Liquid-Concrete

A recent conversation between friends:

CoquillageRouge: then he'll have to respond with some kind of liquid-concrete answer
SocialDisruption: oh how i hate the liquid-concrete
CoquillageRouge: yeah, it's easy to get stuck in, for one thing!

Said friends were generalizing European males. Their conversation can be summed up in two words: liquid-concrete. What is liquid-concrete? It is the talking in circles that many American girls (whom I've talked to anyway) find frusterating. There are two European conversation extremes - bluntness or circles. We can deal with the bluntness. It may hurt our pride but at least we understand. The circles on the other hand are mind-boggling. It's that vague conversation where you know something important is being said without it actually being said. It's that answer that doesn't really give you a positive or negitive answer. It's that je n'sais pas quoi that frusterates you yet keeps you intrigued.

Now, I realize this is a generalization. Like all generalizations, there are people who do not fit the mold. A great website for European generalization created by Americans is: http://americangirlsareeasy.com/book It's a satire website, so don't take it as truth. The title itself is a generalization. It's good for a laugh and nothing more.

Tall Problems

I've never considered myself tall. Back in the day when I had foolish dreams of being a model, I used to want to be 5'7" (minimum model height). But as it is, I'm happy with being 5'6." Life is good at 5'6." Jean length is perfect. I don't have to worry about being too long for beds or couches. You get the picture.

The reason I bring this up is because in my ballroom dance class, I tower over at least 60% of the males. I never thought I'd have this problem ... not that it's really a problem, more of a social expectation. I expect to be shorter than my dance partners. Anyway, to the tall guys out here, I salute you. You wanna dance?

Questions.

Males, has it ever occured to you that honking is not an effective way to pick up females?

Why is there strawberry milk but no peanut butter milk?

What would have happened if Hitler was born in the United States?

What if we find life on Mars?

If there are cyborgs on TV (the sci fi channel in particular), who is to say that there aren't already cyborgs among us?

Who decides fashion anyway?

Why are they called French Fries, if they aren't French? What about French Toast? French kiss?

Roses are romantic, but why?

Snakes aren't slimy, yet most people I know think that they are. What gives?

Crème Brûlée

My French may not be stellar - but I CAN prononce crème correctly; as in Crème Brûlée. It is not "cream bruuleee". A semi-uppity woman continually corrected my english this evening. She thought she was doing me a service. She was right, I was wrong. Fine. But then, she corrects my "Crème Brûlée" with cream bruuleee. Evidently, I am not fit to speak any language. Argh. Perhaps I should resort to telepathic communication.

My Nicole is On the RADIO!

I laughed. The sound of Nicole's voice put a smile on my face and laughter on my throat. You did a great job bella! I will have to try to listen more often. Granted, it's around 2AM my time, but that's all right. I loved listening to you. :)

If any of my readers (and I know you're out there) are interested in listening to the University of Puget Sound's student run radio station, live streaming can be found here. The great thing about student radio is that they play stuff you wouldn't find on radio stations elsewhere. You'll find more new, independent stuff, which is less mainstream and (often) more creative.

Brace Yourself: I'm Going Political

So Pope Benedict XVI quoted a Byzantine emperor and the radical Muslim world reacted violently; an Italian nun was murdered and Christian churches were desecrated. Talk about anger management issues! The Vatican offered an apology.

In a recent article posted on Slate.com, Anne Applebaum wrote:

"... I don't mean that we all need to rush to defend or to analyze this particular sermon: I leave that to experts on Byzantine theology (and to my colleague Christopher Hitchens). But we can all unite in our support for freedom of speech - —surely the pope is allowed to quote medieval texts- and of the press. And we can also unite - —loudly - —in our condemnation of violent, unprovoked attacks on churches, embassies, and elderly nuns. By "we" I mean here the White House, the Vatican, the German Greens, the French Foreign Ministry, NATO, Greenpeace, Le Monde, and Fox News. Western institutions of the left, the right, and everything in between. True, these principles sound pretty elementary "we're pro-free speech and anti-gratuitous violence" —but in the days since the pope's sermon, I don't feel that I've heard them defended in anything like a unanimous chorus. A lot more time has been spent analyzing what the pontiff meant to say, or should have said, or ought to have said if he had been given better advice.'

All of which is simply beside the point, since nothing the pope has ever said comes even close to matching the vitriol, extremism, and hatred that pours out of the mouths of radical imams and fanatical clerics every day of the week all across Europe and the Muslim world, almost none of which ever provokes any Western response at all. And maybe it's time that it should: When Saudi Arabia publishes textbooks commanding good Wahhabi Muslims to "hate" Christians, Jews, and non-Wahhabi Muslims, for example, why shouldn't the Vatican, the Southern Baptists, Britain's chief rabbi, and the Council on American-Islamic Relations all condemn them —simultaneously. Equally, I see no reason why Swedish social democrats, British conservatives, and Dutch liberals couldn't occasionally forget their admittedly deep differences and agree unanimously that the practices of female circumcision and forced child marriage are totally unacceptable, whether in Somalia or Stockholm. Surely on this issue they all agree.'

... I don't feel that it's asking too much for the West to quit saying sorry and remain united, occasionally, in its own defense. The fanatics attacking the pope already limit the right to free speech among their own followers. I don't see why we should allow them to limit our right to free speech, too."

Free Speech? Who really has free speech these day? If you look at someone crossed-eyed, she could sue you. If you say "fag" in a public address, gasps will be heard for miles. Everyone is using swear words now-a-days. If someone says "fuck," you probably won't be offended. But if someone uses the "N-word," you'll be going to hell in a handbasket. (Interesting side note, I'll use the word "fuck" but I won't write the "N-word." What does this say about my social consciousness? Have I been trained to hide from one thing yet brandish another?) Valgarity is in while socio-economics are out. Slander has become all-encompasing. A guy in England can't peacefully pass out pamphlets during a gay pride demonstration. We don't say secretary anymore - it's administrative assistant. Soon I won't be able to say that I hate prunes because grape growers will be offended.

Ok, don't get me wrong. I'm going a little extreme in the previous paragraph. Many patterns of speech have been rightfully changed (including the "N-word" in case you're doubting my personal beliefs). But I also remember, in my first college class, being verbally jumped on because I used the name of a politically incorrect song title in a sociology discussion. This has taught me to use discernment when speaking. I digress.

My point is that I think society has become too seeker sensitive. We don't want to offend. We offer constant excuses. There is the infamous "Mistakes were make" example. Such a sentence does not define ownership nor does it define the subject. It's ambiguous. No one takes a stand.

Applebaum's article calls for a stand. I like it. I think we need more of it.

Bed + Studying = Horrible

After numerous years in school, you would think that I would know not to study on my bed while propped up by my mountain of chenille pillows. Alas, I do it all the time. Then the inevitable happens; I fall asleep. Sleeping is not conducive to studying! Argh. I should be out conquering the world yet I'm bound by my blankets. ... The Yellow Rose of Texas found a way to change the course of historic events while in bed ... hmm (not that I'm advocating her methods).

On other subjects, I happened upon a conservative christian website which advocates minimal education for girls. In fact, I not only happened upon one website, but an entire webring of similar sites. I was shocked to say the least. I am a firm believer in "where there is no vision, the people perish." History demonstrates that "vision" is often accompanied by "education." Such education has not always been formal, academic education. Rather it is an opening of the mind beyond natural instinct and intuition and beyond social expectations. ... and the quote I used above, it's not from some "feminist propaganda" but from the bible.

In other parts of the site, wives are encouraged to fight for her marriage. Fair enough - marriages are worth fighting for. I believe that a marriage should be lifelong contract. But then the site continued by saying that, for the wife, nothing is grounds for divorce. She is in essence under her husband's total control and that everything, even mental and/or physical "hard times," are the will of God for the building of character - no matter what. I think there are a few things that are grounds for divorce - namely abuse. If you're being abused, especially physically abused, do not passively wait in your home while praying to God to change the man. Instead, get out. Find a refuge away from the abuse. From that refuge, pray for God to change the man. Sometimes God cannot help us unless we're willing to take a step in the right direction. It would be like me praying for a new job but never sending out resumes. Pray for the job, send out the resumes, then continue to pray.

Am I wrong? Am I missing something? Opinions anyone?

I'm Feeling Nostalgic for Washington

Our school for summer 2005: Georgetown University. Fiona.

We were interns. Jake, Charise, Marty, Michelle, Alania, Me.

White House back lawn. Yeah, we got invited inside the gates.

At The Indian Prime Minister's inaugural visit.

President Bush talks on Social Security. Good times. Notice the conservative Washington dress. I do like the color of the President's tie.

Fiona and Me. After Bush's talk. Why no smile? I have no idea.

Greek anyone? Hands down, I had the best toga of the evening - it was the head gear. Me, Jeremiah, Charise, Michelle, Stephen.

Hookah Lounge in the Adams Morgann District. I swear I've never smoked. Fiona, Liz, Charise, Me.

Poor Interns

Each time I write a letter to a political person (congress, executive cabinet, state legislature, etc.), I think about the intern(s) whose job it is to open and read all the mail. I mean, sure I'm concerned about the issue at hand, but my mind cannot help but think about the people who do the busy work. If you've been a political intern, you know what I'm talking about. My friend, Charise, worked on Capitol Hill for one of her state's congressman. Each office on the hill receives mail twice a day. Each time there are hundreds of letters. Hundreds! Imagine.

Today's letter, part of this evening's Amnesty Intl. meeting, concerned Darfur. If you don't know what's happening, you should check it out. I mean it. Anyway, I couldn't help but think of the process. My letter will be placed in the mail and sent to D.C. Mail sent to Washington is slow because of security; so it will take at least a week to arrive at its destination. Once my letter reaches the office where all the interns are huddled, hoping to become the next rising stars of the political world, it will be opened and skimmed. My name, return address and issue will be noted. The actual letter will probably be destroyed - I don't know if the government recycles paper on a large scale (perhaps we should write letters about this). My issue, since it's a "big one," will already have a running tally of how many people have voiced concern on the topic. Basically an intern behind a computer adds "my voice" to an excel spreadsheet. Another intern will write me a pre-made letter, on pre-signed letterhead, saying the [ ] appreciates my concern and he/she will address the issue in the most effective way possible. Practically every person who writes will receive a letter like this.

Sounds like "your voice" doesn't matter, doesn't it? Well, it does matter! Those interns keep track of those tallies I mentioned. When a tally reaches a certain number, the intern to the secretary is notified. The secretary notifies the chief of staff who notifies the big cheese. This processes to longer or shorter depending on the office and the importance of the person in office. If the big cheese is notified, he/she thinks "hey, my country is concerned. Perhaps I should look into this." The more letters you write (and phone calls you make), the more the big cheese will feel that the issue is important, especially if he/she is an elected cheese.


To the interns, the engines of the battleship, I empathize.

3 Majors at Penn State

Classes continue to go well - thanks for asking.

I swam/floated early this morning. Danced for two hours. Attempted to speak french for 2 hours - Claire de Duras (Ourika) is my hero while Christine Plante (La Petite Soeur de Balzac) is my nemesis - I'm basing this on difficultly level. Discussed the protagonists/antagonists of African American plays - particularly The Chip Woman's Fortune. Wrote some emails. Ate an apple or two. Ran around in circles. Read history for hours. Made some telephone calls. Read french for an eternity. Thus completes my day. I need to start drinking coffee again.

It was a good day. I'm exhausted. Good Night World - I love you. Perhaps tomorrow I'll scorn you, one never knows.

The Jump from Neoliberalism to Immigration.

Neoliberalism is the perfect worldwide economic structure - in an ideal world with ideal conditions. The economy would self-regulate. An economic balance would be achieved through market adaptations. Wealth would be evenly distributed. There would be a flexible workforce (i.e. trans-nationalization of labor) and no trade restrictions. We would be happy and content and never have any problems.

Ok, so I made that last part up. Anyway, no, I'm not studying economics right now. In fact, my life will be complete if I am never obligated to look at an economics textbook again. That being said, economics affects everyone. The neoliberals (which, if you don't know, is different from the political affiliation) thought that humanity could have a great world if everyone could move around and do his or her own thing. But we humans have national borders. You cannot legally move across said borders without some sort of document. So what happens if you want to move across a border, but don't have the right document? There are a few options. A: obtain a document. B: go without one.

The United States of America, Country of Immigrants. Some of us like to hold onto our heritage, others don't - it usually is a matter of when it benefits you the most. When the pilgrims landed, there weren't dudes standing on the shores with a passport stamp in hand. In fact, you could even say that the early settlers were invaders. They didn't ask, they merely took - such is history. In 1790 the law said that "any alien, being a free white person, may be admitted to become a citizen of the United States." A little racist, don't you think? In the 1800s, we had immigration inspection men - if he didn't like you or thought you were too ugly, he would send you back to where you came from. Passports appeared around 1917. Today we have quotas. Today we also have an "immigration problem." I don't have a good answer for this problem. I empathize with those who are trying to get in the country; legal or otherwise. I also understand the government's dilemma. No matter what happens, someone gets screwed.

I do think that "kicking out" all recent immigrants, a solution very popular in my region, is a horrible answer. Who do you think does all the menial labor? Who picks your strawberries; cleans your toilets; builds your roofs; paints your buildings? Such immigrant labor may not be as prevalent in central Pennsylvania, but the urban areas depend on it. Our nation would have its feet knocked out from under us if such an idea was attempted. Furthermore, "our jobs" are not being "given" to the immigrants; rather they are being outsourced to other countries. I digress.

In the Right Hands

Like many things in life, if you're in the hands of someone who knows what he/she is doing - it's going to be memorable.

Dancing is incredible. I went to a swing dance lesson tonight followed by two hours of open floor. It rocked. I had such a good time. Waiting for a partner reminds me of elementary school gym class. Remember standing in line, hoping with nervous anticipation that you'll be picked in the first round? Yeah, it's kinda like that. I met 10 or 11 people. Danced with some people a few times. Everyone's smiling, except when you step on feet (it happens) - you twirl - you laugh - you have fun.

If you can dance and I find out, I may ask you to dance some evening, somewhere, at some place.

Yoga

Quiet relaxing music. A dim room. Slow, calculated movements. A loud thud.

I went to a yoga/pilates fusion class last night. My friend and I found room for our mats in the front of the room. All went well for the first half hour. I stood on one foot for a while. I focused on my breathing. My legs often found themselves high in the air. My arms twisted in various positions. After various poses, we had to do a split-like position in which we left a few inches of room for the arms to go under the legs/body. Not a problem. I'm flexible. But I found that getting out of the position was a little more difficult than getting in to it. I lost my "center of gravity" and fell to the floor with a loud thump. Opps. My laughter filled the tranquil room. I received sympathic smiles from my neighboring particpants. Sigh. I'm sure people fall over all the time in yoga.

I think I might go next week. If I do, I will find a space in the back where I can practice falling over in a less conspicuous location.

Scuba.

First day of classes. I am going to learn to be a scuba diver. I am learning to dance. Ah yes, I'm finally taking gym credits; scuba diving and ballroom dancing. I'm going to learn how to salsa! Who's with me?

On other topics, Penn State has decided that bottled water is the only beverage allowed in classrooms. My question is: how are they going to enforce it? There are over 45,000 students on campus.

Catch Me if You Can.

My Horses and I play a game about twice a year. It's called "catch me if you can." Being boy horses, they have certain body parts which differentiate them from girl horses. As you can imagine, these body parts become crusty from everyday use. What becomes dirty needs cleaned or else infection sets in. Unfortunately, when owners/groomers attempt to clean the dirt, the crusty member hides in its "horsey-turtleneck." Thus the cleaning situation becomes difficult for the owner; which, in this case, is me.

Crusty cleaning can be performed in a variety of ways: 1. If the horse is a stud, TIE him in a stall next to a mare in heat (and for the sake of your life, don't untie the horse until the mare is gone - he might try to mount you. Think 2000 lb horse v. little human). Horse gets excited. You take wet, soapy cloth and voila. 2. Invite the vet to stop by. He or she gives the beast happy drugs. Horse becomes extremely limp. Take wet, soapy cloth and scrub away. The downside to this, besides expense, is that sometimes the entire horse becomes limp and will fall down. 3. Arm yourself with a wet cloth. Place it your shoulder. Wait for the horse to become relaxed. Sneak in and quick wipe starting at the top. ... I usually choose option number 3.

My two boys treat their special members differently. Midnight is an old horse who was probably gelded when he was a baby. He is pretty shy about his equipment. Usually, once I catch him unaware, he lets me do my thing then retreats into hiding. Cody was castrated after I bought him. He was 7. The poor guy has never gotten over it. He still thinks he is a stallion (... I swear my horses are gay). Consequently, he loves showing off his sword. It's always out except when I'm near his hind-quarters. He probably thinks that since I took away his testes, I'm going to take away his penis too. Instead of one sneak attack, like with Midnight, I have to do 5 or 6 attempts before I'm successful with Cody.

So the large portion of my day today was spent around horse rears with a wet cloth in hand. I think maybe next time, I'll splurge and get a vet. Argh.

The Restaurant Industry

Much to everyone's surprise, I have a new job. I'm a fine dining server - again. I know I swore that I hated the service industry, and I still do, but serving is the most efficient way to make money. Argh. I dropped off an application on a Wednedsday, received a call on a Thursday and was hired on a Friday. Voila. Easy enough. Now if only I can endure 10 months of groveling at the feet of others ... it hurts my pride.

I'm convinced that a customer's class is not determined by money but through his or her actions. A guest who dines at a fine restaurant only for special occasions is undoubtedly middle-class. A customer who looks around nervously and appears to be with a benefactor is almost always a working-class patron. The upper-class customers are often the nicest and incidently, the richest. They are also the most relaxed in a fine dining atmosphere. Upper-middle class customers often have something to prove and are a server's worst nightmare because he or she is never satisfied and (sadly) often treats you like dirt. 3 out of 4 of these classes tip-well or at least fair. Guess which patron doesn't tip well? Yep, you guessed it: the upper-middle class.

Perhaps the whole restaurant industry reflects the world in general.... Actions say a lot about people.

p.s. on a different note, my new neighbor across the hall works at the restaurant with me. He's a chef. We (me and my roommates) have a standing invitation for dinner and drinks. Sweet.

End of the Fair.

Grange Fair 2006 is over.