South meets west’s blog

I continue to be grateful for the hiking trails I stumble upon. This provides a peaceful punctuation to the job search. Just this week, I have hiked the Nature trail and the Pablo Point Trail in Point Reyes, Marin county. Today, I walked across the San Andreas Fault and around the San Andreas Lake, both part of the historic Sawyer Camp Trail where in the 1870's Leander Sawyer trained performing horses for circuses. It is also historic for another reason. On November 4, 1769, it was the site of the "first camp" after Captain Caspar de Portola (and company) "discovered" San Francisco Bay. After thirty minutes, I found myself at a shaded picnic table. A great place to bring a lunch.

Backing up to the hike in Marin county. We started our day late, and after an amazing meal at the Bolinas Coast Caf, it was pretty much an accident that we ended up at the Pt. Reyes Bird Observatory, http://www.prbo.org/cms/27. Although this place boasts the broadest avian diversity in the country (and has one of the nicest outdoor bathrooms I've ever visited), we expected a short, in-the-open walk when we started off on the Nature Trail. It quickly became majestic, as we entered a dark forest canopied by trees...At one point, we were on the forest floor looking up at tree roots that draped down in the dirt on the hill above. Within a few paces, we found ourselves awestruck at light coming through the trees. We then crossed the road and traveled out and back just under 7 miles on the Point Pablo Trail, part of the Ridge Trail. There was so little sun in parts of the forest that low branches had few if any leaves, or twigs for that matter.

Now that the battery for my digital camera is charged, I'll be taking pictures on these heavenly hikes.

Since college, a certain childhood friend of mine has always had an extraordinary amount of direction. Her hard work and good grades have brought her far in her chosen career path, at least in my mind. She has expressed discontent with the amount of paperwork involved in her work. Anyway, when her mom was at my house to celebrate my graduation from college, she asked me what I wanted to do. I said I had ruled out agriculture. She laughed. It wasn't for lack of direction. I knew I always wanted to be a writer I just never told her that. So maybe now I want to be a writer and a social entrepreneur of sorts.

What does the title of this blog have to do with that? Well, the topic of my undergraduate thesis was all but chosen for me. My professors wanted to piggyback other research they had done, and I wanted to graduate with honors. I was working at a restaurant and going to school full time so I was glad to have the direction from my professors. But at the end of the day, the topic did not inspire me...and I wish I had researched health policy or another area of interest. (I had written a paper on AIDS policy in college but was discouraged by criticism from my professor; I can't blame him, it wasn't that sophisticated of a paper). Instead of working harder, I avoided failure just as many students do.

This evening, as I contribute to two blogs instead of writing cover letters, I am remembering what a friend said. He often worked on papers in the same computer lab where I was writing my thesis. He said: "did you put a period on that thing, yet?" He was encouraging me to wrap it up and move onto something else. Maybe I'm dragging my heels with writing cover letters because I want my job to inspire me and I'm afraid it won't.

The lesson from my thesis is to fail more so long as I am pursuing something that's important to me. It doesn't have to be important to anyone else.

Said Winston Churchill: "Success is going from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm..."

The good thing about the end of my campaign work this cycle is that I have time to observe more...Sometimes when I work that many hours I don't look up long enough to experience things like this:

A few weeks ago, I walked down into Civic Center BART station some time after 11 but before midnight and a man was playing the violin. Playing is a stretch as the sound that came from his passing the bow over the strings was not music. It was a dissonant pumice stone on strings that had no musicality to it. It was noise. But I was glad to hear it because on a day when I felt a bit disconnected from my creative and spiritual sides, a metaphor fell in my lap.

These days, I am making a concerted effort to have only rich experiences...to ensure that my relationships to others and my commitment to myself  is more than just noise. This summer and fall, I have earned little money and suffered losses. I've made mistakes. These past few months have disarmed me a bit while at the same time reminded me to keep fighting for things close to my heart even if they don't make sense to anyone but me. My mother has always instructed me to keep writing and to continue the search for full time work that I find fulfilling. If I give up on those things, she reminds me, I'll look back on my life and wonder what it was all about. In this same vein...if I don't do the things that may be hard but must be tried, I will think my life was just a bunch of noise.

This week was huge for me. We elected Barack Obama and I completed my work for the man who will likely be the next District 3 Supervisor (results from ranked choice voting should be certified within a few weeks). Although earlier this Fall, the world and my family lost a great man in my grandfather, we are gaining the leadership of two politicians close to my heart (three, if you count my friend on the Town Board in Nevada). I am grateful for these men. Election Day I had a feeling not unlike how touched I was when I saw my stepbrother, a doctor,  taking care of my grandfather...I am surrounded by good, great men.

I celebrate the election of Obama to the presidency. It is a huge step forward for this country and with Obama's election comes a surplus of hope and renewed patriotism for some. The country exploded on Tuesday, and within a few days there was talk about increased job opportunities. Obama's election is indeed a step in the right direction but I fear that if we don't (in whatever way we know how) continue to challenge him to deliver, if we stop talking about things that matter, if we remain quiet on health care, on religious and cultural tolerance, civil liberties and the war, then I fear this moment in history will ultimately be just noise. I don't want to look back in eight years and think that.

Greetings from New Orleans where earlier today I had to cool off after my shower, where the storefronts on one sleepy Uptown street are reminders of smoking cigarettes, of studying drug policy and Shakespeare, of college outings and information benders. The literati flock to forty-year-old bookstores in creole cottages, the levee of the Mississippi a short walk away.

Today, I cross the lake to celebrate the life of my grandfather. I learned that at least some of his ashes are to be taken to France. Perhaps I will be the one to carry them if I go to Europe.

This weekend, I will meet new entrants to this world: my cousin and my friend's baby girl.

I will drink coffee with chicory, post on another blogsite and with any luck just "chillax" before beginning an organizing job on Tuesday.

Best to all.

Moi.

Here is the guy's response to my email, which was filtered through my friend. This is the kind of stuff I live for!

I haven't read ether book if I fine them in the use book store cheap I will buy them. I am sure that you can tell I didn't put together the book thing I send it on forward.

I just did a Brandi Chastain in my kitchen. Okay, that's partly because it's hot in here!

Last night I dreamt about taking the GRE again...earlier this week in my dreams I was back on the campaign.

Could I be channeling mom who is sweating with no air conditioning in New Orleans? (She has always pushed me to work hard towards finding something that sustains me).

I have an interview this afternoon for another organizing job which is most certainly closer to the "thing" than a lot of other shite out there. Wish me luck!

Postscript: the job is mainly going door to door asking for money for the DNC and the ACLU. Assuming I agree to an Observation Day (they want tomorrow, no way, I have plans with SB). It's mine if I want it, and I can do anything for 60 days, but can my foot? Oh well.

Someone took a bunch of sentences from Obama's books Audacity of Hope and Dreams From My Father, plunked them in an email and tried to scare his friends and cousins, one of whom I know. When she forwarded me the email I was nice enough to bring my cover letter writing to a screeching halt (I'm driving on one wheel already) so that I could respond. I have not included the words from his books because, well, I have not had time to check the page numbers.

Dear ____________

I am no expert on Obama's ideology and I cannot speak for him. I speak
for myself. As much as I would like to help you invalidate your
cousin's entire email campaign of slander against Senator Obama, I
have limited time (and it sounds like your cousin has limitless shoddy
tactics)!

I will say this...from a research perspective, I think your cousin (or
whomever originated this email) can do better. It's bad, bad practice
to go throwing around quotations from a book and not cite the page
numbers. It seems like the person who wrote this email did not read
either book, but merely opened the pages and found the
sentences/passages with the highest potential to incite fear when
taken out of context and given to folks who did not like Obama to
begin with...

Again, I certainly don't have time to dig through both books, so let's
just assume these words (below) ARE all somewhere in either book. I
have no problem with any of these comments and you should not expect
your white non-progressive cousin to understand (any more than I do)
what it means to be part slave, part slave-owner...It is not easily
reconciled. I have not read Dreams from my Father, but I understand
that it's a memoir in which Obama makes public his musings on racial
identity. As such, I would not be surprised to see any of the sentences in question.

As for the comment about standing with the Muslims should the
"political winds turn in an ugly direction", I might, too. Anyone who
is horrified by our steadfast devotion to Israel gets that. Again, I
have no idea if Obama used those words below.

Hey, thank your cousin for me. This is a much richer experience for me
than if I had to defend McCain, his seven homes and his wife's
$300,000 outfits.

Forward this to all your cousins and their cousins! I hope this helps!

Dear Daily Show:

In some ways, I am the least likely intern for your show. I’m several years out of college and as much as I can try, I don’t think I can get any school credit for this internship. My puberty is also fully resolved and there are no cracks in my voice (oh wait, that’s because I’m a woman).

Age and educational status aside, I have all the right ingredients for success as a round-the-clock research junkie or coffee fetcher. I can even put the “Reserved” signs on all of the chairs, and then take them down at the whim of the staff. To this internship, I bring my graduate education in political science, my recent experience as an Organizing Fellow with the Obama campaign, and my persistent mocking of both myself and others.

Since I follow politics and maximize shock value when making jokes about the names of Sarah Palin’s children (Track, Trig, Bristol, Willow and Piper) while considering her 17-year-old daughter’s upcoming wedding, I’m practically an intern already, but we’ve just not yet met in person. I hope I can change that!

I have attached my resume and a writing sample. I can be reached by phone at ____ or via email at ____________. Thanks so much for your time and consideration. May the best left-handed candidate with an August birthday (I mean the one with the terrorist middle name) win.

...And I received an automated reply indicating that the Daly Show was no longer accepting applications for the Fall...oh well, it was fun doing this.

I have been carrying a receipt in my wallet since May, but not because I needed it...one afternoon when I was working downtown I wrote a gratitude list on this receipt and have been meaning to get it up here ever since.

Maybe this headache will go away. It's like I'm offering up a slaughtered goat or something, right?

Here it is:
I am grateful for:
My nails. right now I have decent nails...nails make sense. They grow and break off when they can't grow anymore.
For my empathy
For my long legs and healthy hair that has not been dyed in a long time
For my sense of humor
For my friends
For my ability to remember lines and insert where appropriate
For my eyes and full lips and slightly crooked nose
For the little chip in my tooth
For my headaches...I feel them because I am alive
For not having had a migraine in a few months (scratch that)
For the various languages I hear walking around this city
For my self awareness
For my black corduroy pants that hug my hips. For the Brazilian store from which I bought them
For salsa

And that's all she wrote...

I spent some time earlier looking for a poem about death that was on the lighter side, if you will. I never found one that resonated, so I am throwing one of my own out here just cuz. I wrote it in 2007.

At the Dentist

Tuesday…Wednesday…

I don’t remember

exactly the day of the week

when instinct had me reach up

and touch your hand

as you implored,

“Enjoy your life!”

You had just received the call,

your mother was not well,

was worse, dying maybe dead,

“she’s old, anyhow,”

you told me as

you rubbed in the anesthesia and

I awaited the absence of pain,

poking my pseudo dimple

while you prepped the drill

My eye’s lens a mere dam since

the weekend when we'd buried

our dear Lou Ann, whose husband awoke

to find her lifeless on New Year’s day,

her fair skin I imagine

felt the same to him as mine did to me

there in your chair,

like chilled picnic cheese

like the moon

like something we know

but do not know

all at once.