Ok, my boy Mos put this video link up a few days ago on Facebook.  It’s a pretty interesting subject. How often do we hear things approached from this angle?

I won’t say much, I’ll just let the video speak for itself…

For me, deciding on what food to eat is essentially a matter of deciding 2 things:

1. Is it healing?

2. Is it socially & environmentally responsible?

The answer to these questions can be challenging — how bad does it need to be for me to consider it harmful or reckless?  When is it merely questionable?   But generally I can chart both of these answers on this graph and when I begin wondering if something is too bad for me, others, or the environment, that signals I’m not comfortable with it.

In a perfect world I would only eat food near the number 1: food that improves my health and the world around me.  But this isn’t a perfect world and I don’t eat in that part of the graph all the time.  I have a major sugar addiction, for one.  A limited budget.  A family history full of foods that trigger emotional responses, like nostalgia and pride.  I’m sometimes at the mercy of other people’s hospitality.  Right now I’m staying at my parents’ house and they don’t eat like me.  They also don’t have access to the same stores I have at home.  And food — especially organic produce — is limited in their town, in the winter.

So I’ve been wondering where my lines are, and which circumstances I am willing to eat in different parts of the graph.  I’m nearly always willing to eat foods that are harmful to me, but environmentally/socially responsible.  Vegan donut, made locally?  Ummm, yes please.

Where on the graph do I eat during holidays?  When someone else is preparing the food?  When I’m stressed (emotional eating)?  When I’m poorer than usual?   When I’m celebrating?  When something looks like it will taste really, really good?  When I’m already imposing on someone?  And why do I pick the circumstances I’m picking?  What does that say about me and my values?  My privileges?  My alliances?

In the coming days I’m planning to reflect on this more.  I’ll share what I come up with.  I would love to hear anyone else’s thoughts or stories in the meantime.

The Power of Privilege
Filed under: african american scholars, black scholars, dr wilmer leon — Tags: black politics, obama party crashers — @ 6:19 pm

Dr. Wilmer J. Leon III

On the evening of Tuesday, November 24 a young couple from Virginia made their way into one of the most secure events in the country, President Obama’s state dinner for Indian Prime Minister Monmohan Singh and his wife at the White House. Like the other 300 plus invited guests, Tareq and Michaele Salahi went through multiple layers of Secret Service security, took photos with Chief of Staff Rom Emanuel and mingled with Vice President Biden and other invited guests. The problem is that the Salahi’s were not invited to the dinner. Their names were not listed on the official guest list or any other list that would have allowed them entrance into the White House. They crashed the party!

All that this couple needed to gain entrance into a state dinner at the White House was a tuxedo, traditional Indian evening wear, attitude, and white skin. When they arrived at the Secret Service check point without a printed invitation and without their names on the official guest list, they were not detained or questioned. No telephone calls were made; no further inquiries were needed; just white skin, blond hair, the expectation of admittance, and a pretty smile. Had this occurred at an airport the Salahi’s would have never made it past airport security.

This is the latest example of the privilege and expectations of privilege that comes with white skin. Had the Salahi’s been African American, or any other ethnicity with a darker skin tone, the Secret Service agent or Marine on duty would have never allowed this couple on the White House grounds simply based upon a “…what do you mean our names are not on the guest list…this is a travesty…obviously your list is not up to date…blah, blah, blah…” or some other self-righteous retort.

In most instances these senses of expectation and privilege are not planned, they just are. They have developed over time and have become the norms of American culture. They are so deeply ingrained in the American psyche that they are now patterns of action, perception, logic, symbol formation, thought, and emotional response.

Racial profiling can work a number of ways. For people of color, profiling works against them as they are targeted by those in positions of power and authority based upon a mistaken belief that they (particularly African Americans) are more inclined to be involved in criminal behavior in non-suspect specific situations. For people of European decent or with white skin, profiling can work to their benefit as they are given favorable consideration and deference based upon the assumption that they pose no threat in a particular circumstance. White people get access; Black people get arrested.

This favorable consideration or deference has developed into a sense of entitlement as evidenced by the Salahi’s expectation that they would be admitted into the seemingly most secure event in America just by showing up. Even with an African American President in this supposed “post racial” America, no African American would ever expect such unfettered access to the White House.

According to Secret Service spokesman Ed Donovan, President Obama was never in any danger. “It’s important to note that they went through all the security screenings — the magnetometer screening — just like all the other guests did…” http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/34157390/ns/politics-washington_postDonovan’s confidence in the systems that have been designed to ensure the Presidents safety are a bit misplaced. The Salahi’s did not go through all the security screenings. Obviously the Secret Service failed to send them through the “match a persons name and identification to those on the guest list” part of the process. In spite of the fact that their names were not on the official guest list, they were admitted into the White House and into the same room as the President and Vice President. The first level of security failed. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

Yes, in this instance the security measures that have been put in place to protect the President and those who visit the White House failed. They failed for a number of reasons. The written processes and procedures will be evaluated and tightened but it’s the human aspect of this event that should cause the most concern. Simply because a couple “looked the part” they were given deference and allowed within striking distance and within the personal space of the most threatened man in America.

White privilege is a dangerous thing on a number of levels.

This is not my post,i have reposted it, all credit is given to “Dr Wilmer Leon!”

“SPEAK TO MY SERVANTS WHO HAVE BELIEVED, THAT THEY MAY ESTABLISH REGULAR PRAYERS, AND SPEND (IN CHARITY) OUT OF THE SUSTENANCE WE HAVE GIVEN THEM, SECRETLY & OPENLY, BEFORE THE COMING OF A DAY IN WHICH THERE WILL BE NEITHER MUTUAL BARGAINING NOR BEFRIENDING (Holy Quran, Ibrahim,14:31)

We can become rich..for what? to have time to do more prayer (ibadah)? more time to read and understand the Quran? help the ones in need (orphans, poor, single parents etc.)? to have time to study about faith & religion?

or just want to show off our wealth, being selfish and keep all to ourselves and becoming more greedy to find more wealth?

Is that how we be grateful to our God who has given us the privelege in having the wealth?.

We intend to forget all this matter. So, think about it before it is too late (death). Have you done your part?

May Allah Guide Us All to the True Path.

The ability to utter “that is unfair” and expect something to change is privelege in its purest form. Privelege will say that fair has to do with the individual’s merit. Fair, although meant to be an objective concept, a great equalizer across classes and races is purely subjective. Cancer and AIDS are more objective than fairness.

- Sanpixee (Follow me on Twitter)

If you grew up with privelege – whether love or material, and someone calls you on it – acknowledge it not to fit in or appease other people but acknowledge it because it is part of who you are… the easiest way to assess your privelege is to assess the choices you had… because no, not everyone has access to the same lifestyle as you.

- Sanpixee (Follow me on Twitter)

“Dick Armey is the epitome of those people with power and privilege who are insured against the vicissitudes of life and want no government assistance for any suffering except their own.”

-Bill Moyers.

video at: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/09/18/bill-moyers-tea-party-org_n_291625.html

Tonight I had the great honour of being the guest speaker at the Stellenbosch flying club. Dear reader, please allow me to share my journey with you too.

My happiest childhood memories were that of a four year old sitting in our backyard in Wellington waiting for the Boeing to fly over OUR house. At the slightest sound or sight, there would be a performance from me: I would call the whole neighbourhood kids to come and look at my aeroplane that will bring me something special one day. Well, actually thought it would bring me another brother or sister…because I thought that was where babies came from. My mother soon put me in school at the age of five. I suppose that the racket was too much for her to handle every day. That is when my love story with aviation started. I ask you to bear with me as I share my journey with you. The flight wasn’t always smooth. It has been littered with a fair amount of challenges and obstacles.

Growing up my dreams constantly change. I dreamt of being a pilot, a doctor, a pilot, an astronaut, a pilot, a spy – I devised plenty of plans to just get over an electrical fence with a trampoline!  And then of cause a supermodel dream!  Ahhhh, I would be wear the most glamorous clothes and travel the world! In my high school years I seriously put my head to studying medicine after school and secretly devised another plan. Once qualified as a doctor AND pilot, I would take my aeroplane and travel Africa from tip to top healing and helping those who are not as fortunate to have their health and doing research. I would hop into my aeroplane packed with all the supplies that will help my brothers & sisters in Africa and at the same time become one with nature with my aeroplane.

With the great disappointment of not getting into med school I embarked on my second choice of studying chemistry. My career in chemistry took me onto the most fascinating field of forensic science where I specialised as a toxicologist and narcotic drugs specialist. Whilst it’s not as glamorous as CSI makes it out to be, it is a rewarding career in which I developed my skills as a scientist, crime scene investigator and expert witness. It was in these years that I gathered insight into the world of drugs, murders, our judicial system and generally the extent to crime in South Africa. It was during this time that I got to appreciate the fortune I have to have parents that were encouraging and supportive throughout my life. Parents who provided me with a sound foundation and secure environment so that I didn’t have to seek comforts outside our home or beyond the boundaries of Islam.

One sunny Tuesday while I was confiscating drugs at the airport – my first experience on the tarmac at Cape Town International Airport, I stood mesmerised by the sight of a Boeing 747-400. A blue one – l won’t mention the competition. It was calling me and I felt like that four year old little girl again. I turned to my colleague Gerrit and said: “This 747-400 called my name and one day I am going to be in control of that big machine” I couldn’t resist. The Sunday before I poured over the SAA Cadet Pilot selection advertisement thinking: “Could it be possible my dream could come true?” I just knew I couldn’t let this opportunity go by.

It was an arduous journey to get onto the SAA cadet pilot programme. A nail-biting twelve months before I was selected. The rigorous process entailed six steps which included a psychometric test, medical examination, two computer simulator tests, getting through an eight hour psychological profiling test and finally the selection board interview. At each stage of the process, applicants were eliminated. From about 6000 applicants only 16 were selected to the programme. The chances of being selected were thus 0.3%.

The cadet pilot training programme consisted of four phases.

Phase 1: 

 A training course of four months here in South Africa. This phase included life skills, managing cultural diversity, business awareness, physics of flying at the Tshwane University of Technology and the basic aircraft training such as weight and balance, Air navigation regulations, meteorology, radio procedures, mechanics electronics, radio navigation and instruments. This built the foundation for the next phase. The pass mark for all exams was 75% throughout the training programme. After the completion of this phase we were assessed individually in terms of leadership and motivation as well as academic performance.

Phase 2:

Training at BAE Systems Flight Training College, Adelaide where we graduated with a Commercial pilot’s License with a Frozen Airline Transport license. This is certainly where I worked the hardest in my entire life but it was certainly worth the blood, sweat and tears.

Let me briefly share what my experience in Australia was like. It was like a reality TV show. This experience was like a combination of Survivor and Big Brother. Besides competing with your fellow cadets, you had to work hard to survive because Big Brother was watching. This caused me countless sleepless nights as I had to motivate myself everyday to be positive and optimistic because if you were not on top of your game, you would make the grade. SAA require their pilots to be of a high standard and it starts at the training level. Also this was my dream and I had to make it a reality.  It is here that I also learnt that assertiveness and confidence is vital to the being of a pilot. Above all this is where we build our comradeship within our group – we cried together, supported each other through the tough times and celebrated our achievements. When one member didn’t make the course and were sent home, it felt like the group failed that person. Eleven of us graduated at the end of the 16 months at the College.

Phase 3:

Back in South Africa proud with wings pinned to my crisp white shirt, I braved the African Skies. What an invigorating experience! With 200 hours in my logbook, I was flying an 11 ton turboprop aeroplane. A Jetstream 41 to be precise – a 29 seater aeroplane. For a young eager pilot the learning curve was initially a bit steep. At the time we joked that we were so far behind the aircraft that we needed our own squawk code. This formed the foundation for me as an airline pilot. I certainly had fun and met of many great mentors at the Airline.

Phase 4:

South African Airways – this was a dream come true. At last the moment occurred but before that, we had to go through another selection process which involved a simulator test (flying a Boeing 747-400) and an interview with the selection board. Being selected as a pilot was not just a privilege but also an honour – the honour of flying our national flag; the privilege to be a pilot at one of the best airlines in the world. It was a dream come true in so many ways.

I get goose bumps just thinking back when I did my first conversion at the airline – licensed to fly a that Boeing 747-400 that I stood in front of six years before. I felt so blessed to have been able to have my calling answered. Today I am based in Cape Town as a First Officer flying the Boeing 737-800 and have accumulated just over 5000 hours. Today, in the descend into Cape Town, I fly over my old house wondering if there is a little girl wishing that my aeroplane would bring her something special one day.

Allow me to share a few lessons that I have learned along the way:

• It is the words of Henry Ford that rings so true: “When it feels like everything is going against you, remember that an airplane takes off against the wind.” So never give up on your dream, you might not know when things will take off for you.
• Life isn’t always fair, but it is your only chance to get it right – stay focused on the positive. Life was not created to give you everything you want. Remain flexible and be willing to make some compromises along the way.
•  Pilots are highly motivated individuals with strong leadership skills. You have to develop these skills in order to survive in aviation.
•  Eat your elephant bit by bit. When you are unsure about a direction in which you are headed or when that mountain seems too big to climb,  proceed slowly by taking small steps. 
•  Life is too short to not to have fun. Have fun while you are making your dream reality.
•  Fuel in your engine with passion, persistence, dedication and a steady focus, in order to make your journey a smooth one.
•  Life is not a popularity contest – not everybody will like you and vice versa. Do not spend unnecessary time trying to fix other people. You cannot control what others think. Do not dwell on their perspectives.

It depends on how much passion one has for what one does in life which ultimately determines the success. Flying is a calling and one which I happily replied to. This is what aviating is about – 20% skill and 80% passion and dedication. Being a pilot is a not a chosen career – it is a lifestyle. It requires a high degree of discipline in order to perform the tasks at hand.

Thank you for time and attention.

The header for this blog is a photo from our unemployment road trip (more details on that to come!).

Both the title and the photo are metaphors for how many of us feel during unemployment: the sense of being lost and scared while simultaneously being on an adventure.

I think it is important to point out that the writers of this blog are both childless, unmarried, college educated mid-twenty somethings.  We don’t own homes and we don’t have kids to feed.  However, we both are NOT getting finacial support from our parents (we aren’t that privileged).

This blog is a story of our lives based on our education, age, and lifestyle.

I cannot imagine how difficult raising a family would be while being unemployed.  I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to find a job without a degree or formal job training.

I understand and recognize that I am lucky compared to so many others.

So hands up, right now – guilty as charged. I am not only white, but middle class, english is my first language, I am university educated, and southern, able bodied, computer literate and I’m sure I have other attributes that privilege me at times which I haven’t even considered yet. I’ve been getting a bit angry of late because I keep reading articles which keep telling me, that as all of those things and as a feminist I’m part of the problem. Generally I like anger – injustice should breed healthy outrage, energy and action. Its risky though, and when your angry you have to look at what/who you’re angry with and why.

So my anger here is frustration. It feels like the problem is being missed – or miss-assigned. Many critiques sound to me like “there are too many white middle-class women in the feminist movement”. This can’t be true – we need more! There is nothing wrong with being white, being the child of a nurse and a banker, having a penis or a degree. The problem is when these things mean your life is easier as a result, if when you have something to say it is listened to more than someone with a different background, regardless of whether you’re talking shit. The problem with feminism is not the physical presence of white middle-class women, it’s the system that gives what they say more authority.

Now this is starting to sound like a ‘don’t blame me blame the system’ apology.  Its not, when I reinforce privelege I absolutely deserve and welcome critism,  but we are all part of the system – and we all need to challenge it.  There is no other way. Hardest part of having any privilege is realisation: that it may not be the stunning quality of your argument that means you’re being listened to but just that you’re in a position to be listened to, and not relegated to the audience. One of the reasons I love feminism is that at crucial times I have been told to sit down, shut up and listen. It’s not something that comes naturally – I have to try really hard and I know I fail regularly. But feminism to me, now,  is about challenging all systems of privilege at once because they are all tangled up- so I try.  Surely we can build a movement based on shared experiences of how the privilege system works? It’s only invisible until you’re at the wrong end of it. From gender-privilege, I can try and understand other privileges better. I’ve sat in a room and felt invisible, my different experiences ignored or deemed unimportant. This makes me so angry- I can see this has to stop whenever it happens.  The problem is not too many feminists with privileges, but if they don’t realise they are privileged and don’t try to fight the system.  Frankly white middle-class feminists are likely allies in race and class struggles – the problem is how to get them/us involved without reinforcing the privilege system.

One reason I get snarky with articles that raise the white middle-class bias of feminism, is that they tend to be a critique without action. At best they advocate listening -I agree something that absolutely must be done, but is easier at an individual level – there are many excellent books, articles, blogs, campaigns which can challenge the way you think and act.  This is vital – but how can it work at a group level?  My position is that being a mainly white, middle-class group is not itself a problem. Being a group that doesn’t try to recognise and fight privilege is.  I think there are some inclusive ways you can do this.  So I’m going to suggest a few – inspired by what I’ve seen happen in Edinburgh:

1) Working with other organisations that work with different communities challenging the ‘privilege system’.

Reclaim the Night Edinburgh ran a series of workshops with different youth groups before the march. Different issues were raised – different responses, and new links built.

2) Give platforms to other organisations to reach new audiences

Reclaim the Night had Shakti (the Black and Minority Ethnic branch of Scottish Women’s Aid) speak about women with no-recourse to public funds, at the 2009 march (they chose the topic)

3) Support other groups events/protests and campaigns.

A couple of RTN members went to a Shakti fundraiser, there are posts from other campaigns round mailing lists.

4) Translate projects into other languages.

A project called ‘our stories’ from reclaim the night is collecting stories of mens violence against women had requests for contributions written in Polish and Urdu, and hopefully Arabic soon (!) Even just asking for volunteer translators strikes me as a great way to build links.

5) Skills Share

Builds on skills people have, recognises and values them. Everyone has something and it can also be used to break down barriers. An Edinburgh Skill Share means I can speak a little sign language now – and certainly understanding about the language (and the women i know that learn/speak it).

6) Raise issues of different privileges in discussions.

Simply asking if what your discussing effects different people differently. At the last EFN discussion group – Feminism and Health – we talked about how it was a white, male, heterosexual that is norm that ‘health’ is defined by.  How that impacts on all different groups.

7) Use facilitation techniques in large groups

Particularly when people don’t know each other- just to make sure everyone at least gets a change to speak. Go-rounds, agendas people can add to in advance, space for people to write things down during the meeting that they want raised, breaking into smaller groups, question times, and even occasionally asking louder people to hush for a little while.

Check your venues/events for accessibility.

Pubs/Religious buildings/Stairs/Location/food types.  Be aware of the issues these raise, sometimes there is no other way, but make damn sure.  (this has genuinely been discussed by every feminist group i’ve been to in edinburgh and i’m extrodinarily impressed by the women who remember and raise it)

So this is a very basic list, but i’m trying to see a way forward.  Sure it paints a simple, rosy picture. There are huge problems about agenda setting, and territory claims- who gets to invite who, who types the agenda, who gets to decide what terms mean, how meetings are chaired, and there are lots and lots of painful cultural assumptions to negotiate. These are all deeply rooted in systems of power and privilege, and a feminist history of dominance and horrible horrible mistakes.  Eternal optimist though I can’t help but think as long as we recognise privilege, listen to criticisms, learn from others mistakes and try really, really hard – there’s still hope?

Note: Criticism is very, very, very welcome, and suggestions even more so. This is a big issue, and I’ve simplified a lot also I know talk like i have the answers, but i do also know i don’t, i’m writing because i want to know more…

“All human interactions are opportunities either to learn or to teach.” – M. Scott Peck

We can learn a great deal from our children as long as we’re open minded and humble enough to let them teach us. As parents, we may mistakenly believe it is our job to teach and our Children’s job to learn from us. One of the real joys of parenthood is the privilege of living in the same house with little persons who are discovering the world for the first time. We can learn so much from their curiosity, excitement and enthusiasm.

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I promised myself I wouldn’t let this here blog turn into a cascading collection of links, but I will save myself a whole lot of work and do my readers a whole lot of favors by linking to Tim Wise’s excellent article, Explaining White Privilege. If my inaugural post, A Very Brief Guide to What is Not OK left you with any lingering “buts” that you have yet to come forward with, you owe it to yourself to read this piece. If the buts are still bugging you, when you’re done, come on back and let me hear ‘em in the comments.

By way of This Week in Blackness.

     My folks used to have this great and very powerful blue impala.  When I was a kid, my uncle would take me to the store, in their car, and show me just how powerful it was.  I tend to be a little OCD when it comes to keeping my own vehicle clean, and back then I wanted to help my folks keep theirs clean.  Mom was not so particular about a clean vehicle.  Quite often you could find wrappers, napkins, and sometimes sucker sticks lining the floorboard, seats, and at times, even the dash.

     On this day, I wanted to change that for them.  I broke out the hose and away I went.  I began spraying the front, sides, and the back of their car.  As the water ran down the metal I could see the gleam in the sunshine reflect my own smile in hopes that I was actually helping my parents.  As it dried, I noticed the dirt was not gone.  I would spray again and again, yet the dirt remained.  Icouldn’t understand it.  I had the water on, using the elbow grease, spraying directly at the dirt, but without a clean response.  I just didn’t get it.  And then my father came up and mentioned that perhaps it would be easier if I used soap. 

It dawned on me that cleaning the car is a little like cleansing our soul.  We can scrub as hard as we want with the water directly on it, with little or no actual cleaning taking place.  And then our heavenly Father steps up and asks if we would like a hand.  HE uses his own, specially made soap made of HIS own blood, sweat, and tears.  I don’t know about you, but I certainly see it as a blessing, privilege, and almost like a warm, cozy, security blanket that the king of kings, and my heavenly Father is more than willing to dwindle to my imperfection to clean my soul and create a place in the life-hereafter for a bum like me in nothing less than a World Gone Mad.

Today, I spent a couple of hours in the dark, behind some respectfully quiet blue hairs, watching The Visitor. It’s a poignant peek at loneliness, helplessness and our never-ending human habit of reaching for more.
Walter Vale (Richard Jenkins) is a widowed, middle-aged college professor trying to fill his time with piano lessons and department meetings. The film deftly impresses on us just how meaningless Walter’s daily interactions are by keeping the camera distant from Walter’s meetings and conversations. We look into windows; a camera zooms in slowly from across the room, the conversation muted by the score. Walter looks uncomfortable, uninterested, and beneath that, flat. Is this man alive? Would a heart attack register any emotional reaction on his face?
When he has to go to a conference in New York, he finds a young couple living in his apartment he keeps there. The mix up is never quite explained, though it’s clear the couple has been scammed and has nowhere else to go. Zainab and Tarek are young and beautiful, and for some reason, Walter lets them stay.
Zainab is the worrier to Tarek’s bohemian musician personality. She distrusts Walter, but Tarek, played by the fun to look at Haaz Sleiman, is warm and inviting in the face of Walter’s awkward social skills. The luminous Danai Gurira plays Zainab like an anchor for the story. Much of the early humor in the film comes from her stilted interactions with Walter.
Walter finds a mentor in Tarek, who enthusiastically teaches him to count on a three beat, instead of a four, Tarek who openly invites Walter to Jazz clubs. This freedom Walter finds in Tarek is the opposite of the doldrums he knows. And he is drawn to it like a rhythm he can’t shake from his mind. This freedom requires no thinking on his part. “You just have to feel it,” Tarek says with a beautiful grin.
These moments between Walter and Tarek with the drums, and later between the two in the detention center, when Tarek is arrested and held for being an illegal immigrant, are the heartbeats of the film. Jenkins just inhabits this performance of an amazingly simple man in denial about his longing for connection.
His ultimate brief romance with Tarek’s mother, actress Haim Abbass as Mouna, is quiet and tender. All of the performances are solid, honest and smart. Reflecting one of the themes of The Visitor, the actors use small movements to portray reserved despair, enthusiasm, and injustice.
The film works only as a snapshot of a man finding temporary connections powerful enough to loose him from his self-imposed exile of grief and solitude. As a film tepidly exploring the injustice of the undocumented, it is shallow, evoking only a modicum of pity and confusion, though it preaches the unfairness of our broken system loud and clear.

What Privilege Do You Have?
I saw a blog game on a couple of Quaker blogs (this one and this one), so I thought I’d offer a similar game with a spin on class based. It’s based on an exercise developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University that I found on this Yahoo group around class on college campuses. The exercise developers hold the copyright but have given me permission to post it here and ask that if you participate in this blog game, you acknowledge their copyright.

If you post this in your blog, please leave a comment on this post.

Father went to college (3 yrs correspondence school while I was in HS)
Father finished (4 yrs) college
Mother went to college (nursing school graduate, RN)
Mother finished(4 yrs) college
Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
Were the same or higher class than your high school teachers
Had more than 50 books in your childhood home (Reader’s Digests & my own little
horde–I read all the time)
Had more than 500 books in your childhood home
Were read children’s books by a parent
Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18
Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18
The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively (in the
50’s & 60’s, yes)
Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18
Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs (loans for 3 yrs)
Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs
Went to a private high school
Went to summer camp
Had a private tutor before you turned 18
Family vacations involved staying at hotels
Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18
Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them (at age 21)
There was original art in your house when you were a child
Had a phone in your room before you turned 18
You and your family lived in a single family house (military family)
Your parent(s) owned their own house or apartment before you left home (see above)
You had your own room as a child (sometimes yes, sometimes no; after age 13, yes)
Participated in an SAT/ACT prep course
Had your own TV in your room in High School
Owned a mutual fund or IRA in High School or College
Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16 (father in military, flew
before I was one yr old and again at age 12)
Went on a cruise with your family
Went on more than one cruise with your family
Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up
You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family (only because this
was kept from us kids; at several points, though, we were on the skids)

In the group exercise, which was originally designed for college students, staff and faculty, everyone stands in a line and steps forward if any of these things are true for them.

My dad just called to tell me he got laid off. My dad is pretty awesome and I hear he’s pretty great at what he does. (Although I’ve never really had any idea what that actually is.) People love him. But for the last 6 years or so he’s had really shitty luck with landing jobs with really shitty companies that end up firing him or going under. Poor pop.  So my parents had to turn down the house in Asheville, which I know must be making them sad. Well, at least I don’t depend on money from them anymore. Maybe I really am a grownup… kinda sorta. I miss my parents though. Just a little bit.

I bet you’re dying to hear about my weekend! Well, you can let go of the edge of your seat. This weekend I:

+ Avoided the internet except for a short visit during which I realized (thanks Jill!) that one of the “lolcats”-esque pictures I made of Hugo got posted to ICHC, and caused quite a ruckus. In fact, it was in the top ten posts on WordPress that day. Go Hugo!

+ Picked strawberries at a farm in Pescadero, and decided that the future home of Cheyley Farms is Half Moon Bay or somewhere thereabouts.

+ Napped on the beach

+ Found out that my parents, who were self-employed when I was a kid and didn’t always do so well and had to rent until ten years ago, are buying a second house this week. In Asheville, NC, which is awesome in that it’s beautiful and not Florida. But they’re keeping their FL house until next year and renting out the NC house. To top it all off, they’re borrowing money from me to buy it. Whose life is this?

+ Attended the last two innings of the A’s playing the Giants at AT&T Park for ten bucks, where we sat amongst a group of men from a Veterans’ home in Napa. We chatted with Leo, an adorable WWII vet with some missing teeth, and I got hit on by an old man with the largest, blingblingyest diamond ring I ever did see.

+ Went to the Haight Street Fair, which really speaks for itself. It was amazing.

+ Ate: Thai food, an Indian feast, Sunny Side Cafe brunch, garlic fries, berries, a vegan raw burrito, and other yummy things. Thanks, bay area.

+ Lusted after dogs, especially one named Cornbread.

+ Got my cuddle on with somebody pretty amazing.

+ And got cat-called/harrassed for being queer for the first time in my life. In the bay area, of all places.

And tonight I’m going to see the Indigo Girls and Brandi Carlile at the Fillmore.

I’m so not ready to leave in five days.

Good quote, and yet I feel sort of lost.

I just finished filling out all my forms for the summer camp I’m working at this year for the fourth year in a row. They’re in the mail now, about a month late. I was procrastinating because I don’t really want to go this year. But that’s another story. The point of this story is that I wasn’t really sure what to put as my address. My current one expires in three weeks, at which point I can get mail at camp for two months, and after that… I got nothin’. So I put my parents’ address in Florida, but that sure as hell ain’t home anymore. However, they’re kind enough to receive mail for me. I feel homeless. I know I know, I’m far to priveleged to actually feel homeless. I have a savings account, parents who will always take me in if I’m ever that desperate, a half dozen friends in the bay area who have already said they’ll let me crash on their couches when I’m homeless in September… I guess I’m anxious to feel like I belong somewhere.

Maybe I should just suck it up and revel in not being tied down. And at least I know without a shred of doubt that I belong in the bay area, and that certainly counts for something.

When I was your age I was tender, young, imaginative and naive. I thought the whole world revolved around me because of the love my parents had given me. I was the center of attention for all in my family. However, studying in school made me realize that it is learning on top of love that is offered in school that would polish my capabilities to the true extent. It is the qualities of head and heart that makes as a true human being worthy of respect for all. School made me learn how to interact with people, make friends and above all how to excel in life. I learned that in order to gain respect we have to respect all our friends, family and each and every member of our society no matter rich or poor even good or bad. Good because we can learn a lot from good people and respect for bad because maybe we can make a difference in these people lives by reforming them. Maybe God Almighty has given us these privileges to help all those less privileged in life. I learnt that it is not only learning but experience that only comes with time and ripes with age that is a requisite for success. Experiences tough or easy, good or bad prepare us for the life ahead, if only one is able to ponder and learn from it, one can make better choices in the future. Tough experiences early on make our life easy at the latter hurdles and learning again is the important part. It is through age that comes experience and through experience comes wisdom and wisdom is something invaluable. Had I known a few things at your age that I have learnt now through experiences, maybe I had made even better choices. But some things are rites of passage and so is age. One cannot go to the next step without the previous one. Hence, I have come to the conclusion that those things were important and so is learning at every step. Everything good or bad comes to us from Almighty for our own good and to make us even better. I am sure you will be a success in life and a much better person worthy of respect from all if you take learning from school and learning from experience as arrows in your quiver and love from your loved ones to guide you and shield you from troubles. Head and heart my dear tender friend.