Enter the Twilight

Sunday 4 December 2011 kristy2 Comments

Currently, I am vibrating with caffeine-fueled energy, the kind that makes my eyeballs vibrate and should be good for being productive only it makes me really spazzy (yes, I said ‘spazzy.’ If the 20-and-under crowd can walk around looking like it’s 1995, then I can talk like it’s the mid-90s. And bring back pogs. Speaking of, did you know that I got all my pogs for free because they came in Sabritas bags? When I moved to Texas, I was all, ‘You kids had to pay for your pogs? Poor Americans.’)

Okay, so now it’s obvious why I’m not writing any cover letters at present. However, I am in the mood to write. I would like to write about so many things:

• Like my first close encounter of the New York City rodent kind (in the kitchen, no less).

• OR how that fear & disgust paled in comparison to finding LUNCHMEAT in my chocolate croissant.

• OR how I learned the hard way that people don’t automatically interpret text messages as melodramatic when I write in all caps. I thought it was an unwritten rule of texting, but apparently not. (What I mean by this is that I texted my friends, ‘SOMETHING AWFUL JUST HAPPENED TO ME,’ when what I meant was ‘I FOUND TURKEY IN MY PASTRY.’) Lesson learned. Sorry about the scare.

• OR how Deepak Chopra has a videogame now!

But I have to write about Twilight because I promised.

This story begins in the Fall of 2007, an exciting time in my life, the going-off-to-college period. I was in a young-adult book club with some of my favorite high-school teachers at the time, and they had chosen Twilight as the next read. I’d never heard of it, but it was the first book I picked up from Powell’s (Portland’s legendary independent bookstore). I read it diligently, making sure to finish it before starting my Fall semester, and when I went home for Fall Break, I was eager to discuss it with my teachers.

HOW EMBARRASSING — Here I am my first night in the dorm, reading 'Twilight,' & having no idea that this picture would embarrass me in the future.

When we met, I gave them my honest opinion. I never connected with Bella. I kept waiting for her character to develop, and it just never happened. As for Edward, I thought he was really patronizing, constantly sneering at ‘poor little Bella.’ Only my Women’s Lit teacher agreed. She said it was about an abusive relationship and that she wouldn’t recommend the book to young-adult readers because it glamorizes a toxic relationship dynamic.

Nobody. Else. Agreed. It was like they were all blinded by Edward’s sparkles. They talked about how he was in the role of ‘protector,’ and then moved on to talking about their favorite scenes, the possibility of Twilight becoming the next Harry Potter, and other equally-uncritical observations. I was shocked. These wimyn had introduced me to some of my favorite books—books with strong, independent heroines. These wimyn were themselves strong, independent heroines in my book!

I went back to college with an unsavory taste in my mouth. The book club, which would have dissolved anyway due to distance, ended on a bad note. I knew it was going to end eventually, but I had no idea it would end with me feeling so confused.

I returned to college and promptly forgot about Edward and Bella. Until…

CHRISTMAS 2008

After the Twilight movie premiered, pretty much every member of my family read the books. Including my baby cousins (ages 12-15)! I went into Loud Feminist Mode (possibly my favorite mode) and lectured anyone who would listen. One of my psychologist aunts agreed. Her critique of Twilight was that it idealizes the idea of dropping everything for a dude, that Bella essentially transforms from Person to Girlfriend, relinquishing all other aspects of her identity. Everyone else agreed that ‘[I] take everything too seriously.’

Again, I was sad and confused. My family is chock full (chock full, I tell you!) of strong, independent wimyn. I should think they would be outraged at a wimpy-girl fairy tale marketed to young girls; and yet, they weren’t. That prompted me to think very seriously about our society. I think we are so used to seeing flat characters in romantic stories that we are unfazed. Often (maybe even USUALLY) wimyn are portrayed as weaklings and men are portrayed as tough-guy heroes—to the extent that even my favorite feminists overlook this trope in literature and film, because to protest it would be to protest virtually all media.

I’m no exception. I like rom-coms and Sex and the City as much as the next girl. More, actually.

What strikes me about Twilight isn’t that it’s extreme, though I do think it is slightly more extreme in its damsel-in-distress depiction than other books and movies (but only slightly!).

What strikes me is that there are no belly laughs. Bella never ever ever seems happy! And Edward is this creepy, lurky guy who seems incapable of joy.

I don’t think anything should be classified as a romance if the characters are not deeply happy. That doesn’t have anything to do with politics, but it does make me think that our society has set the bar pretty low when it comes to love. And that we are taught to mistake Drama for Romance.

I encountered this book when my baby cousins were on the brink of independent social lives, on the brink of dating. I love them because they are hilarious, well-rounded, smart, creative people. I want them to read books and watch movies that affirm that being intelligent and funny is great! Having friends is great! Being loved for being a person is great! Most of all, I want them to know that a healthy romantic relationship will make you happy at least 95% of the time. Otherwise, it is simply not worth the energy.

Let’s end this on an uplifting note: check out this list of 100 Young Adult Books for the Feminist Reader.

This holiday season, we can do better than Twilight!

WE INTERRUPT OUR REGULARLY-SCHEDULED ‘TWILIGHT’ PROGRAMMING…

Monday 28 November 2011 kristy8 Comments

Don’t worry, I have two (two!) more Twilight posts planned for your reading painfulness, but I just couldn’t bear to write about that cultural phenomenon today. Instead, I’d like to regale you with a tale of Thanksgiving from long, long ago.

: High-five if you’re amused by Thanksgiving clip art!

I don’t think I’ve mentioned on the blog that I am from Mexico. I’ve spent a lot of time living elsewhere, so I’ll clarify what I mean. I’ve spent part of my childhood, most of my summers, and all of my Christmases in Mexico. Most of my family lives there, and my hometown in Northern Mexico is my favorite place in the world. I never laugh harder than when I am there, which is a perfect barometer for favorite place-ness, wouldn’t you agree?

Though I come from a Mexican family, there are a few members (like me) who live in the States or have strong connections to the U.S. of A. So, thanks in part to that and in part to the ~~Americanization~~ Gringo-nization of Latin America, my family can aptly be described as transnational.

About a decade ago, I don’t know how or why, my family started celebrating Thanksgiving. As far as I know, mine is the only Mexican family living in Mexico that celebrates Thanksgiving, which I think is pretty cool, especially because there’s no pro-colonialism subtext at our celebrations.

One year, when I was about thirteen, I decided that in order to have a proper Thanksgiving feast, we HAD TO HAVE stuffing. I guess somebody I admired told me it was the best part of Thanksgiving or something. We’d never had stuffing at our turkey dinner, and nobody knew how to make it from scratch. I remembered the bright red ‘Stovetop Stuffing’ box from American grocery stores, though, so I asked one of my aunts to drive me to the grocery store to buy some.

: The object of my dreams.

All of my family knew this endeavor was hopeless.

Nobody in Mexico eats stuffing. Most people don’t even know what it is.

Still, three cousins, one uncle, one aunt, and I all piled into a minivan and drove to the large grocery store nearby.

No luck.

We drove to the small grocery store that mostly stocks American imports.

No luck.

In total, we must have driven to seven grocery stores where our stuffing inquiries were met with blank stares.

When we returned, stuffing-less, I felt elated. (And not just because the expressions on the grocery stores’ employees faces as I described stuffing were priceless. You guys, stuffing is really gross in theory.)

Moral: Having a family that is willing to do something completely stupid just ‘cause they have your back (yo) totally trumps Stovetop Stuffing.

As I enter the holiday season, I am most grateful for my family. Expect more stories about them as I count down the days to Christmas—the day I’ll finally get to meet my first niece!!!

: Family, I am bringing provisions!

Over & Out.

The Twilight Zone

Monday 21 November 2011 kristy2 Comments

Last weekend I had the distinct honor of being invited to watch the first three Twilight movies. Well, technically, only my mom was invited. However, it was her first time out of the house since her surgery, so I accompanied her like the dutiful daughter I am can be.

As we ventured out into the dark windy night, I braced myself. Six hours of TV-viewing in one go is way too much for me. And, for now, let’s just say I have a complicated history with Twilight (I’ll elaborate later). Considering that I wouldn’t have spent my Saturday this way by choice, I decided to make a game of it. I would jot down my observations as I watched and then make a blog post (this one, right here!) of them. My mom’s friend couldn’t find her copy of the first movie, and I fell asleep five minutes into Eclipse, so I only saw the second movie. And now… Behold…

Super Scientific Observations of New Moon

!!!!!!!!!!!! SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT !!!!!!!!!!!

(You’ve been warned.)

1. Why isn’t she more excited about her digital camera?

2. Or seeing her friends?

3. Or kissing her boyfriend?

4. She’s definitely more excited about Jacob. Maybe this is why everyone seems to be on Team Jacob.

5. Look at her possessive boyfriend brooding while her Native American boytoy gives her a dreamcatcher. (Note to self: look up the specific history of the dreamcatcher. I hope it is at least from the Pacific Northwest.)

6. Says Edward, ‘Bella, you give me everything just by breathing.’ Says I, ‘BARF, BARF, BAAAAAAARF.’ Also, good thing because she doesn’t do much else.

7. Of course he knows Romeo & Juliet by heart… If I didn’t hate Twilight for being anti-feminist, I’d certainly hate it for being trite.

8. Bella is completely emotionless.

9. She has the most modest dress at her birthday party.

10. Why can’t she turn herself into a vampire? I mean, I get the logistics, but why does it have to be Edward who changes her? Okay, I get the metaphor (gross), but wouldn’t it be cool if she got changed by Alice? And they would play the song ‘Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves Now.’ Then Edward would be all, ‘This is way cooler than when I liked you just for breathing! I love that you are an independent individual!’ That movie would be so cool.

11. Edward and Bella make kissing look so painful. Plus, too many moan-y sounds, & she’s completely emotionless when she says she loves him. You’re not fooling nobody, grrrrl.

12. She hates pictures of herself. Seriously???

13. Her clothes are dull.

14. Edward is so mean to her! Bella should stand up to him instead of being all mumbly when he says he doesn’t like her anymore and forbids her from running away from home. (Obviously, I agree that she shouldn’t run away from home, but it should be her decision.)

15. Edward and Bella talk to each other like strangers. And he’s definitely the authority figure.

16. So she tripped or fainted or something, and some old man rescues her. Our poor, helpless heroine…

17. Says Bella in a letter to the vamps, ‘You’ve disappeared. Like everything else. Now who can I talk to?’ I say, ‘Bella, try talking to a mental-health professional!’

18. I REALLY LIKE HER FRIEND JESSICA. WHY IS SHE SUCH A MINOR CHARACTER?! I say, ‘Jessica, I don’t get the fascination with zombies, either!’

19. Okay, just when she was starting to hang out with someone else an Edward-head hologram appears to warn her (read: distract her from fun with Jessica, who doesn’t suck as much as the rest of the characters!), & he’s just as bossy & condescending as the real Edward.

20. She’s rebelling against Edward. Because he’s like her dad. Because this movie is messed up.

21. So the only people she feels comfortable around are love-interests (or people related to her vampire boyfriend). Textbook codependency.

22. I may have missed something (because this movie is as boring as this blog entry), but why is her dad bragging to her about being a famous ladies’ man? Creepy. Also, Charlie, not all wimyn are the same. Maybe your unqualified generalizations are the reason you’re single! (That was kind of catty. I’m pretty sick of this movie. Sorry.)

23. RIDING A MOTORCYCLE WITHOUT A HELMET? AGAIN?

24. Edward holograms haunt her anytime she does something stupid.

25. Bella’s eyebrows are over-tweezed.

26. Jacob is like this alpha-male protector figure. Figures…

27. Isolation from friends. The hallmark of abusive relationships.

28. Bella says to Jacob, ‘You can’t break up with me. I mean, you’re my best friend.’ I add, ‘Oh wait, both things are true ’cause I don’t have any relationships aside from romantic ones!’

29. Enter the only Black vampire in the movie. I’m getting an evil vibe… Dicey territory, Twilight!

30. CGI animation is for the birds. Especially when they do the wind-blowing-through-fur thing. Too much!

31. Gratuitously shirtless Jacob in Bella’s bedroom. Totally get why people call this ‘abstinence porn.’ The relationships are based only on physical attraction and messed-up power dynamics.

32. Of course you’d run away with Jacob, Bella. You’d give up everything for any boy. Plus, you have no social life aside from your boyfriends, so it’s not like you’d be giving up much.

33. ‘You can’t run with vampires…’cause they’re fast.’ Maybe there’s some subtext I’m not getting, but combined with the totally-flat delivery, this dialogue is killing me.

34. This is the most boring movie ever.

35. Bella’s lonely. She could join a club, take a class, watch TV on the internet, see a licensed therapist (please!)…or she could jump off a cliff in hopes of seeing a hologram of her patronizing ex-boyfriend.

36. The choice is obvious.

37. Good thing her current boyfriend can come to the rescue!

38. Doesn’t this movie have any kind of soundtrack? The score is this repetitive twinkle string music that sucks.

39. The Romeo & Juliet supercontext is too much. Gotta admit, I wouldn’t mind it if they actually died.

40. What is it with dudes telling Bella to do things for her dad?

41. First decent outfit: Alice in the yellow Porsche.

42. Bella’s never excited! She’s not even excited about being in Italy.

43. Edward looks really weird shirtless. I don’t get why.

44. Worst Dakota Fanning role ever. I can’t even decide whether or not I like her outfit.

45. This movie is so slow. I’m bored.

46. Alice’s flippy hair makes me wish it were 2004. I would be all about that in 2004.

47. Says Edward, ‘Marry me, Bella.’ An imperative. How typical.

VERDICT: Still do not understand Twilight‘s popularity in the slightest.

Next time on sensitivityandgrace: My complicated history with Twilight.

Was that me on the news last night?

Saturday 19 November 2011 kristyOccupy Dallas, Occupy Together1 Comment

Yesterday my friend Jasmin and I went to Occupy Dallas to take part in the National Day of Action. On our way there, we heard that the camp had been raided. Instead of a Day of Action, we witnessed the psychological aftermath of a raid that most news outlets—and even a Dallas city council member—deemed a waste of municipal resources and an excessive use of force.

The occupiers were forced to spend yesterday re-organizing and processing the night’s occurrence. Few people were there for the morning’s march, so Jasmin and I got to have many in-depth conversations. And (added bonus!), we knew eveeeeeeerybody who was on WFAA’s 10 o’clock Occupy Dallas news segment despite the fact that the image quality was really low. Yup, we recognized everything, including…

Notice the Yellow Sign — See that yellow sign, kind of center right?

Yellow Sign Close-up — Doesn’t it look exactly like this sign to you? Or doesn’t it look not exactly UNLIKE this sign to you?

Right?

Seventeen, again

Wednesday 9 November 2011 kristyhigh school, Texas1 Comment

For the past two weeks, I have been in Texas helping my mom recover from knee surgery. She’s doing great (hooray!), so I have some free time to tell you about My Life.

I haven’t experienced a Texas autumn since 2006, and I must declare for all the worldwide web to hear that it is utterly perfect! I was seventeen the last time I felt this room-temperature breeze and gazed at these clear blue skies, so obviously I didn’t appreciate it in the slightest. But now? Now I could write an ode or even a sonnet to this glorious weather if only I weren’t too lazy to look up what makes an ode an ode and a sonnet a sonnet. Rhyme? Meter? ABABABABORING. In lieu of that, here is a kind of weird picture I took of myself yesterday in my backyard.

Maybe instead of a poem, I’ll write a navel-gazing B-movie entitled Sleeveless in November.

Aside from loving the weather, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on what it was like to be seventeen and how much I have grown up. Turns out, not that much!

FOR EXAMPLE:

In 2006, I loved food and thought cooking for people was such fun!
In 2011, I feel the same way except now I use the Epicurious app (with its shopping list function that makes me giddy every time) instead of Post Punk Kitchen (I don’t think PPK has an app). Also, back then I used Sazón Goya with abandon. It was my secret ingredient! Now I know that it’s mostly MSG, so… (Sorry if I fed you anything back then. I promise I had no idea.)
In the fall of 2006 I read Nylon, and now I am reading the same issues of Nylon (October 2006 and November 2006) that I read back then because by some bizarre coincidence I found them in my room. Had not seen them since 2006 and they were just there. On my bookshelf. I mean, what are the chances? Would a cable news outlet be interested in covering this story, I wonder.
In 2006, I loved Sixties fashions.
In 2011, I love Sixties fashions. Only more. And the universe has rewarded this love with Pan Am and Mad Men episodes on my mother’s DVR.
In the fall of 2006, I was diligently working on my college applications.
In the fall of 2011, I should be diligently working on job applications.

See? Not so different.

Except now I consider my house to be less of a prison (ugh, curfews!) and more a softly-lit suburban paradise.

And I can’t think of anything more fun than hanging out with my mom.

And I took inventory of my friends when reading my Senior Scrapbook (2006-2007) yesterday. Do you know how many of my closest friends from high school still live here? ZERO!

If you must know, the first two pages of my scrapbook were as follows:

1. A page dedicated to my favorite coffee shop (R.I.P.).

2. A page about this awful full-body allergic reaction I had. Complete with pictures of me in my disfigured state. (I don’t get it either…)

You should thank your lucky stars for the blurriness of the above picture.

The end.

For Issy (cuz I know you’re reading, grrrl!)

Sunday 6 November 2011 kristyfriendsLeave a comment

Dear Issy,

2 weeks ago, I met Devin’s
15 year-old cousin. She is approximately
4.2 times cooler than I could ever hope to be, and her bedroom is
500% more magnificent than the average outstandingly magnificent room.

The only rooms I have met on that level have all been yours, and though I know you don’t need interior decorating tips, I took pictures of her ‘fairy lights’ for you.

fairy lights, again — A wider view (check that papier-mâché sun in the background!)

TUTORIAL:

1. Make origami boxes to fit over twinkle lightbulbs.

2. Put them over your existing twinkle lights.

3. Hang them up and feel proud.

4. Take pictures and send them to me.

Love you more than words,
kristy

P.S. I drew this picture of us today.

issyandkristy — We'd make cute cephalopods.

P.P.S. I unwittingly drew it on a personality analysis webpage.

Readers, there you have it. An unbiased analysis. Get yours here. Also, ‘fairy lights’ is proper British nomenclature.

Queens & Sheroes

Monday 24 October 2011 kristyinspiration, New York, Occupy Wall Street, sheroesLeave a comment

This is a post about my weekend, and I am going to attempt writing it in record time: seventeen minutes. Ready, go!

Oops, I just wasted three whole minutes contemplating Words With Friends.

Back on track!
Friday

On Friday, after my last day of work at my first job in New York, I had to wait an extra hour for my supervisor to sign off on my last timesheet. I guess she wanted the significance of the moment to really sink in.

Actually, she just forgot and went to do whatever it is people who work late on Fridays (by choice) do.

Regardless, the significance did sink in! I couldn’t wait to get home, rush to the laundromat, return home with clean clothes, meet Devin at Grand Central, and go out for A Night on the Town. ‘Maybe we can even get appetizers at a Fancy Restaurant during happy hour!,’ I thought to myself.

I left work and hustled to the train. I even ran down the stairs at the subway
stop—something I hardly ever do because in my head I hear my mami yelling, ‘No corras porque te caes!‘ Like Michelle Pfeiffer in One Fine Day, I made it onto the subway just in time.* I transferred to the J just as easily. And then I found myself in Queens for the very first time. Here are some observations about Queens.

1) People really like wearing logos in Queens.

2) Only two people sit while waiting for the train in Queens: a distinguished gentleman who wears spectacles on the end of his nose and a certified lazybones, me.

3) A strong matrifocal energy is surrounds you as soon as you enter the queendom!

I’d like to return to make aboveground observations, but for now, these will suffice. You probably know where this story is going. I ended up spending my Friday night doing laundry, and the closest I got to fancy appetizers was half a Kit Kat. Instead of meeting Devin at Grand Central, he met me at the wash-a-teria. It wasn’t all for naught, though. We met a little girl, let’s call her Kari, and her mami. Kari is 3 years old and super cool. We played with her baby doll, let’s call her Bebé because that is her name, and talked about the world. It was exciting! Maybe too exciting. Judging by her very wet green pants, Kari may or may not have had an accident. We are still not sure because when asked, Kari confidently said, ‘No. No me hice pipí.’

Saturday

On Saturday Devin and I ventured even farther outside Brooklyn. We went to Philadelphia to visit his grandmother, aunt, uncle, and super cool cousin. I was so happy to meet them all and could write a book about what lovely hosts they were and how much fun I had. There would have to be sequel about the food we were fed in Philadelphia (yum yum yum yum yum). No room in this blog post to do our trip justice, unfortunately, but I will say that Devin’s grandma has officially been inducted into my Sheroes Hall of Fame. It was inspiring to meet someone who is so loving and thoughtful. We had never met, but she has been sending me little presents for over two years! And now we play Words With Friends together. (I just started playing, and I need practice. Everybody, play with meeeee!)

Sunday

On Sunday I went to Occupy Wall Street to meet another shero, my college Admission Counselor. I hadn’t seen her since she interviewed me and told me about my now-alma mater. That was in 2006. She was so awesome and helpful. When my mom was scared for me to go to school so far way from home, my counselor offered to let my mom crash on her couch. That is how awesome she is and how much she puts into her job. Seeing her was almost surreal. I am really, really happy that she is still helping kids get to and make it through college. We were standing around catching up when we heard, ‘Mic check!’

A womyn directly in front of us announced that the legendary Judith Butler (feminist, post-structuralist philosopher) would be speaking…immediately. We sat down and got to hear her speak. Unbelievable! I took a picture, but my phone is being weird. I’ll try to post it later, but for now, watch her short speech.

To re-cap: seeing Judith Butler brings my shero count to 3 in 2 days. Talk about an inspiring weekend!

Somehow writing this ended up taking over twelve hours, and I really need to get ready because I’m going to the MoMA (!) for free (!!!). I hope you had a nice weekend, too.

P.S. SHOUTOUT TO MY NUMBER ONE READER: ISSY. NEXT TIME ON SENSITIVITYANDGRACE: SOME PICTURES I TOOK JUST FOR YOU. LOVE YOU, GRRRL!

*Disclaimer: I don’t remember if Pfeiffer’s character ever takes the subway, but she does a lot of running around. You get the idea.

On the radio

Friday 21 October 2011Tuesday 15 December 2015 kristyHot 97, New York, radio stations, torture1 Comment

It is way, way too late for me to be writing this. I should be in bed; I have work in the morning (oh, I forgot to tell you? I got a job! I know! Thanks!); I complain every day that the city that never sleeps has turned me into the kristy that never sleeps (a full eight hours)—which is an abomination I’m steadfastly determined to correct—but guess what! Tomorrow is actually my last day (I know! I did just get the job, but short-term employment, you know how it goes. Mmhmmmmmmm). Plus, I like pretending that somewhere, someone is thinking, ‘Ugh, smoothliminal hasn’t been updated in forever!’ Hypothetical reader, this one’s for you.

I’ve really been digging my local hip-hop radio station lately. And when I say ‘my local hip-hop radio station’, I really mean ‘Hot 97′, the United States’ premier hip-hop station. The home of hip-hop, if you will. (Sidenote: is ‘hip-hop’ hyphenated? I think it should be because it is a compound adjective, but with the hyphen, it kind of looks like a sound effect?)

I’ve been listening every day this week at 2 p.m. when they debut new tracks. They are so new that the DJ has to talk over each track periodically so that people don’t record them and post them on the internet. Woah. And while you, dear reader, probably hear things before Hot 97 plays them because you are that cool, I am not. Therefore, 2 p.m. is soooooo exciting! I get goosebumps. I also get goosebumps when the DJ talks about the parties going down at different clubs every night. I think to myself, ‘I have an unlimited metro card. I could go to that club in Astoria, Queens, no problem.’ I proceed have a little daydream about dancing in a New York night club and being invited to join the Young Money entourage (their gender balance is way off; naturally, they need me). This daydream is quickly overtaken by My Ultimate Daydream: sleeping in my bed. (Oh yeah, I also forgot to tell you that I got a bed! Well, technically, I just got a mattress, but like a wise man once said, ‘You need to crawl before you ball.’)

Since I’ve been working in an office, I stream Hot 97 and listen with my earbuds so as not to disturb my co-workers who much prefer Lite FM, a.k.a. the worst radio station ever. If you have never had the dis-pleasure of hearing Lite FM (they have stations all over the country, like NPR, except torture!), let me tell you about it. After three weeks of heavy listening, I am somewhat of a pro. Lite FM likes to portray itself as the ‘compromise pizza’ of the airwaves. It claims to play the songs you remember from the good ol’ days/TV commercials along with today’s hits. One would assume, ‘All right, that’s fair. No one’s gonna love everything, but there’s a little something for everyone. Cool.’ Except that claim is a bold-faced lie (ha). Never in my three weeks of listening have they played Lil Wayne, Drake, Kanye West, or Jay-Z, even though these musicians are releasing practically all of ‘today’s hits.’ Instead, they play this horrible mish-mash of simultaneously irritating and dreadfully boring songs. Like Earth, Wind, & Fire’s ‘September (Do You Remember?)’ or Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Behind These Hazel Eyes’ or The Black Eyed Peas’ ‘I Gotta Feeling,’ which is really just a contemporary version of ‘September (Do You Remember?).’ It hurts my soul. The worst part is, it has the shortest playlist of any radio station on Earth. That means it plays ‘Manic Monday’ Every Single Day. And, on the odd occasion when it does play something good, all it does is prompt me to question the quality of the song and the integrity of the artist. It’s like when you meet someone really cool, but her/his friends all suck and you find out s/he thinks Dane Cook is hilaaaaaarious. Diana Ross, Marvin Gaye, and Rihanna will never be the same to me. I know I used to like Alanis Morrissette, but I don’t believe it. In conclusion, we should all write letters to the FCC to keep Lite FM from polluting our airwaves. Or something.

Okay okay, to be fair, I have to admit that Lite FM is okay for one month of the year: December. It plays Christmas carols non-stop! Not even that can make up for the suffering I’ve endured the past three weeks, though. In fact, it’s just made it worse because every time I hear the Lite FM jingle, I have this Pavlovian response of, ‘(Gasp) Christmas carols!’, when it’s actually just ‘With Arms Wiii-hiiiiiiiiiide Ope-yeeeeeeeeeeen’ by Creed. For the fifth time in one day.

And I saw my reflection

Sunday 9 October 2011 kristyLeave a comment

This summer, while walking to get a manicure, I passed this sign in a window.

NO SITTING OR SLEEPING IN FRONT OF THE WINDOWS

It struck me as an eight-word summary of our society’s prevailing attitude toward homelessness.

Banning homeless people from sitting or sleeping in front of windows is a succinct way of saying, ‘Hi, I know your life is hard, but could you please not force me to acknowledge it? Actually, I’d appreciate it if I could just ignore your existence altogether. Okay, bye!’

Sounds pretty heartless, doesn’t it?

It perfectly reflects what I do pretty much every single day.

I know there are homeless people, and I think that is Shameful and Abominable. I don’t think there is any reason for anyone to go hungry or lack shelter anywhere in the world, but especially in a country that calls itself The Land of Milk and Honey and has a sonnet on its most famous national monument ~~welcoming~~ inviting the poor to have a better life. (‘ “Give me your tired, your poor,/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,/The wretched refuse of your teeming shore./Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” ‘) I mean, come ooon!

Still, when I move through the world, I am, for the most part, a hypocrite. If I see a homeless person, I avert my eyes. If I hear people begging for change, I tune them out. This summer I walked past at least one homeless person every day and not once did I give anyone a cent. Not. One. Penny. This past Tuesday, I heard a man saying, ‘This is what our society does to people–puts ’em out on the street. Spare change helps’ to passersby. It broke my heart. Man oh man, did I sympathize with him. In my head I was all, ‘It’s an outrage! No one should have to live on the street!,’ but in real life? In real life, I stood quietly in line for my falafel wrap staring straight ahead and keeping my change.

I behave like this (shamefully and abominably!) not because I ‘don’t believe in handouts’ or because I think most people begging are ‘just posing as hobos to scam us working folks out of our hard-earned dollars.’ I don’t think it boils down to, ‘Stop complaining, and get a job!’ In fact, I can’t begin to imagine how a homeless person could even find a job.

Think about it. Most people won’t even look you in the eye, let alone talk to you. And you’re supposed to land an interview and get hired?! No matter how firm your handshake and how winning your smile, you’re probably not going to get a job without some serious help.

I understand that, yet it doesn’t lead to action on my part. Why? Because I don’t know what to do. It seems like a huge, overwhelming problem that requires large-scale systemic change, and I have no idea what I should do to help (if you’ve got ideas, send them my way). In short, I feel powerless.

That’s not the best state of mind/state of being, but it is infinitely better than being jaded. There’s a big difference between the two, even if both mindsets lead to the same inaction.

Feeling powerless means you don’t know what can be done to change something.

Feeling jaded means you don’t think anything can be done to change something.

To avoid feeling jaded, one must have hope. In fact, it just dawned on me that jadedness and cynicism are tantamount to hopelessness.

Sometimes having hope isn’t hard. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes it’s really, really, really, crawl-under-the-covers-and-cry hard.

When that jadedness starts creeping in, I remind myself that our world is filled with senseless problems.

In our world, there are lots of starving people, but there is also plenty of food!

There are lots of homeless people, but even more unoccupied buildings (not to mention guest rooms)!

There is tons of pollution and there are lots of environmentally-friendly solutions to the problem of pollution!

There are many marginalized groups, but there is absolutely no reason for anyone to be oppressed (I mean, one can argue that capitalism requires exploitation, but let’s save that for another blog post, shall we?).

I tell myself these truths, endeavor to figure out solutions to the problems I’ve identified but don’t know how to fix, and work for change in the ways I know how.

That last part is crucial to retaining hope. I am writing this from the edge of Zuccotti Park (renamed Liberty Square by the members of the Occupy Wall Street movement) where I have seen so many signs that, unlike that sign at the top, fill me with pride to be a citizen of this country and reflect what I believe to be just.

If you are in New York City, I encourage you to come to Zuccotti Park/Liberty Square and express your hope for our society–protesting is an incredibly effective cure for feeling powerless, I tell you what! There are similar protest sites all over the country, so maybe you can find one close to home. If you can’t make it to any such gathering, but you still want to help out, call a pizzeria near Wall Street and ask for a pizza to be delivered to Zuccotti Park. You can pay for it with a card by phone, and you’ll be helping feed lots of hungry protesters, some of whom are homeless people here primarily because it’s a place where they can sleep and eat safely. You can probably do the same for other cities. I’m sure that there are other ways to help, but I heard about the send-a-pizza tactic this morning at church and think it’s very clever!

With hope (for the 99%!),

kristy

Hello, I live here.

Sunday 2 October 2011Saturday 24 May 2014 kristyNew York3 Comments

This week it dawned on me that I live in New York.

It happened on Wednesday when I had the opportunity to see my darling friend from high school, Jess, play an excellent show with her band mere blocks away from my Park Slope sublet. After their set was over, Jess gave me a big hug and asked me about my life. Nonchalantly, I explained that my friends Anda, Marika, and I had rented a one-month sublet in Park Slope and had just signed a lease for an apartment in Williamsburg. Her eyes got really big as she said, ‘Wait, like a lease lease? Like you live here now?!’

I nodded.

And then, it hit me. I live in Brooklyn! I ride the subway! I signed a lease and will soon live in a little apartment across from a playground with three of the funniest people who have ever walked the face of the earth! I’m not really sure if I can compost anymore! New York!

Jess and I hugged again!

Incidentally, The Dearloves happened to be opening for two Portland bands. So, I got to watch some rad musicians from Portland, Oregon with one of my favorite people from Arlington, Texas in Brooklyn, New York. (You guys, would Oprah deem this a full-circle moment? I think YES.) And the whole time I just kept thinking to myself, ‘I wonder where these Portlanders go for brunch.’

Fast-forward two days: Anda, Marika, and I are on the couch watching Mad Men. Penelope (the raw foodist pitbull, who only eats raw chicken, that we have to take care of because New York real estate is crazy, and it was the only way to sublet an apartment) is at our feet. Anda turns to me and whispers, ‘We’re there.’ And then I got all giddy because it’s true, I live in New York now!

The end.

Oh wait, here are some pictures.