Occupy Movements Are Kind of Like Buttholes - Every City Has One

   
         OK, so that doesn't entirely make sense, but you know what I mean. It is hard to define the Occupy movement as a whole, because it takes on a completely different tenor with each city it pops up in - different folks, different interests - from the riotous gang in Oakland to the peaceful pacifists of Bloomington, each has it's own personality, sharing only one common thread - a dissatisfaction with the status quo. No two groups, let alone two people can agree on what exactly the problem is. Yes it is about financial disparity, but just what does that mean - are we talking about - unfair taxation, student debt, consumer debt, corporate greed, capitalism, welfare, living wage, global warming, corrupt politicians, campaign finance reform, fair trade - talk to some folks and they will say, yes, it's about all of that. Ask them what they plan to do about it and you will more than likely be met with an awkward silence.

        Now I can't address all Occupy movements, but I can talk about Occupy Bloomington. I have spent a good amount of time there. I find it fascinating to watch it's evolution from a handful of folks in early October to a full fledged encampment - a tiny town unto itself, right in downtown Bloomington Indiana. Occupy's encampment covers the nearly 1/3 acre park, aptly named People's Park abut two blocks away from Indiana University. There are now about 70 pup-tents and several larger communal tents that serve as a 24 hour vegetarian mess hall (with truly delicious healthy food free of charge), a library and a lounge where you can always find folks actively engaged in conversation any time, day or night. There is a grouping of benches that serve as a gathering point for general assemblies, where the business of the group is democratically conducted, and which during non business times serves as an impromptu area for drumming circles, poets, meditation classes and as a gathering point for folks who just want to socialize.

                                   
          This is a peaceful group, more given to making a statement by friendly social interaction rather than rowdy protests. Indeed, on a sunny fall afternoon it almost seems idyllic as seniors chat and knit while nearby round tummied puppies play in the grass as children run about and the scent of spiced ginger tea mixes with the smell of autumn as soothing acoustic guitar is faintly heard in the background.

          There have been unintended effects of Occupy Bloomington's laying claim to People's Park. As it brings people together it helps to bridge the Town/Gown divide whereby those connected to the University and local townsfolk are rarely given opportunity to interact. It serves as an informal community center open to all - the politically passionate, the curious, the lonely. Being that the majority of the people living in the camp are homeless, it provides them safe shelter free from harassment. The people dedicated to Occupy's existence  represent diversity at it's best - all races and ethnicities, rich and poor, old and young. It's inclusiveness has given everyday people a chance to share not only their voices, but their talents as well.

            This is not to say that all is well in People's Park. Over time as the encampment grows, so do it's problems. First and foremost, it becomes apparent that this is not sustainable on a long term basis. The food ingredients are  provided through generous donations from local restaurants and small private donations - how long this will continue is anyone's  guess - it isn't cheap to provide hundreds of meals a day. There is even talk about moving the food preparation to an offsite location. There are no bathroom facilities at the site - occupiers use the facilities of local businesses and the university student union. Though living together in harmony, it is a camp divided, both figuratively and literally. The homeless have set up on the east side of the park, and for the most part stick to themselves and choose not to be involved with the day to day business and work of the camp.

             A medic group and addiction counselors have been instituted to address medical emergencies and substance abuse in response to one occupier's death in the camp from alcohol poisoning and another person suffering nearly the same fate. They have also had to address how to handle not only unruly drunken frat boys who taunt the camp, but also how to address disorderly residents living in the camp. With the gift of a large monetary donation, heated arguments have broken out as to how to spend the money. There are disagreements how to manage smaller donations, should it go to gloves or food? Who should hold the money? How should it be disbursed? There are disagreements about whether or not Occupy's time and resources should be spent helping venues which support the homeless. Harsh words are exchanged as to whether or not a separate splinter group should be established on campus specifically for university students.

             As Occupy Bloomington has grown  so have the complications of governance. What started out as a fairly simple egalitarian democracy has turned into a rancorous power grab. General assemblies that once ended with a renewing sense of unity now end in discord. What was once a simple process of bringing up ideas a quick discussion followed by a vote has, as the camp's issues and business become more complicated, turned into days and days of debate and bickering with no resolution. People are beginning to feel left out of the process as a boisterous few have take over. Courtesy and respect, once the foundations of Occupy Bloomington have all but disappeared.  There are rumblings of people leaving the group because they feel they no longer matter.

            And so, it is no small irony that Occupy Bloomington, in their tiny People's Park camp is becoming an exact version - albeit on a much smaller scale, of the society at large that they revile. A model where a few attempt to hold the majority of the power, where dissenting voices are ignored, money brings out the worst in people, those who don't contribute prove to be the biggest drain on resources, not to mention that the life they have created for themselves is unsustainable in the long run. As someone on the periphery looking in, I find it fascinating, and can't help but wonder . . . is this human nature or societal conditioning.

          It is a paradox this Occupy movement - that those involved who clamor for change, don't want to work with the system to change it - they don't want to work against the system to destroy it - instead they seem content to recreate  a microcosm of the very system they abhor. I suddenly have this overwhelming urge to watch Lord of the Flies . . .

For images and coverage of the early Occupy Bloomington Movement check out Jonathan Streetman's link
http://jonathanstreetman.com/2011/10/11/occupy-bloomington/
   

Leave the Gun, Take the Cannoli - Fear and Loathing in Indiana

      It has recently been brought to my attention that some people think that I am nihilistic, cranky, and have an all around curmudgeonly attitude. I have reflected on that and all I can say is . . . BITE ME.

       And so I begin another post. I haven't talked all that much about school because quite frankly, I don't like it. I only have 186 more days till they slap that 30K piece of paper in my hand, then I am out of here - out of this apartment - out of this town - out of Indiana. Quite frankly, I don't like Indiana either. I know, I know, they have Orville Redenbacher, Dan Quayle, John Mellencamp and a shit load of NASCAR - so what's not to like? I'll tell you what's not to like - the entire state is devoid of any good Italian food. Don't even try to argue with me (FYI, Olive Garden doesn't count) and I don 't want to hear about this pizzeria you know called Paulie No Nuts in Indy that has great zitti -  NO, it doesn't! Don't even try to tell me about the terrific pasta fagioli at Mama Mia's in Evansville, because you are wrong! So just fagidaboudit.

        There are only two areas in the continental United States that have good Italian food - the entire state of New Jersey, and a couple  of joints in the Chicago area - specifically The Sicilian Bakery and Al's Italian Restaurant on Cermak in Cicero. End of discussion. So what the hell has this got to do with my fear and loathing in the Hoosier state? A lot apparently  - I spend massive amounts of time missing my favorite food and an equally massive amount of time disliking many of the people I come into contact with on a daily basis, which got me thinking . . . you can categorize people into three different types of Italian desserts: Struffoli, Zeppole and Cannoli. Just bear with me a second here.

          Struffoli is the ultimate dessert, served only at Christmas, isn't common, it's a special treat and just rare enough that it hasn't yet been corrupted on the menus of Buca di Beppo or Fazoli's. Struffoli is just the right combination of honeyed sweetness and  marble-sized delicious dough. People in the struffoli category are the best, you don't run across them very often in life, but when you do, they are the stuff that lifelong friendships are made of, a perfect example of human hood  - interesting but not pompous, candid not fawning, so engaging you can't wait to see them again.

           Zeppole are about the size of a doughnut, deep fried, stuffed with custard and chocolate and sprinkled with sugar, heavy and over the top, you can't handle too much of these. Similarly, people in the Zeppole category can be overbearing, they are OK on an occasional basis but you just can't take too much of them at a time. Meet up for drinks - every once in awhile. Bike trek the Trans Siberian railway with - never. There are a good number of zeppole people in this world  and these folks are best left to the areas in which they excel: planning bachelorette parties,  kvetching and organizing labor strikes.

            Cannolis, the dessert, like this category of people, are the most common. They are everywhere, restaurants, grocery stores, coffee houses. A real cannoli, according to my Sicilian bisnonna, Vincenza Quatrocchi, God rest her soul, has a brown bubbled shell. The slightly sweetened ricotta filling should be infused with citron and the ends dipped in ground, green pistachio, covered with a light dusting of powdered sugar. This is a genuine cannoli, but how many times do you see cannolis like this? I have seen smooth shells, waffle shells, phyllo shells, chocolate dipped shells. I have heard of flavored filling, chocolate chip filling and of all things, shells filled with cake icing. I have seen them served drizzled with chocolate syrup, raspberry sauce and sprinkled with cinnamon, sprinkles and nonpareils. So what is my point? My point is that just like cannolis - there are tons of poseur people out there. Watch out for the cannoli people, they are never what the should be.

            So what does any of this mean - this whole bite me, NASCAR cannoli thing? It means that for the last four years here in Indiana I have been so incredibly unhappy - why? I couldn't tell you. I'm attending a top university. The topography of the Bloomington area is gorgeous - rolling hills, state and national forests abound. There are freaking deer roaming in my apartment parking lot - what is not to love? I've asked myself  this question over and over, and then I came across a commencement speech comedian/actor Patton Oswalt gave a couple of years ago, and it made perfect sense. Here's an excerpt:

             And then this banker – clean-shaven, grey suit and vest – you’d never look twice at him on the street – he told me about The Five Environments.

He leans forward, near the end of the dinner, and he says to me, “There are Five Environments you can live in on this planet.   There’s The City.   The Desert.   The Mountains.   The Plains.   And The Beach.

You can live in combinations of them.   Maybe a city in the desert, or in the mountains by the ocean.  Or you could choose just one.  Out in the plains somewhere, perhaps.

“But you need to get out there and travel, and figure out where you thrive.

“Some places you’ll go to and you’ll feel yourself wither.    Your brain will fog up, your body won’t respond to your thoughts and desires, and you’ll feel sad and angry.

“You need to find out which of the Five Environments are yours.   If you belong by the ocean, then the mountains will ruin you.   If you’re suited for the blue solitude of the plains, then the city will be a tight, roaring prison cell that’ll eat you alive.

He was right.   I’ve traveled and tested his theory and he was absolutely right.   There are Five Environments.   If you find the right combination, or the perfect singularity, your life will click…into…place.   You will click into place.

                      I am just not in the right environment here in Indiana - I just don't click here. So here's hoping that in 186 more days as I'm driving a U-Haul to who knows where, with my diploma packed away in a box - here's hoping that as I venture forth that I find my struffoli, cause right now all I'm seeing is cannolis.

 Clemenza's most famous line from The Godfather     

www.sicilianbakeryinc.com                                             www.alsrestaurant.com
                 

                                        

Alec Baldwin - Please STFU

       I have loved Alec Baldwin's fat hairy ass since before his current girlfriend was even born. But, I have crossed over to the other side - I am no longer a fan of this elitist, hypocritical, narcissistic buffoon. For years I listened to Baldwin espouse his progressive rhetoric and at times, his seemingly populist rants, I thought he wanted change for this country - I believed in this man  - and I was wrong.
         Baldwin has been successful and has been paid very well for his efforts and I believe what he does or does not do with his own money is his own business - BUT - the man is a hypocritical fame whore; he Tweets hundreds of times a day, says something outrageous and asinine  that gets his name in the paper on a weekly basis, attends  highly visible elitist galas, benefits, auctions, blah blah blah and all of that is fine - its his life - but he needs to SHUT THE F*#K UP about wanting to change the direction of this country. He needs to shut his pie hole and stop blasting politicians for being greedy elitists (look in the mirror much Alec?) when, by his actions, he shows he himself to be nothing but a greedy elitist jerk.
          Baldwin managed to drag his fat pampered ass down to Zucotti Park nearly a month after the movement started only to talk down to the attendees and lecture them how they were 'wrong', he went on to say “I think capitalism is worthwhile. And capitalism demands the flow of money. So, I think we need to have that. … I do not want capital markets dismantled.” well duh - of course he doesn't  - he has a million dollar deal with Capital One to shill for a company that tries to get people to go into debt and then charge them crazy high interest rates . . .does this sound like a responsible thing for a self proclaimed liberal spokesperson to do? I am not advocating the overthrow of the capitalist system  - I am pointing out that Baldwin is such an elitist - so out of touch that he himself is a part of the problem. Sure he believes in the flow of money . . . but seemingly only to elitist causes and venues.

            When confronted with the hypocrisy of being a corporate huckster, Baldwin's reps said that he would be donating all the proceeds from the Capital One gig to arts and cultural charities. Well OK then, it sounded like a way to mitigate the damages - Yes Alec was being a two faced whore - BUT - he was going to 'stick it to the man' and deserving charities would prosper. Was Alec Baldwin lying . . .well, technically, no. He did donate $1 MILLION to the New York Philharmonic - of which he serves on the board. He did donate $500,000 to Roundabout Theater Company, where Baldwin and his friends frequently appear onstage and tickets cost over $100. And Baldwin did donate $250,000 to the East Hampton Public Library - you KNOW East Hampton, the playground of the rich (Baldwin also happens to be on the library board).
                This just shows you, the rich support the rich and the rest of us be damned. I mistakenly thought that Baldwin would be putting his money where it was direly needed, where it could make a real difference  - why not a library in the Bronx? How about a few nursing homes, or after school arts programs for low income kids, or help support a free medical clinic for those without access to medical care - there is so much need out there WHY ON EARTH DID ALEC BALDWIN GIVE SO MUCH MONEY TO THOSE WHO NEED IT THE LEAST? Was there not enough glamour involved in supporting truly needy causes? Or was it because he doesn't sit on the boards of those very un-elitist organizations, was he afraid of catching cooties from the common folk, or was it because such an endevour wouldn't afford him a paparazzi laden opportunity to wear a tuxedo and flash his arm candy? Such a missed opportunity to make a real difference in the world of the non-elite, and Alec Baldwin chose to ignore it. That's OK Alec, we the average citizens, the 99% have grown accustomed to being used and lied to - but one of these days we just aren't going to listen to your rhetoric anymore . . . does that make us rude little pigs?

From Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities:  

"As to you," said she, "you would shout and shed tears for anything, if it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?"

"Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment."

"If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set upon them to pluck them to pieces and despoil them for your own advantage, you would pick out the richest and gayest. Say! Would you not?"

"Truly yes, madame."

"Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly, and were set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage, you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?"

"It is true, madame."
                 

Thoughts on Marriage After Attending My Parent's 50th Anniversary Party

So, driving to my parent's 50th wedding anniversary party, and not quite certain if I would be called upon to give a speech, I began to think about what I would say. Sentimental mush isn't my style, and to be honest, with all the rough times my parents have had in their union - sentimental just didn't seem appropriate. But, driving through Indiana corn fields I began to wonder, living in a society where half of all marriages end in divorce, what was it that made my parents different? How were they able to beat the odds and after five decades arrive at an enviable contented comfortableness? What was the secret? So on a quiet meandering drive  to a golden decorated banquet hall in a small Midwestern town where two people and 75 of their friends and relatives gathered to celebrate a promise two teenagers made to each other five decades ago - I began to gather and sort through my many memories and observations to try and discern the seemingly elusive recipe for a lasting relationship. This is what I came up with:

Failure is NOT an option - if you go into marriage figuring that if things don't work out, there is always the option of divorce, that means you are entering into the marriage with an exit strategy already in place, and if you are doing that - you are not fully committed. If failure is not an option, the only alternative is success.

While it is possible to have a bad relationship with no good times, it is not possible to have a good relationship without a few bad times.

When you have an arguement and your feelings get hurt - you work it out and move ahead. Always remember that when you have a serious cut on your hand and it heals, the scar tissue that forms after the injury is tougher than the skin before the injury. Fighting in a marriage and resolving the conflict, even if there were hurt feelings can make a marriage stronger.

Marriage isn't always pretty, with constant warm fuzzy feelings of happiness - if it were, that would be like saying babies are only always cute, cooing bundles of joy - and they aren't. Sometimes they cry and are demanding and there are always the dirty diapers, the bundle of joy thing is only a part of the equation, but you would never not have a child because he or she isn't always the perfect Gerber baby. Marriage is the same, it is the whole enchilada - not just the tortilla or the cheese, it takes all the parts to make a whole.

Why do we all strive for perfection? When you think back to all the weddings and special occaisions you've attended - while the perfect event that goes off without a hitch may be beautiful, it will probably not make a lasting impression. It is the wedding that has it's quirks; the embarrassing toast by the drunken best man, Aunt Millie taking a dive on the dance floor during the hokey pokey, someone knocking the cake over - those mishaps, while not funny at the time - it is those quirky, unplanned, sometimes unpleasant events that make something memorable for years to come. The same goes for anything else in life, the bumps and dings are the things you will look back and laugh at, or reminisce about in years to come.

Sometimes things don't alays turn out exactly the way you planned - but, like on a road trip, sometimes it's the detours and wrong turns that make the trip more interesting.

As it turns out, I was not called upon to give a speech. Later that evening I ripped up the sappy, gold glittery anniversary card I had gotten my parents, and instead gave them a thank you card for teaching me what a realistic and enduring love is all about.

Feeling Duped

       Almost a year and a half into this process, not to mention 20K in debt - and all I can say if you are thinking about college . . . DON'T DO IT! When all is said and done - the jobs I will be scrambling to get, if I am lucky - are the very same jobs I was scrambling to get BEFORE I went back to school. Jeez. The best bit of advice I ever got, was two years ago from  disillusioned, broke, unemployed recent college grad - he told me to learn a skill rather than obtaining knowledge: be fluent in another language, know how to fix cars, bake cakes, cut hair - doesn't matter what it is - just become proficient in a SKILL and you can always make a living. College degrees are useless - toilet paper would be more useful. I now totally agree.

UPDATE 10/9/11 - OK so perhaps this hormone induced rant was a bit melodramatic - since I wrote this, I took a few deep breaths and did some reflection . . . if you want to pursue a professional career: attorney, physician, CPA - OR - if you have a free ride and want to kill some time - OR - if you, for your own edification want to study medieval art - OR - if you are 18 and needing a smooth transition into the rigors of adulthood, then maybe college is for you.  MAYBE.  (taking another deep breath here) But, I do believe that for many, perhaps most folks who are looking for a livelihood, college is no longer the answer. It seems that universities, banks and governments are all in collusion in the exorbitant rises in tuition and the main focus seems to be making sure that the majority of students graduate not with a quality education, but massive student debt.
         I still do believe, even at this stage, so close to having that college diploma in my hand - the best way to provide for yourself is to capitalize on a skill  that you possess. After two years in college and 20K in debt - I think the last 24 months of my life would have been better spent fine tuning and marketing my fantastically delicious cheesecakes (Kahlua, espresso, dark chocolate cheesecake anyone?). Perhaps the greatest lesson I have learned from my college experience is that I never really needed a piece of paper and crippling debt to show that I am smart - I bought into the line that I have been force fed  'you need a college degree'. Yes, I need a degree if I plan on begging someone else for a job - if I plan on turning over my fate to someone else while they decide if and when they want to hire me - if I plan on giving up my power to control how much I earn and let a corporation dictate to me how much they think I am worth. So in the end, perhaps the best lesson taken from college is . . . learn from your mistakes.

So Last Night's Evening of Pity and Self-Loathing Wasn't a Complete Waste . . .

          I have replaced my signature drink, the ever delightful and refreshing Frescanay (for the uninitiated, that's Fresca and cheap Chardonnay served in a coffee mug) with the even more intriguing GinGin (a minibar size bottle of Tangueray mixed with diet ginger ale, served in a coffee mug) a 73 calorie potable that packs a 94 proof punch. So it was after one of these babies that I began to reflect on the evenings disasterous job fair (yes, I obsess - get over it, because I can't) I began to realize that everything in life just comes down to how you look at it. So - cloaking myself in my veil of psuedo-liberal rage, I began to see that I was not being rejected by 90 potential employers - nope - the truth of the matter is that I - fully aware and atuned to humanity - with my bullshit and injustice detectors firmly in place - I, Sunshine Flower self righteous menopausal coed was shunning them.

            I was rejecting the Cargills and General Mills who punk feed the masses Cheerios made with GMO wheat and evil diabetes inducing HoHos laden with deadly high fructose corn syrup. I was crusading against the Baxters and Eli Lillys and their greedy mind and body numbing poisons. F*&k you Enterprise Rent-A-Car with your polluting carbon foot prints and screw you PetSmart for encouraging animal servitude by selling cute little hamsters and gold fish. Forget Target and Macy's and Kohl's with their insidious profits made off the back of little 5 year old Indonesian kids toiling away in sweatshops far far away. NO thank you American Greetings with their 'Happy Mother's Day cards' - how about calling it the 'Mom I love you so much I killed a tree for you' card, yeah, doesn't quite have the same ring now does it?

           So, it was after finishing my GinGin (and glazed donut) I realized, I hadn't spent the afternoon being excluded, denied and rebuffed - Nope, I was actually saving the world, one rejection at a time. 

But They Give Lovely Parting Gifts - No one over 23 Need Apply

 If you are feeling good about yourself and think your ego needs deflating  - just go to a college job fair. I did. I wish I hadn't. I had to pick up a couple of airplane sized bottles of gin on the way home . . . more on that later.

     Got an email about a job fair at Indiana University - and if you've followed any postings of my blog, Confessions of A Middle Age Coed, then you know just how demoralising, alienating, depressing and generally shitty it can be going back to school when you are older than most of your professors. So - I spend the morning rewriting my resume, pull on some clothes other than a dirty, sweaty t-shirt and cut off sweastpant shorts with holes in the butt, ditch the flipflops, slap on some makeup and head over to Staples to make copies of my resume. I'm thinking positive, I order 30 copies on expensive real resume paper and I throw in a grownup clicky gel pen. I want blue gel ink but clicky gel pens apparently only come in black ink, because black gel ink is the grownup ink color. So, whatever - standing next to me also getting reume copies is a VERY Kappa Delta looking girl (if you know what I mean). I ask her major - it's math; beautiful and smart - she's a shoe-in for an internship or a 100K sales rep position with Eli Lilly. She asks me my major, I say African American Studies and Labor Studies - that stops her cold, "Well, that's very . . . (long and very awkward pause) specialized." My mother said about the very same thing, in nearly the same way. I feel my confidence begin to chip and fall away. I begin to doubt every decision I have ever made in my life.

     A year and a half ago I started out as a Chinese Studies major with a minor in Itallian (it made sense to me at the time) then came a switch to English and Education, followed by Criminal Justice and Portuguese only to end up with Labor Studies and African American Studies - but suddenly, one comment from a stranger and I begin to question my choices. Is this REALLY a good combo? It sounds good - but is it really? If you think about it, it's far from the academic equvalent of surf and turf, more like an educational burger with heavy pickle and a side of fries. Well screw it I think, it's senior year and too late to change now . . . although I begin to wonder if it's too late to switch to gerontology. I suck it up, literally because my pants are to small and they are painfully pressing on my jelly roll and creeping up the backside to form one heck of a wedgie. I pay for my stuff and head to the fair.

      I forgot to mention that I am walking with a rolling gait and an occaisional wince and cannot bend over or stand up straight because I threw my back out the day before.  Before I get to the fair - it gets worse - so bad that not only must my biorhythms be completely out of whack amd my Uranus be in retrograde - but I am convinced God and all the saints must hate me. I am hit with the mother of all hot flashes, my own freakin tropical heatwave, drenching me from the top of my head to my increasingly annoying wedgie, the strap on my shoe breaks, I step in dog crap and place my resumes in a pile of bird crap as I search for a quarter for the meter, and if all that isn't bad enough, on my way to the fair, I sneeze, simultaneously screaming in pain from the bad back AND slightly wet my pants  - get over it, it happens.

      I will condense what happened down to just the basics because I really really need glazed donut and a double gin and tonic.

1. Recruiters who are not interested in you will avoid eye contact - at all costs

2. Recruiters who want you to leave their table will give you parting gifts to go away. I got 2 flashlights, a bendy clock,     some stickers and a couple of beer cozys. 

3. You cannot force your resume on a recruiter who is not interested in you - I tried, it doesn't work

4. If you are over 23 and not in a blue power suit, smell like dog excrement and walk like the Quasimodo you need not apply - just forget about it - limp back to your car - eat donuts and drink gin and complain on Facebook

Got to go, the gin is getting warm.