Sorry I haven't written in over a month. I've been preoccupied with my fieldwork and this semester has been racing by much more quickly than I had planned.
Actually, I'm not exactly "sorry" for not having updated—I have a perfectly good reason and the people nearest and dearest to me are kept in the loop anyway. But that's the setup for this post: a couple weeks back I was talking to a Swede whom I hadn't kept in regular touch with. When they gently chided me on that point I said I was sorry, I had been so busy that week. They then said that Americans are masters of saying sorry when it isn't necessary. (i.e. "Sorry, I didn't hear you.") It wasn't the first time I had been accused of being overly apologetic, though it was the first time it had been attributed to my culture. I don't view myself as overly apologetic in general (and in the context of that example it made perfect sense to me to say sorry) although I perhaps was so in the past.
The definition of an apology is a statement of regret. So when I realized that it got me thinking: if people are told to live lives without regret, wouldn't that mean that they should never apologize for anything? Now certainly, one shouldn't apologize for not living in the way someone else would have preferred and not feel regret for something just because someone is judging you. The idea of not becoming preoccupied with the less than optimal outcomes of one's choices in life makes perfect sense to me. But if one really believes that one shouldn't consider getting absolutely trashed at a party and waking up with a stranger the next day a regret, but "a learning experience" then you can turn the most mundane things into "learning experiences" and do away with regret—and hence apologies—all together. You accidentally bumped into someone on your way to class and knocked over the giant stack of books they were carrying? No need to apologize. No regrets, remember? Now you should still help them, no regrets doesn't mean you don't hold yourself responsible for your actions. You're checking your email and you lose track of time, you're supposed to meet your friend at 2:00 but you arrive at 2:30 instead. No need to say you're sorry, after all you shouldn't have regrets.
I am not seriously advocating abandoning the practice of apologizing entirely. I'm simply pointing out that if one subscribes to the idea that you're not supposed to regret the big stuff, then you certainly shouldn't regret the small stuff. And if you don't mean an apology, you shouldn't say it, right? So what is to be done?
Thoughts, comments?
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Monday, March 09, 2009
What am I?
The question in this case isn't all that existential, but more concerning heritage. This question of my own identity serendipitously occurs while I'm doing my fieldwork which partly examines the attitude Swedes have toward immigrants. When I say "Swede" I mean "ethnic Swede" and when I say "immigrants" I mean both actual immigrants and those of non-ethnic Swedish descent but were born and raised in Sweden. From what I can tell, there are three ways to define someone as Swedish: ethnically, nationally or culturally. Most people living in Sweden are all three, but there are plenty of people who are only the last two. From my perspective, it is these last two—especially culture—that are the most important, but this is an American way of looking at things. Ethnicity in the US is a novelty; something cool that makes us interesting, something that we can draw a sense of pride from, but when it comes down to it, we're all Americans—at heart and on paper. In Sweden, the dominant culture seems to believe that if you are not ethnically a Swede, then you are simply a citizen of Sweden.
One of my Swedish friends here told me about how their grandparents on her mother's side are Finnish, which would make her mother ethnically Finnish even if she is culturally and nationally Swedish. She wasn't sure if that made her half or a quarter Finnish herself and asked me which it was. I said that from my understanding of ancestry she would be half Finnish because two ethnic Finns can only produce an ethnically Finnish child. She countered that she knows a fair number of people who would then be half Finnish, though they have chosen to identify themselves as ethnically Swedish because they are culturally and nationally Swedish.
So what does this have to do with me and my identity? I am officially one half Polish, one quarter Austrian and one quarter Lithuanian. There was at some point some confusion as to whether or not my family was Romanian rather than Austrian from the accounts of my grandmother, though that was likely due to the confusion caused by the territory of Austria-Hungary at the beginning of the 20th century. It is nearly certain my ethnic makeup contains at least those three groups, but lately I've been wondering if there's something more in my background. Over the years there have been a fair number of people who thought I might be part Asian or American Indian, oftentimes citing the shape of my eyes. I've noticed that Finnic peoples such as Finns and Saami have rather distinctively shaped eyes that bear a superficial similarity to Asian features. Estonians are also a Finnic people, and only about 100 miles from Lithuania so I wonder if I might have some Estonian ancestry as well. That's pure speculation on my part, but it would explain a bit. What isn't speculation is that my surname, Turausky, means "from Turau". Turau is a city in Belarus, hundreds of miles from the Lithuanian border. So if surnames are patrilineally descended then it seems reasonable to conclude that there is at least a small amount of ethnic Belorussian in my family as well.
None of this is ultimately that surprising and scintillating given that these ethnic groups are within a few hundred miles of one another (and as a good anthropologist I should mention that if you go far enough back, we're all Africans) but it does show how easy it is to forget—or choose not to remember—ethnic heritage when moving to a new country.
One of my Swedish friends here told me about how their grandparents on her mother's side are Finnish, which would make her mother ethnically Finnish even if she is culturally and nationally Swedish. She wasn't sure if that made her half or a quarter Finnish herself and asked me which it was. I said that from my understanding of ancestry she would be half Finnish because two ethnic Finns can only produce an ethnically Finnish child. She countered that she knows a fair number of people who would then be half Finnish, though they have chosen to identify themselves as ethnically Swedish because they are culturally and nationally Swedish.
So what does this have to do with me and my identity? I am officially one half Polish, one quarter Austrian and one quarter Lithuanian. There was at some point some confusion as to whether or not my family was Romanian rather than Austrian from the accounts of my grandmother, though that was likely due to the confusion caused by the territory of Austria-Hungary at the beginning of the 20th century. It is nearly certain my ethnic makeup contains at least those three groups, but lately I've been wondering if there's something more in my background. Over the years there have been a fair number of people who thought I might be part Asian or American Indian, oftentimes citing the shape of my eyes. I've noticed that Finnic peoples such as Finns and Saami have rather distinctively shaped eyes that bear a superficial similarity to Asian features. Estonians are also a Finnic people, and only about 100 miles from Lithuania so I wonder if I might have some Estonian ancestry as well. That's pure speculation on my part, but it would explain a bit. What isn't speculation is that my surname, Turausky, means "from Turau". Turau is a city in Belarus, hundreds of miles from the Lithuanian border. So if surnames are patrilineally descended then it seems reasonable to conclude that there is at least a small amount of ethnic Belorussian in my family as well.
None of this is ultimately that surprising and scintillating given that these ethnic groups are within a few hundred miles of one another (and as a good anthropologist I should mention that if you go far enough back, we're all Africans) but it does show how easy it is to forget—or choose not to remember—ethnic heritage when moving to a new country.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Jantelagom
Getting a Swedish bank account has been more trouble than I thought, though by the end of it I'm pretty sure I can navigate all the procedures concerning my account entirely in Swedish, so at least some good has come out of the web of bureaucracy.
In more interesting news, I came across a book called "The Swedish Code" in the local library. It's written in English and is designed as a kind of field manual for immigrants or businesspeople who spend a lot of time in Sweden. The core of the book is a discussion on the practical outward effects of the Swedish Jante Law. The virtues of modesty and inconspicuousness can sometimes conflict with other cultures in unexpected ways. One consequence of Swedish modesty is how easy it can be to come off as a braggart. Any kind of impressive statement can be misconstrued as boastfulness, even if it's an honest answer to a question (therefore, when someone asked how many countries I've been to, I probably should not have said 22). One story concerned a Somalian immigrant with a degree in chemistry from Russia and proficiency in six languages. He does not list the languages on his job resume because while he did he was never able to get a job because to the Swedes it sounds like boasting. Now here's something I'd like to look at a bit more: suppose this individual hadn't learned this lesson on Swedish modesty? Might one then only see a qualified, motivated and intelligent black man being turned down for a job in favor of a white, seemingly average quality employee instead? Might they then misinterpret a cultural misunderstanding as racist hiring practices?
They also mention that the Swedes (to some degree at least) trust their government. They believe that it acts in their best interests and while it might not always be totally competent, it is generally a benevolent organization. That stands in contrast to, well, pretty much everywhere else. American checks and balances are built into the system because of an inherent fear of government, France distrusted their government so much they executed the royalty, Germany's misplaced trust in their government resulted in one of the most infamous events in history, in the home countries of the hundreds of thousands of political refugees living in Sweden something went horribly wrong in the government to make them flee for their lives. But because Swedish history is so different, they're much more inclined to believe the government is working for them, not against them. That might be why only half of Swedes seem to be opposed to the FRA Law whereas it scares the hell out of everyone else.
The book is largely apocryphal and as a result some of their views of Swedish society contradict my own observations. Even if it isn't quite an academically rigorous text, it's nice to have an independent source come to many of the same conclusions I have concerning Sweden.
The writers don't really assume the reader's country of origin, as a result you don't get just a comparison between Swedish and American, or German or Dutch cultures but more of a multifaceted approach. It's rather interesting because pretty much everything they phrase to the effect of, "Now this might seem really strange, but in Sweden it's customary to tell the truth." This is for people from non-Western countries where misrepresenting the truth is considered an everyday occurrence and not "lying", per se. Some of the things they say are genuinely different from American culture and some of them are only different to some Americans. Personally, the rules about not striking up conversations with strangers on the subway, not being too outwardly emotional, or respecting and appreciating nature make perfect sense to me, but I know many Americans that would have a real hard time with them.
In more interesting news, I came across a book called "The Swedish Code" in the local library. It's written in English and is designed as a kind of field manual for immigrants or businesspeople who spend a lot of time in Sweden. The core of the book is a discussion on the practical outward effects of the Swedish Jante Law. The virtues of modesty and inconspicuousness can sometimes conflict with other cultures in unexpected ways. One consequence of Swedish modesty is how easy it can be to come off as a braggart. Any kind of impressive statement can be misconstrued as boastfulness, even if it's an honest answer to a question (therefore, when someone asked how many countries I've been to, I probably should not have said 22). One story concerned a Somalian immigrant with a degree in chemistry from Russia and proficiency in six languages. He does not list the languages on his job resume because while he did he was never able to get a job because to the Swedes it sounds like boasting. Now here's something I'd like to look at a bit more: suppose this individual hadn't learned this lesson on Swedish modesty? Might one then only see a qualified, motivated and intelligent black man being turned down for a job in favor of a white, seemingly average quality employee instead? Might they then misinterpret a cultural misunderstanding as racist hiring practices?
They also mention that the Swedes (to some degree at least) trust their government. They believe that it acts in their best interests and while it might not always be totally competent, it is generally a benevolent organization. That stands in contrast to, well, pretty much everywhere else. American checks and balances are built into the system because of an inherent fear of government, France distrusted their government so much they executed the royalty, Germany's misplaced trust in their government resulted in one of the most infamous events in history, in the home countries of the hundreds of thousands of political refugees living in Sweden something went horribly wrong in the government to make them flee for their lives. But because Swedish history is so different, they're much more inclined to believe the government is working for them, not against them. That might be why only half of Swedes seem to be opposed to the FRA Law whereas it scares the hell out of everyone else.
The book is largely apocryphal and as a result some of their views of Swedish society contradict my own observations. Even if it isn't quite an academically rigorous text, it's nice to have an independent source come to many of the same conclusions I have concerning Sweden.
The writers don't really assume the reader's country of origin, as a result you don't get just a comparison between Swedish and American, or German or Dutch cultures but more of a multifaceted approach. It's rather interesting because pretty much everything they phrase to the effect of, "Now this might seem really strange, but in Sweden it's customary to tell the truth." This is for people from non-Western countries where misrepresenting the truth is considered an everyday occurrence and not "lying", per se. Some of the things they say are genuinely different from American culture and some of them are only different to some Americans. Personally, the rules about not striking up conversations with strangers on the subway, not being too outwardly emotional, or respecting and appreciating nature make perfect sense to me, but I know many Americans that would have a real hard time with them.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
1st Week
So it's been just over a week since I arrived in Skärholmen, a borough of Stockholm (it's pronounced something like "wharholmen", but really enunciating the "wh" and aspirating it to the point of blowing out a candle) and have been doing my best to get settled in as quickly as possible. I picked this apartment because they were the only people to respond to my email to their apartment listing in time and really knew nothing of it before I arrived. Nevertheless, the location seems to be a good spot for me to begin my fieldwork. According to statistics it's 70% immigrant, though I would have guessed 50 or 60% based on my initial observations. The borough is part of what was known as the "Million Program" to build 1 million new homes so that everyone in Sweden could afford decent housing. Not surprisingly, those neighborhoods filled up with immigrants pretty quickly. Skärholmen also has the world's biggest IKEA and a mall called "SKHLM: The Capital of Shopping." I'll have to hang out around there and get the lay of the land.
My roommate at the apartment was born and raised in Sweden, but of Spanish descent. At first, I thought that my plan to exclude Swedish citizens that aren't 3rd generation might be too limiting, but after meeting this fellow I'm quite vindicated. He's been very helpful, outgoing and amenable to conversation, entertaining my many questions and eagerly asking about the US in return. In other words, nothing like a typical Swede, whose reticence is the stuff of legends. I'm going to stick to my original plan of focusing primarily on ethnic Swedes, or as they are sometimes known, "Svenssons". That said, while getting the opinions of ethnic Swedes will be important, I won't discount anybody who might have some good quotable information, if the situation comes up.
I've also found that getting Swedes to speak Swedish to you once they even get a hint that you're an English speaker is an uphill battle. Sometimes this is understandable; some Swedes I personally know rarely speak Swedish to me explicitly because they want to practice their English, especially since it is somewhat rare to find native English speakers here. But the same thing will happen at stores or banks, if you slip up a single word they'll be tempted to go to English. I know that they mean well—they have almost the opposite view of the "This is America! Speak English!" mentality—and English is admittedly the international trade language, but it can sometimes come off as incredibly patronizing. Immigrants, on the other hand tend, to be more willing to go along with my ventures into Swedish and I can sometimes understand them better than Swedes. Maybe it's because it's a little easier for us to understand one another because we speak slower and enunciate more carefully than Swedes. Maybe it's because they understand how difficult it is to learn a language if people constantly switch to another language when speaking to you and they're trying to help me out (that's my personal reason for why I almost never speak Spanish to Mexicans when I'm in Tucson). Maybe they're just more sure of their Swedish than their English. Who knows?
My roommate at the apartment was born and raised in Sweden, but of Spanish descent. At first, I thought that my plan to exclude Swedish citizens that aren't 3rd generation might be too limiting, but after meeting this fellow I'm quite vindicated. He's been very helpful, outgoing and amenable to conversation, entertaining my many questions and eagerly asking about the US in return. In other words, nothing like a typical Swede, whose reticence is the stuff of legends. I'm going to stick to my original plan of focusing primarily on ethnic Swedes, or as they are sometimes known, "Svenssons". That said, while getting the opinions of ethnic Swedes will be important, I won't discount anybody who might have some good quotable information, if the situation comes up.
I've also found that getting Swedes to speak Swedish to you once they even get a hint that you're an English speaker is an uphill battle. Sometimes this is understandable; some Swedes I personally know rarely speak Swedish to me explicitly because they want to practice their English, especially since it is somewhat rare to find native English speakers here. But the same thing will happen at stores or banks, if you slip up a single word they'll be tempted to go to English. I know that they mean well—they have almost the opposite view of the "This is America! Speak English!" mentality—and English is admittedly the international trade language, but it can sometimes come off as incredibly patronizing. Immigrants, on the other hand tend, to be more willing to go along with my ventures into Swedish and I can sometimes understand them better than Swedes. Maybe it's because it's a little easier for us to understand one another because we speak slower and enunciate more carefully than Swedes. Maybe it's because they understand how difficult it is to learn a language if people constantly switch to another language when speaking to you and they're trying to help me out (that's my personal reason for why I almost never speak Spanish to Mexicans when I'm in Tucson). Maybe they're just more sure of their Swedish than their English. Who knows?
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Pre-Flight
In less than 10 hours I will be on my way to Sweden yet again. I probably should be trying to sleep, and I am a little tired, but I promised myself I'd write a blog entry before I left. There's a lot of stuff I should have done before now as far as contacting people, but obviously none of it is of extreme urgency. In fact, once I got my passport back from Migrationsverket, booked a flight to Sweden and made living arrangements in Stockholm, everything just became so unstressful. I did everything I *needed* to do and now the only things left are little things I ought to have done sooner. Oh well.
I'm surprised by how not nervous I am. I suppose it might have to do with the fact that I travel so frequently that the process of packing my bags becomes routine enough that I don't worry about it now. Of course, it might also be the fact that I rarely stress out until incredibly late in the game, at which point I'm too busy to be stressed. I'm not even all that hyped up about it. I mean, I am very happy and very proud of myself for all that I've done to get myself this far and I'm eagerly anticipating getting some answers to my important questions once I'm there. But when one thinks about how one should feel when the dream they've been working toward for a year is about to come true, my own internal state of mind is very calm. Is that being in "the zone"? Even the thought that given the relative scarcity of information on my topic I may very well be one of the names people cite on Swedish immigration doesn't give me quite the giddy thrill I feel it ought to. I will say though I am very much looking forward to saying for the first time in my life "Business" when asked if my reason for entering Sweden is business or pleasure (though I will definitely be aiming for both as long as I'm there).
I'll do my best to keep you folks up to date on the goings-on in Stockholm, but the real juicy ethnographic findings will be posted on a secret online journal that only my EFS class can see. It would be a breach of professional ethics to let anyone else in on the particulars, I'm afraid, so you'll have to make due with the tourist/student's account of things.
God natt, and see you on the other side!
I'm surprised by how not nervous I am. I suppose it might have to do with the fact that I travel so frequently that the process of packing my bags becomes routine enough that I don't worry about it now. Of course, it might also be the fact that I rarely stress out until incredibly late in the game, at which point I'm too busy to be stressed. I'm not even all that hyped up about it. I mean, I am very happy and very proud of myself for all that I've done to get myself this far and I'm eagerly anticipating getting some answers to my important questions once I'm there. But when one thinks about how one should feel when the dream they've been working toward for a year is about to come true, my own internal state of mind is very calm. Is that being in "the zone"? Even the thought that given the relative scarcity of information on my topic I may very well be one of the names people cite on Swedish immigration doesn't give me quite the giddy thrill I feel it ought to. I will say though I am very much looking forward to saying for the first time in my life "Business" when asked if my reason for entering Sweden is business or pleasure (though I will definitely be aiming for both as long as I'm there).
I'll do my best to keep you folks up to date on the goings-on in Stockholm, but the real juicy ethnographic findings will be posted on a secret online journal that only my EFS class can see. It would be a breach of professional ethics to let anyone else in on the particulars, I'm afraid, so you'll have to make due with the tourist/student's account of things.
God natt, and see you on the other side!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Goethe
Back in the spring of '08, one of my classes, "Love, Madness and Decay in Vienna", introduced me to some concepts in German literature. The professor touched briefly on Goethe's Faust (since he's German and not Austrian) but the one part he did mention really stuck with me. He quoted the moral of the story at the very end: "He who strives on and lives to strive Can earn redemption still." This is what makes Goethe's version of the story different from the classical legend. Rather than being damned for making a deal with the devil, it is his unending quest for betterment that makes him worthy of salvation. (sorry if that's a spoiler to anyone, but I figure if the story is over 100 years old you're not reading it for the suspense)
With the free time I have over the break I decided to read the book. A quick rundown of the story is that Mephistopheles, the devil, makes a gentleman's bet with the angels that he can corrupt any soul. He runs through a list of possible candidates and passes over a nun in a convent reasoning that a soul that has been "starved" is too easy to turn. He decides upon Faust because he is one of the best servants of the Lord. Faust is an old scientist, a renaissance man with degrees in pretty much every discipline from chemistry to law to theology. He's poured his heart and soul into these pursuits, neglecting his personal life, in the search for The Answer—something that will give him true, unfleeting happiness. The answer is nowhere to be found in worldly knowledge so he turns to the occult. Mephistopheles appears and the two make a deal that he will serve Faust and help him explore all the experiences the world has to offer on the condition that when Faust does find that true, pure happiness, Mephistopheles will collect Faust's soul. Faust believes there is no such thing as pure, unending happiness and agrees. The book is kind of flowery and long winded, but the main thing in the first half is he falls for and seduces a young maiden (after the devil restored his youth) and through this whirlwind relationship her life is destroyed, partly because of Faust's lack of concern for the bigger picture and partly because Mephistopheles screwed them both over. He then spends all of the second half of the story traveling through myth and history, meeting Helen of Troy, nymphs and other such characters. After all those adventures Faust ends up finally experiencing the happiness he had always been searching for and right as Mephistopheles comes to claim his soul the angels intervene and carry Faust up to heaven.
Now, why do I like this story? Because it defies the old saying "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions". The moral is: no matter how badly you screw up, if you try, if you strive and seek to learn and better yourself then you are not a bad person. So a person who makes a catastrophically big mistake but learns from it and never repeats it is a better person than someone who makes a much smaller mistake again and again and can't be bothered to try to improve themselves.
A girl in my dorm freshman year told me her favorite philosopher was Goethe (though she pronounced it Go-ith) because he believed in having many experiences and learning from them. That was her rationalization for having random sex with guys and when my roommate asked what she had learned from that experience she replied, "He had a big dick." That's not exactly what Goethe had in mind. There's a difference between saying that striving to know all that one can about the world and about oneself through experiencing all that life has to offer and acting on that knowledge to improve oneself makes one a good person and saying someone who likes to try things is a good person.
Mephistopheles is in the details, so to speak. If you're in a relationship that ends up really screwing over your significant other, the mark of the good person is if they give a damn, if they try to make it better or at least try to learn something because they are concerned about it not happening again. If you have lots of sex and do drugs because you want to get out of your own head, that's different from someone who really does enjoy it, who wants to test themselves against what the world has to offer, someone who want to be in their own head. I'm speaking largely from an academic perspective here, but I think some of the more worldly readers would be inclined to agree.
Also, it's come to my attention that there are more than 5 people who read my blog and actually know who I am. For those of you who follow the link from facebook, if you have something you'd like to say, please don't be shy!
With the free time I have over the break I decided to read the book. A quick rundown of the story is that Mephistopheles, the devil, makes a gentleman's bet with the angels that he can corrupt any soul. He runs through a list of possible candidates and passes over a nun in a convent reasoning that a soul that has been "starved" is too easy to turn. He decides upon Faust because he is one of the best servants of the Lord. Faust is an old scientist, a renaissance man with degrees in pretty much every discipline from chemistry to law to theology. He's poured his heart and soul into these pursuits, neglecting his personal life, in the search for The Answer—something that will give him true, unfleeting happiness. The answer is nowhere to be found in worldly knowledge so he turns to the occult. Mephistopheles appears and the two make a deal that he will serve Faust and help him explore all the experiences the world has to offer on the condition that when Faust does find that true, pure happiness, Mephistopheles will collect Faust's soul. Faust believes there is no such thing as pure, unending happiness and agrees. The book is kind of flowery and long winded, but the main thing in the first half is he falls for and seduces a young maiden (after the devil restored his youth) and through this whirlwind relationship her life is destroyed, partly because of Faust's lack of concern for the bigger picture and partly because Mephistopheles screwed them both over. He then spends all of the second half of the story traveling through myth and history, meeting Helen of Troy, nymphs and other such characters. After all those adventures Faust ends up finally experiencing the happiness he had always been searching for and right as Mephistopheles comes to claim his soul the angels intervene and carry Faust up to heaven.
Now, why do I like this story? Because it defies the old saying "the road to Hell is paved with good intentions". The moral is: no matter how badly you screw up, if you try, if you strive and seek to learn and better yourself then you are not a bad person. So a person who makes a catastrophically big mistake but learns from it and never repeats it is a better person than someone who makes a much smaller mistake again and again and can't be bothered to try to improve themselves.
A girl in my dorm freshman year told me her favorite philosopher was Goethe (though she pronounced it Go-ith) because he believed in having many experiences and learning from them. That was her rationalization for having random sex with guys and when my roommate asked what she had learned from that experience she replied, "He had a big dick." That's not exactly what Goethe had in mind. There's a difference between saying that striving to know all that one can about the world and about oneself through experiencing all that life has to offer and acting on that knowledge to improve oneself makes one a good person and saying someone who likes to try things is a good person.
Mephistopheles is in the details, so to speak. If you're in a relationship that ends up really screwing over your significant other, the mark of the good person is if they give a damn, if they try to make it better or at least try to learn something because they are concerned about it not happening again. If you have lots of sex and do drugs because you want to get out of your own head, that's different from someone who really does enjoy it, who wants to test themselves against what the world has to offer, someone who want to be in their own head. I'm speaking largely from an academic perspective here, but I think some of the more worldly readers would be inclined to agree.
Also, it's come to my attention that there are more than 5 people who read my blog and actually know who I am. For those of you who follow the link from facebook, if you have something you'd like to say, please don't be shy!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
2008
This has been a very good year for me. I might go so far as to say it's been the best year ever. That honor previously belonged to 2006 (the first half of it anyway) when I was in Sweden; the rest of 2006 wasn't as spectacular. This year, however, has been consistently good for me. Let's review, shall we? (in a hopefully not too self-indulgent way) January began the last semester at the U of A, I became the Anthropology Club Treasurer and I became a member of the Golden Key Honor Society. I applied for grad school at UMass (the university I wanted the most) and got accepted in February, they were the first to respond so the rejection letters from the other universities didn't sting at all (I also later found out I was among twelve out of 110 or so applicants to get accepted). In March I go to Sweden for Spring Break and see my old friends in Uppsala again. In May I became a member of Phi Beta Kappa Honor Society, finished my Honor's Thesis and completed an honor's contract course thus enabling me to graduate with Honors from the U of A (as well as Magna Cum Laude). My dear friend Stephanie flew in for my graduation and a marvelous time was had by all. I got a summer job doing the least demanding and highest paying job I've ever had and caught up on my reading list in the process. I took dance lessons for a couple months and learned how to waltz, tango, foxtrot, salsa, cha-cha, rumba and East Coast swing. I celebrate the 4th of July in Vegas with my friends.
In September I move out to Amherst and have an absolute blast with all the international students. I got into the European Field Studies program, something unusual for first year grad students and something one must be vetted for before they let you in. I discovered the quirkiness of neighboring Northampton and the...educational experiences at Smith College. I started doing parkour (though had to quit after a month and a half due to mangling my wrists while trying to impress my parents) and learned a bunch of new conditioning exercises. Under the exacting tutelage of my adviser I produce a research proposal that is given funding (more than we were initially told) as well as the full $1000 from Sigma Xi.
In about a month and a half, the plan that I have been working towards for a year will begin to unfold. For an entire year, though a combination of my own ability, knowing the right people and just plain good luck, everything that I have set my mind to achieving I have accomplished with greater success than I had ever planned on. I'm forging my destiny, building my life, making it happen. Every selection process, from honors societies to grad school application, course vetting to research funding, every one of these successes has been the result of someone thinking I'm smart enough, clever enough, good enough to take a chance on.Now all I need to do is prove I can get results. That's what 2009 is for.
Yes we can, indeed.
In September I move out to Amherst and have an absolute blast with all the international students. I got into the European Field Studies program, something unusual for first year grad students and something one must be vetted for before they let you in. I discovered the quirkiness of neighboring Northampton and the...educational experiences at Smith College. I started doing parkour (though had to quit after a month and a half due to mangling my wrists while trying to impress my parents) and learned a bunch of new conditioning exercises. Under the exacting tutelage of my adviser I produce a research proposal that is given funding (more than we were initially told) as well as the full $1000 from Sigma Xi.
In about a month and a half, the plan that I have been working towards for a year will begin to unfold. For an entire year, though a combination of my own ability, knowing the right people and just plain good luck, everything that I have set my mind to achieving I have accomplished with greater success than I had ever planned on. I'm forging my destiny, building my life, making it happen. Every selection process, from honors societies to grad school application, course vetting to research funding, every one of these successes has been the result of someone thinking I'm smart enough, clever enough, good enough to take a chance on.Now all I need to do is prove I can get results. That's what 2009 is for.
Yes we can, indeed.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
"But Charlie, don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he he always wanted."
For those of you who haven't been kept apprised of the details of my fortunes at UMass, here's a very pleasant update. The European Field Studies Program is the primary reason I came here for grad school; it gives students the opportunity to write a research proposal and at the end of the semester present it to a committee that decides whether it's good enough and if it is, they receive funding to do fieldwork in the European country of their choosing. Mine is on immigrant integration in Sweden. I want to study how Swedes perceive the large number of foreign born living in their country as well as see how immigrant populations are being assimilated into society. We gave our oral presentations to the anthropology faculty last Monday and we were all told how good they were, one of my professors said they thought that mine was the best in terms of calmness and pace of the presentation itself (being a theatre major turned out to be applicable after all!).
On Friday, after the committee met and looked over all our written proposals, we found out that all five of our projects had been approved for funding. We got written feedback from the committee, who had suggested changes for all of our proposals, and they said that my design needed to be changed because it was too ambitious. I'm not bothered by that at all; it's far better to be told you're too ambitious than not ambitious enough, plus that means that I will have to do less work than I originally planned. My professor said that because my proposal had tried to cover too much too quickly, I should focus on one aspect of it (they said it was up to me but they're strongly hinting at working the Swedish perspective) and the other half shelf until I write my dissertation. She also said that because there was very little research being done in Sweden I may have found a niche that I can work with for the rest of my life. That's really good. Especially considering that that's what I told UMass in my application but once I started this project I found that it wasn't exactly completely untrodden territory and thought perhaps I had spoken out of ignorance. Turns out here are still some rather big unanswered questions concerning Swedes and immigrants.
But wait, there's more! The EFS committee managed to scrounge up some additional funds for each of us and we are now all guaranteed $4000 for our trip. I was also told yesterday that the grant that we all applied for, Sigma Xi, was being awarded to two of us: myself and a physical anthropologist going to London. I had completely written off getting that grant; we wrote up the proposals back in October and they were rushed, vague and effectively the first draft of what is now an 18 page research proposal. I kept saying that I have every confidence I'll get the thing where it needs to be by December, but not a chance by October. Not only did I get it in spite of the normal fierce competition, but the economic crisis meant that Sigma Xi had even less money to give out than usual. I don't know yet how much money they will award me, but it may be up to $1000. I also was told that the retreat planned for next semester where we would all meet in France to discuss the progress of our respective projects is almost certain to be cancelled. Though disappointing in one sense, it means I can shave about $330 off my budget. This, combined with the dropping value of the Swedish krona, means that my expenses keep going down, my funding keeps going up and the money I have will take me even further than normal.
Going to Sweden to do my first real fieldwork has been my dream for nearly a year now, and to have it come to fruition, and have everything fall into place in ways that have exceeded my expectations... yeah, it's a good feeling.
On Friday, after the committee met and looked over all our written proposals, we found out that all five of our projects had been approved for funding. We got written feedback from the committee, who had suggested changes for all of our proposals, and they said that my design needed to be changed because it was too ambitious. I'm not bothered by that at all; it's far better to be told you're too ambitious than not ambitious enough, plus that means that I will have to do less work than I originally planned. My professor said that because my proposal had tried to cover too much too quickly, I should focus on one aspect of it (they said it was up to me but they're strongly hinting at working the Swedish perspective) and the other half shelf until I write my dissertation. She also said that because there was very little research being done in Sweden I may have found a niche that I can work with for the rest of my life. That's really good. Especially considering that that's what I told UMass in my application but once I started this project I found that it wasn't exactly completely untrodden territory and thought perhaps I had spoken out of ignorance. Turns out here are still some rather big unanswered questions concerning Swedes and immigrants.
But wait, there's more! The EFS committee managed to scrounge up some additional funds for each of us and we are now all guaranteed $4000 for our trip. I was also told yesterday that the grant that we all applied for, Sigma Xi, was being awarded to two of us: myself and a physical anthropologist going to London. I had completely written off getting that grant; we wrote up the proposals back in October and they were rushed, vague and effectively the first draft of what is now an 18 page research proposal. I kept saying that I have every confidence I'll get the thing where it needs to be by December, but not a chance by October. Not only did I get it in spite of the normal fierce competition, but the economic crisis meant that Sigma Xi had even less money to give out than usual. I don't know yet how much money they will award me, but it may be up to $1000. I also was told that the retreat planned for next semester where we would all meet in France to discuss the progress of our respective projects is almost certain to be cancelled. Though disappointing in one sense, it means I can shave about $330 off my budget. This, combined with the dropping value of the Swedish krona, means that my expenses keep going down, my funding keeps going up and the money I have will take me even further than normal.
Going to Sweden to do my first real fieldwork has been my dream for nearly a year now, and to have it come to fruition, and have everything fall into place in ways that have exceeded my expectations... yeah, it's a good feeling.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Foreign Devils!
International students make life so much more interesting. Aside from the obvious benefit of them constantly wanting to party there's the benefit of learning how people think and do things differently. Things like how everyone except Americans seem to say something before they eat, like "bon appetit" or "guten appetit". It's the food equivalent of "cheers" I suppose. They are puzzled why we don't say anything and the closest they can come up with is "enjoy your meal" which I would only say if I were the one serving the food.
On the topic of food, the Europeans will still give me crap for how difficult it is to eat healthy here in the US because everything is bad for you. Since their point of reference is the dining hall and not the UofA food court, they're full of it. You get pasta, Asian noodles, soup, salad, vegetarian options, sandwiches, wraps as well as french fries, hot dogs, pizza and hamburgers. I see the Danes going back to get some hamburgers after a salad and lamenting how bad they are for you. Or the Swedish girls saying (adorably), "I am so weak for sweeties!" as they sneak a few cookies back to their room. The reason that it's hard for them to eat healthy is that we have a wide variety of food here and our desserts are delicious—they have healthy options but they go for the more flavorful ones. Just because we have the most delicious food and they are powerless to resist it doesn't mean that it's our fault that they don't eat right. There's a perfectly flavorless bin of granola they could help themselves too if they really wanted to...
Another peculiarity I've learned only recently is that the Germans actually believe that it's not cheating if you don't get caught. One student was telling me how astonished he was that during an exam the professor walked out of the room and nobody started talking! In Germany, he says, everyone would start asking their neighbor for answers and pull out their notebooks to find an answer. I was unable to explain to them how copying your neighbor's answers on a test is cheating, though the guy who was in the class and cheated by pulling out his textbook said I made him feel guilty since he didn't know it was such a bad thing here. So once and future teachers, make damn sure you spell out the bit about academic integrity at the beginning of the semester.
I'm also being introduced to some strange German colloquialisms. For example, if someone is being a smart ass the Germans would say "he showered with a clown this morning" or "he had a clown for breakfast." Both of these images are rather disturbing: I'm imagining standing on one side of the shower shampooing my hair while a clown (not naked, thankfully) is just standing there on the opposite side staring at you with a big painted smile. Then there are the things that the Germans are at a loss for describing in English and come up with some downright hilarious new words. The soda machine becomes the "Coke ATM" and the juice machine is the "juice cow". I don't mean to make fun of them, anyone who has lived in a foreign country has done stuff like that (like me referring to clouds as "the white things in the sky" in Swedish), but they're just too good to forget. And let us not forget the priceless accent mixups, such as a Frenchman explaining to us how great some car is–it even has laser (leather) seats! Or my roommate Chorch from Churmany who plays the chass trumpet. I try to correct them when I can, they're my friends after all and I don't want them to make a fool of themselves at some big executive meeting when they're out in the real world. But they rarely make the corrections and so, much to my amusement, I will still hear the stereotypical Swedish exchange student declare, "I'm so weak for sweeties!"
On the topic of food, the Europeans will still give me crap for how difficult it is to eat healthy here in the US because everything is bad for you. Since their point of reference is the dining hall and not the UofA food court, they're full of it. You get pasta, Asian noodles, soup, salad, vegetarian options, sandwiches, wraps as well as french fries, hot dogs, pizza and hamburgers. I see the Danes going back to get some hamburgers after a salad and lamenting how bad they are for you. Or the Swedish girls saying (adorably), "I am so weak for sweeties!" as they sneak a few cookies back to their room. The reason that it's hard for them to eat healthy is that we have a wide variety of food here and our desserts are delicious—they have healthy options but they go for the more flavorful ones. Just because we have the most delicious food and they are powerless to resist it doesn't mean that it's our fault that they don't eat right. There's a perfectly flavorless bin of granola they could help themselves too if they really wanted to...
Another peculiarity I've learned only recently is that the Germans actually believe that it's not cheating if you don't get caught. One student was telling me how astonished he was that during an exam the professor walked out of the room and nobody started talking! In Germany, he says, everyone would start asking their neighbor for answers and pull out their notebooks to find an answer. I was unable to explain to them how copying your neighbor's answers on a test is cheating, though the guy who was in the class and cheated by pulling out his textbook said I made him feel guilty since he didn't know it was such a bad thing here. So once and future teachers, make damn sure you spell out the bit about academic integrity at the beginning of the semester.
I'm also being introduced to some strange German colloquialisms. For example, if someone is being a smart ass the Germans would say "he showered with a clown this morning" or "he had a clown for breakfast." Both of these images are rather disturbing: I'm imagining standing on one side of the shower shampooing my hair while a clown (not naked, thankfully) is just standing there on the opposite side staring at you with a big painted smile. Then there are the things that the Germans are at a loss for describing in English and come up with some downright hilarious new words. The soda machine becomes the "Coke ATM" and the juice machine is the "juice cow". I don't mean to make fun of them, anyone who has lived in a foreign country has done stuff like that (like me referring to clouds as "the white things in the sky" in Swedish), but they're just too good to forget. And let us not forget the priceless accent mixups, such as a Frenchman explaining to us how great some car is–it even has laser (leather) seats! Or my roommate Chorch from Churmany who plays the chass trumpet. I try to correct them when I can, they're my friends after all and I don't want them to make a fool of themselves at some big executive meeting when they're out in the real world. But they rarely make the corrections and so, much to my amusement, I will still hear the stereotypical Swedish exchange student declare, "I'm so weak for sweeties!"
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Remember, Remember the Fourth of November
Barack Obama won the election and for the first time in at least 8 years, if not ever, I am filled with joy, optimism and of course, hope for the future of the US. All of the international students were wondering yesterday afternoon when we would find out who won the election and I told them depending on how the results go, we might know tonight or tomorrow morning. I must admit I did not think the results would be known so soon and so when everyone else was going to the bars to celebrate I stayed in, pretending to read while I watched the map fill with red and blue. I then decided to play a game to get my mind off the election since I didn't think there was any purpose in worrying the entire night who would win. Not a half hour later I hear people screaming and cheering outside "OBAMA!" I didn't make much of it at first, "Let's not count our chickens before they hatch," I thought. But the few voices outside grew into a raucous crowd, I looked out the window and saw people dancing in the street and cheering from their open windows. I checked my computer and sure enough the headline read "American Elects First Black President". And that's when it really hit me: it happened, we the people brought about real change through our vote.
I quickly assembled a group of friends to rush to the bar downtown to celebrate. On the way there I asked them if there was ever this much enthusiasm and excitement, honking horns, people cheering and dancing after an election in their country. The Europeans said the only time they see things like that is when they win the World Cup. The South African girl said that she had only seen it once before: when Nelson Mandela was elected. We got to the bar just in time for Obama's acceptance speech. Where the bar had once been loud and full of boisterous cheer, a sudden silence fell over the crowd as we listened to Obama's speech. Applause rang out as he delivered his words and vanished in a hushed awe when he spoke again.
I was personally touched by Obama's speech because his words reminded me of something my mother used to say. She told me that when she was little, when she was frustrated trying to do something and she would cry out "I can't!", her father would tell her that as an American (and not an American't) yes, she could. And so for me Barack Obama spoke the words of a heroic grandfather I never knew when he told America "Yes, we can!"
For me, the change Obama promised came the moment he was elected. When we got to the bar and got our drinks, the crowd of internationals already there greeted me with handshakes, toasts and "Congratulations." Congratulations, for just being an American. That's an amazing feeling. I have never stopped being proud of being an American, there's just too much to be proud of for even Bush to have undone that, but it's good to be appreciated by the world again. Everything seems so much brighter now, even the many patriotic songs being played by the UMass marching band that are coming through my window seem fresh and inspiring, like they were when I first learned them in grade school. Simply amazing...
I quickly assembled a group of friends to rush to the bar downtown to celebrate. On the way there I asked them if there was ever this much enthusiasm and excitement, honking horns, people cheering and dancing after an election in their country. The Europeans said the only time they see things like that is when they win the World Cup. The South African girl said that she had only seen it once before: when Nelson Mandela was elected. We got to the bar just in time for Obama's acceptance speech. Where the bar had once been loud and full of boisterous cheer, a sudden silence fell over the crowd as we listened to Obama's speech. Applause rang out as he delivered his words and vanished in a hushed awe when he spoke again.
I was personally touched by Obama's speech because his words reminded me of something my mother used to say. She told me that when she was little, when she was frustrated trying to do something and she would cry out "I can't!", her father would tell her that as an American (and not an American't) yes, she could. And so for me Barack Obama spoke the words of a heroic grandfather I never knew when he told America "Yes, we can!"
For me, the change Obama promised came the moment he was elected. When we got to the bar and got our drinks, the crowd of internationals already there greeted me with handshakes, toasts and "Congratulations." Congratulations, for just being an American. That's an amazing feeling. I have never stopped being proud of being an American, there's just too much to be proud of for even Bush to have undone that, but it's good to be appreciated by the world again. Everything seems so much brighter now, even the many patriotic songs being played by the UMass marching band that are coming through my window seem fresh and inspiring, like they were when I first learned them in grade school. Simply amazing...
Friday, October 24, 2008
LYKKE LI!
I went to go see Lykke Li in Boston last night, something I've been looking forward to for months. And I was not disappointed in the least. I tried to recruit people to go with me but nobody that gave me an answer could go (and those that did want to go never got back to me) so I did feel a little weird being there by myself, but I wasn't about to miss her concert on account of that. Her performance was outstanding, a lot of good energy and she could definitely work the crowd. She also rocked out with her signature bull horn; I dunno where she got the idea for that but it really works. Somehow she managed to make my least favorite of her songs ("Let It Fall" a song about how she enjoys crying) a pounding rock out version. Though she also did this really strange thing with one of my very favorite songs ("Complaint Department" an exquisitely concieved musical middle finger) where she altered her voice to make it this male demon voice. I like her voice a lot so I thought it took away from the song somewhat. Though in a thinly veiled irony, I can't complain—she's not the complaint department.
This was perhaps the first concert I've been to where I have been really into the artist. I mean Pinback is nice, as are Smashing Pumpkins and Jimmy Eat World but I was never a huge, huge fan of them. This was different, and so I now understand people's enthusiasm with concerts a lot more. It was also a new thing for me that I knew every song she played, and knew that she wasn't done because she hadn't sang them all yet. She also did some really good covers, Wendy Rene's "After laughter comes tears" and a hip hop song whose name escapes me.
After the last song, and after her plugging her merchandise, everyone was heading out and as we all filed past the table selling albums and t-shirts I look over and there she was! She was personally selling the stuff and signing autographs (very patiently I might add since people had to open the plastic wrapping of the LPs they wanted signed). Since I had already bought her album way back before it was available in the US, I just bought a pin and very politely asked her to sign my ticket. I had sort of planned to say something in Swedish to her, like "Var trevligt att träffas" or even just "Tack" but I was too starstruck. And having seen her up close I can say with absolute certainty that she is adorable.
This was perhaps the first concert I've been to where I have been really into the artist. I mean Pinback is nice, as are Smashing Pumpkins and Jimmy Eat World but I was never a huge, huge fan of them. This was different, and so I now understand people's enthusiasm with concerts a lot more. It was also a new thing for me that I knew every song she played, and knew that she wasn't done because she hadn't sang them all yet. She also did some really good covers, Wendy Rene's "After laughter comes tears" and a hip hop song whose name escapes me.
After the last song, and after her plugging her merchandise, everyone was heading out and as we all filed past the table selling albums and t-shirts I look over and there she was! She was personally selling the stuff and signing autographs (very patiently I might add since people had to open the plastic wrapping of the LPs they wanted signed). Since I had already bought her album way back before it was available in the US, I just bought a pin and very politely asked her to sign my ticket. I had sort of planned to say something in Swedish to her, like "Var trevligt att träffas" or even just "Tack" but I was too starstruck. And having seen her up close I can say with absolute certainty that she is adorable.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
FTW
Last week the new batch of grad students all went over to our professor's house to have dinner with a distinguished guest lecturer, John Relethford. He's the author of one of the anthro department's required readings, a good book but one meant for undergrads. The material covers a lot of the stuff I learned in my GenEd "Human Variation in the Modern World" back at the U of A, so there wasn't too much that I hadn't already learned. Those of you who keep track will recall that it was that GenEd that inspired me to become an anthropologist in the first place so while reading the book didn't teach me a lot of new things, it was pleasant to reread all of the things that got me hooked in the first place. The professor told us the dinner was an opportunity to ask him questions about the book since we had to discuss it in class and write reviews. On our way there, a friend and I were wondering how long we would stay. I mean, the end result of the book is fascinating but what are we going to ask him? "So, tell us, when you had finally plotted the ABO bloodtype markers in all those Irish villages what kind of expectations did you have?" It turns out we ended up staying until 9:45 or so because the guy is totally awesome. The talk at the dinner table shifted from a somewhat forced discussion on anthropological stuff to a meandering conversation on our favorite sci-fi shows. He's a fan of Stargate SG1 (Atlantis not so much), Battlestar Galactica (even the original series), and Star Trek to name but a few. He's also a bit of a comic book nerd, commenting on the changes in Spider-Man's character over the decades or how dark X-Men is getting. By now, it's pretty much him, me and one other student talking all kinds of nerdy stuff while the others are all listening, chiming in with some smart-ass remark about Dungeons and Dragons and yet being largely left out of the conversation. John Relethford is a totally down to earth kind of guy, a complete nerd and a distinguished professor. It's good to see that once you've reached that spot in your career you're still allowed to enjoy the simple things, a welcome change from the brilliant but out of touch professors I've known.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Seen It
Eagle Eye with Shia LaBeouf and Michelle Monaghan. This movie is impossible to properly review without SPOILERS!
The concept behind this movie, while becoming increasingly relevant to today's world has been done to death. And while I admit to being entertained I have to say it was by no means an improvement on the concept. Also I wonder to what extent the things that happen in the movie are even feasible. OK, super-powerful AI that has the resources of the US military at its disposal, I get that. But little things like being able to remote activate the eject seat on an F-16, seems like if you network computers on manned vehicles like that you're just asking for an enemy to disable you without firing a shot. Also, as was mentioned in Multiplex, why the AI doesn't just shoot missiles at the White House when it clearly doesn't care about collateral damage is a bit of a plot hole. Other people I went to go see it with were hanging on the edge of their seat, not knowing what was going to happen next. I was not one of those people, I found it to be quite predictable. But then again, when you figure out it's an AI from almost the very beginning the motives and plot become quite clear. Think I, Robot, Terminator, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Deus Ex, Battlestar Galactica and a little bit of Portal thrown in as well. Y'know, the old "AI knows better than the humans and uses the immense power the humans have trustingly given it to take power for itself and may or may not end up killing everyone" routine. The movie would have been better had the AI won and we would have a nation run by a computer. It would have been interesting to see what would become of the world then.
The concept behind this movie, while becoming increasingly relevant to today's world has been done to death. And while I admit to being entertained I have to say it was by no means an improvement on the concept. Also I wonder to what extent the things that happen in the movie are even feasible. OK, super-powerful AI that has the resources of the US military at its disposal, I get that. But little things like being able to remote activate the eject seat on an F-16, seems like if you network computers on manned vehicles like that you're just asking for an enemy to disable you without firing a shot. Also, as was mentioned in Multiplex, why the AI doesn't just shoot missiles at the White House when it clearly doesn't care about collateral damage is a bit of a plot hole. Other people I went to go see it with were hanging on the edge of their seat, not knowing what was going to happen next. I was not one of those people, I found it to be quite predictable. But then again, when you figure out it's an AI from almost the very beginning the motives and plot become quite clear. Think I, Robot, Terminator, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Deus Ex, Battlestar Galactica and a little bit of Portal thrown in as well. Y'know, the old "AI knows better than the humans and uses the immense power the humans have trustingly given it to take power for itself and may or may not end up killing everyone" routine. The movie would have been better had the AI won and we would have a nation run by a computer. It would have been interesting to see what would become of the world then.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
What did the magical palm of Buddha say to the face?
I love this shirt. I bought it back in 2006 on the advice of Feifei, though I refused to wear it until she could tell me what it means. In Traditional Chinese (the language it's supposed to be read in) the red characters say "The Magical Palm of Buddha" and the characters at the bottom say "Kung fu." In Simplified Chinese, however, the characters read something to the effect of "Become an ascended spirit." I think both of those meanings are pretty cool, and the fact that it means two things at the same time is even cooler. Last night I was at a house party with a bunch of international students and a Japanese girl told me my shirt said something rather funny. Evidently, in Japanese the red characters read, "Bow to the divine, wild feminine." and the characters at the bottom read, "Smart husband/man." It's not unlike the time freshman year when I found out that one of my favorite shirts with the Chinese character for peace on it reads as "loose" in Japanese. Makes you wonder how entertaining it must be for Japanese tourists in China when they read all the street signs and billboards.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Social Capital
As predicted somewhat in my previous post, the continual temptation to go out and party with the international students has disrupted my study habits. Thankfully, reading is easier to catch up on than writing so for the moment I'm in the clear, but last week was rather ridiculous. Thursday night, after finishing a parkour class (more on that later) I was all set to get to my reading and research when someone down the hall says that people are going out to a bar, so I figured "what the hell" and went along with them. Similarly, on Friday night I was trying to make up for the work I didn't do the night before, and catching up on missing time due to waking up late, but was unable to do so because of another party. This was repeated Saturday night as well and were it not for the fact that nobody parties on Sundays I might not have gotten any work done. All that said, perhaps the fact that I did get it all done speaks to the fact that it was never as dire as I made it out to be. But the important thing to remember is that, while I was not doing work, I was by no means slacking off—I was, as one of my former professors would say, "accumulating social capital."
Specifically, we've (myself and a plethora of Germans) been going out to the clubs and pubs with a quartet of Danish girls (which is every bit as awesome as you would imagine). Now because Swedish, Danish and Norwegian are very similar, they are somewhat mutually intelligible as long as you speak clearly. Or conversely, if they can't quite hear what you said and they fill in a missing consonant or vowel as you shout above the club noise. However, as I learned this weekend they are not the same language. Right before we were going to go to another pub the Danes wrinkled their noses because someone had farted in the bar. I smelled it as I was walking up to them and so asked, "Fisa?" which is "fart" in Swedish. They looked at me rather shocked and said, "What did you say?" As it turns out, "fisa" (or however it's spelled in Danish) is the word for "cunt" or "pussy", related to the Swedish "fitta". The misunderstanding was resolved quickly enough but for that split second it appeared as if I just walked up and called one of the girls a cunt.
Tangentially, when I was in Sweden for Midsummer we were guests in the home of this one girl named Isa, whom her friends would jokingly call "Isa fisa". Given that Isa was a bigoted, lecherous, unfaithful, abusive woman I think the Danish fisa suits her much more appropriately.
The parkour class I mentioned above is one of the clubs at UMass that I stumbled upon by walking through a bunch of booths (there's a quiddich club and a freethinkers club too, whatever the hell the latter means) in the middle of campus during the first week. Most of the stuff is conditioning and simple exercises, but it requires a good amount of coordination and strength. Personally, my out of shape self was so sore after the first class I was achy for the next 5 days. Parkour is supposed to be about getting from point A to point B in the most efficient manner possible, a philosophy which is not quite manifested in our exercises, such as climbing along window sills on the entrances of buildings. Technically speaking, straight up bipedal walking is the most efficient form of locomotion (aside from wheels), but I can definitely appreciate the exercises. Regardless of whether or not I'll actually ever use parkour to jump off rooftops or scale walls, the conditioning will make me one strong, agile mo-fo.
UPDATE: One of my friends in the dorm evidently tore up his knee playing muggle quiddich. Evidently, it's a bit more hardcore than one would imagine a bunch of fanboys running around with brooms between their legs throwing deflated volleyballs at each other to be.
Specifically, we've (myself and a plethora of Germans) been going out to the clubs and pubs with a quartet of Danish girls (which is every bit as awesome as you would imagine). Now because Swedish, Danish and Norwegian are very similar, they are somewhat mutually intelligible as long as you speak clearly. Or conversely, if they can't quite hear what you said and they fill in a missing consonant or vowel as you shout above the club noise. However, as I learned this weekend they are not the same language. Right before we were going to go to another pub the Danes wrinkled their noses because someone had farted in the bar. I smelled it as I was walking up to them and so asked, "Fisa?" which is "fart" in Swedish. They looked at me rather shocked and said, "What did you say?" As it turns out, "fisa" (or however it's spelled in Danish) is the word for "cunt" or "pussy", related to the Swedish "fitta". The misunderstanding was resolved quickly enough but for that split second it appeared as if I just walked up and called one of the girls a cunt.
Tangentially, when I was in Sweden for Midsummer we were guests in the home of this one girl named Isa, whom her friends would jokingly call "Isa fisa". Given that Isa was a bigoted, lecherous, unfaithful, abusive woman I think the Danish fisa suits her much more appropriately.
The parkour class I mentioned above is one of the clubs at UMass that I stumbled upon by walking through a bunch of booths (there's a quiddich club and a freethinkers club too, whatever the hell the latter means) in the middle of campus during the first week. Most of the stuff is conditioning and simple exercises, but it requires a good amount of coordination and strength. Personally, my out of shape self was so sore after the first class I was achy for the next 5 days. Parkour is supposed to be about getting from point A to point B in the most efficient manner possible, a philosophy which is not quite manifested in our exercises, such as climbing along window sills on the entrances of buildings. Technically speaking, straight up bipedal walking is the most efficient form of locomotion (aside from wheels), but I can definitely appreciate the exercises. Regardless of whether or not I'll actually ever use parkour to jump off rooftops or scale walls, the conditioning will make me one strong, agile mo-fo.
UPDATE: One of my friends in the dorm evidently tore up his knee playing muggle quiddich. Evidently, it's a bit more hardcore than one would imagine a bunch of fanboys running around with brooms between their legs throwing deflated volleyballs at each other to be.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
UMass
After my first week at UMass I think I can safely say that this place kicks ass. Aside from the very pleasing change in landscape from Tucson, the social atmosphere is a refreshing change from the U of A as well. I suppose it might be possible that it's less the fact that they're so awesome here (as at least one of my cohorts has mentioned the snootiness of "Massholes") and more the fact that anthro grad students earnestly give a damn about what you have to say. Another cool thing is that I'm living in the grad student dorm, which wouldn't seem to be very cool, especially having had a room of one's own for three years, but the people here are really awesome. The vast majority of students here are international students, probably precisely because few American grad students would want to go back to dorm life after years of houses and apartments. It's an anthropologist's dream; everyone is so interested in experiencing American college life and I get to be there alongside them as they do.
My classes thus far seem pretty cool, mostly discussing readings and writing papers. They're about three hours long so every one of the five to ten people in class gets plenty of opportunities to speak up. I'm also rather puzzled by the fact that there are so many redheads here. One or two in each class of less than a dozen people. I'd get the Irish thing what with it being Massachusetts but they can't all be from here. Probably just because they vaporize in Tucson that's why I haven't seen many before.
I've been in this strange mood all week where I feel like every second I'm not out meeting people I'm wasting my time. To the point where I feel like a total shut in for even being on the computer at all. Never mind the fact that I've been going out at night with people every single evening this week, going to all the luncheons and introductory meetings for grad students and generally being very social. Somehow, my mind thinks that every moment I spend not hanging out with people, like the time I set aside for class readings, is a waste of time. Hopefully this is some first week, new school distorted equilibrium thing or this will be one rough semester...
My classes thus far seem pretty cool, mostly discussing readings and writing papers. They're about three hours long so every one of the five to ten people in class gets plenty of opportunities to speak up. I'm also rather puzzled by the fact that there are so many redheads here. One or two in each class of less than a dozen people. I'd get the Irish thing what with it being Massachusetts but they can't all be from here. Probably just because they vaporize in Tucson that's why I haven't seen many before.
I've been in this strange mood all week where I feel like every second I'm not out meeting people I'm wasting my time. To the point where I feel like a total shut in for even being on the computer at all. Never mind the fact that I've been going out at night with people every single evening this week, going to all the luncheons and introductory meetings for grad students and generally being very social. Somehow, my mind thinks that every moment I spend not hanging out with people, like the time I set aside for class readings, is a waste of time. Hopefully this is some first week, new school distorted equilibrium thing or this will be one rough semester...
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Down With O.T.B.
I'm writing this now before I forget to completely. I'm making it a tradition to review my previous employment on the blog in order to look back and put it into perspective. For those of you that were unaware, this summer I worked as a mutuel teller, employed by the Tucson Greyhound Park, at an Off-Track Betting site (OTB). Most of the OTBs are in bars, mine was Famous Sam's, but they do have them in bowling alleys too. This was a departure in many ways from my other jobs in that I was unsupervised and was not required to be pleasant to customers at all. I still was, to the best of my ability, but there were no smarmy comments from the boss telling us to smile more. When taken in the greater context of things, this job was very unfulfilling spiritually but when you take it at face value it was a really sweet gig. $7.30 an hour plus tips (ranging anywhere from $5 to $75 a day, but averaging about $20) made this the highest paying job I ever had, the slow morning shift and unsupervised work meant that I was essentially paid and tipped to read novels all day. Incredibly low stress and easy going, the job had some definite appeals and I wish I had discovered it in college, so I could have been paid to do homework.
Now, naturally, all jobs have a down side and depending on one's viewpoint, this one had some pretty severe ones. First off, you get to see the seedy side of humanity, angry people gambling all their money away, their souls poisoned by greed. I've never met such grouchy people in all my life; people yelling at me for giving them a losing ticket even if those were the numbers they wanted, people getting angry when they win but can't get the money right away, people who accuse me of trying to cheat them when they buy a racing form they later realize they don't want and I don't refund their marked up books. One guy, a crackhead (so I excuse his poor manners) will gamble his money to fund his habit, though lord knows where he gets the money in the first place. Another guy, who reminds me of Gil from the Simpsons inhis voice and demenor— he's always so convinced he's going to win every time and he always has to spend $20 every time he comes up to the teller and he loses almost every single time. In addition to the majority of the customers being ugly on the inside, they are also among the most physically repulsive people I've met as well. They're mostly old men who spend their days betting on horses and dogs, perhaps because they frighten small children when seen in daylight.
The other thing that people complain about is the fact that, as an employee of a dog track, I am supporting cruelty to animals. I counter this by pointing out that every industry has corruption. Period. So while some kennels at the dog track might be guilty of animal abuse, it doesn't necessarily reflect on the moral character of the entire organization. Secondly, by that logic someone working for a defense contracter is complicit in death and carnage and someone who works at a golf course or resort supports wasting water.
Whatever the larger scope of the job might have been, I found working as a bookie to be a decently paying, very low stress job that gave me the opportunity to catch up on my reading list. I would never want to work there forever, but the allure of being paid to read all day is compelling enough for some, apparently to spend decades there.
Now, naturally, all jobs have a down side and depending on one's viewpoint, this one had some pretty severe ones. First off, you get to see the seedy side of humanity, angry people gambling all their money away, their souls poisoned by greed. I've never met such grouchy people in all my life; people yelling at me for giving them a losing ticket even if those were the numbers they wanted, people getting angry when they win but can't get the money right away, people who accuse me of trying to cheat them when they buy a racing form they later realize they don't want and I don't refund their marked up books. One guy, a crackhead (so I excuse his poor manners) will gamble his money to fund his habit, though lord knows where he gets the money in the first place. Another guy, who reminds me of Gil from the Simpsons inhis voice and demenor— he's always so convinced he's going to win every time and he always has to spend $20 every time he comes up to the teller and he loses almost every single time. In addition to the majority of the customers being ugly on the inside, they are also among the most physically repulsive people I've met as well. They're mostly old men who spend their days betting on horses and dogs, perhaps because they frighten small children when seen in daylight.
The other thing that people complain about is the fact that, as an employee of a dog track, I am supporting cruelty to animals. I counter this by pointing out that every industry has corruption. Period. So while some kennels at the dog track might be guilty of animal abuse, it doesn't necessarily reflect on the moral character of the entire organization. Secondly, by that logic someone working for a defense contracter is complicit in death and carnage and someone who works at a golf course or resort supports wasting water.
Whatever the larger scope of the job might have been, I found working as a bookie to be a decently paying, very low stress job that gave me the opportunity to catch up on my reading list. I would never want to work there forever, but the allure of being paid to read all day is compelling enough for some, apparently to spend decades there.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Not Now
The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I largely disagree with nearly all of this book. He does have a bunch of good points and they are certainly helpful to a wide segment of humanity, but I find that if you take his teachings to their logical conclusion it makes you a dullard. His grasp of science when it comes to coming up with evidence of his views is also rather dubious. Personally, I don't think one needs to destroy the ego in order to be happy, you just have to learn to not obsess over the past or future. A "self" without an education, beliefs or ambitions, even if one is free of suffering, strikes me as a unfulfilled self; a self I wouldn't want to be.
His theory that humans were at one point all perfectly conscious, not obsessed with time and impermanance, and there was a "fall from grace" which led us to the way we are now is straight up false. I wouldn't address it if he was working some religious angle but when he tries to make that a fact there's just no way it's true. Humans have been acting this way since before there were Homo sapiens. Tolle also makes the tiresome gender argument that because men think with their mind and the ego and women are more in tune with themselves that women are naturally closer to enlightenment than men. He also suggests that women have a greater pain-body, a sort of collective reservoir of suffering that feeds into everyone and is fed by the terrible injustices women have faced in the world, as though being a man in most of history was all fun and games. Being forced to endure agonizing pain just be allowed to be called a "man", sent for in the night by some feudal lord who wants you as spear fodder for his grand army, centuries of being taught to not show any softness or being allowed to be open with your feelings without being called weak, I'd say that might constitute a sizable male pain-body. Plus, and this is just my own observation, I've met more men whom I would consider "enlightened" than women.
As I mentioned before, there are some good ideas in the book and some surefire ways of reducing one's suffering. Stop looking towards the future as a point when you will be happy, focus on the present. Basically, stop putting off your plans to be happy. Don't dwell on the past; recognize it, learn from it but don't define yourself by your glorious or inglorious past. The main problem I have is that if taken to its logical conclusion, Tolle's book seems like the book a dictator would want his subjects to read: don't concern yourself with the past or future, there's no such thing as "bad", if you're upset at anything you simply haven't become enlightened enough, suffering comes from within, never from without. Many of the things he says in the book frustrated me to such great lengths that it took me months to read through it because I would have to put it down every few pages to cope with how maddeningly nonsensical a bunch of his statements are (like how truly great artists come from that intense Presence, devoid of suffering, seemingly forgetting that many of the great artists like Hemmingway and Van Gogh did not come from a calm and centered state of mind). I understand that the premise of what he is saying is that who I think I am is not who I really am and thus many of the ideas I have about the world are incorrect, I also understand that in the spirit of Eastern spirituality contradictions are meant to point to a greater truth. What I do not accept are logical contradictions like having a "no" that is free of negativity.
My final verdict is that while it has lessons that are very useful for many people, the world Tolle would have us live in would be a peaceful but utterly dull and complacent place.
His theory that humans were at one point all perfectly conscious, not obsessed with time and impermanance, and there was a "fall from grace" which led us to the way we are now is straight up false. I wouldn't address it if he was working some religious angle but when he tries to make that a fact there's just no way it's true. Humans have been acting this way since before there were Homo sapiens. Tolle also makes the tiresome gender argument that because men think with their mind and the ego and women are more in tune with themselves that women are naturally closer to enlightenment than men. He also suggests that women have a greater pain-body, a sort of collective reservoir of suffering that feeds into everyone and is fed by the terrible injustices women have faced in the world, as though being a man in most of history was all fun and games. Being forced to endure agonizing pain just be allowed to be called a "man", sent for in the night by some feudal lord who wants you as spear fodder for his grand army, centuries of being taught to not show any softness or being allowed to be open with your feelings without being called weak, I'd say that might constitute a sizable male pain-body. Plus, and this is just my own observation, I've met more men whom I would consider "enlightened" than women.
As I mentioned before, there are some good ideas in the book and some surefire ways of reducing one's suffering. Stop looking towards the future as a point when you will be happy, focus on the present. Basically, stop putting off your plans to be happy. Don't dwell on the past; recognize it, learn from it but don't define yourself by your glorious or inglorious past. The main problem I have is that if taken to its logical conclusion, Tolle's book seems like the book a dictator would want his subjects to read: don't concern yourself with the past or future, there's no such thing as "bad", if you're upset at anything you simply haven't become enlightened enough, suffering comes from within, never from without. Many of the things he says in the book frustrated me to such great lengths that it took me months to read through it because I would have to put it down every few pages to cope with how maddeningly nonsensical a bunch of his statements are (like how truly great artists come from that intense Presence, devoid of suffering, seemingly forgetting that many of the great artists like Hemmingway and Van Gogh did not come from a calm and centered state of mind). I understand that the premise of what he is saying is that who I think I am is not who I really am and thus many of the ideas I have about the world are incorrect, I also understand that in the spirit of Eastern spirituality contradictions are meant to point to a greater truth. What I do not accept are logical contradictions like having a "no" that is free of negativity.
My final verdict is that while it has lessons that are very useful for many people, the world Tolle would have us live in would be a peaceful but utterly dull and complacent place.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Flavor Tripping
Last night our friend Brian had us over for a rather interesting experiment. He bought these concentrated berry pills, the name of which I forgot shortly after it was mentioned, that temporarily deactivate your sour, salt and bitter taste buds. The result is, naturally that only sweet remains and also the other more difficult to articulate flavors that don't fall into the main four categories. Brian had bowls of lemons, limes, grapefruits, strawberries, cherry tomatoes, salt and vinegar potato chips, various sour candies and a couple different beers for us to sample. The absence of sour is the most obvious thing when you're eating and unless you know the stuff you're tasting is supposed to be salty you wouldn't really notice that absence as much. Straight up table salt tastes like nothing with this stuff and salt and vinegar chips taste like they've been dusted in sugar. You can still tell what fruits you're eating, but in each case the core element in their flavors is missing. Tomatoes were interesting because without the tangy zip that normally dominates their flavor all you get is this almost leafy, earthy...undertaste that's always there but impossible to really parse apart from the main flavor.
One's sense of bitterness isn't completely neutralized, however, Guiness still has a bit of bite that I think is the actual alcohol taste (the head on the other hand tastes sweet) and eating the citrus rinds still tastes gross, but not as bad as it would be normally. There also was a bit of cognitive dissonance when you smell the foods and expect something rather acrid but end up overpowered by the sugariness of a bowl of limes. It really helps you realize that, despite common misconceptions, taste and smell function independently of one another. Thankfully, the pill's effects wear off after an hour or so and you can go right back to puckering when you have a mouthful of sour candies. If the effects were permanant I think it might almost be a Hellenistic afterlife punishment; all the most delicious food in the world but in each case the one thing that made it so good is missing. Overall, I'd recommend it not because it's really terribly exciting but it's a great exercise in making the familiar exotic.
One's sense of bitterness isn't completely neutralized, however, Guiness still has a bit of bite that I think is the actual alcohol taste (the head on the other hand tastes sweet) and eating the citrus rinds still tastes gross, but not as bad as it would be normally. There also was a bit of cognitive dissonance when you smell the foods and expect something rather acrid but end up overpowered by the sugariness of a bowl of limes. It really helps you realize that, despite common misconceptions, taste and smell function independently of one another. Thankfully, the pill's effects wear off after an hour or so and you can go right back to puckering when you have a mouthful of sour candies. If the effects were permanant I think it might almost be a Hellenistic afterlife punishment; all the most delicious food in the world but in each case the one thing that made it so good is missing. Overall, I'd recommend it not because it's really terribly exciting but it's a great exercise in making the familiar exotic.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Vegas
Over the 4th of July weekend I went to Las Vegas for the first time. From its reputation I didn't think it would be my cup of tea but I figured it couldn't hurt to give it a try, especially going with a bunch of fun loving people who had been there before. One of the biggest problems right off the bat is that I don't like gambling. After we arrived at the hotel Friday night I gave the slot machines a couple tries but after they ate my money I got bored. I watched people lose game after game after game of craps and decided that really the only way not to lose is to not play, a lesson you don't normally hear. I did bet on horses, however, (I also felt kinda cool since I knew what all the bets and tracks were) and I did win some money, but still didn't manage to break even. This was still better than the guys at the craps table who easily lose $100 in about 20 minutes. Later that night we went to a fancy sushi restaurant on the Strip and it was there I realized that overall satisfaction at a restaurant when compared to price is an asymptotal curve. Yes, the 5 slivers of tuna were delicious, but for the same price I could have gotten more food of an only slightly lesser quality at a cheaper restaurant and not felt, well, robbed.
After we got back to the hotel I went to sleep but everyone else evidently decided to stay out until 4AM gambling and drinking. Needless to say, they were in no condition to do anything the next day until late afternoon. I was not about to sit around and wait for them to wake up so, despite people bemoaning the fact that we can never keep the group together, I went off and did my own thing. It must be a stranger thing to do than I think because people lauded me for wanting something out of the trip and making it happen one way or another. Of course, I generally prefer company but since my destination was very far away and I wanted to walk people probably would not have been up for it. Especially since my destination was Star Trek: The Experience.
That evening I went to see the Cirque du Soleil "Love" performance, which was the greatest performance I have ever seen. Of anything. Period. Needless to say that was the high point of the trip for me. We went clubbing later that night and after a failed attempt to get into a pretentious club we found a decent place to go. I can't speak for the others but aside from the offensive $12 for one drink I had a fun time.
Las Vegas definitely has a personality, but it's not what I would call a pleasant one. It's SO glitzy and SO ostentatious it feels like the city itself is trying too hard to get the other cities to pay attention to it. Not surprisingly, I've never seen so many fake breasts in my entire life. I don't think they're all locals, I'm pretty sure they're tourists who enjoy Vegas because it speaks to them. The city is so hell bent on getting your money, too. The only way you can get stuff cheap is if you stay in the casinos and drinks are only free if you're gambling. Othewise you go out and everything is ridiculously overpriced. It's an...interesting place to visit but there's not a crumb of wholesomeness in the city (or at least not in the Strip). I now fully understand the meaning of my mother's words when she said Nevada was designed to spite Utah.
After we got back to the hotel I went to sleep but everyone else evidently decided to stay out until 4AM gambling and drinking. Needless to say, they were in no condition to do anything the next day until late afternoon. I was not about to sit around and wait for them to wake up so, despite people bemoaning the fact that we can never keep the group together, I went off and did my own thing. It must be a stranger thing to do than I think because people lauded me for wanting something out of the trip and making it happen one way or another. Of course, I generally prefer company but since my destination was very far away and I wanted to walk people probably would not have been up for it. Especially since my destination was Star Trek: The Experience.
That evening I went to see the Cirque du Soleil "Love" performance, which was the greatest performance I have ever seen. Of anything. Period. Needless to say that was the high point of the trip for me. We went clubbing later that night and after a failed attempt to get into a pretentious club we found a decent place to go. I can't speak for the others but aside from the offensive $12 for one drink I had a fun time.
Las Vegas definitely has a personality, but it's not what I would call a pleasant one. It's SO glitzy and SO ostentatious it feels like the city itself is trying too hard to get the other cities to pay attention to it. Not surprisingly, I've never seen so many fake breasts in my entire life. I don't think they're all locals, I'm pretty sure they're tourists who enjoy Vegas because it speaks to them. The city is so hell bent on getting your money, too. The only way you can get stuff cheap is if you stay in the casinos and drinks are only free if you're gambling. Othewise you go out and everything is ridiculously overpriced. It's an...interesting place to visit but there's not a crumb of wholesomeness in the city (or at least not in the Strip). I now fully understand the meaning of my mother's words when she said Nevada was designed to spite Utah.
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