It is a well documented fact of life that women derive great comfort, if not cathartic relief, from openly sharing their feelings with each other. But men also engage in heart-to-heart connections, especially concerning matters that perhaps transcend the ordinary routine of existence. Today Prof. Andrew Berry and I shared such a moment while discussing my interest in the intersection of biodiversity and human health:
Dr. Berry: Speaking of conservation, there is an environmental science class focusing on marine conservation. You may find it interesting. It uses case studies on saving the large whales.
Me: Cool.
Dr. Berry: Do you like whales?
Me: Umm. I'm not sure. I'm a bit ambivalent.
Dr. Berry: Why are you ambivalent about whales?
Me: I don't know. They seem a little too big.
Dr. Berry: Hm you are right. They are a little too big.
-Silence-
Prof Berry: Well, let me know how everything goes..
Damn, what a day it was in Southern California. These past couple weeks, the weather has delivered on the classic combination of warm and breezy but not exactly lived up to its name. That's because SoCal weather is more about the vibe and tableau than the temperature or humidity levels, and a perfect day needs a lot of moving parts to line up. And every perfect day brings a slightly different flavor, like Kobe's greatness on the basketball floor. It was 72 degrees in the late afternoon today but felt two or three degrees hotter because a bunch of folks were grilling outdoors. In fact, I could smell some frankfurters through my window, but only because the smell of frankfurters has some odd magnetic attraction to stinky kimchi, and I always smell the kimchi first. Later, the setting sun left puddles of outrageous orange across the sky like some scene out of a dystopia. When the darkness crept in, the color slowly seeped into flowers in our garden so they looked extra sassy. Oh, and the breeze. Breeze was cool but somehow a little stagnant like it had rolled one too many joint. All in all, a fantastic day to be alive and cuddle. Also a fantastic day to blog, apparently, because I'm just not in the mood to work on summer program applications. Every time I try to explain my interest in a program, I find myself palavering about why Latinas are awesome and feelings are important. In other words, my blog beckons.
I can't believe five weeks of winter break are over already. It will probably go down in my memory as the most uneventful and dormant period of my life in the post-puberty era. Except for a couple occasions, I went through the daily routine of survival and did little else. I would sleep to my heart's content and then take naps in the afternoon, just to make sure I was not tired. And half the time I was awake, I was probably not even conscious. This kind of extreme sedentary lifestyle takes a toll, of course, and my face now bears a striking resemblance to that of a chubby capybara. I'll be counting on the Harvard cafeteria diet to slim me back down. But aside from doing a whole lot of nothing, this break was about appreciating the simple pleasures of life. Like having my private bathroom with a mirror so I can secretly practice pick-up lines after taking a shower. My super warm blanket stuffed with duck feathers. The smell of bonfires at night when I drive near the beaches.
A major one I hadn't fully appreciated before was my parents' sense of humor. My mom wasted no time zinging in the new year, claiming that she actually had more rings than LeBron James based on her matrimonial bling. Then later, I heard her explain to my barber that despite my young-ish appearance - which was news to me - I am actually very old. She made the observation the way a myrmecologist may yank off the antennae of an ant specimen. My dad has been equally hilarious in ways I hadn't noticed prior to my extended stay home. He has a habit of emphasizing important statements by saying them once in Korean and then a second time in English, even though I understood the first time. This paroxysm of translationitis keeps me guessing when the next one will occur rather than focus on what he's saying. But he also achieves comic effect by sharing certain insights about the truth of things that are, well, quite strongly established already. While reminding me of the importance of maintaining a good relationship with my brother, for example, he boldly declared that "as far as he knows," my brother is my only sibling. I appreciate his insistence on leaving room for reasonable doubt here, but I have to say I made that leap of faith a while ago.
When not conversing with my parents, I had a chance to catch up on things I had been wanting to do for a while. Nothing extremely exciting, but pleasant nonetheless. I've been finally reading up on health reform, particularly the changes under PPACA, and given the enormous complexity of the thing, I'm surprised so many people have made up their minds about it. I took an American health policy class this past semester, went over many of the proposed regulations in detail, and have found myself agreeing with some things and disagreeing with others. But mostly I am unsure, unsure as to how we can improve our health care system while cutting costs and whether PPACA is best suited for getting us there. Frankly, reviewing the available literature tells me most reasonably thinking folks are unsure. Just try searching for a consensus opinion on the waiving of cost-sharing for prostate cancer screening.
And with the rest of my time? I've been listening to a lot of music by female artists. The reason is that after listening to hip hop for so long, I've completely lost touch with what women are feeling these days. Perhaps the disconnect has been allowed to fester for too long because I can now hardly understand what women are singing about. Don't get me wrong, I will still put my hands up if Alicia Keys or Beyonce tells me to. It's just that when Alicia says she's thinking about doing the unthinkable but doesn't say what that unthinkable thing is, I don't know what to think. Maybe she is referring to pursuing a serious long-term relationship with a boy. Or maybe she is alluding to letting Swizz Beatz impregnate her. Then there's Kelly Clarkson who is just fucking confusing. In "Already Gone," she talks about leaving a guy on her own accord even though 1) they shared a perfect kiss 2) he couldn't have loved her better 3) she loves him. WHY KELLY, WHY?!
But frustrating moments like these were rare during the past month, and I couldn't have asked for a better break. Now I'm excited to return to school, especially because I've made it my goal to spend more meaningful time with friends this semester. And I'm turning 21 in a month. Jesus Christ.
First off, a grave error was made in my previous post: the woman whose voice halts violent struggles of men and angry storms in the sea is named Celine, not Celion, Dion. Of course she deserves some blame for my mistake, given how her voice makes me question what is real anymore.
Within the last 72 hours, we have witnessed our generation's social media showcase its touted ability to drive and organize social change, catapulting a homeless man with a buttery radio voice in Columbus, OH named Ted Williams to instant stardom - and as we found out yesterday - most likely a well-paid commentator position. A Youtube user uploaded Ted's interview with a reporter from Columbus Dispatch and it spread like wildfire, prompting calls from folks eager to connect him with job offers. News stations have been all over the story and report he's even fielding offers from the Cleveland Cavaliers, who, I suspect, will also ask about his interest in moonlighting as a backup point guard. Anyway it's a feel-good story, and I couldn't be happier for the guy getting a second chance. But beyond that? In the past, I would look out the window with a pensive expression (same as my sad or titillated expression), listen to some Celine Dion, maybe share the story with family members, and think to myself that the world is now a better place than before. But this particular story reminded me of something else: many of us still don't know how to feel about homelessness.
Truth be told, I can recall only one instance from recent memory in which I gave money to a homeless person. I don't feel too ashamed when I say that because my parents have worked too damn hard to support our family, and as much as I recognize the tremendous blessing and privilege I have been bestowed through no fault or merit of my own, I'm just not ready to be generous with the money obtained through such sacrifice. What I do feel ashamed about, though, is that time I did decide to help a homeless person. He was a subway performer at Harvard Square station. Frankly, I don't even know if he was homeless. His hair was disheveled and his clothes slightly grimy but the speakers booming behind him didn't look too bad. Why did I give him my two Washington's? Because I love Usher's "You Remind Me," and the man's rendition was better than anything I had heard from Usher. In most cases, even that might not have reached the threshold to trigger a generous act but I had just finished a chicken fajita burrito from Chipotle, which means I was romantically inclined at the moment. So I gave him money because he sang well. Too well to keep sleeping on the streets and entertaining passerbys. He belonged on the big stage, and I hoped he could get there.
I can't speak for the folks who reached out to Ted Williams, but I think at least some of them shared my sentiment. And though I think it's quite natural and indicative of our desire to see others succeed, we must approach it with some caution when we set out to confront homelessness and poverty. Looking through coverage of the Ted Williams story, the common theme I see tossed around is that Williams deserved and got a second chance. The senior vice president of marketing for the Cavaliers said, "We believe in second chances and second opportunities. The gentleman deserves an opportunity to explain certain situations." Kevin McLoughlin, the director of NFL films who also offered Williams a job, agreed that the "man deserves a second chance." But why exactly does Ted deserve a second chance? Many people would accept the idea that falling into hard times is a threat we all face. Life is unpredictable, and even in an economic climate better than the current, our fortune is at the whim of fate. Others would also believe that even when the misfortune brought upon a person can be, to some degree, attributed to his or her decisions and behavior that society frowns upon, the person should be presented with an opportunity to make amends - a fresh start. So they would look admiringly of Ted's triumph over alcohol and drug addiction, and point to it as evidence that the man has made efforts to get back on track.
But is Ted more deserving than other homeless people on the street? Homeless people who have not conquered alcohol or drug addiction? Homeless people who sing terribly? What about those who stand outside CVS, shake their cups around, and curse at you when you don't pay up? My answer would be no, for the same reasons we embraced Ted. Because I believe that any argument for Ted deserving a second chance must be grounded in the premise that our capacity to understand and thus judge lives other than our own as well as the people who live them is inherently limited. If we as a society agree that Ted deserves another shot, it should be because we acknowledge the generous portions of injustice and inequality that life haphazardly throws at us. Not because what we see in him - his marvelous voice and now drug-free lifestyle - leads us to conclude he is deserving. I make this distinction because our outpouring support for Ted does not crystallize our attitude toward homelessness. It only partially defeats the lingering stereotype of the homeless as a homogeneous group of lazy, incapable people, tempting us with the dramatic contrast between Ted and the more well-known, typical faces of poverty. Here is a man who actually has a talent and persevered to overcome his moral failings, unlike those other bums on the street, one may say. It is too easy for us to demand the kind of extraordinary gift and resilience we see in Ted from others, who have faced life conditions altogether different from Ted's and who, more often than not, do possess talent and gift, just of less salient forms. It is too easy for us to attach a person's worth and character to the observable reality we perceive using our simple faculties, conveniently ignoring the interplay of life's elements that lie much deeper.
Today's cadre of social activists and researchers, more than ever, are embarking on projects with an appreciation for complexity of poverty and unconditional respect for its victims. Conditional cash transfer programs, which entrust poor families with the power of spending subsidy money as they see fit (as long as they fulfill certain requirements such as keeping children in school), have gained support worldwide and achieved spectacular results. In the U.S., Common Ground and partner organizations are finally targeting the chronically homeless, a population neglected for years, by committing to provide housing for 100,000 chronically homeless through the 100,000 Homes Campaign. And as for us? We should hold close the virtues of humility, gratitude, respect, and love. We can't live alone, boys and girls. More on that next time.
