I suck at waiting...

...At least when it comes to knowing things. If someone tells me they have a secret I'll "find out about soon enough", I go crazy not knowing what it is. I like to know where I'll be, what I'll be doing, what plans are, where exactly I'll be living, NOW. And let's not even discuss cliff hanger season finales!

The worst part is that I suck waiting on information about other people too. I'm always wanting to know where my friends are going to live next, where they are going to move next, etc. For no particular reason except by obsession with knowing what is going to happen in the future.

I hate hearing, "Well, we can't figure out anything until after X." Ack! Why can't it just be figured out now?? The worst is when the "X" is subjective. For instance, "Well, I can't figure out where I'll be next year until I hear back about my admission to my law schools," is pretty much a done deal. There is no possible way for me to know anything. On the other hand, "Well, I can't figure that out until I talk with my husband about it. I don't want to talk to him until he's found a job and is less stressed," drives me up the wall. Vague generalities based on talking to someone "when the time is right" annoy the heck out of me.

I don't know why I'm obsessed with knowing what's going to happen. It's not even that I'm usually worried about things not going right... I'm just obsessed with knowing the information!

The good news is, I've gotten much better about it in many respects! While in the blog entry I probably make it sound really bad, I'm mostly talking about how it used to be. In particular, luckily I've become less obsessive about my freinds' futures. And a good deal less obsessive about my own future. (i.e. I'm not freaking out about where I'll be living come August). Still... tips on how to get over this strange obsession?

Biggest compliment of the year

"See, if we're going out to eat, I only want to go somewhere that's fast. You cook as good as the food we get in a restaurant, so why should we pay to eat at a restaurant unless it's really fast?"


(As a side note, "learning to cook well" is perhaps the only goal I have ever set and completed in my life.)

My first semi-bridezilla wedding

Or, the best wedding NOT to be a bride

Alison was a good friend in high school. At times, my best friend. But we didn't keep in touch a ton after we graduated. Our sisters are close friends, so that meant a stronger link. We saw each other a few times a year at first. But it had been a year and a half since we had spoken when Alison called and asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. I said yes!

Wedding planners really are something. Let's just say that this wedding planner managed to get ahold of the the bride's sister's boyfriend (who does NOT own a cell phone) on Chinatown bus. How? She located the bus driver's cell phone number for the bus coming from Washington DC. Let's just say I have some sympathy for cell phones again, after that escapade.

The wedding planner also suggested that Alison's mother put together little baskets for the bathrooms at the reception. The one for the ladies' room was simple: tissues, hairspray, clear nail polish, tampons. Alison's mom wasn't sure what to put into the basket in the men's bathroom. The wedding planner suggested condoms. ("Lots of hook ups happen at weddings!") Well, Mrs. Kistler listened to her: 1 box of magnum condoms in the men's room. Dear me. The funniest part? The box was empty within 2 hrs.

As for the Bridezilla-esque quality to this wedding. After arriving in PA at 1 AM on Thursday night/Friday morning (after several nearly sleepless nights at the Dame thanks to finals and packing all my crap to cart to PA for storage), I was up at 8 the next morning. With shopping, the bridal party luncheon, mandatory matching manicures and pedicures, the rehearsal, and the rehearsal dinner, I didn't come home and get to bed until 2 AM. Then it was 8 am the next day, for hair appointments, makeup, getting ready, lunch, photographs...

Well, let's add in the trolley we took from Alison's house to the church. The trolley driver was crazy and drove at like 60 mph (which, for a trolley, is a bit much!). Then there was the horse and carriage to the reception, and a SIX HOUR reception. (Yes, I admit that I kept thinking, "Can you guys just leave for the hotel yet???").

Oh yes, and did I forget to mention that never in my life have I worn heels before? I managed to make it down the aisle without a mishap, but BOY my feet were hurting a few hours into the night!

I did have a nice time. The food was good, it was awesome and sweet to see Alison so happy, I had a great time hanging out with the other bridesmaids, our manicures and pedicures and the bridesmaids luncheon were super fun... But let's just say, don't expect any elaborate wedding for me! I plan to either (a) elope and throw a party when I get back or (b) get married in a white sundress with bare feet on the beach somewhere.

Darn Rice!

Why couldn't I have gone to a normal college, where people date (normally), and it's normal for people to meet in college and get married? Today I noticed the away message of a guy I haven't talked to since high school. (We played viola together in orchestra.) Anyways, all through college he's had these away messages, "I <3>expected to get married when you graduate. Who wants that pressure, particularly if you have things you want to do before you get married, or if you just don't feel like getting married right after graduating college?

So, I don't want either end extreme: at Rice you are weird if you do get married soon after graduating; at places like Wheaton you are weird if you don't. I'd prefer something in the middle. I'd like to be going to more weddings of Rice people. I'd like to have more of my Rice friends happily dating smart, fun, cute Rice guys. (Oh wait, maybe that's the problem...) How easy would it have been for more of us Rice folks to just meet Mr. (or Mrs.) Right in college?

Pamphlets, anyone?

Today I asked my officemate what the difference between Pentacostalism and Fundamentalism is (he's doing a paper on Fundamentalism). Amongst other things, he directed me to this fabulous fundamentalist website, www.swordofthelord.com. The best part of the site are the pamphlets available for puchase. Here is a sampling of titles that the two of us found pretty funny.

On Hell:
Great Preaching on Hell Volume XIV (compiled by Dr. Curtis Hutson)
Hell is for Real! (Dr. Shelton L. Smith)
Neglect--The Shortest Way to Hell (Dr. John R. Rice)

Sex and Alcohol:
Al K. Hall: America's Most Famous Terrorist (Dr. Shelton L. Smith)
The Double Curse of Booze (Dr. John R. Rice)
Liquid Devil! (Dr. Hugh Pyle)
Should Christians Drink Wine? (Dr. Curtis Hutson)
The Backslider (Dr. John R. Rice)
The Christian Faces Sex Problems (Dr. John R. Rice)
The Good Ship Courtship (Dr. Hugh Pyle)
The Pestilence of Aids (Dr. Hugh Pyle)
The Truth About the Homosexuals (Dr. Hugh Pyle)
These Bible Christians Fell Through Compromise (Dr. John R. Rice)

Prayer:
Conditions to Answered Prayer (Dr. Curtis Hutson)
How to Get Things From God (Dr. John R Rice)

Women, the Home and Family:
Bobbed Hair, Bossy Wives, and Women Preachers (Dr. John R. Rice)
Your Clothes Say it for You (Elizabeth Rice Handford)
The Bible, The Feminists and Sexual Harassment (Dr. Hugh Pyle)
Rebellious Wives and Slacker Husbands (Dr. John R. Rice)
Teenager, You Can Make It! (Don Woodard)
Amusements for Christians: Right or Wrong? (Dr. John R. Rice)
It Doesn't Take a Village (Dr. Dan Burrell)

On Calvinism, Catholicism, and Souther Baptists:
Why I Disagree With All Five Points of Calvinism (Dr. Curtis Hutson)
The Deadly Flower...T. U. L. I. P. (Dr. Gregory Baker)
Dear Catholic Friend (Dr. John R. Rice)
SBC Conservative "Take-Over" Not a "Make-Over" (Dr. Shelton L. Smith)

"Soul Winning":
The Golden Path to Successful Personal Soul Winning (Dr. John R. Rice)
House-To-House Soul Winning, God's Way (Dr. Tom Malone)
Lifestyle Evangelism Refuted (Dr. Curtis Hutson)
Winning Souls and Getting Them Down the Aisle (Dr. Curtis Hutson)

American friends, please!

I really miss having more American friends. My group of friends is mostly Indian, with a few other international students. I love them and it's generally fine, but frankly it gets really tiring being the only person like me all the time. I guess I'm learning a tiny sliver of what it's like to be a minority person in a predominantly white environment. If you're a non-white American, you will probably laugh at this blog entry: my frustrations are ones you've probably dealt with throughout your life. For me, this has been an interesting and somewhat difficult process, being a minority!

There's many pieces to it, and every piece is little on its own. In order to eat dinner with my Indian friends, I have to eat around 9 pm. They often speak in Hindi; they try to speak in English when I'm around, but I still listen to an awful lot of conversation that I can't understand. I often have to defend American ways of doing things, like dating, modern medicine, kids not living with their parents after college/after marriage, women working, why charity is important, to name a few. Julie (American roommate) and I still flinch when we see dishes rinsed (no soap used) and put away as "clean". Indians speak English with an intonation that can come across to myself and other Americans as argumentative/yelling, so even a minor discussion can seem like a fight; Julie and I have tried to adjust to this, but it's so different from what we're used to that no matter how often they tell us, it's almost impossible to not get frustrated in discussions where we feel we're getting yelled at.

None of these things is too much on its own. On top of that, at school I'm with almost all Americans, and I have Julie, Steve and Jeff, and a few other American friends. So I keep telling myself it shouldn't be a big deal. Even so, it gets really tiring. All the little things add up to a lot of exhaustion, constantly adapting/defending/changing what I do in my group of friends. More often than I like to admit I end up feeling strange, out of place, or put down. Pretty often the American way of life is belittled, mocked, or put down, and it's hard to separate people's opinions about me from people's opinions about my culture. I appreciate the humility that comes from hearing outside perspectives on American ways, particularly since America tends to be a very prideful nation. But almost like backlash, I see the tables turn as non-Americans will put down almost any part of American life simply because it is "American" (and Americans are ignorant, stupid, narrow thinking, or selfish).

No matter how much I change or how much my friends love me, I remain an outsider among them. So long as I am the only American, there is no need for them to accommodate my preferences or ways of life. And I often really feel my uniqueness, different-ness, American-ness, and something along the lines of loneliness (not exactly lonely because my friends are my friends, but more like loneliness in feeling different, no matter what I do).

I now more than ever prefer a group that is a mix of lots of types of people. Then no one viewpoint, idea, or way of doing things can take over or be seen as "right". Then everyone is in the minority, so people can't feel strange/alone/attacked by a majority group. If everyone is out of place, everyone learns and everyone has to adapt. If we are all outsiders, then in a way none of us are outsiders. That's my ideal social world, strange as it may be.

Complaint warning

It's 6:30 PM on a Friday evening and I am sitting in my office, trying to work on my papers and listening to a way too mellow Gipsy Kings song. Can I tell you how much I miss Houston life right now?

Graduate housing is not my favorite thing. It's like a college dorm. Sure, it's good to get to know people, and it's convenient. But you know how much nicer it is to have a place to go home away from school/work? And I prefer to not have most of my friends within three hundred yards of my home. Sometimes I want a place to go home away from friends as well. Maybe you Rice kids out there remember our sophomore year living off campus. For some reason being around people in a dorm/grad housing situation ALL THE TIME grates on me a lot; I appreciate my friends more and have more fun with them when we live more than a stone's throw away from each other. I miss the cutest house I probably will ever live in, 5816 Community. A shout out to my friends still living there, appreciate the loveliness of that house!!

I also miss the continuous vibrancy of life in H-town. For instance, there's always a happening coffee shop to go work at, or a quiet place to go work at. I never would feel bummed working at 6:30 pm on a Friday in Houston, because I could grab my computer and go work in one of ten coffee shops, and enjoy myself. Even at 10 pm on a Friday or Saturday, I could go and find one of 10 coffee sh0ps to work/study at. Here... I can't even think of one coffee shop of that kind. The only place to go off campus is Barnes and Noble, which I appreciate having, but does get old.

There's also missing have girlfriends and missing have more American friends. Too many of my friends here are Indian or other international. I love them and it's generally fine, but it's just tiring being the only person like me all the time. I guess I'm learning a tiny sliver of what it's like to be a black person in a predominantly white environment. Having to change how you do things to meet how the majority does them, always having to defend your "culture" or ways of thinking, learning to interact in ways that aren't natural to you, listening to people speak a foreign language, frequent topics of discussion that aren't of much interest to you. . . I guess my preference remains a multiracial environment: I don't want to be the odd oen out in a group where everyone else is the same, and I don't want to be in a group where everyone is the same as me. I prefer a group that is a mix of lots of types of people, so no one viewpoint or idea or way of doing things can take over or become viewed as "right".

Lastly, I miss sun and warmth. I started wearing flip flops for multiple days in a row recently, and my feet hurt! I can't remember when my feet hurt wearing flip flops. I think my feet have gotten used to the support of "real" shoes. How horrible!! By the way, it's supposed to snow tomorrow. Yes, at the end of April.

No more lambasting...

I've noticed that sometimes when people say things that I disagree with, it ticks me off. I'm not talking about "Oh, this is a good sandwich" when I think the sandwich is horrible. I mean offensive things, like when people make sexist jokes, pseudo-racist comments (people don't usually make outright racist comments anymore, but pseudo-racist comments are decently common still), things about poor people being lazy... you get what I mean.

Now, sometimes when people say these things, they notice I get mad. Sometimes people say they are "just joking". That brings up a good question I don't have a real answer to: are jokes about things okay? For instance, a guy makes a sexist jokes about women. He claims he's not sexist and doesn't believe what he's sayin; it's just a joke. Is that legit? I tend to believe that if you make that kind of joke, you at least somewhat believe it. Take racist jokes: few people in their right mind make racist jokes in public and expect people to believe they aren't racist. Obviously there are lines we don't cross in making jokes, but there is always gray area around those lines. But I digress.

The question is, when someone says something that you find offensive, what do you do? Let's say someone makes a racist remark around me. Oooo does my blood start to boil! The worst thing to do is let the joke and the issue slide entirely. The second worst thing to do is to blast the person for making the remark. Why? Well, after being blasted, you can be pretty sure this person will never again want to discuss anything related to the topic of race with you, even in a civil discussion. So, that means somehow I have to quell my burst of anger and gently bring up the topic of race. Only through sustained dialogue is there a chance someone will change their views, so I have to be sure I leave the door open for sustained dialogue. Obviously the person should know my views on a topic, but attacking them for making one comment is definitely counterproductive.

Here's a quote I like from John F. Kennedy that is sort of along these lines... "Peace is a daily, a weekly, a monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, quietly building new structures."

An un-Bendy evening, and less incommunicado

Tonight I went out to dinner at a Mexican place with my three roommates. We have tried to do this since the first week of school in August, but only tonight (with three weeks until we leave) did we pull it together. It was very refreshing (surprisingly refreshing, for a simple evening out). It almost felt like I wasn't in the Bend. I attribute this to the fact that I was out with a bunch of girls. In college I was often hanging out with girlfriends. But here, the girls are few and far between! Girls are just outnumbered in all the grad programs here: business, law, and PhD program. I rarely get to hang out with a group of girls! This is in stark contrast to my high school and college years where I hung out with girlfriends all the time. Take senior year: I don't know how many hours we spent on our couches talking. When I think about it, I'm shocked at how I never get that chance here!

So, goal for next year: be sure to find a group of girlfriends to hang out with on a regular basis.

On the second half of my blog title, I hereby am coming back from being incommunicado the past few weeks. Maybe once a year I get into a bit of a funk, and the past few weeks were my funk for this year. Maybe you know the kind of funk I'm talking about... when the littlest things can make you angry, or make you cry at the drop of a hat, when you really are dragging getting things done, when you just feel generally blah, for unexplained reasons. I pin some of this on the Bend: it's still a small, relatively boring little town and until a few weeks ago it was still snowing. Obviously not all of the funk can be blamed on the Bend and its weather, but I'm always unclear as to the other sources of my funks.

As funks for me go, I fretted over my life goals, faith, career choices, marriage prospects, and the like. Anyways, this funk is coming to an end, as (thankfully) all funks have for me until now. Like I can't tell you how my funks begin, I can't usually explain how they end. I know that it was definitely in recession after I ran into my friends Steve and Jeff (I hadn't seen them for a few weeks) the other night when they were a little bit tipsy, and spending a very entertaining few hours with them. Adding to that the weather getting warm and a clear end in sight for my time in the Bend, and thankfully the funk is lifting (despite a lack of clarity on the fretted-over funk issues). I still hate my cell phone and don't really want to be making a thousand calls, but I promise to be less incommunicado than I have been the last few weeks.

That's it, I'm going to Puerto Rico

My next real vacation will be here, mark my words!

1. Sort of like going to a foreign country, thanks to Puerto Rican culture and Spanish language.

2. Not really like going to a foreign country as you don't need a passport or visa, since Puerto Rico is what I call a pseudo-state.

3. Warm, with many beaches.

4. The amazing bioluminescent tour I've heard so much about.

I hate cell phones

A few weeks ago I had a post about cell phones. I took down the post to re-vamp it, and my hatred for cell phones has only solidified since. So here is my diatribe on cell phones.

Cell phones bug the crap out of me. My cell phone and other people's cell phones. Why? A few reasons...
1 - In public places like trains, bookstores, shuttle buses, people talking on their cell phones is usually obnoxious. Just the other day I was at Barnes and Noble, and some girl was loudly gabbing on her cell phone for like 30 minutes.

2 - People expect to be able to get ahold of you at any time. In college some of us got annoyed with our friend Yarng for never having her cell phone turned on. This just exemplifies the problem: we expected that since Yarng had a cell phone, we should be able to get ahold of her whenever we wanted. Cell phones breed selfishness and impatience among callers. I want to talk to this person now, and they have a cell phone so I should be able to talk to them now. I freely admit that I fall victim to this, but I still say it's bad.

3 - On the flip side, having a cell phone does not obligate you to pick it up all the time. Particularly if you are in a public place as mentioned above or hanging out with people, it's just rude to start talking on your cell phone for extended periods of time. Short of an emergency, why prioritize phone calls over the people around you, be them strangers on the train or friends at a restaurant? If your phone is attached to your ear, you're not only alienating the folks around you but you are missing out on real life!

In all fairness, there are some benefits to cell phones. Safety, convenience when travelling, help when you're lost, and meeting up with people at a crowded place, to name a few. Some people say they like the free long distance, but I suspect that cell phone bills are probably on par with (or more pricey) than long distance bills used to be. As with most things, a useful invention like a cell phone can easily become more of a nuisance than a help; even the best things go bad when people become addicted.

If you are reading this blog, you once lived in the pre-cell phone era; you survived, society functioned, and you were probably just as happy as you are with a cell phone. From a former cell phone addict (sophomore year of college I should have just gotten cell phone headgear), here are some favors I have done myself that I highly recommend:
- Remember that you own your cell phone, it doesn't own you!
- Take back your time: if there are important calls, set times in advance for those calls when you have time and can be away from other people. Then you don't annoy strangers or friends by talking on your phone for long periods of time around them, and you don't annoy friends or family by missing their calls. (I've used this scheduling thing with several people, and it's worked nicely).
- If you're addicted, leave your phone home for a day or two to remember that you can live without it. (This was sooo hard for me, but so healthy!)
- Don't get selfish and impatient if you can't get ahold of someone right away on their cell phone.

A warning: I joke about a no cell phone rule in my car, but I seriously want to put up a sign "No cell calls more than 2 minutes, save medical or emotional emergencies". If you can't detach yourself from the cell phone for ten minutes when I'm driving you somewhere, then next time save me gas money and/or the boredom (of listening to half a conversation instead of the radio) by driving yourself or finding another ride. Maybe this is ridiculous (you tell me, dear reader), but it's my pet peeve, so consider yourself fairly warned.

And on a happy note, for once I can say that America isn't the worst in the world! Moroccans were far worse than Americans in terms of having the cell phone attached at the hip and the ear. Finally, we aren't the biggest victims to technological addiction!

Adopting

For much of my life, I have wanted to adopt. Whether one or more, it's always just been something I assumed I would do. As a kid, I viewed adopting a child or children as a convenient way to avoid the excruciatingly painful experience of childbirth. Eventually I got over that fear. I never got over adopting, though.

As a tween/teenager, I somehow read a lot or fiction and non-fiction about kids in foster homes. It made me so sad and angry! Kids who are given up by their parents or taken away from their parents but are not adopted become wards of the state and are put into foster homes. Foster homes are families or single adults who are entrusted by the state to take care of the child. These families/individuals are paid money to cover the living expenses of having another child. Unfortunately, often people will foster parent simply to make money. Some stats on how screwed up foster homes can leave children...
-- Children are 11 times more likely to be abused in foster homes than they are in their own homes. (National Center on Child Abuse and Neglect)
-- 80% of prison inmates have been through the foster care system. (National Association of Social Workers)
-- 30% of the nation’s homeless are former foster children. (Casey Family Programs National Center for Resource Family Support)

How does this relate to adopting? Well, part of the foster care problem could be alleviated by adoption. Since I was a young teen reading stories about foster kids, I knew I wanted to adopt to do a small part.

When I think about adopting, it's completely normal to me. I think of it as perfectly normal to have a child or two of my own and raising them as siblings to a child or two I'd adopted. A friend recently was asking me how it's possible to love a child who is not your own blood as much as you would love a child who is your own. To me, that's never even crossed my mind: I'm choosing to adopt a child, so obviously I would choose to love him or her as my own child.

Knowing families who have adopted and have raised or are raising adopted children alongside their own biological children has only further proved to me how wonderful it can be. The latest was Amy and Eric. These friends of mine are absolutely exceptional as they not only adopted a second baby to raise alongside their biological child Mason, but from the start they wanted to adopt a special needs baby. In the end, they were given a beautiful black baby girl named Maleah. Sometimes when I tell people about Amy and Eric and I think about how humble and serving they are, I get teary eyed. As a Christian I believe I am here to be part of God's hands and heart on the earth carrying out His love and service; Amy and Eric overflow with this selflessness and love. Seeing their family only rekindled my own desire to adopt a baby.

Why adopt? There's so many kids out there needing families... I want to meet at least a little of that need. I'm not particularly attached to my own genes, so I don't mind raising someone elses genes. Here's perhaps my weirdest reason for wanting to adopt. There's a huge population boom, and eventually the earth won't be able to support such a huge human population. So, if I want more than two kids, I would most certainly adopt; I don't want to contribute to population explosion!

Well, that's about it as far as my desire to adopt. I'm smiling now, because I get happy thinking about adoption and the Hartleys and all.

Spring Arrives in the Bend

Last Friday night (Good Friday) I went for a walk to the Grotto on campus. For those who don't know what a Grotto is (as I didn't before I came here), ours is a little outdoor alcove filled with votive candles you can light, a couple of statues/sculptures of the Virgin Mary, and benches in front to kneel and pray. While I was kneeling praying, I had a tough time remembering I was celebrating EASTER holidays and not Christmas. Why? Because it was below freezing! Easter to me has always been the quintessential Spring holiday; on the secular level, Easter celebrates new life, often seen in the Spring. (Hence Easter eggs and Easter candy in the shape of chicks, bunny rabbits, flowers, etc). I was having a tough time with the juxtaposition of Easter in sub-freezing weather.

Well, lucky for us, yesterday was (finally) the first day of spring weather here in the Bend. It went up to like fifty-five degrees! Sure, for you Texans reading, you are thinking "55?!?! I'm still in sweaters and long underwear at that temperature!" But up here, it's the exact opposite. It seemed like the whole population emerged from its long winter hibernation; everyone was out in shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops, running, throwing frisbees or baseballs, lying on the grass studying, just going for walks...

Today is day 2 of Spring. According to weather.com it is currenly 59 degrees and is going up to 66. I am wearing (get ready) a three-quarters length shirt and FLIP FLOPS!!! (I'm still not hearty enough to wear shorts when it's in the 50s, like the rest of folks here.) Granted, I had to wear a windbreaker on top, but this is a big breakthrough in weather, folks, particularly given that last Thursday it was snowing.

Some people say that having winter makes you appreciate spring more. I agree that I am much more excited about the weather this March than I was during Houston Marches. However, being in warmer weather clothing makes me miss the gorgeous Texas weather! I'll trade three months of extreme Houston heat for 4-5 months of the Bend's arctic cold any day.

To fight or to solve?

I often get quite disillusioned with sociology. Maybe if my sub-fields were sociology of culture or sociology of emotions or mathematical sociology, it would happen less often. But I study race and inequality. I learn about how for the most part the rich succeed and the poor have very hard lives; how schools structure and perpetuate inequality; how minorities are continually disadvantaged; how the system of capitalism requires inequality to work; how despite the "successes" of the civil rights movement, blacks are still paid less and denied access to the best neighborhoods and schools . . . and that's just to name a few. Some people are optimists, and say, "But hey, look, things are getting better." I'll agree that some things have changed; for instance, blacks are no longer slaves in the United States. But on the other hand, most inequality has hardly changed and in fact much of it has gotten worse with time. (ask me for evidence if you don't believe it.)

Sociologists are great at identifying problems and their causes. They come up with solutions that would work, but these solutions are often simply not going to happen in our country or our world. It's not the sociologists' fault. Solutions that will make real changes (the kind sociologists propose) are impractical. In sum, for inequality to go away, the rich people and powerful people have to give up some of their riches and their power. Rich people and powerful people who have the power to actually change things usually are pretty happy being rich and powerful, and have no desire to give any of it up. So, how will things change?

My adivsor Dr. E says that most people who start out wanting to be activist sociologists (wanting to change things or make a difference) after a few years usually end up deciding all they want is a nice income, a good house, a nice life for their kids, status in the field, etc. W.E.B. Du Bois is the quintessential activist sociologist. The first great American sociologist (and a black man at the turn of the 20th century, at that!) , he worked like crazy to change things. Amongst other things, he started the NAACP, still today the foremost black activist group in America. But by the end of his life, he gave up his activism and his Christian faith because he saw no results of the fruits of his labor.

I fear I will end up like Du Bois: angered by the injustices of the world, wanting to see change so much that it can only lead to disillusionment when injustices continue.

Some people use the consolation that changing a few lives is good enough. If you can help a few people get out of hunger, or inspire a few people to become activists on race issues, or give a few people decent jobs, that's enough. As a sociologist, I don't really like that argument; I want to see large scale structural changes, because those are what really solve problems. I am satisfied at a personal level helping a few people out, but not on the activist level that hates injustice.

The only consolation I can come up with for myself right now is that it is the fight that matters, not achieving solutions. I fully admit that this comes entirely from Christian theology, and maybe nothing securlarly rational or practical. All I can say is that in the New Testament there are many urgings that we are to keep working for justice and peace, keep being merciful, keep doing good, for those acts in and of themselves are valuable and worshipful to God. In that sense, it's not fixing a problem that matters, but fighting to fix the problem. (Here is perhaps the quintessential verse on this:Galatians 6:9 "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.")

In fact, I think the Bible pretty much says that often we won't see the fruits of our labor. Unlike working for material things like profit, the Bible says that the profit of working for good is stored up as treasure in Heaven, not on Earth.

So this is the charge: keep on working for good, even if there is no solution or end in sight. Talk about tall orders to fill! As part of this, we have to not give in to the system; we can't adopt the thinking that, "Well, things won't change, I should just take my lot in life and run with it."

Suggestions are welcome (non-theological and theological alike) on how to keep one's chin up in the struggle for justice.

Musings on Current Events

Some things always seem to bring me back to posting on my blog. Messing fruitlessly with data for too many hours. Staring at a computer screen with little human contact for several hours. You get the idea.

Sometimes I wish my blog would just write itself out of the thoughts in my head. So many thoughts and ideas, but so little transition onto the blog. Once I sit here, it's like it all flees my mind.

Current events are a never ending source of inspiration. My musings on a few...

A reputable statistician reported in the latest Journal of the American Medical Association that American life expectancy will decrease for the first time in two centuries, due to obesity and the many health problems surrounding it. Some critics came out right away and said the guy was overblowing the situation; I'm tempted to trust him, because as I said, he's a very reputable statistician. Anyways, I find this interesting and a bit ironic... Continued development has sped America ahead in life expectancy for two centuries. Now, finally something is coming back to bite us. Having an abundant supply of food improved human health for millenium. Now we have reached the peak, and finally we have an overabundance of food, making us less healthy. Perhaps this is just one foreshadowing of other things to come. For instance, technology has pushed us ahead, but will it eventually lead to our demise? Capitalism made the US the the richest country in the world, but will it eventually lead to the destruction of our (or the world's) economy? Use of natural resources for millenium sustained humanity; are we nearing a point where we will have overconsumed natural resources and see ramifications in human life/society? These are questions we must consider.

Terry Schiavo's feeding tube was pulled. For those who don't keep up on current events, she has been in a vegetative state since 1990. Her husband has been fighting to take out her feeding tube, arguing she wouldn't want to live that way. Her parents have been fighting to keep her alive. A Florida judge ordered the tube be taken out. Congress today tried to stop it from being pulled by subpoena-ing Terry for a Congressional hearing. The judge got pissed Congress was meddling, and the tube was taken out. Now, sure, there are big life and death moral issues in this case, but did Congress miss the civics lesson on the balance of power? They can't overrule judges unless they pass laws. Not to mention that I feel they should be focusing their time and energy on important (large) issues. And we wonder why so little good legislation gets made...

Lastly, in his first day on death row Scott Peterson got two marriage proposals. Prison officials said it's not uncommon for death row inmates to get married. I wonder why? Also, for the unmarried folks looking to get married, it's quite a blow to know that you get on death row and suddenly your stock goes up. What gives?

Milk bags, not milk cartons

Sometime while I was in elementary school our school decided to switch the way it served milk with lunch. Instead of giving us the traditional milk cartons, we were served milk in bags. The bags were made of clear plastic, and they were recyclable. One day in class a man from the milk company came in and we had a lesson on how to use the bags. It was a little complicated because to drink from them, you had to jab a pointed straw into the bag. They made a big deal of remembering to keep your thumb on the end of the straw when you jabbed it in, or else milk would spew out the end. (Obviously this man had never worked with elementary school children before... warning us of this only served to show us how to spew milk out, namely at other kids in the lunchroom).

The milk bags had pros and cons. The pros: first, a milk bag with a straw stuck in it was a powerful spraying weapon. Second, the bags were recyclable, so we were saving a lot of landfill space. The cons: they switched from serving 2% white milk and chocolate milk to serving 0.5% white milk and 1.5% chocolate milk. This may seem like a small difference to you, dear reader, but to elementary school kids, a change in the percent milk fat is dire. For the rest of elementary school, I never knew if the bad taste of the milk was due to the plastic bags the milk was stored in, or the changed percent milk fat.

Our janitor always stood by the trash can, and if you came with your milk unfinished, he made you stand there and drink it all before you could put it in the recycle bin. If you tried to trash a half full milk, you had to drink it all and put it in the recycle, along with getting yelled at. I resorted to many techniques to get out of drinking the yucky milk: squirting it into any bowls or plates, hiding the bag under a napkin to throw it away, pawning it off on my friends.

It got worse when awhile into the plastic bags deal a big gray trash bag was hung up in our school lobby with a sign saying something like, "Your recycled milk bags made this trash bag!" I was mad. If we were going through all this trouble to recycle, why the heck should we hang the finished product in our school lobby? That seemed utterly pointless. Why wasn't the product made of our recyclables being USED?

I took some comfort in the idea that soon all school kids around the country would be drinking out of milk bags like ours. Sadly, I later found out that not even one other school in our district used the milk bags, and I have yet to meet anyone else subject to the nasty tasting milk. Alas.

Question to you, reader, that I can't decide my own answer to: would you rather have slightly nasty milk with recyclable packaging, or tasty milk in non-recyclable packaging?

The Destructive Nature of Rumor Mills

From the Bible... "A perverse man stirs up dissension, and a gossip separates close friends." Proverbs 16:28. Apparently gossip has been around for many millennium.

The setting: Michael Emerson is leaving Notre Dame. The Notre Dame department hasn't announced it yet because they are trying to find a new director for his center; that way when they announce Michael is leaving, it will soften the blow by saying, "But it's not so bad, because we have Dr. X to be director of the center."
I've known about it for awhile; since there's no one else at Notre Dame who studies race, I've had to apply to transfer to another program for next year.

The situation: My friend Brandy emailed me a few weeks ago asking me to cat sit for the summer. I just avoided responding at all. I won't stay in the Bend for the summer if I'm not staying at Notre Dame, but I have tried to not straight out lie to anyone. Brandy tracked me down in my office the other day. I decided I had to tell her the truth.

Valerie: I have something to tell you Brandy.
Brandy: Okay...
Valerie: It's a secret.
Brandy: Are you leaving?
Valerie: Yes.
Brandy: Because Michael's leaving?
Valerie: How did you know that?
Brandy: I heard a rumor to that effect from Bill. [Bill is a professor in the dept].
Valerie: Yeah, it's true, but no one knows, it has to be kept quiet for now.

We have a little bit more conversation, whatever.

Next day, I'm sitting in class, and random other girl in our program is like, "Val, I heard a rumor that you and Michael are leaving. Is that true???" Cue Valerie flipping out.
"Where'd you hear that from?"
"Dan and Amanda. I assumed they heard it from you, so I told Rich [another professor] about it, and he got all upset that it couldn't be true."

What??

I directly go and tell Michael the situation, very apologetically. He already knew about it, because someone told someone told someone who told his poor sweet secretary whom he hadn't been able to tell yet. And given we know of at least these two long gossip chains, it seems pretty certain the rest of the department knows. Poor Michael still isn't officially allowed by Notre Dame to tell anyone, so he's having to lie or worm around it or just avoid people. I was so apologetic, but he was like, "No, this isn't your fault, I don't harbor any ill will towards you about this." Still, he is in a really tight/awkward spot.

Unfortunately, I do harbor ill will: towards Brandy. I emailed her about it, and her response was, "It was too good not to tell people." (So apparently she told pretty much anyone she saw.) I'm so mad! So many things were jeopardized by spreading a little gossip: my relationship with Michael, Michael's relationship with many people, reputations...

So, I don't know how to deal with Brandy. She's a friend, so I don't just want to write her off. But this is unacceptable. How do you address such deliberate thoughtlessness (since I told her it needs to be kept quiet) and what I see as selfishness? With a response like, "it's too good not to tell people," it doesn't seem like she's going to be too apologetic about it. Do I have to relegate Brandy to 'sort-of-friend-I-tell-nothing-to'?

Suggestions welcome.

Grocery store temperature

I am usually late to one of my statistics classes. It's across campus, so I'm usually power walking to get there within the first five minutes of class. As a result, once I'm at class (and thus have powerwalked about 10-15 mins), I'm pretty warm and about to break a sweat (powerwalking in sweaters and winter coats will do that, no matter how cold it is).

I've noticed that most of the girls in our class are usually cold. They're always wearing their jackets in class. Even my friend who is a die hard midwesterner "I wear a windbreaker for a jacket when it's 35 degrees outside" often resorts to putting her coat on. Today I commented on this to them, saying I noticed they all looked cold.

Girl 1: Yeah, it's always chilly in this room.
Girl 2: Yeah it is. I don't know how Brian can wear just a t-shirt. (Brian always is wearing only a t-shirt in class)
Brian [gets up and checks thermostat]: It's 68 degrees in here! That's regular room temperature!
Guy 2: No, 68 is more like grocery store temperature, Brian.

My take home exam

From: Michael Emerson

To: Valerie Lewis, Bob Brenneman, Maria Diaz, David Hartman, Carl Neblett, Jennifer Yonkowski, Anjun Ganguly, Roberto Rivera

Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2005 20:06:36 -0500 (EST)
Subject: Exam 1

Here it is:

Using the meterials from class, discuss the development of the concept "race" from its inception to now, finishing with the ideology of color blindness. In your essay, be sure to consider if and where prejudice is important in the development of race.

*It is cruel, yes, but you cannot exceed 5 typed, double-spaced pages in responding to this question. Use 1 in margins. Point size can be 11 or 12.

Due: Next Wednesday, unless leading the class



Equivalent question:


I can't decide what is worse when writing a paper.
1. Having too little to say (so having to use all the undergrad antics of changing margins to 1.2" and font to Courier New to stretch 12 pages out to 15), or
2. Having too much to say (like this ridiculously large question that must be shrunk into a ridiculously small number of pages)

Ah, and your deep thinking question for the day: which of those is worse in life?

Pathetic dreams

I have always had . . . well . . . interesting dreams. I say interesting because there isn't one adjective to describe all my dreams. I used to remember dreams several times a week. Recently I haven't been remembering hardly any dreams. Some dreams are strange, some are just random. I've had one or two dreams that I think were actually meaningful things my subconscious or God or whatever you believe creates dreams construed. I also had one SUPER crazy dream that came true, but I'd have to tell you about that one in person. (It's not really blog material).

Sometimes the subject matter of my dreams makes me wonder just how lame I really am. Last fall when I was applying to grad schools and Dr. Emerson was thinking about moving to Notre Dame, I had a dream about sociology. In the dream Dr. E was moving, and the old chair of the Rice sociology department (Dr. Chandler Davidson) was telling him he couldn't leave, because he had to finish his big research project. I told Dr. E about this dream, and he was like, "Why are you dreaming about stuff like this??"

A few months ago I submitted my first paper to a scholarly journal for review. I had two dreams in a period of about a week about finding out if the paper was getting published. Both were surprisingly positive dreams (well, one was neutral, but in the other my paper got accepted to the cheers of myself and two faculty members). I thought it was crazy I dreamed about that not only once, but TWICE.

A few nights ago my dreams hit possibly their all time low. I dreamed I posted a great new blog entry, and got a bunch of comments from people who never comment. Sadly, this dream had that really realistic feeling to it, so realistic that for awhile I thought it was actually a memory of something that happened. Eventually I realized that not only did I not have a new blog entry with several cool commenters, but I couldn't even remember the subject of the cool blog entry from my dream. Darn it!

When I realized I had just said "darn it!" because I couldn't remember the blog entry subject of my dream, I knew I had hit some kind of low point in my life. Is there seriously nothing better for me to be dreaming about? Give me an adventure, a battle, a mystery, a sexy romance . . . but dreaming about a blog entry getting comments?? Sure, I don't think the Bend is the most exciting place, but I am content in my life: I have shelter, food, a nice office, good roommates, friends, and I go out a lot. But this dream makes me wonder: Just how boring is my life?

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The continued power of the blog....

Last night, going to bed right after I wrote this entry, I had two dreams. In the first dream I was in World War 2. I was helping out with war theory, then taking care of women in children in a bomb shelter, then out on a jeep trying to destroy an enemy truck. I woke up from this dream because it started to get too intense, we were about to enter into hand to hand knife fights with a guy from the other truck.

In the second dream I was stuck in a world where robots had destroyed most of humanity, and I was one of the few lucky remaining ones who was a slave but narrowly avoided getting killed. At the end we were about to be killed by the most powerful robot who ran the whole planet, and we realized that he was actually human. As we were being sucked up an elevator shaft, helpless to stop impending death, my (human) friend I was with said, "I believe anything can be turned into good . . . do it God!" We plowed out the top of the shaft and suddenly were back in a world that was green and happy, and thousands of people were cheering and clapping for us as we landed on the ground.

I'd say those were two dramatic/exciting dreams. Given the result of this posting, I have a new blog strategy.
How little money do I really have?
Where is my tall dark and handsome man?
When will I get to go on a cruise to the tropics?
How little world peace is there??

Go blog, work your magic!