He is taking a course on Marxist ideology.
He says, “The only real solution is to smash the system and start again.”
His thumb is caressing the most bourgeois copy of the communist manifesto that I have ever seen,
He bought it at Barnes and Noble for twenty-nine U.S. American dollars and ninety-nine cents,
Its hard cover shows a dark man with a scarved face
Waving a gigantic red flag against a fictional smoky background.
The matte finish is fucking gorgeous.
He wants to be congratulated for paying Harvard sixty thousand dollars
To teach him that the system is unfair.
He pulls his iPhone from his imported Marino wool jacket, and leaves.
What people can’t possibly tell from the footage on TV
Is that the water cannon feels like getting whipped with a burning switch.
Where I come from, they fill it with sewer water and hope that they get you in the face with your mouth open
So that the hepatitis will keep you in bed for the next protest.
What you can’t tell from Harvard square,
Is that when the tear gas bursts from nowhere to everywhere all at once,
It scrapes your insides like barbed wire, sawing at your lungs.
Tear gas is such a benign term for it,
If you have never breathed it in you would think it was a nostalgic experience.
What you can’t learn at Barnes and Noble,
Is that when they rush you, survival is to run,
I am never as fast as when the police are chasing me.
I know what happens to women in the holding cells down there and yet…
We still do it.
I inherited my communist manifesto,
It has no cover—
Because my mother ripped it off when she hid it in the dust jacket of “Don Quixote”
The day before the soldiers destroyed her apartment,
Looking for subversive propaganda.
She burned the cover, could not bring herself to burn the pages,
Hoped to God the soldiers couldn’t read,
They never found it.
So she was not killed for it, but her body bore the scars of the torture chamber,
For wanting her children to have a better life than she did,
Don’t talk to me about revolution.
I know what the price of smashing the system really is, my people already tried that.
The price of uprise is paid in blood,
And not Harvard blood.
The blood that ran through the streets of Santiago,
The blood thrown alive from Argentine helicopters into the Atlantic.
It is easy to say “revolution” from the comfort of a New England library.
It is easy to offer flesh to the cause,
When it is not yours to give.
Forget the Myers-Briggs fucking personality assessment. I am dead tired of hearing if someone is an INFP or an ESLQ or whatever. I want to know if someone is melancholic or choleric. Bring back the four humors. I wanna see “Kaley, 16, phlegmatic” when I go to someone’s blog. Who is with me. Lets make this happen
here's a test i found. go wild, y'all. (im choleric.)
“I am somehow less interested in the weight and convolutions of Einstein’s brain than in the near certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweatshops.”—Stephen Jay Gould
Challenging any book to be more depressing than "Social Problems" by Eitzen/Zinn/Smith. I feel like Lawrence Lessig is going to materialize in front of me at some point and introduce himself as my conscience.
i need ferguson to go down in history books. i need school children in the year 2074 to learn about michael brown being shot on august 9th, 2014 by officer darren wilson. i need this to spark a movement. this can not lose the focus of society a mere month after it happened.
“Dang it, Jim. I’m an astronomer, not a doctor! I mean, I am a doctor, but I’m not that kind of doctor. I have a doctorate, it’s not the same thing. You can’t help people with a doctorate. You just sit there and you’re useless!”—Delbert Doppler
“Public libraries serve 297.6 million people throughout the United States; that’s equivalent to 96.4 percent of the total U.S. population.”—For libraries, 2013 was a very good year by Georgia Mergler (via karenhealey)
/same anon I really wanted to talk to you for YEARS but /shy My mother language is not english so excuse my grammar end everything. You helped me so many times with your words. Thank you again. N.
Good morning (assuming it’s morning?)! Thanks for saying hello, brave soul! I’m not sure if you had a previous message — it seems like it — but could you send it again? Regardless, I’m so glad to hear from you. :) I don’t really have a proper grasp of English myself, we can just be exuberant and zesty (one of my students learned that word yesterday) in our expressions together!
Speaking of words, I’ve taken to writing down every word I don’t know the definition to in some of the readings I have to do, and it ends up being a pages-long list, which I then have to go back and look up, and I still forgot after encountering them again! English is really not intuitive. But it’s also quite fun, I think, to drop some fancy “concomitant” or “polemical”s in a sentence and feel, idk, the grown-up version of intellect. :D
I didn't get my paper written last night. It's not DUE, but I'm still pissed off about it. So I made the reason why into an anecdote for a lecture I have to do.
“So in talking about privilege, I have a pretty good example that demonstrates what having privilege means, and the thing about privilege is that it takes place, or makes itself known, or is already immersed in ordinary, seemingly innocuous situations. I’m on social media, and you know how social media lends itself to a lot of snarky quips, and ironic observations, and things like that. So I saw a post that was reposted by one of my friends, so someone I didn’t know, who was basically like, I don’t trust white people, they only care about other white people and animals. And I thought it was hilarious because hahah, that’s not true, I know so many white people who care about things other than animals, this is just a joke, great. A little while later I was having a study session with a couple of my friends — and I have to be careful here because we have a professor from the animal science department present, but hopefully telling what actually happened isn’t going to be a problem — a couple of my friends, both white, both, shall we say, really into animals — which, it’s wonderful! It’s wonderful to care about things. But we weren’t even talking about animals at first, we were talking about how horrible human beings were. I was pissed off because earlier that day I saw someone blatantly litter, and wondering why it’s so hard to take two steps and throw your trash into a garbage can — and I ended it with, human beings are horrible. And maybe that’s very species-ist, maybe like, giraffes and pine trees can be horrible in their own fashion. But we’re talking about human beings. And then we were talking about how human beings shoot cats for fun in some rural communities or something. Like, five, ten minutes of this. And then, warming up to the theme, I was like, yeah, and how about Ferguson. And then the conversation stopped. Like, literally a ten second, uncomfortable pause. And then it went back to dogfighting.
And I was kinda astounded because I was like, holy shit, that anonymous online person was right!
Now, that’s not entirely “the truth,” because I’m sure, if forced to, my friends could provide some comments on Ferguson. But in the context of a casual study session, it’s not something they’re forced to talk about, and it might even make them uncomfortable, because they don’t know how to talk about it, and therefore they don’t. And that’s privilege. When an event like Ferguson happens, something at least in the same magnitude as shooting cats in the countryside, yet you don’t have to talk acknowledge it if you’re discomforted or uninterested, that’s privilege.
And the thing that kills me too, kinda really kills me, is this: when I was working at Sojourner Truth Academy, 90% of my students were black, and we’d shower them with well-intentioned positive encouragement, it’s that weird contradiction, that thing that feels like a lie but is also desperately needed — and whenever I’d be like, so what do you want to be when you grow up, they’d answer, a vet. Because they love dogs and cats too! But the likelihood of my students actually being able to become a licensed, or official veterinarian, while always, always possible — the likelihood is, the stats say it’s slim. It’s not the same as the people who have the privilege to address transgressions against animals with a little more time and thought than they do with those against human beings. Just an interesting thing to think about, in my opinion.”
Genuinely so mad — and lied. The conversation was more like, TWO AND A HALF hours. I got nothing done.
Rules: Just insert your answers to the questions below. Tag at least 10 followers. Tagged by rosycheeked.
Nickname: ”That was ‘avoid’ duplication, not ‘voice’ duplication.”
Birthday: The two numbers that make up the date are the lowest and highest single-digit positive integers put in successive order. Take the difference of the two numbers that make up the date to get my birth month.
Gender: Space explorer.
Sexuality: I mean, ideal types are currently all dudes (brownish, more hair than not), the people I usually scope out and then look hurriedly away from are currently dudes! but anything can happen. Not straight. Not gay. Dismissive about binaries. Mostly if we can hang silently/independently and then agree on shared Ethiopian takeout and COFFEE AFTER DINNER and a sweet with the coffee and dirty dishes not overnighting the kitchen sink, then I dig it/you.
Height: Scientifically it’s like, 4’11.999999” but the general impression is more like 2 inches. Like a child. Like Thumbelina.
Time Zone: New York/Boston/Miami/etc.
What time and date is it there: September 8, 1:20 PM.
Average hours of sleep I get each night: Probably around 6.25 hours.
OTPs: Ron/Hermione I will fight you. And in that same vein, Harry/Luna because come the fuck on. Irrelevant but still impressionable: 2x5, everyone Weiss Kreuz, DxK, Hanchul, Onho. Literary is like, everyone Austen, oh my god David Copperfield and Agnes! All the defiant ladies and awestruck men. The heroes misaligned with time, the wild card secondary anomalies. Ginny and Smitty. WILL AND LYRA. Bran and Will. So many Wills. Tumblr manifests into Sterek kinda, Stucky full on.
The last thing I Googled was: ”Demography journal.”
My most used phrase(s): Usually a justification of why I’m about to say something before I say it. “I mean, whatever.” :) :\ “Sorry.” “Awesome!” Thanks/best/sincerely.
First word that comes to mind: Efficacy.
What I last said to a family member: ”Love you too.”
One place that makes me happy & why: So my recent life can be split into two time periods, Before X, and After X. Before X (i.e. the relationship was ongoing), this would be Washington state, the drive south to Mt. St. Helens, the stupid hike next to the sheer cliff, and when we reached the summit we bumped into another pair of college friends, except they assumed we were together and asked where we were from, like lump sum, and I in my total ignorance answered, “He’s visiting from Chicago, I’m working here.” Went to Portland, split a couple pizzas, didn’t get back to Oly until two in the morning. Slept for like TWENTY MINUTES, then took a shower and booked it north to Port Townsend for a day trip to see the orcas and make landing at Friday Harbor. That night, camped in the Olympics; the next day, Mt. Rose hike, Sounders game and Pike Place. Intense in more ways than one. But it was so much fun, and it’s great/sad I can isolate it at this point; it existed, it was good, moving on—
After X is the last time my parents and I were in Chicago and I wasn’t nostalgic, but tired, rubbed raw from the anticipatory academic reading, and we picked up my sister from her fancy downtown office building and headed to Chinatown, crowded into a booth for a late dinner, sipped our teas and talked shit about each other. The Twin Cities makes me happy; everyone I love is there!
How many blankets I sleep under: How do you make your bed if you have more than one blanket? ONE.
Favorite Beverage: Okay the best beverage is the hot one, emits steam, after denying that you’re actually freezing for about 22 minutes and then you take a sip and it’s like soul revival.
The last movie I watched in the cinema: Michael Bay’s masterpiece Transformers the fourth.
Three things I can’t live without: Glasses because I would die otherwise, underwear, nail clipper because long nails are the grossest/pet peeve.
Something I plan on learning: Speed reading without the side of guilt.
A piece of advice for all my followers: ”It depends on the situation.” That said, if the universe is fighting you tooth and nail, like you wanted to make it to Krogers by eight for a goddamn eggplant or whatever, but your meeting ran late and then a train happened and then your phone dropped behind your seat and you missed the turn and when you finally made it to Krogers the produce box is empty, just let it go. Don’t drive all the way across town to Target to check their baskets, go home and wash your face and flop on the couch for ten minutes and just stare into space. Like, pick your battles NOT because you can’t fight the fight, duh you are superb and capable, of course you can locate an eggplant in near vicinity, but your time and energy are valuable and you should direct them towards more pleasant things. This is not a “should have” or a mistake. You are still perfect.
You all have to listen to this song: Giga puddi by giga puddi
“You have to decide what your highest priorities are and have the courage—pleasantly, smilingly, nonapologetically, to say “no” to other things. And the way you do that is by having a bigger “yes” burning inside. The enemy of the “best” is often the “good.””—Stephen R. Covey