Randomness

Two of my sisters posted Ten Random Things About Me memes on their blogs, so I've decided to follow suit.

1. Keeping to-do lists of any kind, and having a physical manifestation of my accomplishments (however small) gives me a great sense of pride.

2. Once I've established a place for something in my home or car, I am very particular about its always being returned to its place.

3. A few years ago, my boyfriend taught me how to change the oil in my car. Now, I complete all changes myself.

4. I hate raw onions, but I actually kind of like sautéed ones.

5. Before I die, I'd love to speak fluent French and Swahili, as well as speak Spanish, Arabic, and Italian on at least moderate levels.

6. I turn all the labels of containers in my refrigerator and pantry to face out.

7. Although I would love to, I cannot donate blood because the process makes me extremely nauseated and/or ill.

8. While elephants in general are my favorite animals, I love the African elephant best.

9. I like to maintain a schedule and I enjoy daily routine, but at times I also feel quite constrained by them.

10. I am registered as an independent voter.

The girl who cried nervous.

So, I have this weird tendency to cry when I'm especially nervous. I first identified this "issue" in the sixth grade when I was asked to read, in front of the entire school, an essay I had written regarding the D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education) program I had recently completed. The reading took place at my D.A.R.E. "graduation", with all the other kids and sixth graders' parents in attendance.

Essentially, when I took the stage and stepped up to the mic, I immediately began tearing up. I proceeded to cry through the entire reading and I'm sure my words were barely intelligable. I was completely mortified but I hung in there, and scurried off the stage with great haste afterward.

I didn't realize at the time why that happened. Later, when I started having to give talks in front of the church congregation, I cried too, but then I thought it was because I was overcome with emotion for my religious convictions, or something. I thought it was a trait inherited from my mother, who often cries when speaking of topics she's emotionally invested in. So I blamed it on emotions and Mom. To be fair, I thought the public speaking element played at least a minor part.

But in the last several months, on four-and-half-separate occasions - sometimes one-on-one, others while in front of groups - I have broken down in similar fashion (I include a "half" occurrence because one time I was able to reign it in before full exposure). It's like it's getting worse. Two of the times, I thought it was, again, the consequence of some underlying emotional connection to what I was speaking of, but the others there was no valid reason for. It didn't occur to me until it happened again today - approximately 15 years after the first incident - that it was a result of nervousness. I was asked by one of my former professors to speak to her class about some resources I had compiled for students on international affairs, media literacy, human rights, activism, and the like. While I do have some emotional connection to what I was speaking of, I consciously talked around them. Yet, true to form, I got teary-eyed TWICE over the course of my talk. I am so embarrassed by this because I am not usually a cry-happy sort of gal, and especially not so around perfect strangers.

So, what the hell is up with this compulsion? Why is my nervousness manifest in such an embarrassing (for myself and others) sort of way?? I am truly upset about it, and I wonder what sort of effective activist and advocate of human rights I can be when I can't get through a 10 minute speech without ugly facial contortions and ready waterworks. I think this crying detracts from my message and that is what particularly irks me. I don't want to be the weird chick that showed up to class and cried for apparently no reason. I want to come with something to say, because I have lots to say. It makes me wonder if I ought to just have stayed with the journalistic ambitions 'cause I can cry all I want from behind the veil of a computer screen. Obviously the point here is that I dont "want" to cry, but you get my drift.

I am beginning to wonder if there is something I haven't dealt with from my past, and perhaps I need a little therapy to suss out what is going on here. I've got to figure out something because I'm just not willing to accept that this is how my life will be; I'm just not. I'm far too proud and have too many professional ambitions for that.

Some brilliant musicians you've never heard of.

There is no shortage of crap music and film in the world today. Or, maybe it's always been that way. But, it seems as though there's so much more bad than good, especially where music is concerned; at least if we're considering the "successful" artists. However, a few months ago I saw a beautiful independent film that managed to renew my faith in both media. It's called Once, and it stars two real-life musicians (Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova), the former being the frontman for a long-succesful-in-Ireland band called The Frames and the latter a classically trained Czech performer. I'd never heard of them before seeing this film, nor did I encounter a ton of buzz for the film itself (sad to say), so I had no expectations going in.

In short, I was completely blown away. Mesmerized. Even now, months later, I find myself daydreaming, reveling in its wonderfully quirky, yet simple joys. First of all, the musicians/actors are f-ing brilliant (and, rightly, so is the soundtrack). Secondly, as they are not actors by profession, they both exert this lovely awkwardness and self-consciousness that is absolutely endearing.

When my girlfriend and I left the theater, grinning ear-to-ear and figuratively floating, we both said to the other, "I think I've got a crush now." On Glen, the "guy" (as he's referred to in the credits) from the film. His charms and humor and vulnerability were irresistable. The next day, I bought the soundtrack, and proceeded to let in marinate in my disc player for a good six weeks, on repeat. (A rarity, indeed.)

A week after the viewing, I came across an advert in the local independent weekly about the duo. They'd be performing as "The Swell Season" at a small venue here in town. After freaking out, then gaining composure, I called my friend and told her we simply had to see the show.

After waiting with baited breath for two months, we finally drank in the goodness, as it were. Just last week. Suffice it to say that it was one of the best live performances I've ever witnessed. I am in no way understating when I write that that show completely revived my spirits and renewed my faith in the power of music in a way I've not experienced in many moons. On a few occasions, I was nearly brought to tears by the sheer power of the lyrics, the haunting violin, the piano ballads...the whole lot. Simply gorgeous.

As you might guess, I'm still high from that performance. I don't know that I have ever had such a profound reaction to music and for such a period; frankly, I'm loving it. Since the show I've purchased The Swell Season's self-titled ablum, as well as two cds from Glen's band, The Frames. These guys kill it, I tell you.

I love music. I don't think I could live without it, I feel it in my soul. The Swell Season and The Frames have become artists I can't live without, and I'm ashamed it took me so long to discover them. I just can't say enough about them, and I don't bestow such compliments lightly, but if I go on much longer it will just be embarassing.

It's criminal that they're not headlining names in the States. That said, it seems this "little movie that could" has struck such a chord with audiences that it's generated Oscar buzz...and it was also this year's Audience Award Winner at Sundance (yay!). Methinks it's only a matter of time now...

So, here I am well into a (healthy!) obsession with these musicians, buying up their booty, and counting down the days until the DVD release. Well over 8000 songs in my music library and I'm recycling - almost exclusively - theirs. It's strange, I feel like I did when I became a fan of the New Kids on the Block as a young girl (thankfully, my musical tastes have evolved with age). I had a crush on Jordan - one of the group members - and daydreamed about our eventual matrimony, I recorded their TV appearances (and then watched them repeatedly), hung their posters on my walls (kissing them before bed), bought the various figurines and tee shirts. You know the drill...sad, but true.

I feel so juvenile again - sans some of the more eccentric behavior - and there's a purity to it that's just delicious.

Do yourself a favor and give them a listen.

Jus in bello?

Jus in bello means "justice in war" and it is one of the principles of the just war theory that has, for centuries, been widely accepted in international relations.

This concept is such that nation-states agree to adhere to certain principles and practices when engaged in war with another/other nation-state(s)...such as offering fair treatment of POWs, engaging in proportionality (that is, an eye-for-an-eye, not a heart-for-a-fingernail sort of thing), limiting civilian casualties, and so forth.

I've been thinking about how in "our" latest campaign in the Mideast, we have either deliberately ignored this principle, or we've tried to find stealth ways around it. Obviously, there is the infamous scandal involving prisoner treatment at Abu Ghraib, as well as prisoner treatment and alleged torture practices at Guantanamo, Cuba, to what I, and many others, would consider unacceptable civilian casualties (iraqbodycount.org shows documented body counts at somewhere between 75-82,500 since 2003). All the while, the lofty goal of establishing an operational democracy has remained elusive and militia in-fighting is worse than ever.

These thoughts bring me back to the idea of American exceptionalism. Why do we think that we can slap some moralistic moniker on a military operation, and justice goes out the window along with geniune morality? We can say we want to spread democracy and our supposedly universal values, and on that basis, the ends we employ justisy the means. Torture is an acceptable reality of the interrogation process because it is assumed that every last one of "these guys" will stop at nothing to anihilate the American people, even if the grounds for such assumptions are shaky at best. Why do taxpayers spend ridiculous amounts to employ the likes of Blackwater to provide security for every Tom, Dick, and Harry from the States, when their are untold numbers of Iraqi civilians who REALLY need protection?

Sadly, the list goes on. The point is, the means that are being employed are counterproductive if the ends being sought are those that have been publicly espoused. Too, these gentlemanly principles of war ought not be viewed as purely symbolic, but as ethical constraints and rights of all people.

Jus in bello is a lovely idea. It should be respected by every nation-state. For us, however, only when convenient.

B is for Brilliant.

It's a beautiful thing. The Sox once again in the World Series...

I love baseball, when you get to the heart of the thing, when you can strip away all the bullshit and look beyond the guys who aren't there for the purity of it. (It's a lot like cycling in that way.)

Forgive me for the indulgence, but I've not been able to follow the game as closely as I'd like these last couple of years. I'm no longer bourgeois enough for cable (actually, it's largely a principle thing), and so it's only during the playoffs (when the networks actually broadcast the games) or when I happen to get lucky with the controlled TVs at the gym, that I actually get to enjoy the pleasure of a good game.

Which leads me down a path of nostalgia for all the times I used to go to Mariners games, take in the city of Seattle for a day and then head to the ballpark, feel the energy, smell the mingling of grass and leather and beer and Pacific NW air. When you're watching teams with real heart, with long histories, it's even sweeter. Delicious, I tell you.

As an aside...these instances always make me wonder how people can say they don't like baseball. It's like sacrilege, or something. A lot of "unbelievers" I know say it's boring. But that's because they don't understand the incredible strategy that is involved, the delicate dance. And at the core of it all is a history, a history that is bound up in the emergence of a national spirit, though perhaps not as salient as it once was. The way I see it, to say that baseball is boring is like saying that listening to something like Beethoven's famous Symphony 3 is boring because it lasts a long time and there are no lyrics. The nuances, the story that is being told are what's important; it ought to be critically examined. Baseball is no different.

Anywho, the point is that good moments in baseball remind me how good it feels to be alive. They give me hope, even if it's short-lived and somehow superficial. And these days, I'll take what I can get.

I love this game.

GO SOX!

Why Burnt Cream?

The title for this blog stems from an experience some years ago, when a friend asked a rather intriguing question: If you had to choose a food that best describes your character, what would it be?

I thought quite hard on this one and what I came up with was crème brûlée. Since then, I have asked a number of others the very same question, and I've found it to be telling. I've never questioned my admission to being a custard, because what I said then remains true today. My explanation, as best as I can remember...

Crème Brûlée is not for everyone, and for many who enjoy it, it's an acquired taste. It's not the prettiest looking thing - crispy and burnt, far from grand. The custard is protected by a rough exterior, though it's easily broken by a well-intentioned tap or two. The inside: Rich, creamy goodness. Complexity of flavor. Warmth. Perhaps, a touch of spice. Sweet, but not too much so. It's taste and texture varies over time and space.

So, yeah, that's me in a ramekin.

The ONE Campaign

I don't know about you, but I think Americans have an obligation to lend a hand, to pick up the little guy when he's down. But, not the sort of help that entails war or variations on imperialism. Real help. Solidarity. Commitment.

The ONE campaign was launched in 2002 and is gaining serious momentum. (Maybe you've already heard of it - I hope so.) The campaign is backed by a host of not-for-profit organizations and various religious and relief organizations, as well as politically active public figures. It calls for the allocation of a mere ONE percent of the budget of the United States to various entities within Africa for the fighting of the HIV/AIDS pandemic and widespread poverty.

Below is a link that details some of the issues that hundreds of millions of Africans face and what the ONE campaign hopes to achieve. If you think this seems like something worth fighting for, you may choose to electronically sign The Declaration. It requires nothing further from you, but will help to send a message to our lawmakers and the powers-that-be.

http://action.one.org/Issues.html

Thanks for reading.

5000 Things to Do Before We Die

Do you ever feel like there are so many problems to tackle, and can't find a way to go about solving them? Or worse, that it's beyond hope and what's the point anyway?

We've got it all wrong, and I want to change things.

But I haven't a clue as to how to engage in something really meaningful. I'm talking about our environmental problems, combating global warming, developing a workable social security and nationalized healthcare of some sort, ending this insane war we're engaged in, making corporations develop environmentally sustainable practices, sending aid to the Developing World and ensuring that it makes it to the people and social entities that truly need it, legitimizing this so-called democracy we have in place. The list goes on.

You know, I often wonder how we - myself, my community, the countless generations that have preceded mine - let it come to this. How is it that we haven't been able to keep the engine of corporate capitalism and globalization in better check, through the writing of tight, implementable legislation? Why haven't we held our politicians to higher standards? Why haven't we fought for more diversified and uncensored media? Again the list goes on.

I don't see how this country that is always looking for bigger, better, more, could not have, at some point along the way, closely observed the operations of other nations and then pieced together a nation comprised of the best bits? That's obviously a very simplified suggestion, but the point is that we ought to be able to identify successes of other industrialized nations - think Sweden, France, etc. - and find a way to may them workable for us. Are 'we' really so proud and complacent that we can't admit that we haven't all the answers?

See, once I get thinking about all the ways in which we are going wrong, it's hard to break free. It becomes such a weight. And while I understand that I, as an individual, can do little if anything to change the course of history, I do know that social movements and uprisings of the sort that we very obviously need, require a start somewhere. With one person. And then another. And so it goes.

Where is the momentum we so desperately need? And how is it possible to prioritize such impossibly huge and all-encompassing issues? Is it more important to concentrate on education or environmental sustainability or equal pay for women in the workplace or fair treatment of gays or media conglomerates or economic development of Third World countries, or the genocide in Darfur? How can we say?

There are so many things requiring our attention its so easy to become paralyzed and do what we've long been doing: Nothing

A little light reading...and a side of hope.

A few days ago, I finished reading a book which chronicled the events of the Rwanda genocide of 1994, the months leading up to it, and of course, the aftermath. It was written by an Officer in the Canadian Army, Lt. Gen. Roméo Dallaire, the man who was Commander of the United Nations Assistance Mission in Rwanda (UNAMIR). The General lived and worked in Rwanda for a year, and was one of the few voices warning the United States and the UN that something awful was brewing in that tiny central African country. He lived in the heart of the genocide and civil war, and though he witnessed the mass killings (it is approximated that 800,000 people were murdered and close to 2 million were displaced/became refugees), he and his troops were able to save thousands.

It was one of the most important books I've ever read, and one that I wish more people knew about. It's the sort of book that breaks your heart, makes your stomach turn, and is at the same time a testament to the will that some exercise on behalf of their fellow men and women.

What follows are excerpts from the conclusion:

At its heart, the Rwandan story is the story of the failure of humanity to heed a call for help from an endangered people. The international community, of which the UN is only a symbol, failed to move beyond self-interest for the sake of Rwanda. While most nations agreed that something should be done, they all had an excuse for why they should not be the ones to do it. As as result, the UN was denied the political will and material means to prevent the tragedy...We have fallen back on the yardstick of national self-interest to measure which portions of the planet we allow ourselves to be concerned about. In the twenty-first century, we cannot affort to tolerate single failed state, ruled by ruthless and self-serving dictators, arming and brainwashing a generation of potential warriors to export mayhem and terror around the world. Rwanda was a warning to us all of what lies in store if we continue to ignore human rights, human security, and abject poverty.

Several times in this book I have asked the question, "Are we all human, or are some more human than others?" Certainly we in the developed world act in a way that suggests we believe that our lives are worth more than the lives of other citizens on the planet. [When I requested American troops for the assistance mission in Rwanda] An American officer felt no shame as he informed me that the lives of 800,000 Rwandans were only worth risking the lives of ten American troops; the Belgians, after losing ten soldiers [on the first day of the genocide], insisted that the lives of Rwandans were not worth risking another single Belgian soldier. The only conclusion I can reach is that we are in desperate need of a transfusion of humanity. If we believe that all humans are human, then how are we going to prove it? It can only be proven through our actions. Through the dollars we are prepared to expend to improve conditions in the Third World, through the time and energy we devote to solving devastating problems like AIDS, through the lives of our soldiers, which we are prepared to sacrifice for the sake of humanity.

As soldiers we have been used to moving mountains to protect our own sovereignty or risks to our way of life. In the future we must be prepared to move beyond national self-interest to spend our resources and spill our blood for humanity. We have lived through centuries of enlightenment, reason, revolution, industrialization, and globalization. No matter how idealistic the aim sounds, this new century must become the Century of Humanity, when we as human beings rise above race, creed, colour, religion and national self-interest and put the good of humanity above the good of our own tribe. For the sake of the children [who are now orphans in Rwanda] and of our future.

Peux ce que veux. Allons-y. [Translation: Where there's a will, there's a way. Let's go.]

------------------------------------

In the last few years I have come to feel that my "calling," so to speak, is to work in the humanitarian field, to help those whom often don't have the resources to help themselves, those generally overlooked by the rest of us - that is to say, the bulk of those in the Developing World. I want to do something of substance, something that requires personal sacrifice. And this is what I've come to feel is most worth my time, talents, and effort.

General Dallaire's is the sort of plan that I can get behind. I truly hope that enough people in this country will do their homework, become angered enough and can put their wishes in action, and that we can somehow force a re-evaluation of 'our' priorities. Then, we must act accordingly. It is unfortunate, but a good deal of the world will not act except in concert with, or at least with the approval of, the United States.

There's a world beyond our borders, with people just as lovely and worthwhile as ourselves. We need to work to legitimize their existence instead of imposing our will, or - in the worst of cases - ignoring them altogether.

I have to thank Gen. Dallaire for reminding me of that. And for renewing my conviction to continue on the path to Africa...and perhaps, beyond.

I think I'll write him a letter.

Allons-y.

p.s. Read this book: Shake Hands with The Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda by Lt. Gen. Roméo Dallaire

My phone can talk?

Last night I watched a documentary entitled The Lost Boys of Sudan. It followed two teenage boys enrolled in the U.S. Refugee Program, as they made their to the States for resettlement and continued education. It was thoroughly interested to witness the challenges they encountered in suburbia, and the difficult processes of assimilation.

At one point in the film, one of the boys rang home - something he hadn't done in quite some time - to be greeted by an angry sister. Upset because he ought to have been calling home at least once a month to brief the family on his progress and the whereabouts of expected remittances. After much arguing, the boy made a poignant remark, something to the effect of, "Here, there is no time to call. If you came to America, it would take you a year to call your husband. Then you would believe what I say." This boy obviously had a deeper understanding of our culture than many gave him credit for.

I found it especially relevant as I've been contemplating of late the increasing isolation that I feel from those that I care for, and with it, greater superficiality of correspondence. Especially in this country, we live such fast-paced lives, always on the go. Always chasing something...the sorts of somethings that require a sacrifice of community and real bonds. (No) thanks to technology, we've largely replaced face-to-face (or voice-to-voice) communication with the electronic. It's often easier, less time-consuming. But while we think we're making things easier on ourselves, we're really doing potentially long-term damage to ourselves and our relationships. I've noticed it in mine. And frankly, I don't like it.

I've long felt that all this technology we've grown so accustomed to has led to greater isolation and anomie; I know that I am not alone in this, that my perspective is far from novel. But it's now that I'm beginning to see an increase in its adverse affects a bit closer to home.

I remember when I was living in London and making some local friends there, one guy expressed surprise when I told him that I'd call him at such-and-such a time before we were to go out. He said that people (especially of the younger generations) in London rarely spoke on their phones anymore, they were simply used for text messaging. Though it was only two years ago, I remember thinking that that was ludicrous, annoying even. And here, I and others like me are making that unfortunate transition.

While I've always preferred being in another's presence to speaking with them on the phone, distance and other such impediments make it harder to do. Often that has meant that I just don't communicate with others as much or as often as I might like. So, I'm going to make a point of picking up the damn phone once in a while, and I'm going to try to see my friends more often. Even though I feel like I have no time most of the time. Because there's no replacement for geniune, human interaction.

Best of 2006

personal Best Of list...from all that I enjoyed in the previous year (in no particular order)

Best Books:

The Poisonwood Bible - Barbara Kingsolver
Mountains Beyond Mountains - Tracy Kidder
We Wish to Inform You that Tomorrow We Will Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda - Philip Gourevitch
The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
Freakonomics - Stephen D. Levitt
Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
Snow - Orhan Pamuk
Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal - Christopher Moore

Best Films:

An Inconvenient Truth
I Am David
V for Vendetta
The Edukators
Thank You For Smoking
The Constant Gardener
Ghosts of Rwanda (PBS documentary)
Run Lola Run
City of God
Das Experiment
Inside Man

Best Food:

Black & White Salmon Ravioli - Pazzo Ristorante, PDX
Espresso-braised Beef Penne - Caffé Mingo, PDX
Baja Chicken Tacos - Oba!, PDX
Moroccan Chicken Soup with Vermicelli - homemade by yours truly
Mama Leone's Chicken Soup/Tomato Orange Soup (my custom blend) - Elephants, PDX
Pumpkin Apple Muffin - Java Mama's, Tigard OR
Freshwater eel nigiri and Las Vegas Roll - Sin Ju, Tualitan OR
Jasmine Rice with Coconut Milk and Mango - Tin Shed, PDX
Grilled Pork Chops - Shelby's Beach House, Cannon Beach OR
Sweet Potato Fries with Aioli - 820, PDX

Best Music Purchased (or pirated from friends!):

Lander - orange chrome sky
Amos Lee - Amos Lee
Imogen Heap - Speak for Yourself
The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Stadium Arcadium
Nina Simone - Forever Young, Gifted, and Black
Nina Simone - The Essential Nina Simone
Bob Dylan - The Essential
Willie Nelson - The Classic Unreleased Collection
Coldplay - X&Y