Showing posts with label Humanitarian Things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humanitarian Things. Show all posts

Thursday, February 27, 2025

Completed Category: Documentary Feature

My second-to-last completed category!  One more nominee to see after this. 

Documentary Feature Film
Black Box Diaries
No Other Land
Porcelain War
Soundtrack To A Coup d'Etat
Sugarcane

Let me just say, once again, that whether a documentary is interesting or good is not based on the topic.

 There can be an amazing documentary about a subject in which I have no interest that has me riveted. Or, the opposite: a topic I would love to know more about can be covered in a terrible documentary, making for an excruciating 2.5 hours, such as is the case with Soundtrack To A Coup d'Etat.  Holy cow is this a boring look at the mid-twentieth century tragic and murderous foreign policy of Belgium and the U.S., and political shenanigans in the Congo, up to and including the murder of Patrice Lumumba. I am deeply interested in this history! This documentary bored me immensely. Also, it was irritating. There's this whole jazz motif going on, and it drove me straight up a wall.  I really don't like jazz and I'm pretty sure that's related to how much I hate this film.  The film is constructed of various jazz music that is sometimes lyrically appropriate and sometimes relevant because the film at that time is talking about when Louis Armstrong or whoever traveled to Africa at that time -- so many layers, like a piece of jazz music, right?  Ugh. It was awful. There were actually close-ups of people singing where you could see their saliva - gross, shudder.  And the shots of Dizzy Gillespie's puffy cheeks gave me the fantods. Now, on the other hand, the frequent clips of Malcolm X talking were by far a highlight of this film - more of that, please. Less of everything else.  Side note: this is not solely about "We Didn't Start the Fire" (Belgians in the Congo!) but also a fair bit of Car 54 Where Are You?  (Khrushchev's due at Idlewild!) 

Anyway. Onto the four good documentaries! 

Black Box Diaries - haunting, stunning achievement, quite personal while being globally relevant, as one woman documents her pursuit of justice in the aftermath of a sexual assault. Why are men. 

No Other Land -  depressing, infuriating look at oppressively macho Israeli military posturing over a bit of land that they would like to forbid Palestinians to live on, for no discernible reason.  

Porcelain War - still more depressing stuff, with art and nature and beauty struggling to keep their heads above the mass of violent warfare that is the Russian invasion of and war in Ukraine.  

Sugarcane -  another personal depiction that meanders through major trauma and its effects years and decades later on the survivors of "Indian schools" in Canada as well as on their descendants. I really thought this was well done, with the weaving of one personal search for healing amid the wider community and even world search for healing related to this horrible bit of history. 

There is really only one that I can't bear to see win, but my order in which I'd like to see them win:  Sugarcane, Black Box Diaries, Porcelain War  (really, any of those three!), then No Other Land

Order in which I think they'll win: 
Maybe Porcelain War? Or Black Box Diaries.  I might like Sugarcane more than some other people do, but I did notice Lily Gladstone's name as an Executive Producer, which probably means she'll have  successfully campaigned it to some extent.  No Other Land probably won't work for some people. I don't know who votes for Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat ... Steely Dan fans? Overwrought fever dreaming men? I don't know. 

Which documentary did you think was the best? 



Tuesday, February 25, 2025

Completed Category: International Feature

I greatly enjoy foreign films. One of my favorite categories! 

International Feature Film
Flow
Emilia Perez
The Seed of the Sacred Fig
I'm Still Here
The Girl With The Needle

This year? Not easy, my friends. 

There are four incredible cinematic accomplishments and one travesty of a nomination. I do not see how any member of this or any other Academy who watches all five of these could even consider voting for the abject mess that is Emilia Perez.

Flow is a sweet little cat film 🐈‍⬛️ and misfit friends story with no dialogue and lots of struggles and success, as we have mentioned elsewhere. Welcome to this party,  Latvia! If Flow loses both here and in Animated, I'll be devastated.

The Seed of the Sacred Fig is such a well-done look at Iran; it skillfully incorporates real-life videos of protests from recent years while placing you into this family's little world, then creating tension that sneaks up on you and builds to a fever pitch. 

I'm Still Here, also nominated for Actress in a Leading Role (Fernanda Torres) and freaking Best Picture is incredible - except that it depicts a true Brazil story - and I've not felt sadder in some time than I did after watching this loving family experience man-made tragedy. 

And then last night I watched The Girl With The Needle, which is a slow burn but then dear gods will it mess you up. There are so many questions to contemplate about these characters and their choices. What should we do, what can we do, why are men, why are humans, why any of it? Go see it knowing absolutely nothing! Other than: humans, poverty, Denmark, war, devastation, black and white -- the film, not life choices. But prepare for heart palpitations. 

Order I want them to win:  Any of the three, seriously. Maybe Seed of the Sacred Fig, I'm Still Here, The Girl With The Needle. Next Flow only because it better freaking be winning Animated. And then a giant huge gap bigger than sixty- four Grand Canyons, and then gtfo E.P.

Order I think they will win:
I'm Still Here maybe possibly please. Then stupid freaking E. Perez because humans are the worst. Then the others... although if the voters have the sense the gods gave a goose then they'll do the right thing here. Which is to say, do anything but the worst thing. 


Sunday, February 23, 2025

Completed Category: Live Action Shorts

I headed down to my local cinema to finish off the Shorts today. 

Live Action Short Film
A Lien
Anuja 
I'm Not A Robot
The Last Ranger
The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent 

Three of these are available for you to watch online, which I did do over the past few weeks, and that's great because then when I go to the theatre to catch the others, during the ones I've already seen I can either re-watch, or I can go get my popcorn refill! 

This is definitely one of the years that I prefer the Live Action Shorts to the Animated Shorts.  They are  all a little depressing, though.  Why are humans?  I do continue to ask this question.  Also, there were a couple of my fellow moviegoers chatting in the lobby afterwards who were flummoxed by how these Shorts left things unresolved at the end.  It's a fair point; it was very Lady-or-the-Tiger-esque up in the Live Action Shorts.  At any rate, issues presented include: immigration/deportation/removal by ICE, child labor/opportunity for education, authoritarian regimes on the verge of genocide, humanity vs. robots, and the murder of innocent animals by poachers for their tusks & horns so that some horrible men can get rich and or feel more "virile" and strong.  #WHYAreMen, seriously.  

Order I want them to win: 
The Last Ranger, The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent, honestly this is so hard, I won't be mad if any of them win, maybe Anuja-A Lien then I'm Not A Robot? This is not to really take anything away from I'm Not A Robot. This category might be the least dud-ly of all the categories.

Order I think they will win: 
Wow I really don't know. They're all so timely. I'd like some others to weigh in here! 
But maybe A Lien (timely) or The Last Ranger (infuriating but galvanizing)? , The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent -- so timely -- then I'm Not A Robot (also so timely) and Anuja?  Dude, I don't know. 

What do you think? 

 


Saturday, March 09, 2024

Completed Category: International Feature

 Well this is a bonus for sure! I did not think that I was going to complete Foreign International Feature before the big day but the fates conspired to make it so! 


The fates did not prevent me from being tired, and sick though. When's the last time I was sick with such an ugh virus for the actual ceremony?  Which I will be assuming I don't feel much better tomorrow. Hmm. Anyway, allons-y!

IO CAPITANO - ITALY: Spoiler alert that Italy is in this film even less than Florida is in Nyad. And there are about four words of Italian. And it's a co-production of Italy, France, and Belgium but takes place in Senegal, Mali, Niger, Libya, and international waters. Anyway I absolutely loved it but it would be kind of interesting if it won and joined the ranks of Italy winners like The Bicycle Thief, Cinema Paradiso, Life is Beautiful, The Great Beauty...  It won't win though because the winner of this category has already been anointed, but I would love for this to win. It was interesting, compelling, ferocious, and full of humans doing terrible things but also helping one another. I swear, I have two types of films that are My Kind of Movie, and this is one of them - international human rights tragedies I guess. I am trying not to spoiler but I really want to shout out one small part whose actor proved "There are no..." If you've seen it, remember the man who is the go-between when they build the fountain?  There is so much that crosses his face when the Rich Boss Guy comes out to look at it and we get this little twinge of sympathy as we realize his life is seriously on the line here too and he's kind of maybe doing his best?  Or certainly not the worst of the Libya men who do stuff, not by a long shot. There are a million incredible moments in this film and I loved it. 

PERFECT DAYS - JAPAN: This is my other My Kind of Movie. Thoughtful and wistful. I absolutely loved it. Wim Wenders directed it, but it's Japanese, so this continues our cross-cultural shenanigans, and it made me want to hie myself back to Japan (it's been too long). I cannot freaking stand how people talk about people's professions as if that is who they are and I have a million thoughts about that and what capitalism hath wrought and so forth but in this movie I definitely had some feelings about that. Fantastic performance from our lead and a bunch of wonderful profound moments. Ten out of ten! 

SOCIETY OF THE SNOW - SPAIN: About the Uruguayan team plane crash in the Andes. See? Cross-cultural shenanigans everywhere.  The survivors and family gave their approval and some of them even had cameos in the film. It's absolutely fantastic and is possibly the only one with a chance of beating the film that will win this category, although not much of one. It did get an additional nomination, make-up and hairstyling, which was in fact impressive especially at the end as their bodies became gaunt and dirty and ravaged by the time stranded. If you are wondering "Did we need another retelling of this story?" the answer is Yes. We needed this one.  Also, for the record, ever since I heard about this story decades ago I have always been 100% decidedly on #TeamEatTheHumans. No reason not to at all! 

THE TEACHERS' LOUNGE - GERMANY: Very German! Very modern/Gen Alpha kids. This film has a way of ratcheting up the tension as you move around the various school locations and through the days and revelations of new facts as things get stirred up about who is stealing money in the school. There are so many moments when you're so frustrated with these characters - or is that just me?  I did not really love the ending, but at any rate this was interesting for the most part. 

THE ZONE OF INTEREST - UNITED KINGDOM: Because that's what we need, isn't it - the U.K. winning for Best Foreign International Film?!  Hahaha ... it's so going to, though. As I have mentioned a few other places, I did not love this film, which was not a film i.e. a cinematic narrative so much as it was an art project. It took Martin Amis' book title and premise/setting and nothing else, including that it did not take the plot, and it also forgot to replace it with a plot of its own. It shocks us with the revelation - ?? who didn't know this? -- that the evil Nazis went about their lives while committing unspeakable atrocities. I know this film worked for a lot of people but I am not one of them. I was glad when it ended, not that I understand what he's trying to say with the ending -- we shouldn't have janitors? What? Whatever. Mark your Oscar pool ballots for this winner. 

Order I want them to win:
Io Capitano
<tie>Perfect Days and Society of the Snow
<gap>
The Teachers' Lounge
<gap>
The Zone of Interest 

Order I think they will win: 
The Zone of Interest
Society of the Snow
Io Capitano
Perfect Days
The Teachers' Lounge

Ahhhhhh I am so glad I got to see all of these flicks! My favorite Category!
I'm still not offended by calling it Foreign. 

Saturday, March 03, 2018

Twelve Days of Oscars, Day 11: Documentary Feature and Documentary Shorts

Let's talk docs!

I love documentary film. Love, love, love. This is one of my favorite Academy Awards categories, and I love seeking out and watching the nominated films, though they can occasionally be a little harder to come by than the feature fiction film noms. It has definitely gotten easier over the years, what with Netflix and online streaming and more web site accessibility to the filmmakers and whatnot. It was fifteen years ago that I really started paying tons of attention to this category, specifically with my boy Michael Moore's Bowling for Columbine, and that very memorable Oscar win which happened the same week we (Dubya/"we") went to war in Iraq and I quit smoking and... that's a story I tell elsewhere.

Here, let's look at this year's nominees:

Documentary Feature:
Abacus: Small Enough to Jail, Faces Places, Icarus, Last Men in Aleppo, Strong Island

Documentary Short:
Heroin(e), Edith + Eddie, Heaven Is a Traffic Jam on the 405, Knife Skills, Traffic Stop

Unfortunately, I have been busy and scattered and unable to complete my Oscars checklist before today's ceremony, and the Documentary Feature category, despite being one of my favorites, is my least complete. I've only seen Abacus: Small Enough to Jail, which I really liked. It's about a family-owned bank in New York City that serves the Chinese immigrant community and was prosecuted in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis for, well, nothing to be guilty of, really, while "too big to fail" banks kept on doing their greedy illegal things. The family in Abacus... is so awesome and it's a really good documentary. I'm so lame for not having seen the others; I've been hearing about Faces Places for months, and I have Last Men in Aleppo recorded off of PBS but haven't found time to watch... I don't know if Icarus or Strong Island will be able to beat the appeal of voting for Agnes Varda's Faces Places, because she is getting an honorary Oscar this year and she would be the first woman to get an honorary and competitive Oscar in the same yearThat would be such a fun fact. (Some men have done that, including Walt Disney.)

Documentary shorts, though, I saw. I love Heroin(e) a lot. It follows people, including three main women, dealing with the heroin epidemic and overdose crises in Huntington, West Virginia. The three women are helping heroin addicts in very different ways, some through official work, some through less official outreach, all through compassion, problem-solving, and tackling the problem in ways our societal systems are clearly not. You'll find yourself smiling so big while watching drug court scenes. It's great. But it's also a sobering reminder of how desperately this good work is needed. I would love for this short to win the Oscar.

Knife Skills also documents outreach to people who've had trouble, in this case former convicts who go through a culinary training program and work at a fancy restaurant, and the troubles that ensue along the way. Traffic Stop, very timely, is about a black woman body slammed to the ground by a cop during her traffic stop, and I think it does a really good job of exploring how that was preventable while doing more than issuing general platitudes. It was a strength of that film that you watch what happens and then later hear the cop describe what happened. He never speaks a lie or distorts the facts, really, and when you hear them from him perspective you're like -- oh my god. Yes, that's what happened. And why couldn't you - or thousands of other cops - in that situation make it better instead of worse? It was very interesting. I think a lot of people like Heaven Is a Traffic Jam on the 405, which has very little to do with traffic and is instead a weird, trippy examination of a traumatized woman who grapples with her life and issues, among them childhood and mental health issues, with art and other tactics. Edith + Eddie is a sad story - an old newlywed couple (like 95, seriously) separated when the daughter and legal guardian of the woman take over because she is judged not competent to make her own legal decisions. It wasn't as well made of a film, but was kind of like watching a long, fairly interesting news story.

All right, who's going to win?

Documentary Feature: I can't pick mine, because I'm ignorant here. I think Faces Places might win.
Documentary Short: I want Heroin(e).  It could be that or either of the Traffic ones though.

This is Oscar weekend, people! My own personal "New Year's Eve"-level festivity!



Sunday, June 11, 2017

This was the folk-music-icons weekend that was

Back in the day, by which I of course mean the late 1980s, I accumulated a few pen-pals. Yes, pen-pals -- remember those glorious days, of sitting down with pen and paper, writing a letter, and sending it off to your new "friend" who lived in another state or another country? I loved that hobby. Only one of my pen-pals lasted for years and years of correspondence -- she and I had quite a bit in common and a lot to say to each other, and even ended up both living in New York City at the same time years down the road and getting to meet and be friends in real life, which was in itself amazing. However, this particular story isn't about that pen-pal, but rather about a fleeting pen-pal with whom I briefly wrote letters and then lost contact forever but who, nonetheless, had an impact on my life through the act of sending me a particular cassette tape.

This particular fleeting pen-pal was named Nancy (I think? that's how long ago and fleeting this was) and was, again I think, from Oswego, NY.  I do hope I'm remembering that correctly and not mixing her up with someone else. Anyway, the fleeting pen-pal in question and I decided we would exchange tapes, and we sent each other lists of the albums that we owned and then let each other know which of the other person's we wanted and copied them onto blank cassettes and sent them to each other. (I know, hello, copyright laws, anyone?) We were young adolescents still with a manageable amount of albums, and I can't tell you what the hell else she sent me or what I sent her, but I very specifically remember one dark brown Memorex cassette she sent to me that had on one side a copied Cowboy Junkies album and on the other side Indigo Girls.

I even remember exactly where I was when I was looking at her letter with her list of albums and thinking, "Cowboy Junkies. Indigo Girls." I didn't really know what their music was going to be like -- anyone whose hit songs I knew and loved I had probably already acquired via Columbia House Record & Tape Club or from Sam Goody at Metrocenter mall, so browsing her list was a chance to try something new I wouldn't have otherwise stumbled upon. And this was the mother lode.

I played the hell out of that 90-minute, no-longer-blank cassette. I played it at home, in my parents' cars, and anywhere else I could get it in a tape deck. I loved those albums fiercely, and -- good future copyright law student that I was -- I eventually bought both of those albums properly, thus giving the artists and record companies their profits and more importantly getting my hands on the liner notes. And needless to say, that simple act of being intrigued by my pen-pal's album list -- I can still vividly see it in my mind's eye, can perfectly visualize her handwriting -- launched me on my lifelong Indigo Girls love and fandom.

What if I had never exchanged those handful of letters and cassettes with this random girl across the country? Would I have come to know Indigo Girls and Strange Fire, and then later, Nomads*Indians*Saints and Rites of Passage and all the rest? When? Would I have been too late? I once read a piece in Psychology Today that said studies indicate that the music you listen to during that adolescent time, like toward age 14 or so, resonates more deeply with you than anything you ever listen to in the future, no matter how much you like what you come across in the future. And among the cassettes I spent those early teen years playing over and over were Indigo Girls, Bob Dylan, R.E.M., Simon and Garfunkel,  Cowboy Junkies -- folkies who still speak volumes to me today.

I bring this up because some remarkable things happened this weekend. Tonight, Sunday, I attended a concert at the Chicago Theatre: Four Voices - Joan Baez, Mary Chapin Carpenter, and Indigo Girls. When this tour was announced a few months back my breath caught and I thought, this! This is something I cannot BELIEVE I am going to be able to witness! Now, of course I knew that they were all friends, and I know about Mary Chapin singing backing vocals on Amy and Emily's album and Amy and Emily singing backing vocals on Mary Chapin's around 1991, and I remember when the Girls performed with Joan Baez in the early mid-1990s for a benefit and she thanked them for letting her be an Indigo Girl for the evening and called them young whippersnappers, and I own the CD (yes, I eventually moved from cassettes to CDs) from the benefit where Indigo Girls and Mary Chapin and a bunch of other artists all performed with Joan Baez and planted roots for this blossoming friendship so I've heard them harmonizing in pieces and knew of their crossing paths but THIS - a tour called Four Voice, with lots of dates, coming to my town, playing cities near me - it was amazing news.

And it was an amazing concert, needless to say. There are so many highlights, and perhaps I'll tell about more of them in another post, but here let me just assure you that among the evening's joys was the final song of their main set, a cover of a particularly good, particularly relevant, Nobel prize-winning even! song that with their Four Voices became THE best performance of a song that I have witnessed being performed live, ever.

But there was also another little thing that happened at the beginning of this weekend. On Friday night, it just so happens, I saw Cowboy Junkies in concert at the Old Town School of Folk Music. For whatever reason, I had never got a chance to see them in concert before this weekend. Unlike Indigo Girls and Mary Chapin Carpenter, whom I've seen multiple times (Indigo Girls, dozens), I somehow had missed out on the Cowboy Junkies until just this past Friday. There was Margo Timmins, in all her fifty-something glory, and that voice! That achingly lovely voice, with all those heartbreaking, swirling Cowboy Junkies songs. That was the opening of my weekend, and then it ended with this other collection of voices, including the legendary Joan Baez, up there showing us what incredible things words and music can do.

And I thought, how odd, how odd indeed that my weekend was bookended by incredible, life- and music-affirming concerts featuring the two bands that were on either side of that blank cassette sent to me by pen-pal Nancy from Oswego, NY nearly thirty years ago.

And I thought, how beautiful, how beautiful indeed that we are gifted with time on this planet where we can make and share our art, where we can hoist our visions onto the world stage and where we can tuck recorded sounds gently into an envelope with a bit of extra postage and let them be carried across the miles to someone who needs to hear them, or where we can now just upload them with a few quick finger taps on a keyboard.

In spite of all of the hard things, and the misery that Margo openly jokes about (wondering aloud to her audience why anyone would come to a Cowboy Junkies concert expecting to hear happy songs), and some of the political happenings that Joan, Mary Chapin, Amy, and Emily talked about and sang about and alluded to, and just despite the ever-ongoing struggle -- in spite of these things, my god but isn't there some beauty to be found out there, to be brought into our lives thanks to the random simple chances we come across?


Friday, July 08, 2016

Word #1 Word #2 Word #3

I'm back!

Yeah, it's been a while. The good ol' U.S.A. sure hasn't done itself any favors in the not-being-a-total-disaster department in the interim, now has it?

I hardly know where to begin, but they always say, well, start where you are, eh? So, sitting here at my laptop trying to make sense of everything happening this week in these United [sic] States, I took a picture of my shirt. Here it is:

Well, I didn't say it was a flattering picture, did I?
And I would like you to take a look at this shirt with its (cheeky? feisty? rebellious? assertive? feminist? empowering? simple? nuanced? you make the call!) slogan and consider the following questions.

Whether you are familiar with the shirt or have zero context, you can think about what its message is. You can ask yourself, does it mean that girls don't play anywhere else but here, that for example they don't play over there? Does it mean that playing is the only activity they engage in here? That they never dance, talk, sing, laugh, fight, breathe, meditate, or whatever else when they are "here," wherever "here" is, literally or metaphorically? Does it mean that boys don't play here? Or there? Or anywhere? In a box or with a fox? For god's sake OBVIOUSLY NO IT DOESN'T MEAN THESE THINGS. So why the !@#$%* is everyone so damn confused about #BlackLivesMatter all the time?

I can't understand why people interpret #BlackLivesMatter the insipid ways that they choose to interpret it. I can't understand why they read "only" in a sentence where "only" doesn't exist, or why they add "and therefore police lives don't" when that is not only clearly not said and not meant but also utterly nonsensical (for example, what if there's a black police officer? Is he just caught in a paradox of both mattering and not mattering for eternity?), or why they DON'T see the implicit preamble of "Whereas a lot of people, institutions, and systemic societal forces have been disregarding black lives, up to and including the murder of innocent black people, we're going to mention here that..."

But hey, guess what? Girls play here. And black lives matter.

Friday, April 03, 2015

What gives you the right to exist?

It infuriates me when someone (say, Benjamin Netanyahu) "demands" (!) that someone else (say, perhaps, Iran) "acknowledge Israel's right to exist." It is a smoke screen. It is a perfect example of the utterly bogus catchphrase politics that I loathe with every fiber of my being: so-called leaders say something that sounds so right that you couldn't possibly disagree with it--unless you actually critically think about it, that is. But they don't want you to do that. They just want your emotional response that pegs everyone who doesn't immediately do this as a demon.

Before we get to whether "Israel has a right to exist" and why that phrase actually means nothing, let's illustrate with a couple of other common examples. One of the most prevalent and annoying is "family values." Precisely what the hell does it mean to be "against family values"? That's right, it means nothing. But every year another politician or two dutifully trots out the line that s/he is in favor of family values, and no one ever asks them what, exactly, is a family value? What are you supporting? Does anyone recall that this phrase hit the big-time when Dan Quayle -- Dan Quayle of all people -- hurled it at a fictional TV character whose life choices he didn't like (even though they weren't, actually, you know, real choices in a real life that existed or anything)? The fact that we're still being subjected to this nonsense phrase more than two decades later says something -- I don't know what, but something pretty awful -- about the U.S. political scene.

From "the" other "side" of things, we get another bit of political rhetoric you're unlikely to avoid if you ever like to be on the internet, and that is the false dichotomy of gay marriage versus "hate." Gay marriage versus discrimination, yes. Gay marriage versus unequal treatment, certainly. Gay marriages versus people clinging to some misguided ideas, I'll grant you. But all the signs and memes and posters and retweets with phrases like "Do you support gay marriage or do you support HATE?!" are just absurd. What do you hope to accomplish with that? "Yeah, put me down in the hate column." Who says that? (I might add that the idea of being "pro-choice" is also problematic in this way, but then again, that term is fighting against the even more insidious and misleading "pro-life," so the abortion rhetoric battle is long past any hope of real words that mean anything.)

Right, so, Israel. Here's Netanyahu, who doesn't want to play with the neighbor children sign any deals unless/until Iran "acknowledges Israel's right to exist." Notice what happens when he/anyone says this.  It's visceral, a gut punch, a surge of adrenaline: we're supposed to bristle at the very idea that someone could be so demonic as to "not acknowledge Israel's right to exist." But why? What does that mean? What IS a "right to exist"?  You know who has a right to exist? Living things that exist. It's not up for debate. It's like the thing about human rights, right? You have them because you're human. Existence is. Do I need to get Descartes up in here? What exactly does a right to exist do? If you exist, whether you have the right to do so or not is kind of a moot point.

There are three basic problems with Netanyahu's demand.
1. Israel is not the same thing as Jewish people. But this is the emotional reaction they're playing on. They say "Israel's right to exist" and we are supposed to immediately line up on the "right" side, that is to say, the side that equates "not wanting to kill millions of people" with "support for Israel" (to the extent that those three words actually mean anything either). If someone is born, they now exist (note: born) and you don't have a right to kill them. So, that's the end of the story. There is no coda in which their lives, one life or a hundred lives or six million lives or approaching seven billion lives mean any particular nation should or shouldn't exist. It means those one or a hundred or six million or nearly seven billion lives get to be lived. That's what it means.
2. Maybe, just maybe, carving a modern Jewish state out of Palestine was not in fact the best solution. Maybe, just maybe, it caused more problems than it solved. Maybe, just maybe, some people should be willing to discuss this instead of shutting off all debate about it. And yet, instead we sit here demanding recognition of Israel's "right to exist." Does any state have a "right" to exist? Why? Why do any states exist in the first place? For a lot of terrible reasons, for many of them. History, inertia, war, reproduction, heritage, negotiations, genocide, whatever led people to be where they are and establish nation states -- these aren't really the same thing as having rights.
3. It goes back to the oft-repeated but never correctly translated statement that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad allegedly made (except guess what, he didn't) that Israel should be wiped off the map. That loaded phrase in English is an idiom that for some reason everyone takes figuratively and literally when they hear this (alleged but not really made) statement about Israel. But he didn't say it. He was explaining that maybe said modern Jewish state shouldn't have been carved out of Palestine with these particular lines in the sand (and now, on maps) where they are. Kind of like what I'm trying to explain to you all (see #2 above). And that it's OK to have a conversation about this. But we don't have a conversation. We run around ignoring everything except inflammatory rhetoric (real or imagined).

What does it actually mean to recognize the right to exist? What is the point of it? Look at the things around me. My pen. My desk. My cat sleeping on the bed. My comfortable sweatshirt. Do these things have a right to exist? They just exist! You don't have the right to destroy them, but what actual right do they have? What does it mean? It's more like a right to not not-exist by someone else's action. But god forbid we talk nuances or philosophy or, you know, subtlety of thought. We'd rather scream and yell about Israel as if it's a good idea and you're a terrible hater if you don't value it, where "value" is defined to mean "repeat a bunch of cliches and tired old saws that will get a lot of warmongering blood pumping."



Thursday, February 26, 2015

And the misplaced outrage goes to...

The 87th Academy Awards have come and gone, with few surprise winners and no triumph for Boyhood. Yes, I was in that camp: the one that was moved and impressed more by Richard Linklater's 12-years-of-filming look at the quiet moments of life than by Alejandro G.(onzƔlez) IƱƔrritu's weird and flashy spectacle of actors, cinematography, and dark snark. Alas.

And you know, if Boyhood and Linklater had won then we wouldn't have been able to make Twitter explode with outrage over Sean Penn's "racist" joke, uttered after he opened the envelope while we all waited through a dramatic pause and his one-liner to find out the Best Picture of 2014. Oh, wait, what's that? It wasn't actually racist? Twitter would have found something else about which to explode in outrage instead? How right you are.

For those who live under a rock or, perhaps worse, didn't watch Sunday night's ceremony, Sean Penn saw that Birdman had won and that his buddy IƱƔrritu would be returning to the stage to collect another statuette having already been up there for his Screenplay and Director wins, and so before announcing the name of the picture, Penn quipped, "Who gave this son-of-a-bitch his green card?" 

Apparently, this "ruined the Oscars" for some people. (Um. Hello?) For others, it was a reminder that the Oscars are so white (I mean: #OscarsSoWhite. Who needs verbs?) that as soon as a Mexican gets an award, there's bound to be a green card joke. Never mind the fact that said joke specifically mocks this very offensive attitude, that attitude being "Who let in all these Mexicans?" where "in" is defined to mean "entering the space that was actually Mexico longer than it has been the United States but was taken by means of a coercive treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo and a ruthless, illegal war conducted by James K. Polk and company, from which the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld-Rice junta got all its best warmongering ideas."

Right, never mind all that. Time to Tweet. Among the Tweets were some questions as to whether Penn and IƱƔrritu are friends? They are. They give each other crap all the time. They made 21 Grams together. IƱƔrritu said Penn's joke was hilarious. He also went on to talk about Mexico, Mexicans and immigrants in his acceptance speech. But this curious "Yikes! I hope they're friends!" response signals to me how weirdly people seem to have lost the ability to read humorous social cues. I can't believe anyone actually thinks or thought that Sean Penn (or anyone -- but least of all Sean Penn) would really mean that green card statement without irony. Or thinks that an Oscar presenter would refer to someone they're not pals with as a "son-of-a-bitch" in that situation. Those would be weird moves even for a celebrity actor.

Now, was the joke necessary? Of course not. Why must these walking egos actors deliver a one-liner upon opening the envelope? I have never forgotten Denzel Washington's "By a nose!" instead of just saying that Nicole Kidman had won Best Actress for The Hours; at the end of a long awards season full of babble about her prosthetic nose that overlooked all the anguish, insight, and emotional nuance of her portrayal of Virginia Woolf, we had to have one more nose joke. What's the point? Why do you have to take one more second for yourself before handing out the award? Then again, why not? It's a big party, we're all here together, why not crack wise with your friends? In other words: is this all much ado about nothing? 

Was the joke funny? Clever? Reasonable minds could disagree.  I mean, first of all, partly no, in the sense that you don't even need a "green card" or to work in the United States to make a film, or be nominated for Best Picture. Like, IƱƔrritu could have been nominated in all those categories as a Mexican resident for making a film in Mexico, so it doesn't even matter. It's not like, say, Arnold Schwarzenegger governing the state of California. But also, there are layers to it. Gotta love a good joke with layers. The idea that there are authoritative bodies (governments, academies) that can bestow legitimacy on people and their work...the idea that others might resent that...the idea that you can have "too many" people from a certain place in another certain place... it might actually turn out to be more nuanced than it first appears. 

Or, you could just ignore it and move on with your disappointment that Boyhood didn't win Best Picture. It received only one award all night, Supporting Actress for Patricia Arquette, who ended her speech with a rousing call for wage equality and equal rights for women, which prompted Meryl Streep to shout "Yes!" and leap to her feet. And you thought that was going to be the political moment of the night! 

People pretend to like sarcasm -- they dutifully watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert skewering the news and news makers -- but when someone actually does say something sarcastic they don't always know what to do with themselves. They do better if there are a lot of big flashing arrows saying "LOL here" and misusing "literally" to help them understand that someone is joking. 

People also pretend to like those who "say what they think."  Really, you hear that all the time in empty platitudes: "I really respect [PersonX]; s/he speaks her/his mind...says what s/he thinks..tells it like it is.." and so on. Until someone actually does that, and then it's all a horrified, "Wow, you're so opinionated." Or, my favorite, "Never discuss politics with friends."  What?  What kind of friendships do you have?

If you are really concerned about how "offensive" it was for Sean Penn to pretend he was indignant that Alejandro G. IƱƔrritu (who, yes, has officially approved the Anglicizing of how he uses his last name[s]) has a green card even though he doesn't need a green card to be nominated for or win Oscars, maybe you should take it up with your representatives in Congress who let the morass of idiocy that is U.S. immigration law persist in its unfair state year after year. Or maybe you should watch a previous IƱƔrritu nominee, Babel, which ably depicts actual human life at the U.S./Mexican border and the actual misunderstandings that swirl around lives there. Or maybe you should read up on the blatantly illegal and dishonest maneuvering Polk used to kick off the Mexican-American war that make Dubya and Company look -- well, if not better, than at least like they weren't the first to have the idea that they could just use the military to do whatever they want, no matter how many innocents were murdered in the process. Maybe you could even spare a thought or two for the entirely overlooked sexism in the fact that "son-of-a-bitch" is a go-to insult in the first place, in many languages. 

Or...you could just go on Twitter and ascribe the world's problems to Sean Penn. Sean Penn

Wednesday, January 07, 2015

"Why are you shooting that thing at us?"

As Colonel Mustard says so eloquently in Clue, WHY are you shooting? WHY? "I could have been killed," he says, as the chandelier spins and twists furiously above him. "I can't take any more scares!" And then it comes crashing down right behind him.

World, we are all in this together. I do not care if you are right about your opinion in an argument. You don't get to shoot people when you are right. I don't care if you are indignant, angry, outraged, hurt, vengeful, righteous, patriotic, religious, atheist, whatever. You do not have the right to shoot anyone. Furthermore you do not have a good reason to shoot anyone. I guarantee you that whatever reason you have for shooting someone is not a very good one.

Stop shooting people who disagree with you. It's not OK. You're not OK. When you shoot someone, you are being an asshole. Stop shooting people.

Today's assholes fired their weapons in a fatal attack at the Paris offices of the magazine Charlie Hebdo. These particular assholes are apparently angry that this satirical publication has satirized things having to do with Islam, Mohammed, etc. They shouted, "Nous avons vengĆ© le prophĆØte!"  

You know what, assholes? No, you haven't. Because there is no such thing as vengeance. There is only assholery. When you shoot people, you are being an asshole. And when you shoot people because they disagree with you? You are being the supreme asshole of the Earth, and you have not avenged any goddamn prophet, peace be upon him. (Did you get that last part?)

You're absurd, masked gunmen. And that goes for you, too, Newtown shooter. And you, too, gang bangers. And you over there, executioner, Fort Hood, movie theater, Virginia Tech, political assassin, CIA, drug dealers, mafia, robbers, on and on and on....  How absurd is it that we just sat here last night pondering these insane mass shootings while watching the Frontline documentary Gunned Down: The Power of the NRA. I do not give a shit about the NRA. I am not even interested in arguing about anyone's right to bear arms or not bear arms. It's a distraction. I am interested in this world caring about a mass realization that shooting people is the wrong thing to do. That is the discussion. Every person who does not have a deep, abiding belief that they should not shoot people who disagree with them needs to wake the f**k up.

Stop shooting people. Stop it. It does not make you cool. It does not solve your problems. It does not avenge your prophet. It does not spread truth. It does not issue a wake-up call. It does nothing except violently kill people and reveal that you are an asshole. So if your goal is to reveal that you are an asshole, then you might accomplish it by shooting people, but there are easier ways to achieve this goal, too. For example, you could open your mouth and share your opinion that you believe you should shoot people who disagree with you, and then we will all easily know that you are an asshole without you even having to do anything violent about it.  How about that? So easy.

Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop shooting people who disagree with you.
Stop shooting people!

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

This violence has been brought to you by the letters C, I, and A,
and by the number 1492

So, the Senate has released a "bombshell" report on the terror of torture, and what I have learned from it is that officials, talking heads, members of the voting public, and other assorted Earth citizens need to go back to preschool. My three-year-old niece is better at connecting dots than most people seem to be today. Kids, let's take a look at some dots that we can connect!

  • Dot 1: The CIA routinely tortured(s?) multiple suspects around the world with brutal tactics of systematic, and systemic, violence in a massive post-9/11 problem-solving effort. 
  • Dot 2: Police officers in the U.S. are found to be routinely shooting to kill unarmed black men in an effort to solve "problems" (such as fear of black men?), revealing more systemic violence. 
  • Dot 3: Young men and women are shipped off to wars/military operations/police actions around the world, many of them dying "for" their country, because -- you guessed it! War, also known as age-old systemic violence, solves problems! Right? 
  • Dot 4: Other young men and women die on the streets right at home, because why go abroad for gang warfare and gunfire when you can get some of the made-in-America kind? 
  • Dot 5: And why stick to gangs, when you can just be a lone shooter who takes out some teenage students in a cafeteria, or moviegoers in a theater, or shoppers in a mall, or kindergarteners in a classroom, who are progressing from connecting the dots and coloring into learning some problem-solving skills? 
  • Dot 6: You put birds and rabbits and ferrets and other animals in cages, because you have declared that they are "yours." You lock them up for life. They are alone and trapped. You call this "having a pet." 
  • Dot 7: You own all the land. You're entitled to it, and all the oil beneath it, because you earned it fair and square, by slaughtering all the Native American peoples who lived on it and anyone else who was in your way. 
  • Dot 8: Slavery.
  • Dot 9: Rape.
  • Dot 10: You think Homeland is a good show. 
  • Dot 11: Oh, that last was too much for you, huh? Real systemic violence is one thing, but don't mess with your shoddily written fantasies about global domination? To a guy with a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. To an enhanced interrogator, perhaps every problem looks like a will to be broken. To a violent system, every problem is something to "solve" violently, and the best the system can hope for is that every industry falls in line to feed the beast, from manufacturing to entertainment, from lobbying to factory farming. God bless that! Homeland might not be actually hurting anyone (unless you count the strain from all the eye-rolling at its scripts, plot lines, and characters), but will it make you feel good about yourself and beef up your arguments the next time you and a friend debate torture over a couple of beers? Wait, you say you don't question the CIA's systemic violence when talking with your friends over a couple of beers? Because that would be too "political"?  I see. 
Really, my niece might be persuaded to lend you one of her coloring books, if you ask her nicely.

Saturday, November 08, 2014

The race that can only ever be against yourself

It was called "perfect," but I think it was more of a potpourri of good, bad, and ugly...and more. Here's how it went down.

Today was my fourth 10K. Careful readers will recall that this is my Year of Ten 10Ks, and the "year" of course runs from mid-May to mid-May, being inspired as it is by my sub-par performance in the annual 25K held in Grand Rapids each May at which I annually suck, as well as my birthday that same week in May, which makes it fun to have a goal year go from May 13 to May 12 instead of January to December. So this past May, I declared that I would run ten 10Ks in the intervening time between my terrible 25Ks. Today was 10K number four.

Chicago's Perfect 10 is a little different from other races. Usually there's a 5K and a 10K and sometimes a half-marathon or maybe some other distances thrown in there. This race is all about the 10--the two race choices are a 10K or 10 miles. Fun, no? Both races started and ended at the east end of Navy Pier, so basically in Lake Michigan (hello, wind!), and the course gives you some pretty spectacular views of the city, lake shore, Loop buildings, lake, and so forth. Ten miles is a fun distance to consider for next year, but this year it's all about the 10Ks for me.

So, how'd I do? Did I improve on my time from 10K #3? Indeed I did! 1:47 faster, to be precise. You may also recall that my three other (or possibly more important?) goals for each 10K are:
1. Finish the race with no walking - check
2. Not last - check
3. Iced coffee after the race - check

In fact, the whole "not last" thing worked out a little better for me, and I have a theory as to why. Now, I am not a fast runner. So, usually within the first mile or two of my races I definitely see the crowds around me thin out as the people who run fast go on ahead and I just go steadily along with the peeps near the back (not last!) Today, I noticed that I still had lots of folks around me, a couple miles in. Was I running faster? Not by enough to make this much of a difference--I was still surrounded, and even passing a person here and there. The way I figured it, there were two possibilities. One, that usually the people who don't run a 10K very fast* opt for the 5K, leaving fewer people of my pace in the 10K to begin with, and leaving me with something like an 85-95 percentile finish in my gender and my age/gender division. (But not last!) But today, there being no 5K, the 10K was the slower race so I had way more of my peeps jamming out with me or even behind me, and my finish was more like in the 51-52 percentile.

*(and by "fast" I mean, of course, fast enough to please the Judgy McJudgersons who are all like, 'Oh, that's so sad to run a race and not be the best! How sad that you ran those miles soooo sloooowly while I sat over here on the couch thinking about how I don't do things unless I can be the best!' which is just an awful way to look at life, in my humble opinion)

Or, the other possibility, I thought, since my last three 10Ks were in Michigan, could be that Michiganders are just more badass than Chicagoans... hahahaha. I'm not dumb enough to make a public declaration about that when I still have to show my face in this town, and that state. We'll just stick with discussing theory number one for now.

Actually, I will tell another story from the race, but I am going to write something kind of gross so SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH if you don't want to read it. I witnessed something kind of freaky. I generally have a no-bodily-functions policy on the blog and I would never ever ever write something bodily function-like without warning you, so you've been warned, but this is your last chance to skip this paragraph. Somewhere toward the end of the second mile-ish, along the ol' Lake Shore Drive there, I suddenly realize that just ahead a bunch of people are gathered around a man on the ground, a runner lying on his side, kind of being held up on his side by some of those gathered. One gal, another runner standing, was shouting to all of us approaching, "Doctor? Nurse? Is there a doctor? A nurse?" And the man, who looks like he's maybe fortysomething, and just a normal looking runner-type man, with a moustache, wearing running shorts and a knit-type hat, is lying there being held up on his side and the look on his face -- I have never seen a look like that in real life, The closest thing would be something I've seen in a horror movie. His eyes were wide, and his whole face looked ghastly and stiff, and here's the gross part, he was vomiting, and it was gray. I mean, I'm seeing this as I run past and just thinking, I have never seen anything like that. And this is all happening quickly, of course, and so by now I'm passing the guy and trying to think fast: what should I do? Can I do anything? So many thoughts go through your mind in  a second. Well, the lake shore path is not that wide, and there were already, as I said, ten or so runners stopped helping him, holding him up, shouting for a doctor, etc., and if everybody stopped, it would make things worse because then everyone else still coming would just run into a big pile of people and clearly the rest of us should just keep going, and enough people run with their iPhones in their little armband things (for music) (and hey, the occasional mid-race phone call) that I was sure someone had already called 9-1-1, let alone all the people who had also already passed who could shout at the next race official they saw, and so I kept going although I did say and motion to the next bystander I saw that someone was injured and call for help, even though I'm sure it wasn't necessary on my part at that point. Within a couple minutes, I heard many sirens. What I am less sure about is whether this guy was OK. What does it mean, medical people, when someone is vomiting and it's gray? And you have to think, he had obviously collapsed long enough before I saw his face that ten people had time to stop, organize themselves around him, shout for help, etc., and there he is still throwing up -- and those eyes -- I can still picture them. It was a ghastly look; there's no other way to describe it. With so many thoughts going through my head, I also felt bad (if you know what I mean) for the runners who had got there before the rest of us and who had stopped and were now obviously sacrificing their race time and stuff...but meanwhile, this guy might have been dying. Was he dying? I really don't know. I have zero medical knowledge. I hope he wasn't dying. It was messed up.

All right, we are safely out of that paragraph now.

All in all, this was a nice race, with such great views along the race course of the city, the city from another angle, the lake, the lake shore, the pier, etc. And there is a whole expo with booths and vendors and Peet's coffee and a complimentary beer for finishers at the end. Good times.

In my previous 10K, which was 10K #3 in my Year of Ten 10Ks, I disappointed myself a bit with my finish time, and really, in my awareness of just how I need to be a more disciplined person. You may recall that at that time I quoted professional distance runner Paul Tergat: "Ask yourself, 'Can I give more?' The answer is usually 'Yes.'" I thought about that a lot today. I still need to dig even deeper, but I did manage to make myself give more at my traditional five to five-and-a-half-miles spot that is generally where I tell myself, "OMG I really can't go any faster" but where I today reminded myself, "Yes, you totally can" and stuff. I'm digging deeper, digging deeper, Ani, I promise. I was happy that I improved my time today in 10K #4, but I can recognize the improvement I still need to make.

I would also like to mention something else. I have been blogging in a lighthearted tone, and I do believe, in a "the show must go on" and "life goes on" way that it is OK to do so. But it wasn't just a stranger whose fate remains unknown to me that gave me pause today. I also received a message overnight about the death in a car accident yesterday of somebody that I knew in Arizona. He was a major figure in the lives of people close to me and people who are part of the basic framework of my Arizona/out West life, and he died in a horrific collision. It was a shocking piece of news to receive, and since I woke up at 5 a.m. to head out to the early start at Navy Pier, I was basically getting ready and then riding the brown line 'L' train in the dark, with few people around, and everyone alone with their thoughts, and I could only think about him, and the many aspects of life and people and connections and what it all means. In my own personal way, inside my head, I "dedicated" my run to these people, thinking of this loss -- one mile "for" each of these people, the deceased himself and those whom I know so well that are affected by this death, a mile for each person during which I thought about them, wishing the best for them. My thoughts seemed so small. We're all so small in this world, but we're such a big part of the worlds of the people around us. And people are struggling all around us, too. Some lives end in tragedy, and some encounter tragedy along the way, and it's enough to make a person realize she should be digging deeper in oh so many ways. Rest in peace, and for those of us still here, let's not take a single breath for granted today.


Wednesday, October 29, 2014

How None of Us Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Ebola

I cannot believe -- and yet, I can -- how Ebola in the USA has been twisted into a political issue.

Leave it to the U.S.of.A., where all-or-nothing is the name of the game. Last week, if you're one of my "smart" and "rational" friends, you were supposed to post to Facebook at least once a day that the "panic" about Ebola was unwarranted and that you were far more concerned about (take your pick:) measles/flu/guns/unvaccinated children/marrying a Kardashian. If you were one of my wary-of-Obama friends, you were supposed to unleash a screed about federal/CDC incompetence and insecure borders.  If you were in New York, you were encouraged to be nervous and show your support for the mayor's swift action in response to the guy who rode the subway and bowled, because apparently liking the mayor is politically acceptable. But whoa, once the governor of New Jersey got involved with a detained nurse, it was time to start ranting about human rights, because Christie is apparently scandalous and likes to play with the forces of disorder, and traffic, for reasons best known to himself, or maybe he's just a Republican and therefore is surely denying someone of some civil liberty or other at all times.

If you were, say, me, and you had been following the Ebola-in-West-Africa story since the middle of the summer, fascinated by the facts (note: facts) since well before last month when apparently the "American people" "began" "following" it, and you had spent three of the formative Ebola-in-North-America weeks getting your news in the E.U., you might just feel a little bewildered, as you so often do, by your countrypeople.

I don't actually know a single person who is panicked about catching Ebola, but I do know a whole lot of people responding to "all" the "panic." For one thing, every journalist who writes a line like "folks are in a panic about Ebola" should be required to cite three examples of the alleged "panic" before continuing with the story. On the other hand, delightful stories about the good-humored cruise ship passengers, grateful for their vouchers and compensation from the "SS Ebola" that was not allowed to dock in Mexico, are much appreciated.

Now, regarding quarantines: you're supposed to pick a side here, too, of course, but all of the To Quarantine or Not to Quarantine talk obscures the actual issue, which is a lack of globally organized official universally enforced protocol.

As for Kaci Hickox, my goodness. Regarding how she comes across in the media, is this really the best she can do? My understanding is that she is trying to be some kind of light on a hill, speaking up and speaking out on behalf of all those (all? who?) who will come after and be subject to the terrible deprivations of human rights she experienced and blah, blah, blah. Well, I find her a bit annoying, to be honest. Why? Because I read her editorial. Her actual words (or, if ghostwritten, which I suppose is likely, the actual words she is claiming for her own). They were pretty terrible, those words. Lots of emotional manipulation (but, the C-minus kind, that actually fails to manipulate, thus not even rising to the level of a movie based on a Nicholas Sparks book) and a whole lot of intellectual disconnect, which is never exactly reassuring in a nurse. I mean, come on, lady. "What had I done wrong?" She said that a lot. "Wondering why this was happening to me." Are you actually serious? I mean, do you actually have any access to any media whatsoever? Yeah, uh, that's why this is "happening" to you, fresh off the plane from Sierra Leone. And just kind of by the way, leave your exhausting-layover-poor-pitiful-me -two-days-of-international-travel out of it. Because get over it. You're not the only person who has crossed an ocean and been tired upon arriving in your homeland. Enough. Whoever wanted a poster child for the Don't-Overreact-to-Ebola cause picked the wrong one. (Although, I am painfully aware that in a world where The Hunger Games and Gone Girl are considered to be well written, she might actually, tragically be the right one.)

I suppose there's nothing to be done if Amber Vinson and Craig Spencer and Kaci Hickox (oh, Andy, if you only knew how very many ways there are to get your fifteen!) want to be all defiantly cavalier about being out and about in the world, what with their professional know-how and their it's-so-hard-to-catch, and they want to go gallivanting off to bowling night and wedding planning weekend and other essential life events in the hours before they become symptomatic, but the disingenuous cries of what's-everybody-in-a-fuss-about have just got to stop. People are concerned (note: not in a fuss, actually, turns out) because they do not want a hemorrhagic fever that causes them to bleed and spew from multiple openings. They would like to just learn about interesting developing new stories in the world without having everyone falling all over themselves to prove that they are not hysterical by inventing more hysteria about the alleged hysteria. Being interested in Ebola does not mean "I am terrified I'm going to catch it," Wondering just what the hell a 21-day monitoring period consists of when it doesn't consist of, you know, monitoring is actually a fairly rational question.

And don't even get me started about the heroes. Actually, I'm a little shocked and awed (see what I did there?) by how quickly people have taken to this whole healthcare-volunteers-in-Africa-are-heroes storyline, particularly because of the word choice. "These heroes should be respected upon their return," intone the talking heads (and writing hands). "Heroes," says Obama. "Heroes," says Governor Pat Quinn of Illinois. Heroes, heroes, heroes. What must our military heroes be thinking in response to this outright theft of their moniker?? All those thousands and thousands of soldiers out there around the world "defending" "our" "way of life" from the people who "hate freedom" must be good and pissed that a bunch of life savers are taking their label away.

But are the healthcare workers really heroes? Really?  Well, maybe. Doctors Without Borders is one of the greatest organizations known to humankind. Important parts of my life have been inspired by it, clearly (I'll give the slow among you a chance to get your heads around that one). (Hint: scroll up.) But the barrage of heroes-heroes-heroes in the media is gross and unnecessary for the usual reasons: 1. It's being carefully applied, have you noticed?, to United Statesians who trot off from the United States to West Africa to help fight disease before returning to the United States where they should be welcomed by their fellow United Statesians. My goodness, why don't any other nationalities send doctors and nurses to West Africa...oh wait. Right. 2. Like so very, very many things that are uttered, it says more about the speaker than the person being described. Just like the patriotic hearts-a-flutter folks who dutifully thank the military heroes every other month when a national holiday rolls around (they're allowed to take Columbus Day off), these "health care workers are heroes" people say it and then feel satisfied, as if their work here is done, now that they've busted out the h-word. No need for actual thoughtful discourse or critical thought. "I like heroes! See! I'm a good person! Now, get me back to my high-def LCD air-conditioned gas-guzzling meat-eating gluten-free vacuous oblivious life."

By the way, have you heard? If we quarantine these heroes-- or even sometimes if we monitor them, depending on whom you ask -- when they return from West Africa, then this will deter other heroes from going to help. Because, you know. The people who volunteer internationally, the ones who have medical expertise and know-how and are willing and able to travel to the location of a disease outbreak and who spend time on the ground in West Africa..? Yeah, they're going to be okay signing on for all that, but shit, throw in three weeks of monitoring when they get back, in the comfort of their home, while they decompress from the trip? That's it, people! The deal's off!  What the hell? It's almost as if the people talking about what international volunteers think don't have any actual international volunteer experience or something...

I'll just be over here in the corner with people who won't call someone a "hero" if s/he loses his/her shit when faced with the prospect of a 21-day monitoring period and would actually let that alter his/her plans to travel to West Africa to help with this crisis.

But that's just this week's narrative. The previous two weeks it was all about travel bans. Travel bans bad, chanted the forces of smart/rational people (who know all about this because...well, anyway, they're bad). Deny the visas, chanted the forces of psychosis who don't seem to understand how life works, for example, that the consular process of getting a visa doesn't happen overnight, or even overweek or often overmonth, so the people arriving from Liberia today on a visa didn't apply for it this past Monday, okay?

I heard that British Airways suspended its commercial flights in and out of Liberia weeks before the Dallas saga began. Frankly, I found this the tiniest bit reassuring when I boarded a British Airways flight out of Poland a few weeks ago, in the midst of the EU diagnoses, unlike the Dallas-Cleveland Frontier Airlines passengers felt shortly thereafter. But the larger point is about this whole travel-bans-don't-help-they-actually-make-it-worse narrative that you are required to adopt if you want to be one of the cool people. Sure, piecemeal, unenforced, uncoordinated travel bans don't work. But truly enforced ones might, because a disease cannot spread if it isn't spread. Should we all be worried about Ebola spreading uncontrollably? No, in fact, we should not. Because contact tracing and proper protective gear and other accepted Ebola processes will work, if allowed to do their thing. But that's not a reason to pretend you know all about travel bans when you've never in your life considered them before this month.

I assure you, nay, I guarantee you that I am at least as passionately in favor of international travel and freedom of movement as you are. Let me tell you a little story. When I was in Cuba (behold! exhibit A in my see-I-really-mean-it-that-people-should-be-able-to-travel-wherever-they-want case), I was based in Havana but also traveled to other areas during my time there: Trinidad, Cienfuegos, ViƱales, the Isla de la Juventud, Varadero, etc. One place my travel companion and I wanted to visit was Santiago de Cuba, way at the other end of the island (near Guantanamo, for anyone keeping political score at home). Unfortunately, we couldn't travel to Santiago because there was an official quarantine due to an outbreak of I think dengue fever. (Forgive me, as I was still very much sinking-or-swimming in my Spanish and some of the talk about it involving the eye symptoms confused me, but I think it was dengue.) No going in or out. But we really wanted to go to Santiago...and how long does this quarantine last...and as a 22-year-old from the spoiled USA no one tells me what to do...sure, maybe those thoughts passed through my ingenue head, and guess what? Too bad. No Santiago travel. And guess what else? The disease didn't spread across the island. The outbreak was contained. And the sassy muchachitas had to live without Santiago on their itinerary. I'm just saying, maybe what we need here is the heavy hand of communism!

I'll let you all decide for yourselves how serious I am about that last part. I lived in China during a bird flu season, and hey, I appreciated the posters that appeared in my apartment building lobby illustrating hand-washing and how to properly deal with a chicken. Good lookin' out, man. I also had forehead-sensing thermometers pointed at me every time I crossed between the mainland and Hong Kong. I did not react by writing pitiful editorials demanding to know what I had done to deserve this fate. A few years ago, when I traveled to Tajikistan, it just so happened that there had been some cases of polio there. Polio? Who had ever thought about polio in the past decade? Turns out, Afghanistan (which helpfully borders Tajikistan), Pakistan, India, Nigeria, and a handful of other countries, that's who. Also WHO: a World Health Organization worker was deployed at the gate of our flight and we had to either take her offered up polio booster droplets (who knew?!) or waive the vaccine, attesting that we'd been vaccinated. You know what? That was awesome! I like when there are people in charge, and the people in charge are in charge, and not a bunch of jabbering minions who want to make sure they're on all the right sides politically but just end up saying a lot of stupid crap.

No one (that I know) is picking on anyone. No one is disrespecting health care workers. But frankly, all my United Statesian peeps who are so eager to talk about how "We don't have to worry" are just revealing that, as usual, their self-centered worldviews don't include empathy for thousands of people in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea who would possibly like to "worry" and make sure precautions are taken, and who may well be in favor of following protocols that might inconvenience someone just a teensy bit.

Monday, October 06, 2014

When a Habitat build ends...what else begins?

Time passes interestingly when you're on a volunteer trip with Habitat for Humanity. In my experience, the first two days of the build always seem longer, as you sloooowly learn how to do what you're doing, work with new materials, work with new people, get accustomed to the work site, settle in to your accommodations and routine, practice the language, etc.

Our work, in progress
Then, the third day, often a Wednesday, all of a sudden the week seems to accelerate and the next few days go by in a blur. Regardless of the length of the build (mine have ranged, but usually the trip is between one to two weeks), the second-to-last day seems to go a bit more quickly in the afternoon, like all of a sudden it's almost time to be over. The last day often has a last-day-of-school feeling, although there's no pithy "See you next year!" tossed off in the yearbook signing, because there's a good chance you might not ever again see these people with whom you have worked, sweated, and broken bread.

I loved pretty much everything about Poland and traveling there, and turns out the Habitat project itself was also great. As I've previously blog-mentioned, we were building a house for a man who was part of the Barka community of Marszewo, near Nowy Tomysl, west of Poznan, Poland. We, the baker's dozen volunteers, worked with him, our Habitat Poland coordinator, our local construction supervisor, and several other locals. Besides our coordinators, only one of the local guys spoke English, so there was definitely some opportunity to practice my Polish here and there. To be honest, when I'm with twelve people who can't speak a word and only one other North American with any grasp of bits of the language (beyond those who had early in the week mastered "piwo" for "beer"), even my minimal skills could come off as impressive once in a while, simply for being able to ask where something is or tell someone I understand. "Ahhh, you speak Polish very well!" they would respond in Polish. Ha! Don't worry, they'd quickly realize the truth. But it's fun to have even basic conversations, like, "I like the cat." "Me too." 

There's Donna, up to her elbows in the mud tub
The whole mud-straw-clay mixture process was one of the dirtier jobs I've done in this world, and I think it will be forever embedded in my Habitat Poland t-shirt and the shoes I wore on the work site, so those might never again be fit for normal daily wear. Our site was really well organized, and I got to try a few different jobs during the course of the build. I enjoyed the inside wall sanding/smoothing work the most. But the whole week was great, and I enjoyed the tunes and language acquisition I got by listening to the Polish radio station, too! Once in a while, the guys had to unplug the radio from the extension cord in order to plug in a drill temporarily and I would be eager for it to come back on. 

And, I've already mentioned that the animals on this site were great: the three wonderful cats, the frolicking puppies (really, dogs, but I basically call any dog that I like a "puppy"), the goats who would come say hi when I walked toward their fence and said, "Hey, goats!", the poor pigs who live inside a pen their whole lives, the chickens with their daily greetings...

As I've told a few folks, I think it's really important to go work on a Habitat volunteer project, and not just because I believe in the cause of eradicating poverty housing. I spend a lot of time inside my head and/or staring at a computer screen, and I need to make myself go do real work in the world. Sure, for the physical exercise of it, but also for the mental. Get out of that inner space and out into the world. 

As the wise Girls sing, which I've surely quoted here before, "Now I know a refuge never grows/from a chin in a hand and a thoughtful pose/gotta tend the Earth if you want a rose." (that would be Indigo Girls from "Hammer and a Nail"--feel free to play it while you read this blog entry!) I've been listening to that song for more than 20 years now (um--gulp!), and I understand what Emily Saliers means when she looks back on her early lyrics and cringes and sees them as pedantic or wishes she could change them...but really, once you actually do "go out and get a hammer and a nail," you do totally get it, in a way that's even deeper than when you sat in your bedroom playing that song (on cassette) over and over as a teenager. I don't really think she needs to worry too much. I mean, lines like "even my sweat smells clean..." are still, well, true!

"Loft"-y concepts, indeed
And sure, maybe she would tinker with the words and the poetry, I get that, but to actually try to make your life more than a vision, to "get out of bed and get a hammer and a nail" on so many levels, is really a decent goal. Don't worry, Emily! Your youthful expression of this lofty concept still resonates. 

One thing we talked about in multiple discussions while in Poland, including one great dinner conversation with the national director of Habitat Poland, was the immense challenge of solving the housing problem. But another thing we talked about was how many of us on this trip have worked with Habitat for a while and we observe it changing and growing, something that is crucial to any organization's success and effectiveness. It's not all about getting out there (with a hammer and a nail) building a new house, but Habitat also does advocacy work, building with eco-friendly materials, renovations, and so on. I personally love that Habitat works to restore and renovate urban housing (including in U.S. cities) because I think that is what we all should be doing (hello, developers, are you listening?)  As someone who grew up in Phoenix, I have certainly observed the endless suburban sprawl, encroaching every month further upon the beautiful Arizona desert, while people demand more and more space (and then wonder why there are scorpions in their bathroom...)  I may hate millennials (that's a long-running inside joke; don't try to understand it if you don't understand it) , but if they as a generation (if) are more interested in neighborhoods in urban centers than driving to a subdivision every day, they've got one thing right, anyway. I would love to see a moratorium on new home construction (oh my god, you can just hear the heart attacks that economists and politicians would have upon reading that line) and a major societal push (with financial incentives) to build, restore, renovate, and live in already-existing neighborhoods, in cities that have deteriorated AND in cities that have grown by flying ever outward and eating up the land. 

(I might add that any of you who freak out about house cats killing birds and therefore advocate keeping cats imprisoned inside for their whole lives? might want to consider your !@#&%* subdivision's part in clear cutting and destroying birds' habitats, not to mention your endless malls and parking lots, and you might want to stop blaming the cats, who would much rather control the mouse population in the city for you anyway, and then everybody wins.)


Well, back to the U.S.A. I come with all my Poland and Habitat thoughts, and all my cares in the world. Gifts to bring, as Emily and Amy sing. Gifts to bring...

Wednesday, October 01, 2014

Working on a Building

On each of my four Habitat for Humanity volunteer projects, I have encountered a different style of house and different building materials.
Dennis surveys our work
Here in Marszewo, Beyond Poznan, Poland, we're working with clay "bricks" of clay/mud/straw that are big and heavy -- kind of the size of a breadbox, actually-- and that I probably should have taken a picture of rather than trying to describe. You can kind of see them in this picture to the right, there below the wood.

This is basically what I spent the first two days of the build doing, usually with Dennis as my partner, although on Tuesday afternoon I switched to working with Rick, and I noticed that I got a lot dirtier working with him. Rick apparently just likes to splash plaster and muddy water all over (me) without a second thought.

The upstairs scene
Of course, this upstairs work was nothing compared to Wednesday, when I moved outside to mixing. That involves pouring the clay mud liquid into a bathtub, adding straw, and mixing it together using our hands and arms, until it solidifies into the plaster we use inside for sticking the giant bricks together. It is impossible not to get very muddy during this task, despite the use of rubber gloves, and the cool, damp, gray weather kept the ground nice and muddy, too. This mixing is also a very muscle intensive job. Yea, workout!

This whole clay house thing, by the way, is very environmentally friendly, although some people in the area are confused as to why our homeowner wants to build using natural materials like they did 100 years ago or longer. Some other Barka people who have received land and will be building houses decided to wait and check out how this eco-house project went before committing themselves to the same kind of house. They remain a bit skeptical. We remain more than a bit muddy.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

How to make life better

On our first evening in Nowy Tomysl (aka "Beyond Poznan"),  we learned about Habitat Poland's partnership with an incredible non-profit organization called Barka (there's a bit of English info for you at http://www.barkauk.org). Barka is a non profit community in which people who are rebuilding their lives help themselves and one another rebuild their lives. Basically, it involves my favorite things on Earth, like rehabilitation, problem-solving, communal efforts, and the like. The people we meet have in the past had problems with drinking/alcoholism, homelessness, criminal activity, etc. Barka helps people get off the streets and change their lives for the better; they are taken into the community but also have a responsibility to the community. The key is leadership from within, so the leader of each little Barka community (you might say: commune) is someone who has himself struggled with these things, so he can relate and lead by example. Also, Barka sends people to the UK, Ireland, the Netherlands, etc. to help Polish and other Eastern European immigrants who are struggling there but might be afraid to come back home, or unable because they've lost their job and are now homeless in a foreign country, and so forth.

So, Habitat Poland has a partnership with Barka. The house we are building is for a man who has successfully passed Barka's "Jacob's Ladder" program, and so he has been rewarded with a piece of land, on which he is (and we are) now Building a house where he and his wife and two children will live. As of now, they are living in the communal Barka house, so that was our staging area for the build, meaning that unlike many other Habitat projects I've worked on, we had actual house facilities around while building the new house, so that's a fun perk. And while Mr.Homeowner worked construction with us, Ms. Homeowner made lunch for everyone (us, the other Barka commune residents who work around the farm, etc. ) and we are talking delicious, here, folks! On the first day there were these potatoes with dill that I basically wanted to face plant into. And one day there was gnocchi... two kinds... oh my heavens. ..


Anyway, the point is that Barka is awesome and on Sunday night when we arrived in Nowy Tomysl, a different Barka community in the area hosted us for a barbecue to introduce the organization and themselves. They all told us their stories and we told them our stories and why we came to Poland and we cooked kielbasa over the fire and it was beautiful.

My old boss in my public radio days, JJ Yore, once explained his theory of life thus: Life is a series of magic moments, and we can look back and see the journey from moment to moment, kind of skipping the insignificant things in between,  almost like a physical path, and we must also be careful about trying to recreate the magic moments that are over, rather than just treasuring them in memory.
This "series of magic moments" theory has always stuck with me (even though I didn't actually follow the advice he was giving me on that specific occasion), and I'd like to couple that here with what Toni Morrison wrote in the dedication of her novel, Sula, that it is sheer good fortune to miss someone before they leave you. I have thought about that sentiment over the years, and Sunday as we ate and talked bilingually and broke bread with the inspiring founder of Barka and this little community, I was filled with joy because I was there, and because I was so happy that I was able to recognize the magic moment as it was happening.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

The Habitat team convenes

Well, after a few days of solo travel in Warsaw,  Krakow, and Oswiecem (where Auschwitz is), I met up with my Habitat build team of volunteers on Saturday, September 27th. My fourth Habitat build, my first time in Poland.  We gathered in Warsaw, meeting at the Hotel MDM, which by the way turns out to be a really cute place on the Plac Konstitucji (I always think a I'm spelling that wrong) whence a lovely view is enjoyed while one is eating one's breakfast and/or drinking one's beer in the restaurant/bar/breakfast buffet room. And what a breakfast spread, I might add. Yum! But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Saturday night was about gathering for the first time as a team, and so our Habitat local affiliate coordinator met us and led us around the corner to a fabulous little restaurant where we feasted family style, sharing platters of food with meats and pierogis and salad and all manner of things. We introduced ourselves and initiated our two team members who are doing their first Habitat Global Village projects. This group is twelve people plus team leader. There are three married couples, so that's half the group. A couple from Alberta (way north,  I pretend they live at the North Pole), a couple from Nanaimo, BC, and a couple from Idaho. Then there are the the men, from Florida, Colorado,  and Washington/Arizona (a snowbird!), and the women, from Chicago, from Michigan, and me. In addition to the variety of places we come from, several  of which you may have noticed are places I'M from, we are an interestingly traveled group, and we among  us have done dozens of Habitat projects.

Further details to come about our adventure...

Monday, July 14, 2014

Don't Forget Poland!
How to be one of the 190 coolest people I know

This September/October, at long last I shall return my DNA to the land of my great-grandparents' birth, Poland. I have never been there, and I am excited about finally traveling to the place where the mere thought of pronouncing the name "Napikoski" will not give people fits. Perhaps even more exciting is the fact that I am going to do a volunteer Habitat for Humanity project there.

To read more of my Habitat/Poland thoughts, click here on my personal Habitat fundraising page. And if you are so inclined, I would be most appreciative if you would consider a donation to the cause. I am trying to raise a total of $1900 for this project. We all know the easy math: if 19 friends each gave $100, I would reach my goal. That would (obviously) be incredible. But lets not forget that if 190 friends each gave $10, I would also reach my goal. Will you consider making a contribution?

I am a big believer in Habitat. Working together with people from around the world to eradicate sub-standard poverty housing is just that: working together. The volunteers, masons, Habitat staff, and homeowners I have met on Habitat for Humanity builds are some of the most interesting people in the world (that's right, Dos Equis man), and I have heard fascinating stories, seen immense generosity, and felt both humbled and tired (it's hard to build a house! Sawing wood, pounding nails, laying bricks, mixing concrete--these are no picnic!)

You're probably going to spend $10 on something dumb at some point in the next few months. (Hey, I know I am!) I think it's misguided to say "take that money you were going to spend on iced lattes and donate it to Habitat instead." Who am I to deprive anyone of their lattes and cappuccinos and Oprah chais? I'm just saying that when you think about all of the things on which you're willing to spend ten bucks, I would love it if Habitat for Humanity is one of them.

Let's get real: obviously, I don't think there's anything dumb about iced coffee. It's one of my favorite things on Earth. I say, have an iced soy latte AND make a Habitat contribution! But I am completely serious when I say that any donation amount to my Habitat build in Poland is welcome and greatly appreciated. (And don't let the page fool you--it suggests various amounts, but you don't have to do those amounts. Once you click "Make a Donation," you can enter your own amount. Sorry 'bout that -- I didn't create the page template.)

And don't forget Control My Blog For a Day: a $25 donation earns you one free blog rant, right here on Linda Without Borders. You can either write the guest post or just choose the topic and I'll do the writing on your behalf. For one day, whatever you want to tell the world shall be told.

Here's that link again. Click now!