Two additional thoughts on packing:
1. In the future, pack your suitcase before you pack up the apartment. Otherwise, you leave many of the items you think you'll need out and available. When it comes time to pack the suitcase, exasperation sets in: "Agh! I don't need ALL these pairs of khakis!"
2. In the back of my mind, I know that all of the technological gadgets that I'm taking down there are going to fry in the heat and become useless. I give them all until Halloween. Any gadgets that survive Halloween will be finished off by the summer heat of Salvador.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Homage to Home
The countdown is two days until the flight to Brazil. I’m simultaneously packing the apartment for B’s eventual move to Palo Alto, and packing suitcases for my year-long trip abroad.
In a sense, this move is more than another change in addresses. B will be on the job market this fall (good vibes!), and when I return, we may no longer live in the Bay Area. Her top choice positions are all at schools outside of California. (This is by necessity; there’s at least a year-long hiring freeze across the UC system, and Stanford won’t hire their own. No word from other universities in southern California so far.) We may be returning in August to pack our items on the Peninsula into a U-Haul and drive wherever work takes us. (The current options range from Chicago to College Station to Princeton to Williamsburg.)
I have become, thus, a little nostalgic about my brief four years back in California. We have a list of activities to do in San Francisco that will remain incomplete. We might not miss the high rents and the high cost of living, but we’ll certainly miss the cheap, local, and fresh produce. I have memories of winters in Washington, DC, in which the only fruit options at the grocery store were hormone-addled apples, oranges, and bananas from October to March. We won’t miss crazy people babbling to themselves or trying to get your attention on the bus, on the street, and in the stores. I will miss the curiosity of seeing people of all stripes and thinking, ‘well, I never considered that alternative.’
I’ll miss the running routes through the hills, and the views that are your reward for summiting, for descending, for coming around the corner. I felt a little bit of pride, that I was passing the torch, when I took Neal running today and showed him all the various route combinations of the Upper, Lower, and Back Jordan Fire Trails above campus. Now it’ll be someone else’s turn to discover and huff and puff.
Most of all, I’ll miss the people. Some friends will still be in the Bay Area when I return; some won’t. A colleague moving to Hanover, NH, for a job remarked, “We’re out of here. See you at conferences, I guess.” Just as in college, the coming end of graduate school means that people will spread across the country, to be reunited for conferences every so often.
In short, I feel melancholy. B’s currently in Oslo for two weeks. I do have the good fortune in that it’s easy to cheer myself up. I just remember that someone else is paying me to spend a year in Brazil, and how fantastic that is. Brazil is a remedy for many of the above maladies: the fruit is delicious and exotic, the people are friendly, and until January I’ll live near the northern tip of Parque do Flamengo and its running path.
In a sense, this move is more than another change in addresses. B will be on the job market this fall (good vibes!), and when I return, we may no longer live in the Bay Area. Her top choice positions are all at schools outside of California. (This is by necessity; there’s at least a year-long hiring freeze across the UC system, and Stanford won’t hire their own. No word from other universities in southern California so far.) We may be returning in August to pack our items on the Peninsula into a U-Haul and drive wherever work takes us. (The current options range from Chicago to College Station to Princeton to Williamsburg.)
I have become, thus, a little nostalgic about my brief four years back in California. We have a list of activities to do in San Francisco that will remain incomplete. We might not miss the high rents and the high cost of living, but we’ll certainly miss the cheap, local, and fresh produce. I have memories of winters in Washington, DC, in which the only fruit options at the grocery store were hormone-addled apples, oranges, and bananas from October to March. We won’t miss crazy people babbling to themselves or trying to get your attention on the bus, on the street, and in the stores. I will miss the curiosity of seeing people of all stripes and thinking, ‘well, I never considered that alternative.’
I’ll miss the running routes through the hills, and the views that are your reward for summiting, for descending, for coming around the corner. I felt a little bit of pride, that I was passing the torch, when I took Neal running today and showed him all the various route combinations of the Upper, Lower, and Back Jordan Fire Trails above campus. Now it’ll be someone else’s turn to discover and huff and puff.
Most of all, I’ll miss the people. Some friends will still be in the Bay Area when I return; some won’t. A colleague moving to Hanover, NH, for a job remarked, “We’re out of here. See you at conferences, I guess.” Just as in college, the coming end of graduate school means that people will spread across the country, to be reunited for conferences every so often.
In short, I feel melancholy. B’s currently in Oslo for two weeks. I do have the good fortune in that it’s easy to cheer myself up. I just remember that someone else is paying me to spend a year in Brazil, and how fantastic that is. Brazil is a remedy for many of the above maladies: the fruit is delicious and exotic, the people are friendly, and until January I’ll live near the northern tip of Parque do Flamengo and its running path.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
On the Friday night red-eye
In honor of this blog potentially adding a second reader, I should add a personal note.
Bethany left for Oslo for two weeks tonight. When she comes back, I'll no longer be in California. We both hope she can make it to Rio, or to Curitiba/Florianopolis over Thanksgiving. We've always discussed retiring to Floripa one day, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Why? Take a look.
I could write a long digression about my feelings, but putting those thoughts on a blog is narcissistic. Instead, I'll note that Gilberto Gil does a great version of Bob Marley's No Woman, No Cry. I miss her already.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A bit cannibalistic? I'm not one to judge. (This last statement is most likely false.)
Thanks to Saneatins, the [state of] Tocantins Sanitation Company, for use of the image.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Post-election thoughts
Last night reminded me that this country, above all, is the culmination of an awesome idea. The idea, not sewn into its founding documents, but emergent through the years, is that people from all all different parts of the globe, the outcasts who have no place or no dignity or no hope elsewhere, can come to this country to live peacefully if not-so-harmoniously together. They may argue and disagree over everything, but people of diverse backgrounds can live together.
As the president-elect said in 2004:
That is the true genius of America, a faith -- a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles; that we can tuck in our children at night and know that they are fed and clothed and safe from harm; that we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door; that we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe; that we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will be counted -- at least most of the time.
Certainly there are tarnishes on this idea. About fourteen percent of the population didn't come here voluntarily, and weren't necessarily welcome. They didn't enjoy freedom from fear, from retribution, from poverty and marginality.
As Charles Blow wrote in the Times last night:
"History will record this as the night the souls of black folk, living and dead, wept – and laughed, screamed and danced – releasing 400 years of pent up emotion.
This possibility, this belief in equality and peaceful co-existence, for people from all over this planet, makes America to date the pinnacle of human civilization.
This election showed why.
To the marchers on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, to the members of SNCC and SCLC, to all who work to make the American idea better, more whole, and more concrete, thank you.
As the president-elect said in 2004:
That is the true genius of America, a faith -- a faith in simple dreams, an insistence on small miracles; that we can tuck in our children at night and know that they are fed and clothed and safe from harm; that we can say what we think, write what we think, without hearing a sudden knock on the door; that we can have an idea and start our own business without paying a bribe; that we can participate in the political process without fear of retribution, and that our votes will be counted -- at least most of the time.
Certainly there are tarnishes on this idea. About fourteen percent of the population didn't come here voluntarily, and weren't necessarily welcome. They didn't enjoy freedom from fear, from retribution, from poverty and marginality.
As Charles Blow wrote in the Times last night:
"History will record this as the night the souls of black folk, living and dead, wept – and laughed, screamed and danced – releasing 400 years of pent up emotion.
They were the souls of those whose bodies littered the bottom of the Atlantic, whose families were torn asunder, whose names were erased.
They were those who knew the terror of being set upon by men with clubs, of being trapped in a torched house, of dangling at the end of a rough rope.
They were the souls of those who knew the humiliation of another person’s spit trailing down their faces, of being treated like children well into their twilight years, of being derided and despised for the beauty God gave them."
So we go about fighting to perfect the idea, to overturn barriers and prejudices. This election was a step, a very big step, toward perfecting this idea. The idea, as stated by the candidate in 2004, is that only in America can a skinny kid with a funny name go to the best schools and achieve his potential. In America, it doesn't matter what your name is or how rich you are, because in America anyone can achieve if they work hard enough.This possibility, this belief in equality and peaceful co-existence, for people from all over this planet, makes America to date the pinnacle of human civilization.
This election showed why.
To the marchers on the Edmund Pettus Bridge, to the members of SNCC and SCLC, to all who work to make the American idea better, more whole, and more concrete, thank you.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Addendum on American politics
Someone else made this point before I did, but it's worth recording for historical interest.
John McCain once suggested bombing Iran to the Beach Boys' song "Barbara Ann," and suggested that sending tobacco over there would kill Iranians faster.
If this were the candidate for the highest office of any other nation, advocating for death in a second sovereign nation that had not attacked the first, there would be outrage streaming forth from the American media.
Imagine Hugo Chavez getting away with it. Or Correa, Morales, Ortega, or Garcia.
A theory of discourse dependency theory, splitting us into the core and periphery?
This is a good time to post a link to the Venezuelan Sunday Extended Monologue.
John McCain once suggested bombing Iran to the Beach Boys' song "Barbara Ann," and suggested that sending tobacco over there would kill Iranians faster.
If this were the candidate for the highest office of any other nation, advocating for death in a second sovereign nation that had not attacked the first, there would be outrage streaming forth from the American media.
Imagine Hugo Chavez getting away with it. Or Correa, Morales, Ortega, or Garcia.
A theory of discourse dependency theory, splitting us into the core and periphery?
This is a good time to post a link to the Venezuelan Sunday Extended Monologue.
Armchair quarterbacking for the Democratic nominee
The McCain campaign has thus far, as far as I can tell, failed to come up with a compelling narrative as to why the nominee of the incumbent party should win the office. The campaign, as reported recently in New York magazine, has to go negative against the Democrat because its own brand is tarnished.
The only compelling tagline of each of this week's ads has been the hanging question of whether Obama is "ready to lead." In some strange corner of conventional wisdom, the length of one's public service is directly proportional to one's fitness for the office. One can extrapolate multiple reasons why this is so; it's never explicitly clear. Knows foreign leaders on a first-name basis? Has handled crises before? Can locate countries on a map? Has a deeper understanding of issues? The most compelling reasons all seem to boil down to a formula where more experience produces better judgment.
My unsolicited advice to the Obama campaign is to run the same strategy against McCain that worked so well against Hillary. See here. Show that years of experience in Washington, D.C. does not improve one's judgment, does not make one a better decision-maker.
Sample script:
"John McCain has been in Washington for twenty-five years now. And yet his years in Washington haven't improved his judgment at all. (image of Keating Five)
After all those years, he voted with George Bush to attack a country that posed no imminent threat, based on faulty information and outright lies.
He voted with George W. Bush on policies W, X, Y, and Z. He supports the same policies that have failed us for eight years now. Years in Washington haven't taught him anything new." And so forth.
Removing the experience canard leaves McCain with only one fall-back position: he's not a scary, foreign-sounding, black, secretly Muslim, celebrity Other. Oddly enough, in American politics, that may be a strong message.
Small disclaimer: this message may only work for those with advanced mental capacity. It does nothing to address subliminal racism, the use of symbols and dog whistles, and other psychological warfare meant to stoke fear and division. So maybe it's doomed.
The only compelling tagline of each of this week's ads has been the hanging question of whether Obama is "ready to lead." In some strange corner of conventional wisdom, the length of one's public service is directly proportional to one's fitness for the office. One can extrapolate multiple reasons why this is so; it's never explicitly clear. Knows foreign leaders on a first-name basis? Has handled crises before? Can locate countries on a map? Has a deeper understanding of issues? The most compelling reasons all seem to boil down to a formula where more experience produces better judgment.
My unsolicited advice to the Obama campaign is to run the same strategy against McCain that worked so well against Hillary. See here. Show that years of experience in Washington, D.C. does not improve one's judgment, does not make one a better decision-maker.
Sample script:
"John McCain has been in Washington for twenty-five years now. And yet his years in Washington haven't improved his judgment at all. (image of Keating Five)
After all those years, he voted with George Bush to attack a country that posed no imminent threat, based on faulty information and outright lies.
He voted with George W. Bush on policies W, X, Y, and Z. He supports the same policies that have failed us for eight years now. Years in Washington haven't taught him anything new." And so forth.
Removing the experience canard leaves McCain with only one fall-back position: he's not a scary, foreign-sounding, black, secretly Muslim, celebrity Other. Oddly enough, in American politics, that may be a strong message.
Small disclaimer: this message may only work for those with advanced mental capacity. It does nothing to address subliminal racism, the use of symbols and dog whistles, and other psychological warfare meant to stoke fear and division. So maybe it's doomed.
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