Do the Hokey Pokey

February 11, 2014

Something's not right. As I sat in bed last night reading Peter Hessler's Oracle Bones (a long overdue read for someone who devoted so many years to studying China and the Chinese language), I was finally able to put words to the creeping feeling I've been getting for the past few months. I miss thinking. I miss thinking critically. And working in video production isn't providing this important need for me.

SM and I waded through accumulated, muddled feelings together to get down to the root causes. When I was in college, my intention was to use my skills both technical and mental, to think and do, in the world of media. I was drawn to cinematography because of the combination of technical precision and big picture grasp of art, of art and science, that was intrinsic to the work. But after it became apparent how quickly film as a medium was waning in the industry, I lost hope that the technical skill of video would measure up to that of film. Instead I turned to producing because I would be able to stimulate both sides of myself if I applied my skills to organizing and thinking through the creative process. I thought that with the right partners in the creative realm, I'd be able to both think and do.

I've always been most comfortable in a supporting role. I've never been the writer/director type; instead I've always said that I'm the one who helps translate other people's visions to reality. Additionally, I want my work to mean something to others, to help on another level by informing and educating others. It's one reason why I was attracted to documentaries and non-fiction production. Fiction film, on the other hand, seemed more selfish for me to actually take part in. Obviously I love fiction films, and I think there's a lot there to think about (hence this blog), but when taking part in a fiction production, part of me can't fully commit because I don't believe I'm contributing to society. Part of me wishes that I could be an artist who is compelled to make art and thus justify bringing in tens of people to execute my visions. The same goes for thinking about going to back to school for film theory. But that's just not me. It's an odd desire, but I wanted to help someone else help the world.

My dream job used to be working at Sesame Street. I wanted to create the content that would help kids learn and be ready for school, just as Sesame Workshop's mission states. The catch is that I wanted to create that content in every sense of the word. I wanted to be Joan Ganz Cooney and Jim Henson. But those jobs don't exist, less now than ever. Sesame Street's production is actually done by a few third party production companies, where shooting and editing content is divorced from its conception, writing, and even puppeteering. It's been a real example of the market for video for me, a telling dead end on the path toward my non-existent ideal occupation.

At this point arriving at this conclusion, that I can't really tell someone else's story or explain someone else's information without ceding some control of the full capacity of my brain power, seems like common sense. It's hard to do and think critically on behalf of someone else, especially in such a specialized and growing industry. But I guess I had my hopes up because I was looking for a place where I could put my whole self into my work.

It's interesting how each step of my career has been a test to drill down to what I'm really looking for. When I was in college, I was running on all cylinders, nurturing my mind in all aspects as I learned about film theory and history along with the technical aspects of film production. When I moved into my first full time position, I continued to feed my curiosity through the content I was working on, even while the rigor of production wasn't too demanding. It was moving away from the engaging material and leaning solely on my production skills that started me questioning whether or not this was my calling. "Okay, so it's the content I'm missing," I thought. "I need to find a place where my approach, where critical thinking, will be valued as an asset." But the catch is that more I look (and this is an experiment conducted over 8 months of unemployment and then some), the more I'm beginning to think such a place doesn't exist. Furthermore, even if I were to find a few like-minded people and start my own venture, I'm not sure our niche would even be seen as a marketable edge over the competition. It's just not what the people want.

So, forget what the people want; what do I want? I want to help people. I want to think critically and do good. I want to use my whole self.

For these and other reasons I am aching to go back to school. I want to learn something new, and then I want to apply it in a realm that needs my assistance. I have always been interested in how things work and how things can run in the most efficient and best way possible, and I have also always been interested in applying such questions to people. It's part of what I wanted to bring to cinematography, to understand how characters were thinking and to help convey that to viewers. My new path is toward understanding the human mind and helping them through therapy and counseling, as counselors have helped me. Furthermore, I hope that by going into a profession that offers more stability both in my mind and in my bank account I will also be able to better pursue my interests in video, to actually afford to buy my own camera and to go to the movies and think about film in ways that I can't while spending time hustling for rent and happiness—always doing and rarely thinking as much as I would like.

When is My Big Break?

So. It's been a while.

I've gotta say, it's been an incredibly hard year and a few months since I moved to New York, and the bubble of lowlights and foiled attempts at success I've been living in have just not been conducive to musing about anything. I've been talking with a few close friends about adulthood, and that I just don't think I'm anywhere near it. Subsistence living, running in place professionally, and being stuck in a big city full of richos has me in a near state of arrested development, and it turns out I'm not alone.

At first I thought this was because of a lack of (trust) funds, especially in the form of my parents' help, but I have plenty of other friends who are fortunate enough to come from certain means but have found themselves in a similar emotional position. Then I thought it was just this damn city. And yeah, that is definitely part of it—the rent is too damn high, especially compared to my midwestern roots and life in Chicago only 18 months ago, and I do strongly feel like I'm bleeding money every time I leave my apartment. But that's not all of it.

In short, I think my despair, and that of some of my friends, is rooted in the fact that our cohort has been profoundly screwed over. Most especially the class of 2008, my class, who graduated the very same summer that the financial world was seemingly collapsing around us, has fallen into a sort of holding pattern from which it feels like we'll never recover. You'll notice I'm using a lot of qualifiers and subjective language, and it is on these conditionals that hinge the bulk of my fears. I am more than willing to allow that one's twenties are supposed to be hard, that these will be the hardest parts of our lives, that we're really "figuring out who we really are." But at this point, I'm 27, and I'm over it. I've learned my lesson; I've done my soul-searching. Where is the reward for all the nail-biting and tears and handwringing over missed bills and rising credit card debt and dignity lost in borrowing money from family yet again? I'm happy to look beyond this to the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, but for some of us there is a real fear that it will never materialize.

All those months of economic uncertainty and hiring freezes represent a lot of lost time for the class of 2008 (and fine, 2009 too), and at times I don't see how we can recover. By the time companies slowly started hiring again, there were at least three classes of newly-graduated job seekers, meaning three times as much competition and a third as many excuses for lack of relevant experience. Sure, many individual hiring managers out there might understand that there was nothing we could have done besides take irrelevant jobs to make ends meet, leave the country, or rack up more debt going to school. But on the whole, we just don't look as good on paper. Even when I have made strides in my own professional career, I find myself plagued by an incredible case of impostor syndrome, and I'm constantly underselling myself.

More than five years after all of this, most of my friends have fortunately either found work or graduated from their programs, but there is a profound dissatisfaction or anxiety that I've been picking up from them and feeling myself stemming from officially reaching our late twenties. I'm 27 and will be 28 next month, but while my 30+ year old friends are buying houses, getting married, or even having kids (and some well-faring friends my age are admittedly doing the same), many of my friends from my graduating class are nowhere near that stage in their lives even if they want to be. How can I even think about raising a kid when I can't make rent? How would I fund a wedding when I can't find a steady job? Meanwhile, some of my younger friends have been struggling for what seems like the acceptable amount before landing their jobs and getting on with their lives and enjoying their early-mid twenties. The bigger things are easier to focus on when the smaller matters are taken care of, and vice versa.

I find myself most anxious that the anxiety will never end. I remember being an (albeit hyper-self-aware) angsty teenager and looking forward to being in my 20s when all these feelings and high school drama would finally subside. I want to look ahead to being 30 and knowing more than what I do now, chiefly that things will, on the whole, turn out alright. One thing I have figured out in my 20s is that there will always be problems. I will always find something to hate about my job, there will always be "first world problems." But the peace of mind that can come with a steady paycheck and food on the table is one that I hope will not be lost on me when I finally make it out of this.

In Limbo

It's been a while since I've posted, but I've had good reason and several unfinished drafts to show for it.

SM sent in his applications for graduate schools of journalism back in December, and time has been indiscriminately rushing by ever since. Of course, he was accepted into all four schools to which he applied — Medill at Northwestern, NYU, Berkeley, and Columbia University. By March, he had whittled the list down to the two best, Berkeley and Columbia, and we headed west to check out Cal on March 17.

It was both our first real vacation together, and our first times in California. For me, it was my first time west of Mandan, ND. I had a blast. Check out my iPhone pictures. One thing that stood out to me, though, was just the feeling of isolation; it was palpable. I felt that moving to California would be a conscious choice to leave my friends, family, and connections to a certain life that was buzzing about on the east side of the country. They are on a different frequency there that felt good just as much as it felt somehow selfish. Anyway, by SM's second day of admitted student activities, I was having a bit of a panic attack about being so disconnected. My pictures of California, I told him, were full of beautiful places; my pictures of New York were filled with my friends.

In the end, SM settled on New York, but necessarily on his own terms. In mid-April, we visited NYC for the Columbia admitted students weekend, and by the second day he was sold by the prestige, the challenge, and the job opportunities afforded by Columbia's Graduate School of Journalism.

And so on July 2, we shipped our things and left Chicago on a train. And I've been in limbo ever since.

I definitely feel less isolated than I think I would had we moved to Berkeley, but at this point, 8 days after leaving SM's childhood room in Goshen and moving into our new place on 30th and 9th, and 17 days after pulling out of Union station, I still feel like my feet have yet to touch the ground. I don't like it. It's not as much that I miss Chicago — I do miss certain parts, certain people — as much as I haven't fully grounded myself here in New York. And I'm not exactly worried as I am impatient; I want this feeling of detachment to be over. It makes me sad.

I wonder if I felt this way in college, when I first moved to Chicago. It's the only other time in my life when I've made the leap into such new territory. Maybe not, though, because I thought I knew Chicago, and of course I didn't, but I thought I did. It's strange. It will probably just take some time and some walking around and some feeling that I know this new place. It will probably also take some more detachment from Chicago: a new job would probably go a long way, for example.

I'll let you know how this turns out.

Stasis

Shuffle this evening: Ryan Adams - This House Is Not For Sale Sufjan Stevens - Holland The Magnetic Fields - Meaningless Snoop Dogg - Beautiful Battles - Snare Hanger There is a point at which one's music library ceases to collect and hardens into a time capsule. I'm beginning to think now is that time.

An Honest Request

Hey friends,

Please call me on my bullshit. Do not allow me to wallow in ignorance and arrogance. For ignorance is one of my greatest fears, and its combination with arrogance is unthinkably sickening.

<3,
Tiffany

Inward Observations: Part 2 of ∞

Maybe I'm just drawing false connections, but sometimes it seems as if there are these clusters of meaning or themes that coalesce into something that begs to be divined. The tea leaves are spelling something out, and while I don't know why exactly, it seems foolish to pass them by without pondering them for a bit.

This time, I think the key term here is "mission statement," or some approximation of it. For one thing, tomorrow we're going to start working on defining our office's mission at work during a group retreat (part two, actually). For another thing, I sat down for crepes and chai with my friend MS for a couple of hours yesterday, and among other topics we talked about how she is sure to make a list of things that are true about herself, so that whenever she's not so sure or she's in danger of losing herself, she can look back at that list and gain a little more confidence and a firmer grasp on who she wants to be. We both talked about what our lists look like. I've never been one for seeking out inspiration in anything but a modest way, but I did find it interesting that, while I'd focused more on what I want out of a job, her statements had a lot more to do with herself without the job, without other people, and with little to do with time or place. It was as if she stripped everything away and then added the essentials back in. My job has definitely helped me define a lot of what I want, but I guess it's not the whole picture. It's about what's important to me.

So let's see here (I had some help from SM)...
- I think I'd rather be doing good than promoting good. And I don't mean that in a halo-earning sense, but rather in an actually-benefiting-someone sense. Even that is pretty broad, though, and I interpret that benefit pretty loosely, albeit as directly as possible.
- Authenticity is important to me, and thus try to put myself in as few inauthentic moments as possible. This leads to really enjoying time with people I actually like, and trying to minimize time with most other people. I don't want to spend time lying to myself or others; it's draining and pointless.
- My friends are very important to me. It's a given that I will always do what I can to be there for them, whether it's showing up at their events or listening to them.
- I will pretty much do anything for my family. I will always do what I can to support them.
- Learning means a lot to me. I like being informed, but I also like the act of learning. I also like learning about others learning and helping others learn in the best ways for them.
- I'm no fun sometimes because I take life too seriously, but that's okay. I think someone has to take life seriously because otherwise we wouldn't accomplish anything.
- I like understanding how things work and using that knowledge to get things done and make things work better. Practical application is fascinating (and necessary).
- Being resourceful and exploring the best way to do something means a lot to me. Taking the initiative to look for the best method is commendable and also efficient in the end.

I think that's a start. I'm not very happy with the list, actually, because it seems so narcissistic, but I think the concept is sound and certainly helpful if you ever feel so buried or disconnected from yourself. Do you think I'm missing anything from my list? What would you have on your list?

Speaking of getting older...

The older I get, the more I find myself fulfilling my destiny to become the kind of person who writes formal complaints. I've written one to Amtrak, and I had a mind to write one to the CTA about a certain route before a few bus drivers got a clue. As AL brought to my attention, though, I'm "sending them to the wrong sources in those examples since those are gov't run to varying degrees." Alas. Maybe once we move out of here I'll mellow out a bit. Until then, though, the sentiment is definitely there. Watch out. You've been warned. I know how things are supposed to be run, dammit! I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it anymore! Hey, at least I'm moderately liberal.

Another Year, Another Imminent Thanksgiving

This weekend I went to two different birthday parties where two of my friends were turning 27. You know what's weird? I remember my mom's 27th birthday party. I was 5.

My parents got married at 21 and 20 years old. They're not terrible people by any means (well...), but there are some things that don't need repeating, so in some respects I want to take their model and set it on its head. When I turned 21, I said to my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get married. Should be pretty simple. It was. Check. My mom had me when she was 22. Out of the question. On my 22nd birthday, I told my friends, alright, all I have to do is not get preggers. A little bit riskier, a tad harder than last year's goal, but certainly doable. I passed with flying colors. With those two hurdles cleared, each subsequent birthday diverges more and more from the model. In a month I turn 25. I was 3 years old, reading, and almost off to preschool by this point in my mom's life. At 25, my mom had 2 kids and was on her way to the third, so as long as I don't have twins or triplets in the next year, I'll be golden.

But seriously, though, I'm getting to an age where I not only existed but actually remember existing when my parents were at the very same point. So many things are becoming clearer, so many of their choices demystified, so much of our financial woes justified. As much as I joke about not wanting to follow in my parents' footsteps, I have to give them mad kudos for raising me and my siblings, maintaining a home for us, sending us to private schools, etc. I certainly couldn't have done it. Imagining me sending a kid off to school every morning in the next year of my life seems beyond belief.

When I was younger, I always wanted to be the young mom who had a lot of energy for her kids and was still very much in touch with her younger years, like my mom was for me. As I grew older I realized how ridiculous that was, how different my circumstances had to be, and how insane it was for my parents to have found each other ready and willing to go forward with such a life, fully believing that they would succeed. (Together they lovingly dreamed of having 10 kids! WTF. Imagining having a similar conversation with SM is laughable on many levels.) And succeed they did (for the most part). They raised 6 great, smart, mostly obedient kids with very little money, many hard times, but always high expectations. They both had guts and determination and instinct that I will be lucky to ever possess. As Thanksgiving approaches, I am so grateful that they did so well for all of us. And I'm grateful I don't have kids.

The Audacity of Certainty

Since I was pretty young, I've had a real affinity for Jewish religion and culture. One of my very first friends from preschool on up is Jewish (now living in Israel, actually), and since then I've had the privilege of participating in various Jewish traditions with her and her family. From Chanukah to Passover to Rosh Hashanah to Shabbat dinner with her Bubby and Zaideh, those times had a huge impact on me, and I enjoyed every minute. On top of that exposure, I went to an Episcopalian school whose amazing religion program made ample room for learning about both Judaism and Islam. There weren't any outspoken Muslims in my school while I was there, but the Jews in my class (my friend JK included) actively bolstered the curriculum with input about their knowledge and experiences. Additionally, my parents (mom especially) were the kind of Christians who embraced Jesus as a Jew, never failing to remind me that the Last Supper was a Seder, and fully acknowledged the overlap between the two religions. I never understood how any Christian could hate (anyone, especially) Jews.

Back in high school and early college, I was thinking somewhat seriously about converting to Judaism. My mom wasn't very happy about it, not at all because of any feelings about the religion itself (see above), but because doing so would full-on negate everything raising me (pretty hardcore) Christian was all about: at the very core, either you believe the Savior's come already, or you don't. For me, it's never been that simple. Forget all of that hogwash about who killed whom; it really means nothing to me, and it makes no sense to hold an entire people accountable for something that supposedly would already have been planned for by an omniscient God-figure, right? Among many other things. But I guess at this point, I have to concede that my attraction is a lot more cultural than religious. I personally have no problem making a sort of land bridge of logic between the two religions in my mind, but the actual particulars and holes waiting to be poked in my own convictions is a lot harder articulated than believed, not to mention I don't even have a hard and fast religious take on anything. I have no answers. And maybe that's what's attractive to me about it after all: (not to go totally overboard with this, but I am a cinephile and a Coen Bros fan...) in A Serious Man, the Coen Brothers attempt to sum up the faith this way:

Larry Gopnik: I don't want it to just go away! I want an answer!
Rabbi Nachtner: Sure! We all want the answer! But Hashem doesn't owe us the answer, Larry. Hashem doesn't owe us anything. The obligation runs the other way.
Larry Gopnik: Why does he make us feel the questions if he's not gonna give us any answers?
Rabbi Nachtner: He hasn't told me.

Perhaps this is why the Catholic funeral I attended just a few days after discussing this with SR was so disturbing to me. Even in talking things out with her then, I noted one thing I hate about organized religion: "I just wish religious people would stop the whole right/wrong thing, though," I said. "They put stakes on your soul which doesn't seem fair. But to some people, that's the whole point." While questioning everything (without necessarily finding all the answers, while at the same time placing meaning on things we do know) is a core part of who I strive to be and something I see in Judaism, Catholicism struck me as the exact opposite.

I'd heard about Catholic guilt, but I hadn't really been in the same room with it during my last and only Mass experience about 7 years ago, Christmas. This time, the air was ripe with it. I don't want to get into details about the heart-wrenching service, but I was angered by the opportunities that were taken by the Church to further their agenda. Mrs. L. had lived in New York for over 20 years, so the staff at the church didn't know her. The priest and his helpers (whom we met at the wake the night before) were just so impersonal, reading from binders without looking up, and calling her a "woman of God." I didn't know her, and I don't want to take anything from her, but they didn't know anything about her, how she lived her life, or if she'd even been to Mass in the last 10 years. They proceeded to talk about how those who are saved will be consoled, phrasing it as an ultimatum, a trade of a soul for relief from grief. The service felt so routinized and cold, and I couldn't relate sitting and standing periodically to consoling my friends.

Maybe a Jewish funeral feels the same way, but it was striking how much my feelings on religion in general had swung the opposite way in a matter of three days. Part of what I'd liked so much about my Jewish experiences growing up was their strong associations with family. I see it in the traditions, I see it in my memories, I see it in my friends. In such a crucial time for someone and something to lean on, I didn't see Catholicism doing any of that. Instead, it just felt like they co-opted the situation for the propagation of their own ideas. It's the very sentiment that's pushed me away from the protestant upbringing in which I was raised. So many of my friends are atheist or agnostic, and over the years I've gradually kept my own beliefs to myself. In reality, I don't think it will ever be an option for me to believe that there is no God, but I respect others' desire to do so. In keeping to myself, I've had a growing feeling that religion and spirituality is only what you know and feel it to be, and I don't spend much time trying to explain myself anymore. Coupled with my University of Chicago education, the only thing I'm sure of is that I don't know anything. The most impressive nature to me is one of questioning and humility, and I want that in my faith too. To barter souls for peace of mind assumes one holds the key, that they know, that they are confident and sure, that they are done searching. I don't think I can stand for that.

The New 'Hood

It's high time for a post about our new apartment. On or around July 1, SM and I moved into a new apartment in Chicago's North Center neighborhood. It's pretty awesome. The surrounding area is quiet, but has a bunch of cool restaurants and bars and cultural activities. We're pretty much just as far west as we were before, but we are 12 big blocks north. Also, we're now a 5 minute walk from the Brown Line at Irving Park, which is a huge improvement from the 20 minute walk we had before. I don't mind walking of course--the nice walks around the neighborhood was one of the things that attracted us to this spot--but when it comes to getting to work in a timely fashion, a 5 minute walk can make all the difference.

I've explained it this way: at our old place, if I was ready to leave the house 8am, my choices were to wait for the bus and get to the train station (to wait however long for a train) in 5 minutes or walk to the train station in 20 minutes. If I use CTA Bus Tracker to discover that there's a bus in 10 minutes, it saves me 5 minutes, but I'm still starting my commute at 8:10 instead of 8am. These days, I can leave whenever I want, and 5 minutes later, I'm at the train station on my own two feet, and there's usually a train (and a seat!) about every 5 minutes during rush hour. I'm getting to work consistently in an hour or a little less, instead of an hour one day, an hour and 10, 20 minutes the next.

If I'm going some place other than work, the CTA options are still plentiful. There's the Brown Line to the loop (or the Brown Line to the Red Line to 95th), the Ashland bus south but staying west, the Lincoln bus to the west of us going southeast, the Clark bus to the east of us going southeast, the Damen bus to the west of us running north and south, and the Irving Park bus down the block going east and west. Each of these options is within a 10 minute walk from our door. It's transit heaven!

Inside the apartment, it's absolutely beautiful. The building was built in 1931, and it's all brick on the outside, old wood on the inside (dark wood door with glass panes in the dining room, old style windows). It's large, with a sizable living room and bedroom, 2 closets, a hall way, a bathroom, a linen closet, and a kitchen with a separate dining room area. There are lots of built in cabinets and, as I've implied, tons of storage place, which was something we were adamant about on our search. There is also a dishwasher and a microwave above the stove. There is free radiator heat, which is pretty cool, because that's how I grew up. It's very much a practical and awesome place.

Another thing I like about our apartment is just the new perks of living alone. Alright, so I'm living with S, but he's no roommate or anything. We even have similar cleanliness and organizational habits and design desires, so most roommate differences don't even count. Anyway, there's so much you can do when you live alone. All the space is yours. All the food is yours. You don't have to move anything you don't want to. The TV is always yours. The living room is always yours. You can go into another room whenever you want. If so inclined, you can do any business you want in the bathroom with the door open.

But my #1, most favorite perk of living alone is that you can wear as little as you want at all times. (Gross Out Alert) You can walk around completely naked. It is in my top 3 most liberated feelings. One of the first things I do when I get home from work is take off my pants. It's awesome. And some days, you just need to strip down. It's your right; it's your place. If you don't already, I highly suggest getting your own place for that reason alone.

As my good friend OBM once said, "nudity and happiness go hand in hand in living in one's own place." If you don't like where you live or you're feeling down in a rut, I recommend shedding some of that clothing and taking a tour in your birthday suit. Go ahead. DO it. Take a deep breath and feel renewed. There's really nothing like it.

Inward Observations: part 1 of ∞

1. I think I need a career that can offer lots of independence. I like setting goals for myself that are tied to larger, more life-affirming, and practical aspects of life (i.e. education, conflict resolution, health, etc.), as opposed to being obliged to adhere to goals set for me that are tied to smaller, subjective, shorter-term initiatives.

2. The things I like best about my current job are the editing and the shooting, when I can fully immerse myself in the creation of a solid product. I don't particularly like troubling myself with the distribution or the client desires, but when I do, I am often disappointed with the relatively small sphere of influence, short term goals, and/or enthusiasm over what I see as proportionately small events/meaning.

3. I like working with something hands-on, and I learn better by doing.

4. I'm really bad at being fake, and I hate having to be fake. Fake smiles, fake interest, and fake enthusiasm tire me out. Relatedly, impressing anyone besides those I care about is never high on my list.

5. My hopes for something are almost always trumped by possible realities. I'll get really excited about something if the logistics are there to support its potential.

6. More than approval or praise, I want feedback.

7. I like when questions have a purpose, for example to come closer to a conclusion, when someone truly cares, or when the information will be used for something.

8. Inefficient systems and unnecessary elements irk me.

9. The test to pass is whether or not the issues one talks about in a meeting have any implications outside of that particular closed community. Immigration? Yes. The history of film? Yes. An upcoming community event? Doesn't excite me.

Given all of this, what is the best career for me?

Snowballs

Do you ever have those experiences in which you have an idea you attempt to fill out in your head, but then a series of experiences causes the idea to grow into, not one, fleshed out idea, but several related ideas?

In high school, MCS and I would preface many of our latest thoughts and discoveries with a quick rundown of the train of thought that led to the epiphany. Here's mine: first I was fleshing out a post centered around these articles and my personal experiences and reactions to them as a black female, but then I started relating those thoughts to the book I'm currently reading, Sellout: The Politics of Racial Betrayal. After that, I was talking to KAC about the book as well as what another meaning sellout could be nowadays, especially since sometimes the most visible black people are those making a "bad name" for us and perpetuating terrible stereotypes that even our friends are guilty of believing we are only an exception to, as opposed to members of a heterogeneous race with many different types of people (see: "Kids 'Make it Rain' on Mom"). And then it all came back home with a stressful situation at work that I won't go into. All of this in a matter of about 2 weeks.

I don't even know where to go from here, especially since the work situation continues to stress me out and make me want to cry (as I did yesterday, alone in my office).

I can only conclude this: Race is a very complicated issue that has not yet gone away. I wonder, though, how much will things have changed by the time our generation are the ones running the world? How much of current attitudes (in multiracial communities) reflect the tension between the older generations -- so close to the Civil Rights Movement and its aftermath -- and the younger? I am pretty confident that while our generation is not by any means completely "post-racial," the playing field has and will continue to change along those lines. (That is not to say, however, that something bigger, like huge class-related problems, is on the horizon.) The question is, what effect have all of those multiracial TGIF shows and textbooks had on the growing adults of America? How much will be changed once we rule the world?

Say Shhh...

SM and I went back to Minneapolis for my brother's high school graduation last Saturday through Tuesday. After this weekend being so long what with work all day Saturday and everything, it seems like it was already so long ago, but I figure it's not too late to officially attempt to set down in writing a few reasons why I think Minneapolis is the greatest and a few other thoughts I have about the town.

I love the scale of Minneapolis. It's a lot smaller than Chicago, but it's still packed with a lot to do. Sometimes, I feel like a giant among the buildings downtown, but it's a lot more manageable, and its features feel functional and efficient, nothing more or nothing less than is needed. The layout is clean and clear. Also, skyways are amazing.

Public transit has gotten a lot better, and the plans for the newest leg of the Light Rail are in the works. One of the things I truly appreciate is something that evolves organically, and I think that MetroTransit under R.T. Rybak's guidance has done just that for the public transportation of Minneapolis. Instead of sprawling until it's too late to put together a working system, the city has taken the time to figure out what it needs and really promote it from a heartfelt place. The Light Rail is a prime example, as is the fact that downtown they already have the upcoming buses on display at bus stop kiosks, something Chicago has only recently caught on to. Also, speaking of transit, the bike system is amazing. This year it's been officially named the most bike friendly city, but it's been in the top tier in past years as well.

It's a great blend of city and nature. I never went crazy being in the city for long stretches because I could drive for less than 40 minutes and hit farmland or large estates. Even before that, there are just trees everywhere, in all neighborhoods, and the plethora of lakes creates mini oases out of many areas of the city without locking people in to super-defined neighborhoods. This is something I really treasure, because, while Chicago prides itself on its neighborhoods with distinct personalities, unique patches within the larger quilt, I am constantly frustrated with just how true that is. Unless one makes the effort to look at that larger framework, one can easily get caught up with the intricate patterns of one's own square. There are so many native Chicagoans (friends and family included) who don't know anything outside of their own neighborhoods. The neighborhoods are set up to be self-sufficient and can be quite isolating unless one's goal is to delve into a new place for the sake of seeing how it fits into the rest of the city. Unfortunately, that means the people who get the most out of this quilted metropolis are the outsiders who care to look.

One more thing I really love about Minneapolis is that it's free to live outside of the shadow of other cities. While Chicago is too busy going blow for blow with New York, there's enough Minnesota/Minneapolis confidence in creating its own thing. Who cares about New York vs. Chicago style pizza? Both are good, so don't waste time with imitations: just make a good pizza and forget the label. We don't need to stack ourselves up against other places when it comes to the arts either. Sure, we know that New York is a big place with big museums and theaters, but we've got our own theaters and museums and a deeply rooted appreciation of the arts that has garnered national attention without an unnecessary complex.

I could go on and on about the smaller and more personal reasons I love Minneapolis (it would probably be a list of names and places), but that would just be gushing, and it would be beside my point of pointing out Minneapolis's strength as a city. To temper the high opinion you all know I have for my hometown, I must throw in a caveat. I don't know much at all about the nightlife. I've enjoyed it, but I don't know it well enough to put forth my two cents on the subject. Unfortunately, I left Minneapolis just as I was able to take advantage of a very important facet of city life.

Whenever I go back, I get really excited, and then I realize I don't have anything to suggest to my friends when we want to hang out. Places I'd even vaguely heard of have turned out to have d-bag clientele or no longer fit who I am today. I feel powerless in that kind of situation, completely dependent upon the handful of my closer friends in the area who have stuck around to make their adult lives there. I would really like to be able to spend enough time there to make my own social decisions about the place. I'm sure it's always hard to go back to any hometown under those circumstances, when you've built your life in another place and grown into another person while being there, but I think it's especially hard, when one has such a glowing review otherwise, to be in the dark about a sizable facet of what life is for one now. Hopefully one day that will change, though. In the meantime, the places my friends have discovered and shown me have been right on target, and I look forward to the next time I get to visit my hometown, my territory, my state.