the lens of social work. Part of my decision was financial and the other part was the uncertainty of doing such a program through the point of view of social work majors.
I know many social work majors and they are great people that do amazing work. I just wasn't positive that the point of view they have on social justice was one that would be truly beneficial to my future career plans. The experience would have still been positive and very beneficial, but I thought it would be best to save money and do either the Normandy Scholar's program or another travel abroad opportunity in 2008.
So then I began to explore the Washington D.C. option. I thought early in the Spring semester was too late for paying gigs in D.C., but the Liberal Arts Career Center at UT told me I still had time. Between my internship at the Texas Capitol, White Rose Society, school work and my typical disorganization, the time ran out and I did not hear back from anyone and did not make much of an effort to get a paying D.C. gig.
So that left me with one final option... going to Israel. While this was a "final" option, it was certainly not that way in my heart. With only two grandparents left (the two grandfathers) and one of them having just recently turned 94, I really wanted to visit him. Additionally as my last entry pointed out, my brother and my sister-in-law are there for about another six months. All in all a great time for me to go back to a country I love.
Being a poor college student I looked for some of the trips directed at students and found a really cheap, but also extremely excited opportunity. Livnot is an Israeli organization that does the typical Israel tour coupled with a handful of work days helping rebuild the country's most devastated areas after the war last summer. Having completed an alternative spring break in New Orleans in March, I was really excited for this opportunity to help and visit all my relatives. This time I did not make the personal decision to not go as I did with London, but I simply was rejected from the program on the basis of giving other people an opportunity to revisit Israel for a 2nd time rather than a 10th or 11th time.
I was sad, but not much I could do. The question lingering in my mind was: what am I going to do this summer?! With it already being May and none of the exciting plans coming to fruition I was preparing to suck it up and just work at whatever well-paying desk job I could receive in Dallas for the summer. The only comfort was being able to spend time with my mom, having relaxing weekends, catching up on reading and being able to help the Dallas community with their Darfur advocacy efforts.
I'm as far as you can be from religious as they come and I don't believe in fate...but something seriously just fell in my lap. I guess I do believe in friendship and I have come to be a believer in the beauty of networking. My friend Hannah, an incredible person in her one right, forwarded me an e-mail from her professor about a job in North Carolina.
Here we are... the point of this long entry. I gave all that background to prove one point, I never imagined myself working in North Carolina. I'm careful not to say visit because I truly believe everywhere has its beauty and I would love to visit every state and many of the nations/regions across the world. North Carolina definitely qualifies as beautiful in the nature department. Hills, green trees and ponds EVERYWHERE. I've been told there is so some good rock climbing around and if you travel to the east, there's the Atlantic Ocean!
Yet, I never imagined spending my summer here. Disbelief aside, I was finally convinced to board a plane on May 17th (2 days after my last exam) at 6:10 a.m. (5 minutes before take-off!) and make my way to North Carolina to take a job that was still mostly unclear at that time.
So a bit about the job. What I've told people who have asked: I'm doing data management (data entry) for union organizers who are trying help immigrant workers at poultry plants to unionize in order to improve their working conditions. That's a mouthful, but it only gives you a general idea of what I'm doing.
What I do: I input data and help locate data within a database for the organizers I'm helping. In the next few days I will also be running reports and producing new house call sheets for the organizers. Glamorous data entry, but at least it is for a good cause and the pay is good. I'm missing being lazy in Dallas (never thought I'd say that), but I'm exploring the unknown... or at least the southern part of the east coast.
Why the organizers are here: My brother stumbled across a good article about the situation here. The basic rundown is that the plant here is run by mostly immigrant workers. I don't know the breakdown, but yes some are illegal, while others have legal status. Regardless of their legal status these workers have been exposed to a number of unfair conditions including:
I've been here about a week and we'll see if the work continues to be something I can manage. I am given a few days off about every 2 weeks and I also receive a plane ticket back so those days off can be spent in Dallas with my mom and my friends. The first break is May 31st to about June 3rd. Look forward to seeing you then!
Tough competition from Oregon Trail, but a few weeks ago while avoiding studying for exams and packing up my apartment I downloaded and played one of the older Carmen Sandiego games. Really this is becoming a long rambling justification for why I titled my blog entry the way I did, I thought it'd be interest in witty, but I'll just cut to the chase:
Where in the world am I? North Carolina. Yes, you heard (read is more like it) that right. I'm smack in the Middle of Nowhere, North Carolina... otherwise called Siler City, North Carolina.
As the school year started, I had the dreams and goals of traveling abroad OR being in Washington D.C. this summer and sadly neither of those plans worked out. First, I decided to hold off on going to London for a Maymester in social justice issues through the lens of social work. Part of my decision was financial and the other part was the uncertainty of doing such a program through the point of view of social work majors.
I know many social work majors and they are great people that do amazing work. I just wasn't positive that the point of view they have on social justice was one that would be truly beneficial to my future career plans. The experience would have still been positive and very beneficial, but I thought it would be best to save money and do either the Normandy Scholar's program or another travel abroad opportunity in 2008.
So then I began to explore the Washington D.C. option. I thought early in the Spring semester was too late for paying gigs in D.C., but the Liberal Arts Career Center at UT told me I still had time. Between my internship at the Texas Capitol, White Rose Society, school work and my typical disorganization, the time ran out and I did not hear back from anyone and did not make much of an effort to get a paying D.C. gig.
So that left me with one final option... going to Israel. While this was a "final" option, it was certainly not that way in my heart. With only two grandparents left (the two grandfathers) and one of them having just recently turned 94, I really wanted to visit him. Additionally as my last entry pointed out, my brother and my sister-in-law are there for about another six months. All in all a great time for me to go back to a country I love.
Being a poor college student I looked for some of the trips directed at students and found a really cheap, but also extremely excited opportunity. Livnot is an Israeli organization that does the typical Israel tour coupled with a handful of work days helping rebuild the country's most devastated areas after the war last summer. Having completed an alternative spring break in New Orleans in March, I was really excited for this opportunity to help and visit all my relatives. This time I did not make the personal decision to not go as I did with London, but I simply was rejected from the program on the basis of giving other people an opportunity to revisit Israel for a 2nd time rather than a 10th or 11th time.
I was sad, but not much I could do. The question lingering in my mind was: what am I going to do this summer?! With it already being May and none of the exciting plans coming to fruition I was preparing to suck it up and just work at whatever well-paying desk job I could receive in Dallas for the summer. The only comfort was being able to spend time with my mom, having relaxing weekends, catching up on reading and being able to help the Dallas community with their Darfur advocacy efforts.
I'm as far as you can be from religious as they come and I don't believe in fate...but something seriously just fell in my lap. I guess I do believe in friendship and I have come to be a believer in the beauty of networking. My friend Hannah, an incredible person in her one right, forwarded me an e-mail from her professor about a job in North Carolina.
Here we are... the point of this long entry. I gave all that background to prove one point, I never imagined myself working in North Carolina. I'm careful not to say visit because I truly believe everywhere has its beauty and I would love to visit every state and many of the nations/regions across the world. North Carolina definitely qualifies as beautiful in the nature department. Hills, green trees and ponds EVERYWHERE. I've been told there is so some good rock climbing around and if you travel to the east, there's the Atlantic Ocean!
Yet, I never imagined spending my summer here. Disbelief aside, I was finally convinced to board a plane on May 17th (2 days after my last exam) at 6:10 a.m. (5 minutes before take-off!) and make my way to North Carolina to take a job that was still mostly unclear at that time.
So a bit about the job. What I've told people who have asked: I'm doing data management (data entry) for union organizers who are trying help immigrant workers at poultry plants to unionize in order to improve their working conditions. That's a mouthful, but it only gives you a general idea of what I'm doing.
What I do: I input data and help locate data within a database for the organizers I'm helping. In the next few days I will also be running reports and producing new house call sheets for the organizers. Glamorous data entry, but at least it is for a good cause and the pay is good. I'm missing being lazy in Dallas (never thought I'd say that), but I'm exploring the unknown... or at least the southern part of the east coast.
Why the organizers are here: My brother stumbled across a good article about the situation here. The basic rundown is that the plant here is run by mostly immigrant workers. I don't know the breakdown, but yes some are illegal, while others have legal status. Regardless of their legal status these workers have been exposed to a number of unfair conditions including:
- Low pay-the pay is actually pretty good considering it is above minimum wage, but the employer has been proven to tamper with time clocks in order to extend hours and decrease the amount of pay. Additionally simple safety supplies that are necessary for workers to do their job safely are not being provided to workers, but instead are subtracted from their paycheck. Not surprising that the employer has also found any excuse to nickel and dime employee pay so that while the work stays the same or increases, pay stays the same or decreases.
- Unsafe conditions-While the company continues to claim otherwise the people I work with have collected many accounts and autopsies of death and serious injuries due to the work at the plant. Additionally things like line speed are increased with the bottom dollar sign line in mind while ignoring the increased workers at the line.
- Lack of medical care-When injuries happen at the plant only confirmed legal employees receive assistance from the company due to the fear of lawsuit. Illegal workers and legal workers with unconfirmed status on the other hand are left injured, without medical care and the plant either fires them or puts them back on similar or worse job than before.
- Lack of bathroom breaks-Through my studies of international development I could imagine such scenarios in many places across the world not receiving bathroom breaks. I could even imagine a work place with purely illegal workers within the United States being deprived of this simple right. In any situation (legal, illegal or third world) the simple allowance of a person to urinate during the work day should be accepted as an obvious right that a worker should receive. It is a gross abuse of a person's dignity to be forced to work to the point of urinated and even defecate on themselves. Here in Siler City, North Carolina and the neighboring poultry plants in Sanford and Pittsboro this basic abuse of dignity is occurring on a regular basis.
I've been here about a week and we'll see if the work continues to be something I can manage. I am given a few days off about every 2 weeks and I also receive a plane ticket back so those days off can be spent in Dallas with my mom and my friends. The first break is May 31st to about June 3rd. Look forward to seeing you then!
The Birth of A Blog
My brother is one of my best advisers, friends and overall influences. If you don't know him, his name is Oren and he is currently in Jerusalem with his wife Suzanne, an almost equally valuable friend of mine.
The two of them have started an interesting blog about the adventures in Israel. I recommend it, it is an interesting read and most recently has featured picture of their cute dog, Choomy.
The two of them have also told me over and over that I should start a blog and continue blogging. If that wasn't enough, my sister, Karen in California has also stumbled across my old blog and given me some exaggerated compliments on my writing and expressed interest in seeing me continue in this endeavor of blogging. Sadly she doesn't have a blog for me to share, but don't fear, I will put up a picture of her cute daughter, my niece, Maya!
Ok, I guess I will wrap up this Minc family tree lesson and sum this up: the public has spoken and I thought it could be fun to rekindle the writing fires. So here goes nothing, the new blog is born!
As I have in past blogging attempts, I will avoid recapping any mundane details of my life, but will fill everyone in on anything interesting, funny or what I think my pass as though provoking. This is a practice in thinking, expression, columnist-style writing and broadcast blogging journalism. As such, I hope to occasionally receive feedback, comments and I invite disagreement, discussion and your own thought provoking responses to my ideas.
Here goes nothing... let the blogging commence!
The two of them have started an interesting blog about the adventures in Israel. I recommend it, it is an interesting read and most recently has featured picture of their cute dog, Choomy.
The two of them have also told me over and over that I should start a blog and continue blogging. If that wasn't enough, my sister, Karen in California has also stumbled across my old blog and given me some exaggerated compliments on my writing and expressed interest in seeing me continue in this endeavor of blogging. Sadly she doesn't have a blog for me to share, but don't fear, I will put up a picture of her cute daughter, my niece, Maya!
Ok, I guess I will wrap up this Minc family tree lesson and sum this up: the public has spoken and I thought it could be fun to rekindle the writing fires. So here goes nothing, the new blog is born!
As I have in past blogging attempts, I will avoid recapping any mundane details of my life, but will fill everyone in on anything interesting, funny or what I think my pass as though provoking. This is a practice in thinking, expression, columnist-style writing and broadcast blogging journalism. As such, I hope to occasionally receive feedback, comments and I invite disagreement, discussion and your own thought provoking responses to my ideas.
Here goes nothing... let the blogging commence!
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