I grew up in Central Texas but I never really appreciated the sunsets here until recently. I love sunsets...nothing says "God exists" like an incredibly colorful soon to be evening sky lit up with more colors than I could percieve to exist. Celestial artwork so unapprochable and incredible that nothing created by man can match its beauty. The last few sunsets have been especially amazing. Yesterday I was driving though the plain landscape of Temple along a long and straght boulevard and had to pull over at a disc golf park to fully admire what was to be one of the greatest sunsets that I have ever seen, anywhere. I stood, sat, and snapped pictures for a good half hour, the entire time trying to convince myself that what I was seeing was real. It was amazing. In a few days I'll post a picture or two.
The landscape in Temple and most of Bell County may be plain and boring, but the sky here does all that it can to make up for it at sunset. The average beauty of the sunsets here far outshines anywhere else that I have ever lived or spent more than a couple of days at. I'm looking forward to returning to San Marcos this weekend...I like the landscape there much more than here...but I will miss the sunsets. It's hard to explain it I guess to someone who hasn't spent a lot of time here but for at least 20 or 30 minutes on a given day it is one of the most beautiful places on Earth.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
A Few Things That I Hat...er...Sort of Dislike About Temple
I'm not a naturalist by any strech but I am starting to think that there are certian limiting effects that certian environments, such as my hometown of Temple, can have on the people who know nothing but that environment.
Of course, I do "like" my hometown ("hometown in this case is a general reference to the Temple/Killeen/Bell County Area in which I spent almost all of my childhood)...however, there are certian things about the atmosphere here that, in light of my own experiences in other places...tend to frustrate me. Spending the winter break here has reminded me of the reasons that I should appreciate the fact that I now live elsewhere. This is not to say that I do not have strong connections here and additionally not to say that there are not things here that I miss, but I have been doing a lot of thinking about those things that I know dislike that I never really even noticed before I left.
I am first amazed that moreso than in any other place that I have visited, you really do need access to a car to survive. I am only recognizing this because my car's engine threw a rod and I currently do not have a working vehicle as a result. It's a spread out place, a very spread out place. No place it's size or larger that I have ever visited is more spread out with a more dispersed population and infrustructure. Temple has around 60,000 people but it's limits strech as far as 7 miles south of the city "center"...6 miles north, and an astounding (in relation to population) 13 miles to the west (everyone wants to live near the lake I guess). My friend Dan's family lives 11 miles from downtown but still in the city limits. Housing developments are placed almost indescriminantly in a widely-spaced patchwork fashion across a wide, flat, and mostly boring landscape. Driving around town you can see new KB Home or Centex housing developments surrounded on all sides by fields with short brown grass, brush, some cows and the occasional lonely tree. This isin't so bad I guess, if your car works. Otherwise you had better have friends, which I fortunetly do.
The atmosphere here is static. People are generally nice I guess. Heartland American values thrive in one of the reddest parts of "red America". However, there is also a stifiling sense of a lack of change, or a willingness to change. People welcome a new resturant by flooding into it and placing it on the front page of the local paper. Development and new residents are welcomed as well. But other changes, idealogoical ones, will likely not take place here in my lifetime. It seems like a lot (but not all) of people here do not really determine their own values, but are content to let others do so. The area is staunchly conservative...I don't think that in itself is a problem...the problem is in the sort of "yellow-dog" conservativism that exists here. I once thought of myself as a conservative because I was raised here and that is from birth pretty much what you are taught is absolutely right and anyone that is branded a liberal is excommunicated from any credibility or any chance to be right about anything. That sort of, what I will come out and say is closed-mindedness, creates a very shallow dynamic for discussing anything of any sort of importiance. I'm not a "left-wing nut" or a "liberal-extremist" but if I were to share the polictical views that I have fairly independently arrived upon (at least they are far more independent than many held here) I would quickly be branded as one and most people would not give any sort of creedence to anything I said beyond that.
This is not to say that everyone here is this way...or that all conservatives are this way (there are certianly a lot of open minded conservatives...they just happen to be more often found in other parts of the country)...but a good number are and the general atmosphere leans in the direction of shallowness and superficial beliefs that are not deeply held. Many people here are deeply religious, but the rest are shallowly so because you don't really want to stand out that much. The social norm is that you go to church, or at least appear as if you do so. Some grow up here and leave with a strong idealogical and worldview footing, but many others flounder when they leave (or if they stay). It's hard to defend your beliefs when you don't know why you believe what you do. Many young people here, even some friends of mine, struggle because they were never thought to think independently or to question things in order to have some understanding of what they say, do, think and claim to believe. I know that this happens to some degree everywhere, but it is an especially prevelent problem here.
Of course, I do "like" my hometown ("hometown in this case is a general reference to the Temple/Killeen/Bell County Area in which I spent almost all of my childhood)...however, there are certian things about the atmosphere here that, in light of my own experiences in other places...tend to frustrate me. Spending the winter break here has reminded me of the reasons that I should appreciate the fact that I now live elsewhere. This is not to say that I do not have strong connections here and additionally not to say that there are not things here that I miss, but I have been doing a lot of thinking about those things that I know dislike that I never really even noticed before I left.
I am first amazed that moreso than in any other place that I have visited, you really do need access to a car to survive. I am only recognizing this because my car's engine threw a rod and I currently do not have a working vehicle as a result. It's a spread out place, a very spread out place. No place it's size or larger that I have ever visited is more spread out with a more dispersed population and infrustructure. Temple has around 60,000 people but it's limits strech as far as 7 miles south of the city "center"...6 miles north, and an astounding (in relation to population) 13 miles to the west (everyone wants to live near the lake I guess). My friend Dan's family lives 11 miles from downtown but still in the city limits. Housing developments are placed almost indescriminantly in a widely-spaced patchwork fashion across a wide, flat, and mostly boring landscape. Driving around town you can see new KB Home or Centex housing developments surrounded on all sides by fields with short brown grass, brush, some cows and the occasional lonely tree. This isin't so bad I guess, if your car works. Otherwise you had better have friends, which I fortunetly do.
The atmosphere here is static. People are generally nice I guess. Heartland American values thrive in one of the reddest parts of "red America". However, there is also a stifiling sense of a lack of change, or a willingness to change. People welcome a new resturant by flooding into it and placing it on the front page of the local paper. Development and new residents are welcomed as well. But other changes, idealogoical ones, will likely not take place here in my lifetime. It seems like a lot (but not all) of people here do not really determine their own values, but are content to let others do so. The area is staunchly conservative...I don't think that in itself is a problem...the problem is in the sort of "yellow-dog" conservativism that exists here. I once thought of myself as a conservative because I was raised here and that is from birth pretty much what you are taught is absolutely right and anyone that is branded a liberal is excommunicated from any credibility or any chance to be right about anything. That sort of, what I will come out and say is closed-mindedness, creates a very shallow dynamic for discussing anything of any sort of importiance. I'm not a "left-wing nut" or a "liberal-extremist" but if I were to share the polictical views that I have fairly independently arrived upon (at least they are far more independent than many held here) I would quickly be branded as one and most people would not give any sort of creedence to anything I said beyond that.
This is not to say that everyone here is this way...or that all conservatives are this way (there are certianly a lot of open minded conservatives...they just happen to be more often found in other parts of the country)...but a good number are and the general atmosphere leans in the direction of shallowness and superficial beliefs that are not deeply held. Many people here are deeply religious, but the rest are shallowly so because you don't really want to stand out that much. The social norm is that you go to church, or at least appear as if you do so. Some grow up here and leave with a strong idealogical and worldview footing, but many others flounder when they leave (or if they stay). It's hard to defend your beliefs when you don't know why you believe what you do. Many young people here, even some friends of mine, struggle because they were never thought to think independently or to question things in order to have some understanding of what they say, do, think and claim to believe. I know that this happens to some degree everywhere, but it is an especially prevelent problem here.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Hold Up Watts
I've been thinking a lot about the Inner City lately. Particularly Watts and Compton, two areas in Los Angeles County that are very notorious for gangs and crime. I think about them because I have spent time in both. When I was in Watts I knew that it was one of the worst areas in the country for violent crime. I worked with a group that was putting on a one day sports camp for kids in the Nickerson Gardens housing project. I would later read that this project is the birthplace of the nortorious Bloods gang. The Crips were also born in Watts, which is an area in Southeast Los Angeles. It's described as "drive over country", because you drive over it on a freeway. Even my "street-smart" team members and I would avoid the area when returning to our house near downtown from working in Compton or Lynwood. It's a rough place to say the least. I talked to one resident of the Nickerson's describe how he had been shot at just a few nights before, and how he watched an LAPD squad car get fired upon as it drove though the neighborhood. The LAPD does not go to Watts, unless they absolutely have to. It is the closest thing to anarchy that I have personally witnessed. When the cops do venture there to answer a call, bad things happen. Just the other night a squad car was driving in Watts at 5 a.m...suddently a laser guided sight flashed though the car's interior and a bullet ripped though the hood of the car. The cop was unharmed but he was very lucky to be. Earlier this summer, not long after we vistied the Nickerson's, two L.A. cops sparked massive protests when they fired on a suspect and killed him, and his three year old daugher. In an environment that is no less tense than the one that led to the riots in 1992, one incident like that is enough for the entire city to be concerned.
This gang war-torn part of Southern California was in the news a lot this past week due to the excecution to alleged Crips co-founder Tookie Williams. He was convicted of very horrible crimes, crimes that even I think warrant the death penalty as a reprocussion (I only support the death penalty in the most extremely extreme cases)...however he maintains his innocence. Many people think that he is either innocent, or that at least he has found redemption. He has, from his cell at San Quentin, written several books designed to dissuade kids from joining gangs, he has been a vocal advocate against the gang violence he was once such an active player in. This man, even if he commited the crimes that he was convicted of, has done more for inner city kids in the past 20 years than the vast majority of people anywhere. Ironic isin't it. And honestly, in a case of minority inner city resident versus the justice system, I don't know who to believe because this past summer I heard a lot of things from the inner city minority point of view for the first time and that point of view radically altered my perception of a lot of things. Did Tookie deserve to die? I honestly don't know. I do know that the hundreds that die of gang violence every year shouldn't die. This shouldn't be happening. There is something at work there that is henious, and goes far beyond the simple explinations given in social and political circles when the topic of the inner city is on the table.
These kids in Watts, in Compton, anywhere in Inner City L.A...are kids...they are simply kids...that is all. Children. I watched them play that day in the Nickersons. They jumped around, played soccer, football, basketball (the teens and young adults could seriousl ball, unfortuntely they are only so many that can be good enough to escape the ghetto, and it is a ghetto, they're trapped), they joked around. One kid named James and his friend told me about their plan to take a road trip to Las Vegas when they were older. They said it with such hope, such expectation. However, that is about all the hope you'll find there. Most of them can't see past Watts, can't see past the bleak reality of daily gun fights, a constant stream of deaths of people that they know, constant fear...fear of the other gang, the other race, the police...all they know is the maze of drab apartment buildings beneath a steady stream of jumbo jets approching LAX full of people who have little knowledge of the brazen reality that swarms ten-thousand feet below them.
My friend Michael was shooting a basketball with a kid, about eight years of age, he asked him a normal question..."do you like it here?"
"No", he answered, "there are too many shootings here".
He is right, if an eight year old knows this, then there is something very wrong with a society that allows this to fester without lending a hand, anything, to this black hole that seems to absorb light, hope and innocence. It is not a hopeless situation, unless the status quo of sectarian society caring only about it's own class and social groups contenues to function as the norm. Until then...the people in Watts, both black and brown, will have to fend from themselves.
"You're good people," a visably nervious twenty-something mexican guy with knife scars on his face told me and three of the girls that I was working the sports camp with. "You shouldn't be here. Good people don't come to Watts."
"Somebody has to come here", we told him. We were there precisely because Watts needs good people...but more importiantly we reminded him that there were good people in Watts...not everyone is there to join gangs, deal drugs and shoot people. Some are just trying to survive. He cracked what vaguely resembed a smile. He was encouraged to an extent but said he could never be a good person in Watts. I understood where he was coming from. "Good" and "bad in the inner city are very different concepts than the good and bad that most of us are familar with. "Well you guys better be careful", he said, "they'll mess with you." He was probably right, but as nervious as that made me I kept up a good front. I had to. Fear like that is something that I just didn't know coming from a comfortable place like Central Texas.
We walked back to the park. I walked into the Nickerson Gym...a humble brick building at the corner of 114th and Compton. Without looking outside, if it wasn't for what I had heard (and seen) that day, it would have been easy to imagine being anywhere in the United States. It was a gym with a basketball court and kitchen. However, scanning the walls my eyes glanced over various photographs...one of which was a snapshot of the moment a truce was reached between the Crips and Bloods, the most notorious gang rivalry in America. That truce imploded this year. Watts is again at war. But for that moment there was hope. I went back outside...Michael and I decided to start a pick up soccer game with some of the kids. For the next hour or so, they could forget about shootings and gangs and poverty and the fathers that they never see, and concentrate on scoring goals. For that hour I also forgot about the fear manifest in my surroundings and found myself completely at peace in the middle of the Nickerson Garden's project in Watts. It was at that moment that I gained just a fraction of understanding of what this moment meant to the kids. The smile on my face, and the smiles on theirs as we played on that dusty field in an area that even cops are afraid to enter, was something that I did not expect. Those smiles, the innocence, the oasis of innocence in a place where innocence often dies a early death, struck me as something truly beautiful. A beauty so stark that it still makes me crack a tearful smile months later. It makes me wonder if evil exists simply to make good things that much more attractive and wonderful.
This gang war-torn part of Southern California was in the news a lot this past week due to the excecution to alleged Crips co-founder Tookie Williams. He was convicted of very horrible crimes, crimes that even I think warrant the death penalty as a reprocussion (I only support the death penalty in the most extremely extreme cases)...however he maintains his innocence. Many people think that he is either innocent, or that at least he has found redemption. He has, from his cell at San Quentin, written several books designed to dissuade kids from joining gangs, he has been a vocal advocate against the gang violence he was once such an active player in. This man, even if he commited the crimes that he was convicted of, has done more for inner city kids in the past 20 years than the vast majority of people anywhere. Ironic isin't it. And honestly, in a case of minority inner city resident versus the justice system, I don't know who to believe because this past summer I heard a lot of things from the inner city minority point of view for the first time and that point of view radically altered my perception of a lot of things. Did Tookie deserve to die? I honestly don't know. I do know that the hundreds that die of gang violence every year shouldn't die. This shouldn't be happening. There is something at work there that is henious, and goes far beyond the simple explinations given in social and political circles when the topic of the inner city is on the table.
These kids in Watts, in Compton, anywhere in Inner City L.A...are kids...they are simply kids...that is all. Children. I watched them play that day in the Nickersons. They jumped around, played soccer, football, basketball (the teens and young adults could seriousl ball, unfortuntely they are only so many that can be good enough to escape the ghetto, and it is a ghetto, they're trapped), they joked around. One kid named James and his friend told me about their plan to take a road trip to Las Vegas when they were older. They said it with such hope, such expectation. However, that is about all the hope you'll find there. Most of them can't see past Watts, can't see past the bleak reality of daily gun fights, a constant stream of deaths of people that they know, constant fear...fear of the other gang, the other race, the police...all they know is the maze of drab apartment buildings beneath a steady stream of jumbo jets approching LAX full of people who have little knowledge of the brazen reality that swarms ten-thousand feet below them.
My friend Michael was shooting a basketball with a kid, about eight years of age, he asked him a normal question..."do you like it here?"
"No", he answered, "there are too many shootings here".
He is right, if an eight year old knows this, then there is something very wrong with a society that allows this to fester without lending a hand, anything, to this black hole that seems to absorb light, hope and innocence. It is not a hopeless situation, unless the status quo of sectarian society caring only about it's own class and social groups contenues to function as the norm. Until then...the people in Watts, both black and brown, will have to fend from themselves.
"You're good people," a visably nervious twenty-something mexican guy with knife scars on his face told me and three of the girls that I was working the sports camp with. "You shouldn't be here. Good people don't come to Watts."
"Somebody has to come here", we told him. We were there precisely because Watts needs good people...but more importiantly we reminded him that there were good people in Watts...not everyone is there to join gangs, deal drugs and shoot people. Some are just trying to survive. He cracked what vaguely resembed a smile. He was encouraged to an extent but said he could never be a good person in Watts. I understood where he was coming from. "Good" and "bad in the inner city are very different concepts than the good and bad that most of us are familar with. "Well you guys better be careful", he said, "they'll mess with you." He was probably right, but as nervious as that made me I kept up a good front. I had to. Fear like that is something that I just didn't know coming from a comfortable place like Central Texas.
We walked back to the park. I walked into the Nickerson Gym...a humble brick building at the corner of 114th and Compton. Without looking outside, if it wasn't for what I had heard (and seen) that day, it would have been easy to imagine being anywhere in the United States. It was a gym with a basketball court and kitchen. However, scanning the walls my eyes glanced over various photographs...one of which was a snapshot of the moment a truce was reached between the Crips and Bloods, the most notorious gang rivalry in America. That truce imploded this year. Watts is again at war. But for that moment there was hope. I went back outside...Michael and I decided to start a pick up soccer game with some of the kids. For the next hour or so, they could forget about shootings and gangs and poverty and the fathers that they never see, and concentrate on scoring goals. For that hour I also forgot about the fear manifest in my surroundings and found myself completely at peace in the middle of the Nickerson Garden's project in Watts. It was at that moment that I gained just a fraction of understanding of what this moment meant to the kids. The smile on my face, and the smiles on theirs as we played on that dusty field in an area that even cops are afraid to enter, was something that I did not expect. Those smiles, the innocence, the oasis of innocence in a place where innocence often dies a early death, struck me as something truly beautiful. A beauty so stark that it still makes me crack a tearful smile months later. It makes me wonder if evil exists simply to make good things that much more attractive and wonderful.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Dude, Where's My Journal?
The semester is over, and I, seeking a path down which to channel my seemingly unlimited free time, have gathered barely just enough motivation to make a post for the first time in, really, many weeks. I took my last final exam only 6 hours ago and now I still can't seem to grasp the fact that my semester is over and I will have to radically and quickly figure out something to do with the time that was only too recently occupied by studying.
I don't have any money. Can't do much about that as I have had about the worst financial luck that I could imagine this semester. I have decided not to write about the semester because really, it was tough at times and downright frustrating at others. There were many happy events that occured though. I will likely do some reflecting upon those.
I already find myself missing people that only left town today. I will be spending a good portion of the break in Temple with some of my best friends and family, trying to make the most out of my suddently more limited resources.
I don't have any money. Can't do much about that as I have had about the worst financial luck that I could imagine this semester. I have decided not to write about the semester because really, it was tough at times and downright frustrating at others. There were many happy events that occured though. I will likely do some reflecting upon those.
I already find myself missing people that only left town today. I will be spending a good portion of the break in Temple with some of my best friends and family, trying to make the most out of my suddently more limited resources.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Can't Escape The Line of Best Fit
As far as the contenuing legendary saga of the road trip goes...it will be concluded soon. But I want to write about other less legendary things as well.
---
So I'm here at Texas State...my life, despite all of the random challanges and circumstances, has been much happier lately. I'm seeing people...I've got a new job here in San Marcos and mabye another one that I'll also enjoy as well. However, a lot of things have been "getting to me"...one of them is being pretty much broke for now. My computer is also broke, after it fell out of my bag and onto the driveway in a dramatic fashion.
I just need to learn to be more content with my situation reguardless of what it is.
One thing that I do have is relashonships with some really awesome people. Last night I spent time with several of them at Sewell Park...but I am also bogged down with countless projects and tests for school, as well as some long term things that I am not getting done but need to.
---
So I'm here at Texas State...my life, despite all of the random challanges and circumstances, has been much happier lately. I'm seeing people...I've got a new job here in San Marcos and mabye another one that I'll also enjoy as well. However, a lot of things have been "getting to me"...one of them is being pretty much broke for now. My computer is also broke, after it fell out of my bag and onto the driveway in a dramatic fashion.
I just need to learn to be more content with my situation reguardless of what it is.
One thing that I do have is relashonships with some really awesome people. Last night I spent time with several of them at Sewell Park...but I am also bogged down with countless projects and tests for school, as well as some long term things that I am not getting done but need to.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Road Trip Part 2: The Epic Contenues to Progress in a Contenuious Fashion (Rated PG-13 for Strong conspicuiously masked language and partial-nudity)
We raced toward the ever widening chasm on Edward Gary Drive. Sorority girls looked on in horror at the upcoming gust of wind that would frazzle their already unraveling hair. Just before we were to tumble into the canyon I pushed the secret red button under the dashboard and the jet turbo boosters in my car kicked into gear, allowing my car to gracefully leap the chasm. We landed to the sound of squealing tires and numerous expletives. The car spun around several times and we came to a halt. Danny was laughing maniacally while threatening my life. I grabbed his wrist as he was lowering his arm to drive a bowie knife, one that has been in his family since long before the time of James Bowie, into my shoulder. IT WASN'T MY G-----N FAULT MAN...I DIDN'T KNOW THAT CANYON WAS GOING TO BE IN THE MIDDLE OF EDWARD F------ GARY DRIVE!!! Paul the hurdler looked stunned...I took the knife from Danny who was now crying as I explained that he was forgiven, and then tried to justify my outburst of profanity to Paul. Cody in the meantime sat expressionless in his seat, counting the days since the last time he had ridden in a car as it used a jet engine turbo blast to jump a newly opened urban canyon.
We drove on in stunned silence. Cody at times attempted to interject with akwardly timed statements over the rising price of milk and how it inversely affects the sorghum market. Danny mixed a couple of chemicals that he had secretly brought along, Paul pulled his finger out of his nose, wiped off the residual brain tissue, and began to laugh at the clear blue sky above. We pulled up to the odd looking traffic light at University and L.B.J. I put in a Slowreader cd to try to soften the tense mood in the car.
"I don't know if this quiet music is appropriate in this post 9/11 world, a world of rising gas prices, religious fanaticism and high anti-depressant use", Cody said. I assured Cody that I wouldn't play music if I thought that it would be un-patriotic. Danny stroked his crossbow, Paul drew a monkey on his shirt with a marker he found in the pile of trash on the floor of the car, and then ate the marker. Five minutes later, we still sat at the intersection.
"Why isin't the light changing"?...I wondered aloud.
"I think I know", Danny said.
The wait contenued.
We drove on in stunned silence. Cody at times attempted to interject with akwardly timed statements over the rising price of milk and how it inversely affects the sorghum market. Danny mixed a couple of chemicals that he had secretly brought along, Paul pulled his finger out of his nose, wiped off the residual brain tissue, and began to laugh at the clear blue sky above. We pulled up to the odd looking traffic light at University and L.B.J. I put in a Slowreader cd to try to soften the tense mood in the car.
"I don't know if this quiet music is appropriate in this post 9/11 world, a world of rising gas prices, religious fanaticism and high anti-depressant use", Cody said. I assured Cody that I wouldn't play music if I thought that it would be un-patriotic. Danny stroked his crossbow, Paul drew a monkey on his shirt with a marker he found in the pile of trash on the floor of the car, and then ate the marker. Five minutes later, we still sat at the intersection.
"Why isin't the light changing"?...I wondered aloud.
"I think I know", Danny said.
The wait contenued.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Road Trip!
It has become a triditon on Monday around the hour of 5 p.m. to undertake a road trip in Diego "my car" from Central Campus to Harris Dining Hall, over a mile away. The food is a bonus but the real perk are the crazed hijinks that follow. Accompaning my on both
trips so far have been two of my favorite people: The venerable Cody Cheeves and none other than Danny "future President of the United States of America" Rodriguez. Each trip has had a cameo guest star, Matt Luna, who gained worldwide notoriety in the great Santa Cruz heroin bust of 2004, and this week Danny's hallmate and accomplished marathon hurdler known only as Paul the Hurdler of Venice.
The following reports of last Monday's trip are sketchy, and may or may not be merely a really awesome legend.
---
With the venerable one in the front seat, we drove by the musty and humble confines of Beretta Hall only to find Danny and Paul waiting disguised as gargoyles flanking the front steps. I approached them cautiously, emmitting sanskrit phrases that only Danny can comprehend and they came to life, resumed their normal forms, and got into the car. There were no clouds in the sky and yet we all felt a sense of cloudy prospects of unforseen danger lurking ahead on our trip. I peeled out cautiously, watching for terrorist and we began to circumnavigate the campus...with Cody using the word circumnavigate to describe everything that he had done that day. My first sign that things were not in their normal state was the gigantic chasm that opened in front of me as we flew down the hill on Edward Gary drive at 75 miles per hour. Cody screamed, Danny yelled, Paul ignorantly picked his nose and then screamed, the force of which jammed his finger up his nose and partially into his brain. I knew I had one option...but would my poorly installed jet boosters work?
To be contenued...
trips so far have been two of my favorite people: The venerable Cody Cheeves and none other than Danny "future President of the United States of America" Rodriguez. Each trip has had a cameo guest star, Matt Luna, who gained worldwide notoriety in the great Santa Cruz heroin bust of 2004, and this week Danny's hallmate and accomplished marathon hurdler known only as Paul the Hurdler of Venice.
The following reports of last Monday's trip are sketchy, and may or may not be merely a really awesome legend.
---
With the venerable one in the front seat, we drove by the musty and humble confines of Beretta Hall only to find Danny and Paul waiting disguised as gargoyles flanking the front steps. I approached them cautiously, emmitting sanskrit phrases that only Danny can comprehend and they came to life, resumed their normal forms, and got into the car. There were no clouds in the sky and yet we all felt a sense of cloudy prospects of unforseen danger lurking ahead on our trip. I peeled out cautiously, watching for terrorist and we began to circumnavigate the campus...with Cody using the word circumnavigate to describe everything that he had done that day. My first sign that things were not in their normal state was the gigantic chasm that opened in front of me as we flew down the hill on Edward Gary drive at 75 miles per hour. Cody screamed, Danny yelled, Paul ignorantly picked his nose and then screamed, the force of which jammed his finger up his nose and partially into his brain. I knew I had one option...but would my poorly installed jet boosters work?
To be contenued...
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
I Love School Most of the Time
You learn interesting things in this place known as the Texas State University School of Journalism and Mass Communication.
The following are random facts that I picked up from classes that I had no clue were...well, facts.
- The song "Happy Birthday" is actually copyrighted, and you have to pay the copyright owner to use it in a film.
- Television Networks are requried to provide at least three hours of educational childrens programming per week. ABC Television once tried to defend against the accusation by stating that The Flintstones and the Jetsons met the government's requirements...because the Flintstones told kids about the past, and the Jetson's told kids about the future. They lost their case.
- The only thing in the United States that cannot be patented is a fully developed human being. Certian microrganisims have actually been patented. Past copyright law stated that living things could not be patented but that was overturned in a court case.
- The "nusiance car ordinance" in the city of San Marcos states that if a vehicle is found with expiried registration (even if it is parked on a private lot or driveway), the city has the right to tow the vehicle.
- A Federal Court decision actually stated that it is legal under the First Amendment for a media outlet to falsify news, denying whistleblower status to fired reporters who were suing a Local Fox News station in Tampa that was doing just that in order to please certian advertisers.
- Americans view, on average, 3,600 advertisements per day.
- It is a common advertising strategy to market their products directly to children, knowing that they will then effectivley nag their parents to purchase those products for them.
I'll likely add more when I think of them.
The following are random facts that I picked up from classes that I had no clue were...well, facts.
- The song "Happy Birthday" is actually copyrighted, and you have to pay the copyright owner to use it in a film.
- Television Networks are requried to provide at least three hours of educational childrens programming per week. ABC Television once tried to defend against the accusation by stating that The Flintstones and the Jetsons met the government's requirements...because the Flintstones told kids about the past, and the Jetson's told kids about the future. They lost their case.
- The only thing in the United States that cannot be patented is a fully developed human being. Certian microrganisims have actually been patented. Past copyright law stated that living things could not be patented but that was overturned in a court case.
- The "nusiance car ordinance" in the city of San Marcos states that if a vehicle is found with expiried registration (even if it is parked on a private lot or driveway), the city has the right to tow the vehicle.
- A Federal Court decision actually stated that it is legal under the First Amendment for a media outlet to falsify news, denying whistleblower status to fired reporters who were suing a Local Fox News station in Tampa that was doing just that in order to please certian advertisers.
- Americans view, on average, 3,600 advertisements per day.
- It is a common advertising strategy to market their products directly to children, knowing that they will then effectivley nag their parents to purchase those products for them.
I'll likely add more when I think of them.
Monday, October 17, 2005
I Think I've Contracted Avian Bird Flu
That or I need to use the bathroom.
Apparently our nation cannot survive without an apocalypse looming on the horizon. I would like to think that people would be content to think that the world is not about to end, but observation proves otherwise. The latest apocalypse revolves around a strain of avian bird flu mutating and being spread somehow by humans creating something called a "pandemic".
I'm not exactly sure what a pandemic is...but it sounds delicious. It sounds like a clinic where you learn to make bread...not just any bread, but medical bread with great medicinal properties.
Perhaps this bread will be the next cure for the next apocalypse. Y2K had generators and non-perishable food. For every dirty bomb threat there is a roll of duct tape. Gas is supposed to hit $8 a gallon or something in the next month leading to the collapse of the American lifestyle. Now, in the face of this grave and almost certianly apocalyptic pandemic...we have medical bread that is laced with stuff that is probably a cure, or at least something that will help us pass the time while we're dying. Corporations could market this bread, with an ad campagin declaring that if people do not purchase the special bread they will be killed by falling planes and civil unrest after the power goes out.
Apparently our nation cannot survive without an apocalypse looming on the horizon. I would like to think that people would be content to think that the world is not about to end, but observation proves otherwise. The latest apocalypse revolves around a strain of avian bird flu mutating and being spread somehow by humans creating something called a "pandemic".
I'm not exactly sure what a pandemic is...but it sounds delicious. It sounds like a clinic where you learn to make bread...not just any bread, but medical bread with great medicinal properties.
Perhaps this bread will be the next cure for the next apocalypse. Y2K had generators and non-perishable food. For every dirty bomb threat there is a roll of duct tape. Gas is supposed to hit $8 a gallon or something in the next month leading to the collapse of the American lifestyle. Now, in the face of this grave and almost certianly apocalyptic pandemic...we have medical bread that is laced with stuff that is probably a cure, or at least something that will help us pass the time while we're dying. Corporations could market this bread, with an ad campagin declaring that if people do not purchase the special bread they will be killed by falling planes and civil unrest after the power goes out.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Banished to Suburbia (or, Exiled to Spend My Days Almost Exclusivley in Beautiful Sunny San Marcos)
The past week has been a somewhat turbulent one for myself, but beneficial at least in the short term. The turbulence began to turbulate (is that a word? Spell check says no but my heart says yes) last Tuesday when I was, with no advance warning or even the slightest hint, I was suddenly and not so gracefully let go from my job. I know am doing something that millions of other “bloggers” do, which is don’t work. There is not much to explain about it because my employer did not have much to explain to me about it. I told my manager how much this screws me over and makes life exceedingly difficult for me financially but I also said thanks for not hardcore firing me but instead just “letting me go”…and how that still sucks.
I’ll admit that, while they had no specific reason to let me go (very vague were their reasons), I was getting a little burned out. There have been subtle benefits for me losing my high-strung, busy and distant job which I had to commute to though often heavy traffic on the far side of Austin. None of them are, of course, financial, but do have a lot to do with my social life and my mental health. The major ones are as follows:
- A return to a normal heart rate
- A substantial reduction in swearing
- Less overall enmity toward mankind
- Fewer instances of saying things like “I want to burn this town to the ground”…and halfway meaning it
- Seeing and talking to people that I don’t work with, including my roommates
- No more “crazy eye”
- Going to bed before three a.m. on school nights means less gorilla like behavior the next morning.
- Seeing people I don’t recognize but know my name and ask me about things that I don’t remember doing
- No more scent of coffee flowing from my hair in the shower
- A regained ability to control the tone of my voice
- A 68% drop in “road rage”
- Fewer trips on the asphalt cauldron of death and super-fastness known as Interstate 35
- Going to Austin will now always be fun
- I no longer work for a guy that writes propaganda…er…speeches for President Bush
- My ears will no longer be damaged by senseless and irrational yelling by certain co-workers after closing
- I don’t have to bother taking off work after I get the pleasure of having my ingrown toenail removed tomorrow, because I’m already off the schedule.
- I get to see people that I like more often and for longer periods of time
- Stronger motivation to look for jobs in San Marcos, where I reside and learn, and hopefully soon, work.
Those are just a few of the subtle benefits…a few are slightly exaggerated but the overall theme is accurate.
I’ll admit that, while they had no specific reason to let me go (very vague were their reasons), I was getting a little burned out. There have been subtle benefits for me losing my high-strung, busy and distant job which I had to commute to though often heavy traffic on the far side of Austin. None of them are, of course, financial, but do have a lot to do with my social life and my mental health. The major ones are as follows:
- A return to a normal heart rate
- A substantial reduction in swearing
- Less overall enmity toward mankind
- Fewer instances of saying things like “I want to burn this town to the ground”…and halfway meaning it
- Seeing and talking to people that I don’t work with, including my roommates
- No more “crazy eye”
- Going to bed before three a.m. on school nights means less gorilla like behavior the next morning.
- Seeing people I don’t recognize but know my name and ask me about things that I don’t remember doing
- No more scent of coffee flowing from my hair in the shower
- A regained ability to control the tone of my voice
- A 68% drop in “road rage”
- Fewer trips on the asphalt cauldron of death and super-fastness known as Interstate 35
- Going to Austin will now always be fun
- I no longer work for a guy that writes propaganda…er…speeches for President Bush
- My ears will no longer be damaged by senseless and irrational yelling by certain co-workers after closing
- I don’t have to bother taking off work after I get the pleasure of having my ingrown toenail removed tomorrow, because I’m already off the schedule.
- I get to see people that I like more often and for longer periods of time
- Stronger motivation to look for jobs in San Marcos, where I reside and learn, and hopefully soon, work.
Those are just a few of the subtle benefits…a few are slightly exaggerated but the overall theme is accurate.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Panda Watch
I've been assigned my first package story for my TV News class that will be due this Monday. I'm thinking about doing a piece on the preposed park above Aquarena Springs (where they were going to build the hotel/conference center before people found out and got pissed)...there will be a bond election on November 8 for the City of San Marcos to provide money to the park fund along with the county funds that have already been preposed. I think this story will work but I need a backup plan if it doesn't. If you guys can think of anything that you think will be a good idea just let me know. Thanks.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Don't Hate the ipod, Hate Yourself
The above title doesn't necessarily reflect the message of this entry, I just happen to like it.
I recently had the privilage of viewing the documentary entitled "The Corporation" (I'll give you three guesses to figure out what it's about). The film made a number of interesting points and presented a variety of interesting facts and opinions (And do so in such a way that you could distinguish between the two). Among them, was the idea that corporations today are no longer require to rely on physical products to be successful (parenthetical reference), all the really need to do is produce a brand, and market it in such a way that people become attached to and have a sort of weird relashonship to that brand. Great examples include McDonalds for fast food, Nike for shoes, Starbucks for "coffee", and of course, the ipod.
What is it about the ipod (and apple products in general in the Austin area) right now that has broght on such incredible dominance and popularity in the mp3 market? Is it the best player? Not necessarily? The cheapest? Hardly...what I see is just another manifestation of an old pattern...society in general has become obsessed with yet another name.
Of course, critics of people like myself who would dare attempt to vaguely question the masses' seemlingly fetishistic devotion to big name brand corporations (in this case, the ipod) will play the "you're just jealous because you can't afford one" card...mabye they're right, but then again, your economic class background and status does affect your viewpoint on a lot of things, including pop and (espeically) consumer/material culture. Since I am the caretaker of all my financial responsiblities I am unable to afford to risk the expense...but then perhaps that gives me a freedom to have a vantage point outside the realm of materialistic competition.
One thing this viewpoint, along with a pretty holistic media education, is the ability to percieve the difference between simply creating products and creating brands to be objects of devotion for millions. In the early days of the ipod, it was marketed as a device to listen to all your favorite music on a small pocket sized object. ipod commercials mainly showed sillouhetted figures dancing rhymically to a bland U2 song in front of a random monochromatic background...now, most ipod ads focus on a trendy looking head with white headphones plugged into their ears...the white headphones that became a status symbol, joining their older siblings: The swoosh and starbucks mermaid as things many people think they need to wear on or around them in order to be a part of the "in crowd"...whatever that means.
So the ipod, like a pair of Nikes in the 90's, or a starbucks container, is now marketed in a way that focuses on what the product looks like more than what the product does. Yet another hallmark of materialism that the masses can identify with because they increasingly find fewer and fewer sources of true identity in our increasingly homogeneic popular-culture.
I recently had the privilage of viewing the documentary entitled "The Corporation" (I'll give you three guesses to figure out what it's about). The film made a number of interesting points and presented a variety of interesting facts and opinions (And do so in such a way that you could distinguish between the two). Among them, was the idea that corporations today are no longer require to rely on physical products to be successful (parenthetical reference), all the really need to do is produce a brand, and market it in such a way that people become attached to and have a sort of weird relashonship to that brand. Great examples include McDonalds for fast food, Nike for shoes, Starbucks for "coffee", and of course, the ipod.
What is it about the ipod (and apple products in general in the Austin area) right now that has broght on such incredible dominance and popularity in the mp3 market? Is it the best player? Not necessarily? The cheapest? Hardly...what I see is just another manifestation of an old pattern...society in general has become obsessed with yet another name.
Of course, critics of people like myself who would dare attempt to vaguely question the masses' seemlingly fetishistic devotion to big name brand corporations (in this case, the ipod) will play the "you're just jealous because you can't afford one" card...mabye they're right, but then again, your economic class background and status does affect your viewpoint on a lot of things, including pop and (espeically) consumer/material culture. Since I am the caretaker of all my financial responsiblities I am unable to afford to risk the expense...but then perhaps that gives me a freedom to have a vantage point outside the realm of materialistic competition.
One thing this viewpoint, along with a pretty holistic media education, is the ability to percieve the difference between simply creating products and creating brands to be objects of devotion for millions. In the early days of the ipod, it was marketed as a device to listen to all your favorite music on a small pocket sized object. ipod commercials mainly showed sillouhetted figures dancing rhymically to a bland U2 song in front of a random monochromatic background...now, most ipod ads focus on a trendy looking head with white headphones plugged into their ears...the white headphones that became a status symbol, joining their older siblings: The swoosh and starbucks mermaid as things many people think they need to wear on or around them in order to be a part of the "in crowd"...whatever that means.
So the ipod, like a pair of Nikes in the 90's, or a starbucks container, is now marketed in a way that focuses on what the product looks like more than what the product does. Yet another hallmark of materialism that the masses can identify with because they increasingly find fewer and fewer sources of true identity in our increasingly homogeneic popular-culture.
Camp Mozart's
Where was I last weekend?
Well, the bills have to be paid, and my quest to pay them broght me to work on Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. Why was I given such a schedule...well, the ACL Festival was in town, and a good portion of the workforce at Mozart's coffee roasters (beside, of course, myself), had taken a leave of absence to attention.
And we were busy, quite busy, thanks to tens of thousands of evacuees from
Hurrican Rita crowding in from Houston. The two large groups of people spawned the spontaneous creation of Camp Mozart's...the main schedule consisited of the afore mentioned work shifts that my friend Jim and I shared, then crashing at Jim's place...and a good deal of hanging out during the day on both Saturday and Sunday.
I arrived on Friday, the village idiot circus had begin around Zilker park...thousands of out of town drivers, blending with the usual local traffic, maneuvering their cars in a fashion that suggested the apocalypse was indeed neigh. I decided to drive from the U.T. area over to Thundercloud to grab a sub sandwitch before work. Two miles, twenty minutes and three near accidents later I arrived following behind four rather good looking girls who apparently thought that local ordanances permittied good looking co-eds to walk side by side down the middle of public streets. I wave and smiled in an admittedly sarcastic fashion...they didn't seem to notice but fortuntely I had reached my destination.
I purchased a classic sub and had a good but short conversation with the workers there as we lamented the upcoming weekend and our general distain for large crowds of tourists. Working in the Central Austin area means you generally dread the weeks that most people in Central Texas look forward to. Did I mention it was hot? If the organizers of the Austin City Limits Music Festival were to schedule their even in the middle of January, I'll bet you a pair of overpriced Coldplay tickets that the temperature will still exceed 100 degrees. My car, fortunetly, does not have air conditioning...making driving in unusually bad (and it's usually bad) traffic even more exciting and confortable. Aparently the bonus features of purchasing an A.C.L. wristband included hours of exposure to 101-108 degree heat and the blazing Texas Sun, trading body sweat with a few thousand other people, and inhaling an unhealthy amount of dust that was kicked up by the 70,000 or so attendees on the very dry surface of Zilker Park. But hey, at least the Hurricane didn't affect us, allthough apparently the only way to get the temperature under 100 degrees here in September is a hurricane, which is not something you can just cross your fingers and count on happening.
Camp Mozart's did improve however. After a tiring and long night of work I crashed at Jim's place...and woke up the next day to find that some very awesome friends of mine from other area codes and states had driven into town. We kicked it around the drag for a while, I went with them to Chuy's but then Jim and I left for the second night of work at Camp Mozart's. It happened to be the busiest night I've ever worked. An extremely long line, two of them in fact, out the door all night. Evacs and their families for the first half of the tight, and then hundreds of festival-goers later on, most of whom resembed tomatoes and said that they were having a great time at A.C.L. despite all of the retinal damage and the overall look of "dear God what am I doing in this horrible blazing furnace of a place" look in their eyes.
Sunday was much more of a sublime day. Abel was my one friend in the group that came to town that didn't have a wristband, so I kept him company all day. We got a burrito, did a couple of random errands, then drove around in my car in the 108 (offically) degree heat before realzing what a terrible idea that was and going back to our friend's apartment where I got to watch the Cowboys pull out a startiling come from behind victory over the lousy 49ers. Work was all that was left at this point so I went and made it though one more evening and then returned to San Marcos, signaling the end to Camp Mozart's...not my favorite camp ever, but it was better than going to jail, or something like that.
Oh, did I mention I'm really glad that they don't hold the A.C.L. fest every weekend? Well, I'm really glad...otherwise I would move to Sweden, purchase a team of sled dogs, and drive off to the North Pole where hopefully I would be cryogenically frozen next to Ameila Earhart and Tupac only to be unfrozen in a future void of such mass-tourist corporate dollar driven events, or a future where at the very least I can afford to attend them.
Well, the bills have to be paid, and my quest to pay them broght me to work on Friday, Saturday and Sunday night. Why was I given such a schedule...well, the ACL Festival was in town, and a good portion of the workforce at Mozart's coffee roasters (beside, of course, myself), had taken a leave of absence to attention.
And we were busy, quite busy, thanks to tens of thousands of evacuees from
Hurrican Rita crowding in from Houston. The two large groups of people spawned the spontaneous creation of Camp Mozart's...the main schedule consisited of the afore mentioned work shifts that my friend Jim and I shared, then crashing at Jim's place...and a good deal of hanging out during the day on both Saturday and Sunday.
I arrived on Friday, the village idiot circus had begin around Zilker park...thousands of out of town drivers, blending with the usual local traffic, maneuvering their cars in a fashion that suggested the apocalypse was indeed neigh. I decided to drive from the U.T. area over to Thundercloud to grab a sub sandwitch before work. Two miles, twenty minutes and three near accidents later I arrived following behind four rather good looking girls who apparently thought that local ordanances permittied good looking co-eds to walk side by side down the middle of public streets. I wave and smiled in an admittedly sarcastic fashion...they didn't seem to notice but fortuntely I had reached my destination.
I purchased a classic sub and had a good but short conversation with the workers there as we lamented the upcoming weekend and our general distain for large crowds of tourists. Working in the Central Austin area means you generally dread the weeks that most people in Central Texas look forward to. Did I mention it was hot? If the organizers of the Austin City Limits Music Festival were to schedule their even in the middle of January, I'll bet you a pair of overpriced Coldplay tickets that the temperature will still exceed 100 degrees. My car, fortunetly, does not have air conditioning...making driving in unusually bad (and it's usually bad) traffic even more exciting and confortable. Aparently the bonus features of purchasing an A.C.L. wristband included hours of exposure to 101-108 degree heat and the blazing Texas Sun, trading body sweat with a few thousand other people, and inhaling an unhealthy amount of dust that was kicked up by the 70,000 or so attendees on the very dry surface of Zilker Park. But hey, at least the Hurricane didn't affect us, allthough apparently the only way to get the temperature under 100 degrees here in September is a hurricane, which is not something you can just cross your fingers and count on happening.
Camp Mozart's did improve however. After a tiring and long night of work I crashed at Jim's place...and woke up the next day to find that some very awesome friends of mine from other area codes and states had driven into town. We kicked it around the drag for a while, I went with them to Chuy's but then Jim and I left for the second night of work at Camp Mozart's. It happened to be the busiest night I've ever worked. An extremely long line, two of them in fact, out the door all night. Evacs and their families for the first half of the tight, and then hundreds of festival-goers later on, most of whom resembed tomatoes and said that they were having a great time at A.C.L. despite all of the retinal damage and the overall look of "dear God what am I doing in this horrible blazing furnace of a place" look in their eyes.
Sunday was much more of a sublime day. Abel was my one friend in the group that came to town that didn't have a wristband, so I kept him company all day. We got a burrito, did a couple of random errands, then drove around in my car in the 108 (offically) degree heat before realzing what a terrible idea that was and going back to our friend's apartment where I got to watch the Cowboys pull out a startiling come from behind victory over the lousy 49ers. Work was all that was left at this point so I went and made it though one more evening and then returned to San Marcos, signaling the end to Camp Mozart's...not my favorite camp ever, but it was better than going to jail, or something like that.
Oh, did I mention I'm really glad that they don't hold the A.C.L. fest every weekend? Well, I'm really glad...otherwise I would move to Sweden, purchase a team of sled dogs, and drive off to the North Pole where hopefully I would be cryogenically frozen next to Ameila Earhart and Tupac only to be unfrozen in a future void of such mass-tourist corporate dollar driven events, or a future where at the very least I can afford to attend them.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Hot Hot Heat: Early Fall in Central Texas
It's really starting to feel like Fall in Central Texas.
High Temperatures from Austin Bergstrom Airport over the past week (which are usually right at, or close to those in San Marcos).
Fri - 101
Sat - 103
Sun - 108
Mon - 107
Tue - 104
Wed - ? (Forcast high is 104)
The weather lately has bascially punished me for the two months I spent in sunny but not nearly as hot L.A. I thought I had gotten out of the heat thing for this summer, but I was wrong. I normally wouldn't mind but spending two months away was quite a disaclimating experience. It's been harder to find simple motivation with the weatherbeing so freakin' hot and blazing. The good news is that a cold front will drop our high temperature tomorrow all the way to 84 so we're going to have much cooler weather for a couple of days.
For the Weather Channel I'm Jordan Stewart.
I usually would write about something more interesting, but this is a part of my life right now since I've had to spend a lot of time walking outdoors, or riding in my very non-air conditioned car (including on Sunday when it was 108).
High Temperatures from Austin Bergstrom Airport over the past week (which are usually right at, or close to those in San Marcos).
Fri - 101
Sat - 103
Sun - 108
Mon - 107
Tue - 104
Wed - ? (Forcast high is 104)
The weather lately has bascially punished me for the two months I spent in sunny but not nearly as hot L.A. I thought I had gotten out of the heat thing for this summer, but I was wrong. I normally wouldn't mind but spending two months away was quite a disaclimating experience. It's been harder to find simple motivation with the weatherbeing so freakin' hot and blazing. The good news is that a cold front will drop our high temperature tomorrow all the way to 84 so we're going to have much cooler weather for a couple of days.
For the Weather Channel I'm Jordan Stewart.
I usually would write about something more interesting, but this is a part of my life right now since I've had to spend a lot of time walking outdoors, or riding in my very non-air conditioned car (including on Sunday when it was 108).
Monday, September 12, 2005
San Marcos is Spanish for Fantasy-Land
Despite the awkwardly performed break in to my duplex (two of my roommates had laptops stolen) last week, I feel extremely safe in San Marcos. Our place is the only place in the neighborhood to be broken into in the past few years. Petty theft is probably the most of my worries here. This contrasts sharply to where I lived this past summer, Inner City Los Angeles…a city where violent crime and police chases are a daily occurrence. San Marcos is, by contrast, an extremely "safe" community. Texas State University, despite its size and dense urban setting, is an extremely safe college campus. After almost one month back in the area (this time living in San Marcos instead of commuting from Austin) I have arrived at the conclusion that where I am living is basically a fantasy world, a nice hilly little hamlet of safety and security (just outside of a much larger but still fantastically safe for it's size city called Austin) that most people around the world, not to mention Inner-City L.A., could not imagine.
This town has so much beauty, especially by Texas standards; San Marcos is so nice that just saying that it is "nice" understates just how nice things here are. Of course there are problems, traffic congestion, outdated traffic lights (all of which are slated for replacement in the next year), trains crossing major streets at rush hour, the typical problems associated with the college party scene (mainly noise and, God forbid, kids smoking pot), a very tight job market (mainly due to having thousands of students in such a small area) and the town's identity crisis, it's refusal to fully admit that it is a growing metropolitan college city.
But then the list of problems pretty much ends...and if you have spent a significant time anywhere else, especially a place as radically different as Los Angeles...you might notice that these problems aren't really worth complaining about. Someone living in L.A. is probably more concerned about their kid getting caught in the crossfire of a gang shootout, or a riot exploding in their neighborhood, than they are about someone not using their turn signal or how bad traffic is, or getting stuck at that damn red light all the time. Then there's the list of things in San Marcos (local and Austin Metro Area characteristics) that are just plan amazing after spending time in the Inner City. Among them:
- Extremely clean air
- Extremely low crime
- Virtually no violent crime-
- Virtually no gang activity
- Walking alone at night not extremely dangerous
- Natural beauty and open spaces in and around the city
- A picturesque and blight-free cityscape
- Visible stars at night (You see more helicopters than stars in L.A.)
- Extreme quiet at night, quiet during the day.
- Affordable rent/housing (not compared with the rest of the state of course, but very affordable compared to Southern California)
This is not meant to be a comparison between San Marcos and L.A...the two places are so radically different that a comparison would be illogical. There are many things about L.A. that I miss, I love the city, the ocean, the weather there is much more plesant in the summer, there are so many things to do and see there. The reality of life there is much less of a fantasy and more like "real life" than here. What I am getting at are the things about our beautiful town that I see are, for the most part, generally taken for granted. I'm saying that San Marcos is an incredible place to live and most people here don't seem to recognize that...maybe because they have never lived anywhere that is more challenging or real than here (kids from Inner City Houston and others are definite exceptions). This is meant to be a positive summary of my impression upon my return to Central Texas. I perceive life here very differently than I did before this summer.
San Marcos is a postcard town. San Marcos is a fantasy world compared to the harsh reality of life in many other areas. San Marcos should not be taken for granted. If you live here, the next time you find yourself complaining about the typical topics most people (including myself) tend to complain about here, maybe take a moment to think of all of the positive aspects of this area, the things that maybe you take for granted. I mean, at least you get to see open spaces, and stars, and don't have to worry about flying bullets.
This town has so much beauty, especially by Texas standards; San Marcos is so nice that just saying that it is "nice" understates just how nice things here are. Of course there are problems, traffic congestion, outdated traffic lights (all of which are slated for replacement in the next year), trains crossing major streets at rush hour, the typical problems associated with the college party scene (mainly noise and, God forbid, kids smoking pot), a very tight job market (mainly due to having thousands of students in such a small area) and the town's identity crisis, it's refusal to fully admit that it is a growing metropolitan college city.
But then the list of problems pretty much ends...and if you have spent a significant time anywhere else, especially a place as radically different as Los Angeles...you might notice that these problems aren't really worth complaining about. Someone living in L.A. is probably more concerned about their kid getting caught in the crossfire of a gang shootout, or a riot exploding in their neighborhood, than they are about someone not using their turn signal or how bad traffic is, or getting stuck at that damn red light all the time. Then there's the list of things in San Marcos (local and Austin Metro Area characteristics) that are just plan amazing after spending time in the Inner City. Among them:
- Extremely clean air
- Extremely low crime
- Virtually no violent crime-
- Virtually no gang activity
- Walking alone at night not extremely dangerous
- Natural beauty and open spaces in and around the city
- A picturesque and blight-free cityscape
- Visible stars at night (You see more helicopters than stars in L.A.)
- Extreme quiet at night, quiet during the day.
- Affordable rent/housing (not compared with the rest of the state of course, but very affordable compared to Southern California)
This is not meant to be a comparison between San Marcos and L.A...the two places are so radically different that a comparison would be illogical. There are many things about L.A. that I miss, I love the city, the ocean, the weather there is much more plesant in the summer, there are so many things to do and see there. The reality of life there is much less of a fantasy and more like "real life" than here. What I am getting at are the things about our beautiful town that I see are, for the most part, generally taken for granted. I'm saying that San Marcos is an incredible place to live and most people here don't seem to recognize that...maybe because they have never lived anywhere that is more challenging or real than here (kids from Inner City Houston and others are definite exceptions). This is meant to be a positive summary of my impression upon my return to Central Texas. I perceive life here very differently than I did before this summer.
San Marcos is a postcard town. San Marcos is a fantasy world compared to the harsh reality of life in many other areas. San Marcos should not be taken for granted. If you live here, the next time you find yourself complaining about the typical topics most people (including myself) tend to complain about here, maybe take a moment to think of all of the positive aspects of this area, the things that maybe you take for granted. I mean, at least you get to see open spaces, and stars, and don't have to worry about flying bullets.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Anatomy of a Political Shift
It's not that I've been indoctrinated by a "liberal" education...I've just begun to truly gain the resources to think for myself. I think of myself as one of the last people that will let the masses, others, society, anything beside my own values (while those are admittedly shaped in part by those things I just listed) shape my views on anything.
I always thought for myself...but those thoughts and the experiences that I could draw from to form my (I believe) well formed (based on what I knew) thoughts and opinions where severely limited by my conservative upbringing in Bell County Texas, which could best be described as "infa-red America". Everyone there, it seems, is conservative...everything I ever heard, from my family, friends, and most everyone I met was tainted with a severe bias...a bias I did not recognize because in the society I was in it was simply mainstream thought. Of course I was taught that Christianity (which I did not embrace finally and fully until age 19) and conservatism (i.e. voting Republican) were inseparable. God was a Republican, if you are a godly person you vote Republican, bottom line. Voting democratic in some circles there is tantamount to breaking all of the Ten Commandments.
Enter college...well, not community college, but real college at Texas State. It is fairly liberal by Texas standards and I was exposed to much more in the way of points of view that were radically different from my own. Being for the first time strongly exposed to different viewpoints will always have an affect on a person. For my first year at Texas State I pretty much stuck with the political philosophy that I came in with (strongly conservative) but I began to question things in my mind. To this day I haven't told anyone in my family that I have begun to depart from the political doctrine that I was raised with. My immediate family wouldn't shun me but I wonder what my grandparents and others in my extended family would think. Some of my friends that remain there are also disenchanted with neo-conservatism but they also keep that fact in seclusion around some other people.
Do I now vote Democratic...actually I'm not sure at this point. However, I no longer embrace the Republican Party. One of my first realizations (beside the fact that maybe Liberals weren’t wrong about everything just because they're liberals) is that we live in a society where societal pressures essentially bully people into taking strict political sides...you're either a republican or a democrat, hardcore liberal or hardcore conservative. For example, if you're strongly pro-life (as I still am) then you have to subscribe to all of the remaining doctrines of conservatism (such as reduced Government involvement in environmental policy, which I strongly oppose)...many of which I have rejected over the past couple of years. Power is maintained by the status quo by tricking people into thinking that they do not have other options than to join in the heavily sectarian and sharply two-sided political fray. I'm not going to go into the specifics of my newly forming (it is still very much in process) political philosophy...I will address that in another entry. What I am trying to detail here is the process that I have been going though for a couple of years now. It's hard to realize that you actually believe you have been wrong about things literally all of your life. That the philosophy that so dominated your upbringing is, in your eyes, heavily flawed and tainted.
So here I am...yes, my political views have taken a sharp left turn, but remember that I started out on the extreme far right...I don't know how far left this will take me. All I know at this point is that I have rejected neo-conservatism (with a few, mostly social, exceptions) in favor of still forming views that will better reflect my value system. You see, my personal value system (which was radically changed three years ago) and that of neo-conservative ideals have clashed for those two or three years...leading to ideological conflicts and increased frustration and anger when discussing politics with others. This irritation peaked during last November's elections...I was not happy with anything. I marked my vote solidly for George W. Bush the G.O.P. one last time but realized that my value system, my heart, even my head, where not making the called. I simply wanted to vote and those societal pressures from where I grew up were still calling the shots. I will close this thought by stating that, especially in light of the increasingly disastrous operation in Iraq, my increasing distain and distrust of the big business and corporations that this administration coddles, and the utterly horrific handling of the Gulf Coast devastation by the White House, I very much regret that vote. Sure I didn't think that John Kerry was a good alternative...but then again, was he the only alternative. Should I open my mind and free myself from this trap of taking sides? That is the process I am in at the moment.
There will be much more to come on this. I need to get these thoughts out.
I always thought for myself...but those thoughts and the experiences that I could draw from to form my (I believe) well formed (based on what I knew) thoughts and opinions where severely limited by my conservative upbringing in Bell County Texas, which could best be described as "infa-red America". Everyone there, it seems, is conservative...everything I ever heard, from my family, friends, and most everyone I met was tainted with a severe bias...a bias I did not recognize because in the society I was in it was simply mainstream thought. Of course I was taught that Christianity (which I did not embrace finally and fully until age 19) and conservatism (i.e. voting Republican) were inseparable. God was a Republican, if you are a godly person you vote Republican, bottom line. Voting democratic in some circles there is tantamount to breaking all of the Ten Commandments.
Enter college...well, not community college, but real college at Texas State. It is fairly liberal by Texas standards and I was exposed to much more in the way of points of view that were radically different from my own. Being for the first time strongly exposed to different viewpoints will always have an affect on a person. For my first year at Texas State I pretty much stuck with the political philosophy that I came in with (strongly conservative) but I began to question things in my mind. To this day I haven't told anyone in my family that I have begun to depart from the political doctrine that I was raised with. My immediate family wouldn't shun me but I wonder what my grandparents and others in my extended family would think. Some of my friends that remain there are also disenchanted with neo-conservatism but they also keep that fact in seclusion around some other people.
Do I now vote Democratic...actually I'm not sure at this point. However, I no longer embrace the Republican Party. One of my first realizations (beside the fact that maybe Liberals weren’t wrong about everything just because they're liberals) is that we live in a society where societal pressures essentially bully people into taking strict political sides...you're either a republican or a democrat, hardcore liberal or hardcore conservative. For example, if you're strongly pro-life (as I still am) then you have to subscribe to all of the remaining doctrines of conservatism (such as reduced Government involvement in environmental policy, which I strongly oppose)...many of which I have rejected over the past couple of years. Power is maintained by the status quo by tricking people into thinking that they do not have other options than to join in the heavily sectarian and sharply two-sided political fray. I'm not going to go into the specifics of my newly forming (it is still very much in process) political philosophy...I will address that in another entry. What I am trying to detail here is the process that I have been going though for a couple of years now. It's hard to realize that you actually believe you have been wrong about things literally all of your life. That the philosophy that so dominated your upbringing is, in your eyes, heavily flawed and tainted.
So here I am...yes, my political views have taken a sharp left turn, but remember that I started out on the extreme far right...I don't know how far left this will take me. All I know at this point is that I have rejected neo-conservatism (with a few, mostly social, exceptions) in favor of still forming views that will better reflect my value system. You see, my personal value system (which was radically changed three years ago) and that of neo-conservative ideals have clashed for those two or three years...leading to ideological conflicts and increased frustration and anger when discussing politics with others. This irritation peaked during last November's elections...I was not happy with anything. I marked my vote solidly for George W. Bush the G.O.P. one last time but realized that my value system, my heart, even my head, where not making the called. I simply wanted to vote and those societal pressures from where I grew up were still calling the shots. I will close this thought by stating that, especially in light of the increasingly disastrous operation in Iraq, my increasing distain and distrust of the big business and corporations that this administration coddles, and the utterly horrific handling of the Gulf Coast devastation by the White House, I very much regret that vote. Sure I didn't think that John Kerry was a good alternative...but then again, was he the only alternative. Should I open my mind and free myself from this trap of taking sides? That is the process I am in at the moment.
There will be much more to come on this. I need to get these thoughts out.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Blissful Ignorance (Homeless Children in the U.S. and Other Problems that Don't Exist)
This past summer I witnessed the reality of certain problems in Inner City Los Angeles that many people in (often Conservative) political circles will downplay, or even deny the existence of.
Here is the most notable one:
- Homeless children:
Skid Row, just east of the Financial Center of Downtown Los Angeles, is home to thousands of homeless people, many who struggle with drug and alcohol addictions, who have been concentrated there by the stunningly heartless policies of the city. The several missions there struggle to provide the services that they will find nowhere else. The unfortunate reality of having to get clean to enter a mission keeps many from the long term rehabilitative help that they need. Addictions are so powerful and destructive. One could legitimately argue that it is the decisions of these individuals that have placed them there...of course this does not take into account the influences of circumstantial factors on the likelihood of certain decisions, although some of the homeless there have a college education and were successful until they chose the path of chemical addiction.
There are some on Skid Row however that cannot be blamed for their situation. These are the children of those individuals whose only fault was being born into a life of misery by their addicted and homeless parents. These kids wander the streets...they have no opportunities...none. Forget school, they don't have the means to get there...some do, but it's tough, very tough. They have to do it on their own. Many of their parents are too busy trying to find another fix on the street to take care of them. Walking with a team of two girls into a crowded park area, the only source of green and growing things in the hideously blighted area, we came upon three girls. They were children, that was all. They didn't ask for money, they didn't (as far as I could tell) have any addictions, they were just children. It was apparent from talking to them that they had the same near-term desires as others their age...but already suffered from the lack of education and resources. Unless they can somehow escape from their situation, find shelter, a loving home, an education, they will languish in this miserable area that most of the millions in Southern California spent their days not thinking about. These are the forgotten children of the United States...I am writing the name of this country here with a purpose. These are the faces of kids in the United States that a vast majority of the people of this country do not know exist...if asked about them, many will go so far as to say there is no such thing here as homeless kids. When I relate the truth to many people here in Central Texas they are completely surprised because they have literally no idea. Nothing is mentioned in political social or economic circles about the forgotten children of the United States. These children are not a consideration of the mantra of "No Child Left Behind" because they simply do not officially exist.
The little ray of home in these kids lives is found in the missions (which are geared toward adults), and, perhaps more brightly, in the S.A.Y. YES! (Save America's Youth) Center for Youth Development housed at the under funded and under resourced storefront Central City Church of the Nazarene...located at the corner of 6th and San Pedro, the heart of Skid Row. The staff there works tirelessly to provide some help, some educational services, to the kids there. Their stories are heroic and heartbreaking...and unbelievable if you are one of the many suburban acculturated Americans that have never heard the story of America's forgotten children. If you are ever in L.A., I encourage you to visit this street corner and have your eyes opened to a terrible disgrace, and the tiny ray of hope that shines in this very dark place.
Hanging on one of the walls in the center is a painting of a radio...with the words "Sing now while you can" brushed onto the canvas, a visualization almost certainly inspired by the Jimmy Eat World song "Your New Aesthetic". When I visited the center my eyes gazed on the painting and I at once understood the significance of what was there...whether intended or not, the words describe the mission, the goal that the center has for these forgotten children. No matter what happens in the future. No matter the uncertainties that cloud their futures...they want these kids to sing, to laugh, to enjoy, at least for a moment, the childhood that is mostly denied them. Because of their work, and the few others on Skid Row who have not forgotten the forsaken, these kids have hope and they can sing, at least for now.
It is my prayer that others will have their eyes opened to them, and their hearts broken by the realization that even in this country, there are so many people living without hope who need us to show them that they can find it.
Here is the most notable one:
- Homeless children:
Skid Row, just east of the Financial Center of Downtown Los Angeles, is home to thousands of homeless people, many who struggle with drug and alcohol addictions, who have been concentrated there by the stunningly heartless policies of the city. The several missions there struggle to provide the services that they will find nowhere else. The unfortunate reality of having to get clean to enter a mission keeps many from the long term rehabilitative help that they need. Addictions are so powerful and destructive. One could legitimately argue that it is the decisions of these individuals that have placed them there...of course this does not take into account the influences of circumstantial factors on the likelihood of certain decisions, although some of the homeless there have a college education and were successful until they chose the path of chemical addiction.
There are some on Skid Row however that cannot be blamed for their situation. These are the children of those individuals whose only fault was being born into a life of misery by their addicted and homeless parents. These kids wander the streets...they have no opportunities...none. Forget school, they don't have the means to get there...some do, but it's tough, very tough. They have to do it on their own. Many of their parents are too busy trying to find another fix on the street to take care of them. Walking with a team of two girls into a crowded park area, the only source of green and growing things in the hideously blighted area, we came upon three girls. They were children, that was all. They didn't ask for money, they didn't (as far as I could tell) have any addictions, they were just children. It was apparent from talking to them that they had the same near-term desires as others their age...but already suffered from the lack of education and resources. Unless they can somehow escape from their situation, find shelter, a loving home, an education, they will languish in this miserable area that most of the millions in Southern California spent their days not thinking about. These are the forgotten children of the United States...I am writing the name of this country here with a purpose. These are the faces of kids in the United States that a vast majority of the people of this country do not know exist...if asked about them, many will go so far as to say there is no such thing here as homeless kids. When I relate the truth to many people here in Central Texas they are completely surprised because they have literally no idea. Nothing is mentioned in political social or economic circles about the forgotten children of the United States. These children are not a consideration of the mantra of "No Child Left Behind" because they simply do not officially exist.
The little ray of home in these kids lives is found in the missions (which are geared toward adults), and, perhaps more brightly, in the S.A.Y. YES! (Save America's Youth) Center for Youth Development housed at the under funded and under resourced storefront Central City Church of the Nazarene...located at the corner of 6th and San Pedro, the heart of Skid Row. The staff there works tirelessly to provide some help, some educational services, to the kids there. Their stories are heroic and heartbreaking...and unbelievable if you are one of the many suburban acculturated Americans that have never heard the story of America's forgotten children. If you are ever in L.A., I encourage you to visit this street corner and have your eyes opened to a terrible disgrace, and the tiny ray of hope that shines in this very dark place.
Hanging on one of the walls in the center is a painting of a radio...with the words "Sing now while you can" brushed onto the canvas, a visualization almost certainly inspired by the Jimmy Eat World song "Your New Aesthetic". When I visited the center my eyes gazed on the painting and I at once understood the significance of what was there...whether intended or not, the words describe the mission, the goal that the center has for these forgotten children. No matter what happens in the future. No matter the uncertainties that cloud their futures...they want these kids to sing, to laugh, to enjoy, at least for a moment, the childhood that is mostly denied them. Because of their work, and the few others on Skid Row who have not forgotten the forsaken, these kids have hope and they can sing, at least for now.
It is my prayer that others will have their eyes opened to them, and their hearts broken by the realization that even in this country, there are so many people living without hope who need us to show them that they can find it.
Ranch Road 12
My spiritual and mental states of being have reached what to seems to me to be an impass. Of course, I'm still thinking and I still have a soul...they just seem to be suspended. I'm not doing as well as I would like back here in Texas. I'm not in love with my life here even though there are several reasons why I should be. Perhaps my perspective has had such a radical shift that I have not fully grasped how differently I look at things after this past summer and it's experiences.
I guess I could identify what I'm experiencing as apathy. However, it is not complete apathy...just apathy toward certian aspects of life that seem much less meaningful to me now than they used to. I'm sleeping as late as possible every day which is usually a sign that I lack motivation. Hopefully this will change. I do like San Marcos/Austin still...I just miss L.A...being on project, doing things that seemed very meaningful, constant fellowship and such.
I'm lucky to have great fellowship here...I'm just not around it 24/7 like I was in L.A. No constant sources of advice, encouragement and laughs because I am spending considerable time in class and at work. Work has been a struggle mainly because I am dealing with all of the class issues that I dealt with on project (albiet in a more healthy way than before)...working at a really nice and extremely busy Austin hot spot in a very wealthy part of town. I struggle to see the significance of what I'm doing here 30 hours a week even if it is going to be paying the bills for me. I would rather spend that 30 hours down at the convention center helping the hurricane refugees there but my responsibilities to do what I believe God wants me to do (finish school) mean I have to make money in order to pay for my living expenses (and $3 per gallon gas). I'm hopeful that I will be able to begin to love my situation more...It would mean a much more content existence, among other things.
Until then, I need to at least write about what I'm thinking and feeling, something I've failed to do for a while.
I once heard a speaker give some great advice...he said we should seek to do the things that increase our affection for God, and as a result our desire and capacity to grow in our spiritual lives. An obvious example for me is going for a drive...few things help me relax and put my mind in a perspective that allows me to contemplate without distractions more than driving. So I took the long way into Austin earlier this afternoon down Ranch Road 12 and U.S. 290. It's a drive that I love but I haven't been able to take it since I returned to the state. It's still as beautiful as I remember. I need to encourage myself to do this more often...gas is expensive but it's not limited to driving. Simply hanging out with a friend, even if it gets in the way of a responsibility...can be a very worthwile thing.
- Jordan
I guess I could identify what I'm experiencing as apathy. However, it is not complete apathy...just apathy toward certian aspects of life that seem much less meaningful to me now than they used to. I'm sleeping as late as possible every day which is usually a sign that I lack motivation. Hopefully this will change. I do like San Marcos/Austin still...I just miss L.A...being on project, doing things that seemed very meaningful, constant fellowship and such.
I'm lucky to have great fellowship here...I'm just not around it 24/7 like I was in L.A. No constant sources of advice, encouragement and laughs because I am spending considerable time in class and at work. Work has been a struggle mainly because I am dealing with all of the class issues that I dealt with on project (albiet in a more healthy way than before)...working at a really nice and extremely busy Austin hot spot in a very wealthy part of town. I struggle to see the significance of what I'm doing here 30 hours a week even if it is going to be paying the bills for me. I would rather spend that 30 hours down at the convention center helping the hurricane refugees there but my responsibilities to do what I believe God wants me to do (finish school) mean I have to make money in order to pay for my living expenses (and $3 per gallon gas). I'm hopeful that I will be able to begin to love my situation more...It would mean a much more content existence, among other things.
Until then, I need to at least write about what I'm thinking and feeling, something I've failed to do for a while.
I once heard a speaker give some great advice...he said we should seek to do the things that increase our affection for God, and as a result our desire and capacity to grow in our spiritual lives. An obvious example for me is going for a drive...few things help me relax and put my mind in a perspective that allows me to contemplate without distractions more than driving. So I took the long way into Austin earlier this afternoon down Ranch Road 12 and U.S. 290. It's a drive that I love but I haven't been able to take it since I returned to the state. It's still as beautiful as I remember. I need to encourage myself to do this more often...gas is expensive but it's not limited to driving. Simply hanging out with a friend, even if it gets in the way of a responsibility...can be a very worthwile thing.
- Jordan
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Texas (A.K.A. Sweet Mother of Mercy it's Hot Here)
I haven't written in a while. I spent the last three weeks in a chaotic and highly experiential state. I have decided to stop writing about the summer...in a chronological fashion and instead reach into my very full memory bank and write about the experiences that most directly come to mind. This I plan to intersperce with personal current events and the things that I am learning and experiencing since I returned to the Austin/San Marcos area...the quantity of such experiences is great and my life has not stopped moving since I returned.
A quick synopsis:
I left L.A., with a very heavy heart. I didn't want to leave yet I was looking foward to my return to Central Texas and the experiences that were ahead. I made very good friendships on the project. I feel in love with the city of Los Angeles in spite of all of the obvious negitives about the place. You see, there are such awesome positives that lie beneath the crusty and angry surface of the city of 4 million (16 million metro) that you can only really discover by living there. I miss the noises, the masses of people, the freeways, the skyline towering above neighboring houses, the palm trees, and of course the much more plesant temperatures.
Nine days after my return, the end of a long drive that gave me many much needed hours to reflect on my experiences in solitude, I have pretty much adjusted to my surroundings. I drove by myself from Phoenix to San Marcos on Monday and spent the next couple of days taking care of the things necessary for living and attending another year (probably my last) at Texas State University. I was also a leader at Paws Preview, the massive freshman orientation at Texas State. I am greatful for this experience. It allowed me to quickly readjust to the campus surroudings...which are the antithesis of what you find in Inner City L.A. I also had the sense that I was doing something meaningful and impactful...the lack of this feeling is common to people coming off of experiences like the one I had this summer.
So I'm here and I'm about to start my fourth day of work since I returned. Class started today. I'm living in San Marcos within walking distance of campus...a pretty good turn of events because I learned this summer that I shouldn't undervalue community. I am in the midst of a really good community there and I'm looking foward to the coming year.
A quick synopsis:
I left L.A., with a very heavy heart. I didn't want to leave yet I was looking foward to my return to Central Texas and the experiences that were ahead. I made very good friendships on the project. I feel in love with the city of Los Angeles in spite of all of the obvious negitives about the place. You see, there are such awesome positives that lie beneath the crusty and angry surface of the city of 4 million (16 million metro) that you can only really discover by living there. I miss the noises, the masses of people, the freeways, the skyline towering above neighboring houses, the palm trees, and of course the much more plesant temperatures.
Nine days after my return, the end of a long drive that gave me many much needed hours to reflect on my experiences in solitude, I have pretty much adjusted to my surroundings. I drove by myself from Phoenix to San Marcos on Monday and spent the next couple of days taking care of the things necessary for living and attending another year (probably my last) at Texas State University. I was also a leader at Paws Preview, the massive freshman orientation at Texas State. I am greatful for this experience. It allowed me to quickly readjust to the campus surroudings...which are the antithesis of what you find in Inner City L.A. I also had the sense that I was doing something meaningful and impactful...the lack of this feeling is common to people coming off of experiences like the one I had this summer.
So I'm here and I'm about to start my fourth day of work since I returned. Class started today. I'm living in San Marcos within walking distance of campus...a pretty good turn of events because I learned this summer that I shouldn't undervalue community. I am in the midst of a really good community there and I'm looking foward to the coming year.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Skid Row Outreach
07/16
Today was both wonderful and terrible. A day of contrasts, and emotional highs and lows.
I woke at 9:30, not long before we had to meet for an outreach that I was not really looking forward too. The plan, put forth by the new outreach coordinators Sarah and Ryan was to go to Skid Row and minister to the many homeless there. My headache from the previous night was mostly gone but I was not in the best mood regardless. I showered, cleaned up the absolute mess in the kitchen from everyone making their lunches, and went over to the girl’s house for the meeting before we were to leave. I decided that I was not going to fight the fact that I needed to go even if it was going to be uncomfortable…not that I’m scared of skid row itself, but it’s a daunting task in my case because of my pervasive issues with taking initiative in ministry.
We walked to the Dash stop on Figueroa and all 21 of us made it onto the first bus that pulled up. We caught the transfer bus at 7th which took us almost all the way to the Fashion District on the edge of skid row. By now, the fact of living on the edge of downtown Los Angeles has become normal to me so I didn’t marvel at how little time the trip took as I have in the past. We began to walk down 7th toward the heart of skid row, which is intersected by San Julian and San Pedro streets.
Two to three girls were placed in groups with one guy. Jeannine and Christal were in mine. I was happy to have Christal along; she is very outgoing with people she has never met, especially the homeless. I am almost the polar opposite of that…a fact I admitted to her as we approached the downtrodden area which the workers at the L.A. Mission prefer to call “Hope Central”. She prayed for us, and for me, and I was very encouraged. I decided to just put aside my worries and concerns and just see what would happen. We walked down San Julian, the heart of Skid Row…we talked to a couple of people, but not for long, we prayed for one man. We rounded the corner at 5th in front of the L.A. Mission…a lady was sitting on the corner in a wheelchair…well, that was her gender as far as I could tell. She looked very ill…and responded affirmatively when Christial asked if she needed prayer (I had spent the past few minutes fighting my reservations while Christal took the majority of initiative in approaching people. Her name was Coco…she still wore bracelets that betrayed a recent hospital stay. She was very sick with AIDS…she cried as Christal prayed for her, I watched because for safety reasons one person had to keep their eyes open during prayer…I also watched because I struggled to comprehend what she was experiencing, and could not. My inability to be empathetic was frustrating, and left me wondering how to respond.
Leaving Coco behind we crossed over into San Julian park. A lot sized green oasis in the midst of urine stained concrete hell. There we met one lady, and then a twenty year old Hispanic man named Cortez who lives in the Valley but was there with a friend. He got out of jail on Thursday and needs a job. He was also very receptive to our prayers.
Time began to pass more quickly…we met a man on the sidewalk who very openly admitted his struggle with his narcotics addiction. He desperately wanted to believe in the Gospel, but couldn’t see that God could overpower his addiction. While we were talking to him I was approached by this older man named Robert and he began to talk to me…for the next two hours. It wasn’t tedious however, I knew that he needed someone to talk to and he talked about everything from movies, things to see in L.A., Texas and his odd theories about the connection between the government and the church. I never really got through to him about that much but I was able to be someone to talk to. I was really tired after the two hours though. He followed the three of us everywhere (not uninvited). We ended up at the church...I talked to Robert and the girls prayed with people as we met them.
I had a bad headache and was growing irritable when we were at the church talking about the day. Everyone had stories, crazy things they had seen. While working at the prayer table a couple of the students watched a drug deal happen a few feet away, and then a man shoot up with heroin minutes later, on the street in broad daylight.
On our way back my headache worsened, the bus wouldn’t come, I was very impatient. It had been a tough day emotionally and spiritually. I was happy to return to the house, I knew that I was not being the most agreeable person. This project has brought out the best and worst in everyone. We can’t hide anything when we’re living this close and spending this much time together.
Today was both wonderful and terrible. A day of contrasts, and emotional highs and lows.
I woke at 9:30, not long before we had to meet for an outreach that I was not really looking forward too. The plan, put forth by the new outreach coordinators Sarah and Ryan was to go to Skid Row and minister to the many homeless there. My headache from the previous night was mostly gone but I was not in the best mood regardless. I showered, cleaned up the absolute mess in the kitchen from everyone making their lunches, and went over to the girl’s house for the meeting before we were to leave. I decided that I was not going to fight the fact that I needed to go even if it was going to be uncomfortable…not that I’m scared of skid row itself, but it’s a daunting task in my case because of my pervasive issues with taking initiative in ministry.
We walked to the Dash stop on Figueroa and all 21 of us made it onto the first bus that pulled up. We caught the transfer bus at 7th which took us almost all the way to the Fashion District on the edge of skid row. By now, the fact of living on the edge of downtown Los Angeles has become normal to me so I didn’t marvel at how little time the trip took as I have in the past. We began to walk down 7th toward the heart of skid row, which is intersected by San Julian and San Pedro streets.
Two to three girls were placed in groups with one guy. Jeannine and Christal were in mine. I was happy to have Christal along; she is very outgoing with people she has never met, especially the homeless. I am almost the polar opposite of that…a fact I admitted to her as we approached the downtrodden area which the workers at the L.A. Mission prefer to call “Hope Central”. She prayed for us, and for me, and I was very encouraged. I decided to just put aside my worries and concerns and just see what would happen. We walked down San Julian, the heart of Skid Row…we talked to a couple of people, but not for long, we prayed for one man. We rounded the corner at 5th in front of the L.A. Mission…a lady was sitting on the corner in a wheelchair…well, that was her gender as far as I could tell. She looked very ill…and responded affirmatively when Christial asked if she needed prayer (I had spent the past few minutes fighting my reservations while Christal took the majority of initiative in approaching people. Her name was Coco…she still wore bracelets that betrayed a recent hospital stay. She was very sick with AIDS…she cried as Christal prayed for her, I watched because for safety reasons one person had to keep their eyes open during prayer…I also watched because I struggled to comprehend what she was experiencing, and could not. My inability to be empathetic was frustrating, and left me wondering how to respond.
Leaving Coco behind we crossed over into San Julian park. A lot sized green oasis in the midst of urine stained concrete hell. There we met one lady, and then a twenty year old Hispanic man named Cortez who lives in the Valley but was there with a friend. He got out of jail on Thursday and needs a job. He was also very receptive to our prayers.
Time began to pass more quickly…we met a man on the sidewalk who very openly admitted his struggle with his narcotics addiction. He desperately wanted to believe in the Gospel, but couldn’t see that God could overpower his addiction. While we were talking to him I was approached by this older man named Robert and he began to talk to me…for the next two hours. It wasn’t tedious however, I knew that he needed someone to talk to and he talked about everything from movies, things to see in L.A., Texas and his odd theories about the connection between the government and the church. I never really got through to him about that much but I was able to be someone to talk to. I was really tired after the two hours though. He followed the three of us everywhere (not uninvited). We ended up at the church...I talked to Robert and the girls prayed with people as we met them.
I had a bad headache and was growing irritable when we were at the church talking about the day. Everyone had stories, crazy things they had seen. While working at the prayer table a couple of the students watched a drug deal happen a few feet away, and then a man shoot up with heroin minutes later, on the street in broad daylight.
On our way back my headache worsened, the bus wouldn’t come, I was very impatient. It had been a tough day emotionally and spiritually. I was happy to return to the house, I knew that I was not being the most agreeable person. This project has brought out the best and worst in everyone. We can’t hide anything when we’re living this close and spending this much time together.
Short Post
07/14
We got a late start, purposefully. First EV Free let us work a half day because we had accomplished so much in the first three and two of us have been pretty sick this week. The extra sleep was well appreciated by everyone in the group. We ate lunch on the porch and drove to the church.
We decided to shift roles…I took over registration and became a floater and timer…while Jessica took over the games. I was not too prideful to admit that it just wasn’t my place this week. It worked awesomely.
We got a late start, purposefully. First EV Free let us work a half day because we had accomplished so much in the first three and two of us have been pretty sick this week. The extra sleep was well appreciated by everyone in the group. We ate lunch on the porch and drove to the church.
We decided to shift roles…I took over registration and became a floater and timer…while Jessica took over the games. I was not too prideful to admit that it just wasn’t my place this week. It worked awesomely.
First EV Free
I had, today, the most disparity of emotions and experiences so far this week. I was in a substantially better mood, not waking up to a parking ticket again helped that significantly. J.C. continued to feel sick so he took a leave of absence for the first half of the day as the rest of J-Town drove to the church. We had a great morning, laughing, talking and getting much accomplished. It was one of the best working days that I’ve had on project. J.C. was not feeling better when I called him after lunch but he wanted to join us anyway. The man has a great deal of fortitude. Jessica and I had just returned from going first to a 99 cent store, and then to Ralph’s to get everything that we could not find at the previous store for the afternoon. I returned with J.C. to the project site and things continued to go well until the kids arrived.
Now, perhaps one of my worst moments on project was happening. I was again in charge of the games…but because of the way the rules for today’s assigned game were written, I had a difficult time figuring out how to describe them to the kids. Now, I was surrounded by a dozen or so of the fourth and fifth graders looking expectantly…and I was forced to turn to their “family group” leader to take over because I just could not figure out how to communicate to them so that they could learn the game. Frustrating, it was very very frustrating. I don’t have problems communicating with kids; I learned that at the previous site. However, when it comes to teaching younger kids things, I just have a long way to figure that out. I fared even worse with the younger kids. I wanted to just bolt out of there…I know the kids didn’t notice, but I was embarrassed and felt like a failure because I, despite my intelligence and relative maturity, could not communicate simple ideas because of who knows what.
After a few long hours (really just 45 minutes) of that, it was time for the family groups to meet before the final rally for the day. I could not have been happier; However, I was still too disappointed in myself to really be involved. I know I need to trust God more to help me where I lack but I am having a difficult time with that right now. The other J-town guys were really encouraging which helped put things into perspective, but I still felt disappointed and apprehensive about my role in the project in general. Sometimes I catch myself almost believing that the only contribution I can make to the project is driving people around, running errands and giving people directions. I know, I really really know that is not the case, but still I catch myself believing that. I struggle just like others struggle, but when I am not trusting God, when I am trusting in myself as I have today, those struggles seem to become magnified.
The day was definitely not a total loss. I rebounded quickly from the afternoon. I really bonded with my team mates…especially Jacklyn, which was definitely cool, she is one of the most genuine girls that I have ever met and I’m definitely glad she is on my team. Jen, Jessica and J.C. are all solid too…I have been blessed with an amazing team.
Dinner was excellent. Pastor Faye made good on her orientation week promise to come over and feed us “soul food”…barbeque chicken, some awesome cheesy mac stuff, and cornbread. Good times…I really dug into the cheesy mac. Following dinner we went on the long awaited trip to the now project famed glow in the dark miniature golf place near Marina Del Rey. The place was an absolute blast, the only issue was my frustration when we were trying to determine who was going and in which car…other case of the drivers having to basically parent other members of the project. I need to learn not to take it so personally though. I rode with three J-town people and Mike…I was temporarily frustrated with Mike for being spacey when we were leaving but quickly snapped out of it on the drive there, he and I get along extremely well so it is hard to stay mad at someone like him for anything. We in particular had a good time at the golf place…the trip was actually our idea. Miniature golf is fun enough on its own, but this place had absolutely ridiculous decorative stuff on the inside, it was amazing, mushrooms and monkeys and stuff like that. I took a few dozen pictures and most of us (12 in all) spent most of our time between holes dancing to the very danceable music on the speakers. A few of us considered abandoning the game around the 15th hole to just focus on rocking out but we decided to finish. Mike was hilarious, he looked straight out of the seventies…there he found a hat that totally matched his tie dyed shirt, which he wore along with, I’m not kidding, women’s bell bottom jeans. It’s extremely ironic when he reminds people that he is really conservative politically. You’re probably just as likely to see George W. Bush do drugs in college…
Late night on the lawn, Mike and Jen borrowed a laptop and are currently watching Van Helsing in front of the house…not my kind of movie, but I joined them for a while to hang out and talk while starting up at the palm trees above us and admiring the eight or so visible stars…which, I have to point out, I now find myself referring to as a “lot” of stars…one month in L.A. has really changed my perspective on a lot of simple things like that…I wonder what another month will do but I’m excited at the possibilities.
Now, perhaps one of my worst moments on project was happening. I was again in charge of the games…but because of the way the rules for today’s assigned game were written, I had a difficult time figuring out how to describe them to the kids. Now, I was surrounded by a dozen or so of the fourth and fifth graders looking expectantly…and I was forced to turn to their “family group” leader to take over because I just could not figure out how to communicate to them so that they could learn the game. Frustrating, it was very very frustrating. I don’t have problems communicating with kids; I learned that at the previous site. However, when it comes to teaching younger kids things, I just have a long way to figure that out. I fared even worse with the younger kids. I wanted to just bolt out of there…I know the kids didn’t notice, but I was embarrassed and felt like a failure because I, despite my intelligence and relative maturity, could not communicate simple ideas because of who knows what.
After a few long hours (really just 45 minutes) of that, it was time for the family groups to meet before the final rally for the day. I could not have been happier; However, I was still too disappointed in myself to really be involved. I know I need to trust God more to help me where I lack but I am having a difficult time with that right now. The other J-town guys were really encouraging which helped put things into perspective, but I still felt disappointed and apprehensive about my role in the project in general. Sometimes I catch myself almost believing that the only contribution I can make to the project is driving people around, running errands and giving people directions. I know, I really really know that is not the case, but still I catch myself believing that. I struggle just like others struggle, but when I am not trusting God, when I am trusting in myself as I have today, those struggles seem to become magnified.
The day was definitely not a total loss. I rebounded quickly from the afternoon. I really bonded with my team mates…especially Jacklyn, which was definitely cool, she is one of the most genuine girls that I have ever met and I’m definitely glad she is on my team. Jen, Jessica and J.C. are all solid too…I have been blessed with an amazing team.
Dinner was excellent. Pastor Faye made good on her orientation week promise to come over and feed us “soul food”…barbeque chicken, some awesome cheesy mac stuff, and cornbread. Good times…I really dug into the cheesy mac. Following dinner we went on the long awaited trip to the now project famed glow in the dark miniature golf place near Marina Del Rey. The place was an absolute blast, the only issue was my frustration when we were trying to determine who was going and in which car…other case of the drivers having to basically parent other members of the project. I need to learn not to take it so personally though. I rode with three J-town people and Mike…I was temporarily frustrated with Mike for being spacey when we were leaving but quickly snapped out of it on the drive there, he and I get along extremely well so it is hard to stay mad at someone like him for anything. We in particular had a good time at the golf place…the trip was actually our idea. Miniature golf is fun enough on its own, but this place had absolutely ridiculous decorative stuff on the inside, it was amazing, mushrooms and monkeys and stuff like that. I took a few dozen pictures and most of us (12 in all) spent most of our time between holes dancing to the very danceable music on the speakers. A few of us considered abandoning the game around the 15th hole to just focus on rocking out but we decided to finish. Mike was hilarious, he looked straight out of the seventies…there he found a hat that totally matched his tie dyed shirt, which he wore along with, I’m not kidding, women’s bell bottom jeans. It’s extremely ironic when he reminds people that he is really conservative politically. You’re probably just as likely to see George W. Bush do drugs in college…
Late night on the lawn, Mike and Jen borrowed a laptop and are currently watching Van Helsing in front of the house…not my kind of movie, but I joined them for a while to hang out and talk while starting up at the palm trees above us and admiring the eight or so visible stars…which, I have to point out, I now find myself referring to as a “lot” of stars…one month in L.A. has really changed my perspective on a lot of simple things like that…I wonder what another month will do but I’m excited at the possibilities.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Carne Asada = Good times
Monday morning and we’re getting ready, I think, to go to our new ministry site at the First Evangelical Free Church. I’m excited, we’re going to be working with kids (again); however this church has a really solid ministry going in the Pico Union neighborhood. It’s a challenging neighborhood but the church seems to fit right into the community there. We attended a celebration service there on Sunday. They combined the English and Spanish speaking congregations for a united meeting because they had an amazing financial breakthrough earlier in the week. The service was nice, but long because they were translating everything. The benefits of a church celebration usually include good food, which we partook of next door in the pastor’s backyard: Delicious carne asada, frijoles mexicanos, rice and watermelon…good stuff. After a satisfying hour we drove back to the project house. The day went downhill from that point. Josiah was getting on my nerves, exponentially more than previously…I needed to get away from him but couldn’t because most of the guys were gone to the team captains meeting. I asked Mike to go to Ralph’s with me and Josiah kindly invited himself along. Jen came to though…I was thinking extremely negatively at this point, never a good thing. I survived the trip without blowing up at him. Dinner was a highly, the girls, mostly Lindsey (a pretty cool girl now that I have gotten to know her), made an amazing dinner out of mostly leftovers. The captains returned and J-town went to Starbucks (I need to vindicate myself against claims of hypocrisy here by stating that the Salvation Army gave us ten dollar gift cards there…and I don’t mind free stuff, since they’ve gotten the money already anyway) for a “short” meeting that turned into a really good hour long meeting where we got to talk about many issues and prayed for them as well.
Ups and Downs
Evenings were less than perfect this week, by far. Tuesday was placid…David Jason and I went with Juan to his apartment for a stimulating Action Group discussion. I decided to go though Mere Christianity with Juan and made the decision to meet with him one on one at seven in the morning on Friday…which I naturally regretted later.
Wednesday, free night, well, theoretically it was. In honestly the first part of the night was hardly free. A certain level of drama had developed in the house centering on a single member of the project. While the other eight of us usually get along and are like minded and solid; this guy brings an unfortunate destabilizing element to the project. He wasn’t accepted by the staff, but transferred to the Los Angeles project when the Detroit project was canceled due to a lack of interest. He has been a serious point of conflict. He’s mentally unstable at times, very awkward, self-centered and often demanding…and shares a room with myself and Joseph. In short, he is very hard for me to love but I’m trying, everyone is trying. Everyone has catered to him at some point but that has never helped. Anyway, and incident (totally unprovoked) happened between him and Mike that ended up with both Max and Tom driving out to the house and the four of them having a discussion. It was decided that he is one step away from being sent home from the project. Mike, fortunately, was vindicated of any wrong doing. He handled himself extremely well considering that personally I would have had a hard time not reacting harshly myself.
We still tried to make a night of it though. Mike, Jen, Liz, David and at least one other girl went to Hollywood. I finally returned to Amoeba Records, one of the coolest music stores on the planet and one of the largest independent ones. I only bought one CD, which dropped my average per visit to 3.5 (this was my second trip there). We decided to drive over to Hollywood Blvd. and walk around…we should have just walked it was only three blocks away, a point I tried to make but didn’t get across. I dropped them off at a place where something important was happening with beautiful people out front and parked back around Sunset, close to where we originally parked. I met up with them at Hollywood and Vine and we walked all the way to the Chinese Theater and back. It was a good time but we were very pressed for it after the incident earlier in the evening. An LAPD helicopter was circling overhead when Mike, Jen and I got back to the car…but it left before any of us could figure out why it was there.
Thursday – A training that I really did not want to attend. I was exhausted and pretty irritable. I had a hard time paying attention. The speaker was interesting but it was hard to keep my interest. I was even more disconnected with the night’s corporate worship than I usually am. There were a flood of semi-pointless announcements and Jason got up to apologize because Monday night’s skit had apparently offended a couple of people (they had some validity but I thought it was a little over-reactive). On the ride back the most problematic girl on the project was in the back seat and within a few blocks of driving I was ready to blow up at her but I restrained myself (she may be going home in a few days because she is really unstable and causing a lot of problems on Mike’s team, I’m fortunate that she is not on my team). I guess the night seems really negative after all I just mentioned. It wasn’t all that bad; however, it marked a significant increase in my disgruntlement at certain aspects of the project. I was encouraged to see Mike talk to Josiah and take some serious iniative to patch things up…a huge step on his part, a step that I probably wouldn’t have had the heart to take. It’s amazing to see people change on this project right before my eyes. I was in the coffee shop on Union when they walked in. I couldn’t help but smile. I really think a lot of Mike…I told him that later on…I hadn’t appreciated him like I should have been. I had started to let negative thought and perceptions cloud my view of him. Those are gone now, and I can’t help but love the guy. I love how God enables me to get past all of my barriers that could easily keep me from loving people.
Friday – No incidents this night, thankfully. However I could have had a better time. The week had gotten to me so I was short tempered and irritable. Mike, Jessica, Josiah (a side-effect of Mike reconciling with him meant he had to come along, but I made sure Mike knew that I wasn’t upset for him inviting Josiah along…although I am still haven’t a tough time with him myself), Robbie and I went first to Downtown…and seeing everything interesting closed we drove out to Westwood and walked around the Beautiful U.C.L.A. campus. After going back to Westwood we were all tired and hungry but never ended up agreeing on a place to go (a brief point of conflict between Mike and I but I had learned my lesson the previous weekend so I relented and tried to fight my selfishness). We drove up to the house twenty minutes later, but finally decided to go look for a place to eat (after dropping off Josiah, which was not a premeditated action). The night ended without further incident, but I was definitely ready to take my fairly negative attitude to bed.
Wednesday, free night, well, theoretically it was. In honestly the first part of the night was hardly free. A certain level of drama had developed in the house centering on a single member of the project. While the other eight of us usually get along and are like minded and solid; this guy brings an unfortunate destabilizing element to the project. He wasn’t accepted by the staff, but transferred to the Los Angeles project when the Detroit project was canceled due to a lack of interest. He has been a serious point of conflict. He’s mentally unstable at times, very awkward, self-centered and often demanding…and shares a room with myself and Joseph. In short, he is very hard for me to love but I’m trying, everyone is trying. Everyone has catered to him at some point but that has never helped. Anyway, and incident (totally unprovoked) happened between him and Mike that ended up with both Max and Tom driving out to the house and the four of them having a discussion. It was decided that he is one step away from being sent home from the project. Mike, fortunately, was vindicated of any wrong doing. He handled himself extremely well considering that personally I would have had a hard time not reacting harshly myself.
We still tried to make a night of it though. Mike, Jen, Liz, David and at least one other girl went to Hollywood. I finally returned to Amoeba Records, one of the coolest music stores on the planet and one of the largest independent ones. I only bought one CD, which dropped my average per visit to 3.5 (this was my second trip there). We decided to drive over to Hollywood Blvd. and walk around…we should have just walked it was only three blocks away, a point I tried to make but didn’t get across. I dropped them off at a place where something important was happening with beautiful people out front and parked back around Sunset, close to where we originally parked. I met up with them at Hollywood and Vine and we walked all the way to the Chinese Theater and back. It was a good time but we were very pressed for it after the incident earlier in the evening. An LAPD helicopter was circling overhead when Mike, Jen and I got back to the car…but it left before any of us could figure out why it was there.
Thursday – A training that I really did not want to attend. I was exhausted and pretty irritable. I had a hard time paying attention. The speaker was interesting but it was hard to keep my interest. I was even more disconnected with the night’s corporate worship than I usually am. There were a flood of semi-pointless announcements and Jason got up to apologize because Monday night’s skit had apparently offended a couple of people (they had some validity but I thought it was a little over-reactive). On the ride back the most problematic girl on the project was in the back seat and within a few blocks of driving I was ready to blow up at her but I restrained myself (she may be going home in a few days because she is really unstable and causing a lot of problems on Mike’s team, I’m fortunate that she is not on my team). I guess the night seems really negative after all I just mentioned. It wasn’t all that bad; however, it marked a significant increase in my disgruntlement at certain aspects of the project. I was encouraged to see Mike talk to Josiah and take some serious iniative to patch things up…a huge step on his part, a step that I probably wouldn’t have had the heart to take. It’s amazing to see people change on this project right before my eyes. I was in the coffee shop on Union when they walked in. I couldn’t help but smile. I really think a lot of Mike…I told him that later on…I hadn’t appreciated him like I should have been. I had started to let negative thought and perceptions cloud my view of him. Those are gone now, and I can’t help but love the guy. I love how God enables me to get past all of my barriers that could easily keep me from loving people.
Friday – No incidents this night, thankfully. However I could have had a better time. The week had gotten to me so I was short tempered and irritable. Mike, Jessica, Josiah (a side-effect of Mike reconciling with him meant he had to come along, but I made sure Mike knew that I wasn’t upset for him inviting Josiah along…although I am still haven’t a tough time with him myself), Robbie and I went first to Downtown…and seeing everything interesting closed we drove out to Westwood and walked around the Beautiful U.C.L.A. campus. After going back to Westwood we were all tired and hungry but never ended up agreeing on a place to go (a brief point of conflict between Mike and I but I had learned my lesson the previous weekend so I relented and tried to fight my selfishness). We drove up to the house twenty minutes later, but finally decided to go look for a place to eat (after dropping off Josiah, which was not a premeditated action). The night ended without further incident, but I was definitely ready to take my fairly negative attitude to bed.
Straght Outta...
Compton turned out to be our team’s destination for the rest of the week. We were assigned to work for the Salvation Army there. Captain Martin Ross directed us and he and his family are amazing people. A graduate of UC Berkley, he moved to Compton to pastor and help build the Salvation Army’s presence there. They do so much work; I was fully amazed at the spectrum of their involvement in that troubled community.
While not quite as bad as its reputation would suggest, Compton does have a disproportionate share of problems…particularly related to violent crime and gangs. I picked up the Los Angeles Times today to read that the city’s (Compton is a separate city from Los Angeles) murder rate had drastically increased in the past year. We were visited on Friday by two Los Angeles County Sheriff Officers who explained the city’s plight, so I was not at all surprised to read it in the times…A fascinating aspect of this project is learning so much about Los Angeles, from so many different angles. Most people would be afraid to visit the areas in which we will continue to work. That is a shame, there is so much that can be learned there. I was thrilled to hear an explanation of the L.A. riots from an African-American lady who was there when it happened, and from a completely different view than I have heard every other explanation (I will likely write about this at some point).
The kids were at once frustrating and lovable. Inner City kids face so many obstacles and have so much working against them…but they are still kids…Very different kids...kids who are forced into adult situations before they are even close to ready. One of their day camp activities was writing letters to solders. Most of those letters focused on the aspect of killing…advice on what guns and bullets to use, admonishments to kill as many of their enemies as possible. Very different than the content that you would likely see from similar letters written by their peers in Austin or Tucson. The mentality they are raised in is one of, essentially, guerrilla warfare…Gangs, guns and drugs. One kid, probably less than ten years old, asked a solider if they “use the same bullets as the bad people on the street”. It is not a hopeless situation for them, but many have to look really hard to find those traces of hope.
The Salvation Army attempts to orient them to find it. Sharing with them, doing all they can to reverse the affects that drugs, violent and severely broken homes have unleashed upon the youth there. On Thursday…I saw those signs of hope. We took the kids to a roller rink in Cerritos. The kids had fun; they didn’t have to worry about anything. They laughed; smiled, played…they were kids. All of the work, the painting, the boring hours in the fireworks stand, the five trips to Home Depot in three days, the difficult attempts at managing a couple dozen unruly kids who have little in the way of positive guidance in their lives…all of it was worth it when I saw those smiles, and saw hope.
While not quite as bad as its reputation would suggest, Compton does have a disproportionate share of problems…particularly related to violent crime and gangs. I picked up the Los Angeles Times today to read that the city’s (Compton is a separate city from Los Angeles) murder rate had drastically increased in the past year. We were visited on Friday by two Los Angeles County Sheriff Officers who explained the city’s plight, so I was not at all surprised to read it in the times…A fascinating aspect of this project is learning so much about Los Angeles, from so many different angles. Most people would be afraid to visit the areas in which we will continue to work. That is a shame, there is so much that can be learned there. I was thrilled to hear an explanation of the L.A. riots from an African-American lady who was there when it happened, and from a completely different view than I have heard every other explanation (I will likely write about this at some point).
The kids were at once frustrating and lovable. Inner City kids face so many obstacles and have so much working against them…but they are still kids…Very different kids...kids who are forced into adult situations before they are even close to ready. One of their day camp activities was writing letters to solders. Most of those letters focused on the aspect of killing…advice on what guns and bullets to use, admonishments to kill as many of their enemies as possible. Very different than the content that you would likely see from similar letters written by their peers in Austin or Tucson. The mentality they are raised in is one of, essentially, guerrilla warfare…Gangs, guns and drugs. One kid, probably less than ten years old, asked a solider if they “use the same bullets as the bad people on the street”. It is not a hopeless situation for them, but many have to look really hard to find those traces of hope.
The Salvation Army attempts to orient them to find it. Sharing with them, doing all they can to reverse the affects that drugs, violent and severely broken homes have unleashed upon the youth there. On Thursday…I saw those signs of hope. We took the kids to a roller rink in Cerritos. The kids had fun; they didn’t have to worry about anything. They laughed; smiled, played…they were kids. All of the work, the painting, the boring hours in the fireworks stand, the five trips to Home Depot in three days, the difficult attempts at managing a couple dozen unruly kids who have little in the way of positive guidance in their lives…all of it was worth it when I saw those smiles, and saw hope.
Venice Beach
6/27/05 -2
Our first day on our regular ministry schedule was a detour. The Los Angeles Mission double booked out teams and we didn’t have a site for the week, as of yet. We brainstormed and decided to go to Venice. I was concerned that this was going to be the same dry “beach reach” that I really just don’t get that excited about; however, Jen had a good idea. We threw together the idea for a board simply asking “Who do you think Jesus is?” To which people could respond with anything they wanted. It was a simple yet powerful way to get people thinking and pondering the truth. We raced to Wal-Mart (because most stores were already closed on Sunday night), got there four minutes before closing, and three minutes later we were in line with just about everything we needed.
I love Venice. I went there for the first time on Saturday and it was easily the highlight of my weekend, a sublime moment of peace before things got sticky. I was happy to go back. Many people I’ve found have an extremely narrow and negative conception of the typical member of the Venice crowd (some people on project have expressed it without realizing it). This is not unusual, particularly for suburban Christians. However, living in Austin placed me in the middle of a crowd that is very similar and certainly very “weird” but the standards of boring and normal people. I love them, even the weird ones. I love stoners, I love beach bums, I’m learning to love the homeless even though I really struggle with it, I love hippies and people with crazy ideas. I love people, simply, not all people, not yet, but I’m learning. I feel at home in Venice as much as I feel at home in Austin. Venice is to me what Santa Monica is to the suburban project members. It’s a place were I can go and relax and chill and think and be among interesting people in a fascinatingly beautiful and interesting setting.
We were back in Venice. We set up the table and despite the relative quietness of the boardwalk on a sleepy weekday, we got some good responses. We had a few good conversations, a few weird ones, admired the canvas of humanity around us, and got the chance to hand out free water to the same “bums” that I used to ollie five times while playing the Venice Beach level on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 when I was a few years younger and dreaming of someday traveling to Southern California.
As we packed up our stuff into the van late in the afternoon we came to a consensus that the day was certainly not a waste. We realized that we are a special group, very unified and very focused. While I had an “ideal” group in mind before the teams were selected, I am coming to realize that the truly ideal team is the one that I have been placed on. I could sense that the team shared my love for the people at Venice, and shared my desire to grow and become capable of showing even more love to those we encounter.
Returning to the house, the van inched along the 405 and then inched slightly faster on the 10. Johndon informed us that he had landed us a permanent ministry site for the remainder of the week. We will be working at the Salvation Army in Compton. This was welcome news. We had a good day but trying to improvise projects for the entire week would have been difficult. Following burritos at dinner, we drove over to the First EV Free church (a future site for our team) for our first “coffee house”…which was fun but enjoyable. The guys all put on a skit that was a funny satire of our visit to Judson Baptist the weekend previous. After returning to the house I talked to Juan and found out that I’m still short on support. Checks that I am expecting have still not arrived. It’s just something I’ll have to take care of. I was pretty mad but kept things under control and I’m not worried about it now.
Our first day on our regular ministry schedule was a detour. The Los Angeles Mission double booked out teams and we didn’t have a site for the week, as of yet. We brainstormed and decided to go to Venice. I was concerned that this was going to be the same dry “beach reach” that I really just don’t get that excited about; however, Jen had a good idea. We threw together the idea for a board simply asking “Who do you think Jesus is?” To which people could respond with anything they wanted. It was a simple yet powerful way to get people thinking and pondering the truth. We raced to Wal-Mart (because most stores were already closed on Sunday night), got there four minutes before closing, and three minutes later we were in line with just about everything we needed.
I love Venice. I went there for the first time on Saturday and it was easily the highlight of my weekend, a sublime moment of peace before things got sticky. I was happy to go back. Many people I’ve found have an extremely narrow and negative conception of the typical member of the Venice crowd (some people on project have expressed it without realizing it). This is not unusual, particularly for suburban Christians. However, living in Austin placed me in the middle of a crowd that is very similar and certainly very “weird” but the standards of boring and normal people. I love them, even the weird ones. I love stoners, I love beach bums, I’m learning to love the homeless even though I really struggle with it, I love hippies and people with crazy ideas. I love people, simply, not all people, not yet, but I’m learning. I feel at home in Venice as much as I feel at home in Austin. Venice is to me what Santa Monica is to the suburban project members. It’s a place were I can go and relax and chill and think and be among interesting people in a fascinatingly beautiful and interesting setting.
We were back in Venice. We set up the table and despite the relative quietness of the boardwalk on a sleepy weekday, we got some good responses. We had a few good conversations, a few weird ones, admired the canvas of humanity around us, and got the chance to hand out free water to the same “bums” that I used to ollie five times while playing the Venice Beach level on Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 when I was a few years younger and dreaming of someday traveling to Southern California.
As we packed up our stuff into the van late in the afternoon we came to a consensus that the day was certainly not a waste. We realized that we are a special group, very unified and very focused. While I had an “ideal” group in mind before the teams were selected, I am coming to realize that the truly ideal team is the one that I have been placed on. I could sense that the team shared my love for the people at Venice, and shared my desire to grow and become capable of showing even more love to those we encounter.
Returning to the house, the van inched along the 405 and then inched slightly faster on the 10. Johndon informed us that he had landed us a permanent ministry site for the remainder of the week. We will be working at the Salvation Army in Compton. This was welcome news. We had a good day but trying to improvise projects for the entire week would have been difficult. Following burritos at dinner, we drove over to the First EV Free church (a future site for our team) for our first “coffee house”…which was fun but enjoyable. The guys all put on a skit that was a funny satire of our visit to Judson Baptist the weekend previous. After returning to the house I talked to Juan and found out that I’m still short on support. Checks that I am expecting have still not arrived. It’s just something I’ll have to take care of. I was pretty mad but kept things under control and I’m not worried about it now.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
The Begining of a Marathon
6/27/05
After what was easily the longest day on the project, I worked to repair any bridges that I had damaged. My progressively (regressive) negative attitude on Saturday made me a very undesirable person to be around. Mike admitted to me that he didn’t want to hang out with me if that was going to continue to be the case. I was somewhat depressed by this but it made me realize (something that I was beginning to be aware of) is the cause of conflict and frustration in my case is usually internal and something that I have to deal with myself. I was ready (and had already been) to start pointing fingers and blaming everyone else on the project (including Mike, unjustifiably so) for me feeling slighted and not respected. Perhaps the problem has not been others, but my own pride…and arrogance…which was a label I was starting to attach to others in my mind. God I suck still in a lot of areas and as much as I want to be a likeable person (and I believe that I generally am) I still have some areas to strive for…of course I am not seeking for the praises of men…well, I am, but that should not be my goal. My goal should be working for the glory of the God and Savior that has completely and comprehensively transformed my life. But I often feel unmotivated and lazy spiritually…I often feel dead and lifeless. I won’t get into the details of Saturday (driving around L.A. with Mike, Crystal, and until I needed to take her home because she was feeling really bad, Jacklyn) and the Staff Hunt debacle. I will just admit that my attitude was a rapid downward spiral. Mike doesn’t really know me, the rest of the guys don’t know me yet either, what am I to expect them to think of me if I act so childish. Even if I can find and pick out flaws in them, that does not validate my behavior. Sunday ended a very intense and comprehensive orientation week. Now we were on our way to our respective ministry sites.
After what was easily the longest day on the project, I worked to repair any bridges that I had damaged. My progressively (regressive) negative attitude on Saturday made me a very undesirable person to be around. Mike admitted to me that he didn’t want to hang out with me if that was going to continue to be the case. I was somewhat depressed by this but it made me realize (something that I was beginning to be aware of) is the cause of conflict and frustration in my case is usually internal and something that I have to deal with myself. I was ready (and had already been) to start pointing fingers and blaming everyone else on the project (including Mike, unjustifiably so) for me feeling slighted and not respected. Perhaps the problem has not been others, but my own pride…and arrogance…which was a label I was starting to attach to others in my mind. God I suck still in a lot of areas and as much as I want to be a likeable person (and I believe that I generally am) I still have some areas to strive for…of course I am not seeking for the praises of men…well, I am, but that should not be my goal. My goal should be working for the glory of the God and Savior that has completely and comprehensively transformed my life. But I often feel unmotivated and lazy spiritually…I often feel dead and lifeless. I won’t get into the details of Saturday (driving around L.A. with Mike, Crystal, and until I needed to take her home because she was feeling really bad, Jacklyn) and the Staff Hunt debacle. I will just admit that my attitude was a rapid downward spiral. Mike doesn’t really know me, the rest of the guys don’t know me yet either, what am I to expect them to think of me if I act so childish. Even if I can find and pick out flaws in them, that does not validate my behavior. Sunday ended a very intense and comprehensive orientation week. Now we were on our way to our respective ministry sites.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Riding in the Big Bus
The bus pulled up at eleven, a tour bus. The staff team chartered it to take us around Central Los Angeles to the various ministry sites. I felt awkward, as did many people on the team, as we rolled into East L.A. in such a magnificent vehicle, as if by our overall whiteness we did not stand out enough. Lunch was served at the first street market: enchiladas, rice, beans, chips and salsa…the usual fare. We were welcomed and entertained by a two man musical group and a host…who spoke mostly in Spanish but engaged us nonetheless. I was able to decipher a good deal of what he was saying; however, I did not have the confidence to respond.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Touring in the Big Bus
The bus pulled up at eleven, a tour bus. The staff team chartered it to take us around Central Los Angeles to the various ministry sites. I felt awkward, as did many people on the team, as we rolled into East L.A. in such a magnificent vehicle, as if by our overall whiteness we did not stand out enough. Lunch was served at the first street market: enchiladas, rice, beans, chips and salsa…the usual fare. We were welcomed and entertained by a two man musical group and a host…who spoke mostly in Spanish but engaged us nonetheless. I was able to decipher a good deal of what he was saying; however, I did not have the confidence to respond.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Our next stop was across downtown at the First Evangelical Free Church in the Pico/Union neighborhood. Scott, who works at the church, gave us a tour of the neighborhood. I again felt very conspicuous as twenty-eight students and a half dozen or so staff plugged down the narrow sidewalks of the mostly Latino immigrant neighborhood. Scott told stories that were fascinating. He mentioned that the zip code that we were standing in (which happens to be the same one we live in) has the densest population of any American zip code outside of New York City. It is hard to guess that from its appearance. The reason is many immigrants crowd into what in most places are considered single family homes. Large families share a single room so that they can afford L.A.’s high rent. Many are just trying to get on their feet in a new land and a majority of them came to the States from Central America, not Mexico as most would assume. Scott mentioned many of the things I learned in my Geography classes…people in the neighborhood pay more for basic goods than their suburban contemporaries…despite having far less disposable income. Many illegal immigrants work at or below minimum wage (an injustice that employers can get away with because if they report it to the Government then their illegal status will be found out). Scott took us around the back of a building to see one of the most famous murals in Los Angeles. The city is covered in amazing murals. This one featured depictions, mostly from a catholic point of view, of the life, death and resurrection of Christ. It was painted about fifteen years ago as a symbol of hope to a neighborhood dying amid the stench of escalating gang warfare. Written across the top of the mural are the names of victims of gang violence from that time.
The first name along the top of the mural was “Nite-Owl”. This, Scott said, was
the brother of a man he befriended named Hector. When Hector was a teenager he heard gunshots and ran out of the house to see his brother dead from those shots.
The bus then took us back downtown. We toured the Los Angeles Mission, a fantastic facility serving the homeless in the heart of Skid Row, a concentration of homeless that is the largest such population in the United States. We walked down the street to the S.A.Y. Yes center, which serves the forgotten homeless children in the area. The bus later took us away from downtown to the Here’s Life Inner City office, ending with a surreal meal and blessing from the leadership at Hope Community Temple in South Central.
After returning to the house I felt like going to sleep but thought better of it and decided to escort five of the awesome girls on the project to a nearby coffee shop. I was able to call and talk to Roommate Mike about at least a small fraction of what I’ve experienced in the past week. I talked to Crystal for a long time after we got back. We had a great conversation and I burned the first MewithoutYou album and gave it to her (she likes them as well but only has the new one) I also loaned her Blue Like Jazz. Now, I am ready to crash because Michael, Crystal, Jacklyn and I are going to make the most of a very important free day tomorrow.
Day 3: Intercultural Oneness and Stuff
6/18/05
Sunday was “intercultural oneness day on the project. The entire group attended a predominantly African American Church in Carson (near Long Beach). This was my first experience in that type of gathering. I had my share of pre-conceived notions concerning African-American churches. We were told by a couple of the staff to disperse ourselves around the building so Mike and I sat away from most of the group, who happened to end up all in the same area. We were warmly greeted…any ideas I had that we would be looked upon as outsiders (being a mostly white group, with a couple blacks and a few Asians) vanished as I entered.
It was fathers’ day, so a couple of ladies in the entrance were pinning roses on the jackets of all the fathers (the standard of dress was definitely nice, I felt underdressed in just a blue shirt, tie and slacks. All of the guys in our group got roses as well despite our lack of fatherhood; however, it served as a reminder to call my dad later in the day (which I did). The service began with singing, gospel style of course. The music was very soulful and the congregation was engaged in a very spiritual way. I particularly appreciated the drummer’s style and his creative fills.
The service was long, the sermon even longer. The pastor preached with authority and everyone was attentive. A large part of his sermon focused on physical wellness, a reflection of the social responsibility felt within the church.
Lunch at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in Long Beach included what you would expect, which is, what most people would not expect. Chicken and waffles on the same plate. Though I’m not a traditionalist, at least going by the traditional definition, I opted for just the chicken, in burger form. It was good stuff and since the project was paying I didn’t mind the price, whatever it was.
We loaded into the vans and drove back up the 110 to the house. A two hour long discussion on the events of the day, the previous night’s movie, and race relations in general ensued shortly after our arrival. It was an interesting discussion, probably the most involved that I have been in one, but it ended rather harmoniously despite the controversial nature of the subjects discussed in our relatively diverse group.
Sunday was “intercultural oneness day on the project. The entire group attended a predominantly African American Church in Carson (near Long Beach). This was my first experience in that type of gathering. I had my share of pre-conceived notions concerning African-American churches. We were told by a couple of the staff to disperse ourselves around the building so Mike and I sat away from most of the group, who happened to end up all in the same area. We were warmly greeted…any ideas I had that we would be looked upon as outsiders (being a mostly white group, with a couple blacks and a few Asians) vanished as I entered.
It was fathers’ day, so a couple of ladies in the entrance were pinning roses on the jackets of all the fathers (the standard of dress was definitely nice, I felt underdressed in just a blue shirt, tie and slacks. All of the guys in our group got roses as well despite our lack of fatherhood; however, it served as a reminder to call my dad later in the day (which I did). The service began with singing, gospel style of course. The music was very soulful and the congregation was engaged in a very spiritual way. I particularly appreciated the drummer’s style and his creative fills.
The service was long, the sermon even longer. The pastor preached with authority and everyone was attentive. A large part of his sermon focused on physical wellness, a reflection of the social responsibility felt within the church.
Lunch at Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles in Long Beach included what you would expect, which is, what most people would not expect. Chicken and waffles on the same plate. Though I’m not a traditionalist, at least going by the traditional definition, I opted for just the chicken, in burger form. It was good stuff and since the project was paying I didn’t mind the price, whatever it was.
We loaded into the vans and drove back up the 110 to the house. A two hour long discussion on the events of the day, the previous night’s movie, and race relations in general ensued shortly after our arrival. It was an interesting discussion, probably the most involved that I have been in one, but it ended rather harmoniously despite the controversial nature of the subjects discussed in our relatively diverse group.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Day 2: Watts
I was apprehensive upon waking for my second full day on project. An “outreach” was planned in the South Central Los Angeles neighborhood known as Watts, one of the toughest and most feared areas in L.A.
We left for Watts in the vans. I was unsure of what to expect, all I knew was the notorious nature of the neighborhood. I was a little apprehensive, but far from scared. I had a strange peaceful sensation about the day ahead. A group known as Athletes In Action was putting on a sports camp for kinds in the troubled Nickerson Gardens housing project. We arrived at the neighborhood to the sight of a typical inner city scene with looks of discontent, or determination, on the faces people who glanced our way. We unpacked the vans after parking at the humble (but not hopeless) looking projects. I moved around to different areas, trying to find things to do. The Athletes in Action arrived a little later than expected so things started slowly.
The children, and some adults, mostly African-American with the occasional member of a Hispanic group, began to trickle into the modest park that stands in the middle of the project. The children appear innocent enough when you observe them, just like other kids. Only by talking to them would you learn the difficulties that the neighborhood presents them.
After a slow hour passed a few project members and I were sent around the immediate neighborhood to tell people about the gathering in the park. We were warned however, to avoid the surrounding streets. In my naivety I wondered how bad they could actually be. Walking by the playground, the three girls accompanying my reluctant steps found a little Latina girl, who couldn’t have been older than three or four, who had lost herself in the playground. They were determined to take her back home so I followed. Her home was within sight of the park so I was not overly concerned. The four of us had an interesting conversation with her father, a Hispanic man, probably around 30 years of age.
He told us stories of the neighborhood, warning us that we shouldn’t be there. We were “good people” after all. Of course his concern was valid. He had been shot at the previous night. He watched a man get mugged out in the street; a few days before, a couple of likely gang members had fired at an L.A.P.D. officer as he drove by. He showed us stab wounds on his face that evidenced his troubles. The “eggheads”, he said, were out to get him. “They haven’t messed with you yet?” he asked with amazement, “they always mess with me man”. Such a fear and hatred exists in L.A. between Hispanics and Blacks for reasons which I will explain later. After twenty minutes of fascinating and mildly disturbing conversation with him, we departed and returned to the psychological safety of the park area where the camp was now in full effect and friendly faces marked the landscape.
I found my place with the kids. Mike and I began a sandlot soccer game with the more outgoing ones. My favorite was a sharp 10 year old named James. He has so much potential that is going to be difficult to realize in his surroundings. Another very lovable kid wanted a scorpion on his face at the face painting table…it turns out that is the name of the gang that both his dad and his uncle are involved in. Gang culture permeates Watts, and the kids there are exposed to it at an early age. They are children forced to play adults in a challenging world. The neighborhood seeks to rob them of their childhood and the innocence that is supposed to accompany it.
A few tiring hours later they broke down the camp. Mike, Ryan and I said goodbye to the kids that we had befriended and attempted to show genuine love to. As we left, a marching band was preparing to enter the park gym as a part of a banquet. It was fascinating to see how hard some in the neighborhood were trying to salvage what little they could in their broken community. I left deep in thought. The day had affected me; however, the affect was a positive one. I left happy that I was able to, for a few short hours; spend time with these kids who are caught in the crossfire of a situation that leaves them with great disadvantages.
We returned to the project house for the usual 6 o’clock dinner. The staff had purchased tickets for all who wanted to go see the movie Crash. It is a film that is extremely important. It takes the complex problems of race relations in Los Angeles and somehow condenses it in a remarkably comprehensive fashion into a two hour film. Essentially, the film moves past actions and acts out what many feel and think about the other cultures and ethnicities around them. An amazing film that I definitely recommend…I will write a more thorough review at a later time.
We left for Watts in the vans. I was unsure of what to expect, all I knew was the notorious nature of the neighborhood. I was a little apprehensive, but far from scared. I had a strange peaceful sensation about the day ahead. A group known as Athletes In Action was putting on a sports camp for kinds in the troubled Nickerson Gardens housing project. We arrived at the neighborhood to the sight of a typical inner city scene with looks of discontent, or determination, on the faces people who glanced our way. We unpacked the vans after parking at the humble (but not hopeless) looking projects. I moved around to different areas, trying to find things to do. The Athletes in Action arrived a little later than expected so things started slowly.
The children, and some adults, mostly African-American with the occasional member of a Hispanic group, began to trickle into the modest park that stands in the middle of the project. The children appear innocent enough when you observe them, just like other kids. Only by talking to them would you learn the difficulties that the neighborhood presents them.
After a slow hour passed a few project members and I were sent around the immediate neighborhood to tell people about the gathering in the park. We were warned however, to avoid the surrounding streets. In my naivety I wondered how bad they could actually be. Walking by the playground, the three girls accompanying my reluctant steps found a little Latina girl, who couldn’t have been older than three or four, who had lost herself in the playground. They were determined to take her back home so I followed. Her home was within sight of the park so I was not overly concerned. The four of us had an interesting conversation with her father, a Hispanic man, probably around 30 years of age.
He told us stories of the neighborhood, warning us that we shouldn’t be there. We were “good people” after all. Of course his concern was valid. He had been shot at the previous night. He watched a man get mugged out in the street; a few days before, a couple of likely gang members had fired at an L.A.P.D. officer as he drove by. He showed us stab wounds on his face that evidenced his troubles. The “eggheads”, he said, were out to get him. “They haven’t messed with you yet?” he asked with amazement, “they always mess with me man”. Such a fear and hatred exists in L.A. between Hispanics and Blacks for reasons which I will explain later. After twenty minutes of fascinating and mildly disturbing conversation with him, we departed and returned to the psychological safety of the park area where the camp was now in full effect and friendly faces marked the landscape.
I found my place with the kids. Mike and I began a sandlot soccer game with the more outgoing ones. My favorite was a sharp 10 year old named James. He has so much potential that is going to be difficult to realize in his surroundings. Another very lovable kid wanted a scorpion on his face at the face painting table…it turns out that is the name of the gang that both his dad and his uncle are involved in. Gang culture permeates Watts, and the kids there are exposed to it at an early age. They are children forced to play adults in a challenging world. The neighborhood seeks to rob them of their childhood and the innocence that is supposed to accompany it.
A few tiring hours later they broke down the camp. Mike, Ryan and I said goodbye to the kids that we had befriended and attempted to show genuine love to. As we left, a marching band was preparing to enter the park gym as a part of a banquet. It was fascinating to see how hard some in the neighborhood were trying to salvage what little they could in their broken community. I left deep in thought. The day had affected me; however, the affect was a positive one. I left happy that I was able to, for a few short hours; spend time with these kids who are caught in the crossfire of a situation that leaves them with great disadvantages.
We returned to the project house for the usual 6 o’clock dinner. The staff had purchased tickets for all who wanted to go see the movie Crash. It is a film that is extremely important. It takes the complex problems of race relations in Los Angeles and somehow condenses it in a remarkably comprehensive fashion into a two hour film. Essentially, the film moves past actions and acts out what many feel and think about the other cultures and ethnicities around them. An amazing film that I definitely recommend…I will write a more thorough review at a later time.
Day 1: An Evening in Santa Monica
6/17/05
After the long day my friend Mike and I still wanted to see more of the city (he had never been and in two trips I still had much to see). Both of us decided to take. We drove off toward Santa Monica.
The day was long; however, Mike and I were restless and eager to see more of the city. A couple of girls came along and we took my car out to Santa Monica. It is a beautiful and quaint enclave in the massive urban area. I resigned myself to parking several blocks from the beach (I hate paying for parking) and we walked toward the pier. The twilight view that greeted us at Ocean Avenue was unreal in its beauty the buildings, homes, and the fairy tail-like mini amusement park out on the pier combined to create a setting that could only be rendered by a master artist.
We conversed along the shore, but often the words were interrupted by silent stares and moments taken to ponder the wonder before us. At least that is how I felt, Mike too probably, the girls, Erin and…unfortunately I’m bad with their names…spent most of their time on the phone but that was up to them. We turned to walk out onto the pier. I felt a sense of wonder as I gazed up the shoreline to where the Ocean took a great turn to the west and a distant member of the Santa Monica Mountains hid the sun as it raced away from the California Coast.
A cool darkness had wrapped around the pier. We walked back toward the city, leaving the pier behind. We walked though the Promenade. Saw a couple of shops (there isn’t anything there that I can’t see in Austin so I wasn’t overly thrilled). An oddly placed belly dancer performed in front of Urban Outfitters where Mike found an amazing retro-esque pink and green shirt while the girls joined millions others by supporting Starbucks’ pervasive corporate domination of the legal addictive stimulant market.
We reached the car and took off down Santa Monica Boulevard, which, of course, meant that I had to fight a certain annoying but catchy hit mid-90’s song from getting stuck in my head while making lame comments related to it. After what had to be 30 traffic lights we reached the heart of Hollywood. I found my way onto Sunset using the 101 (getting on and off Los Angeles Freeways is unreasonably complicated, every ramp is different) in search of an In N Out Burger. We found it. Mike got a combo, I got a shake and fries, and the girls missed out by getting nothing. I love In N Out…great food but not expensive, and additionally they are a family owned non-franchise company that donates generally to charities and missions in the L.A. area. Well satisfied we drove back home down the 101 though heavy traffic and the clock approached midnight (something I’m learning not to be surprised about is midnight traffic jams)…ending one of the most eventful, fascinating and fun days of my life.
After the long day my friend Mike and I still wanted to see more of the city (he had never been and in two trips I still had much to see). Both of us decided to take. We drove off toward Santa Monica.
The day was long; however, Mike and I were restless and eager to see more of the city. A couple of girls came along and we took my car out to Santa Monica. It is a beautiful and quaint enclave in the massive urban area. I resigned myself to parking several blocks from the beach (I hate paying for parking) and we walked toward the pier. The twilight view that greeted us at Ocean Avenue was unreal in its beauty the buildings, homes, and the fairy tail-like mini amusement park out on the pier combined to create a setting that could only be rendered by a master artist.
We conversed along the shore, but often the words were interrupted by silent stares and moments taken to ponder the wonder before us. At least that is how I felt, Mike too probably, the girls, Erin and…unfortunately I’m bad with their names…spent most of their time on the phone but that was up to them. We turned to walk out onto the pier. I felt a sense of wonder as I gazed up the shoreline to where the Ocean took a great turn to the west and a distant member of the Santa Monica Mountains hid the sun as it raced away from the California Coast.
A cool darkness had wrapped around the pier. We walked back toward the city, leaving the pier behind. We walked though the Promenade. Saw a couple of shops (there isn’t anything there that I can’t see in Austin so I wasn’t overly thrilled). An oddly placed belly dancer performed in front of Urban Outfitters where Mike found an amazing retro-esque pink and green shirt while the girls joined millions others by supporting Starbucks’ pervasive corporate domination of the legal addictive stimulant market.
We reached the car and took off down Santa Monica Boulevard, which, of course, meant that I had to fight a certain annoying but catchy hit mid-90’s song from getting stuck in my head while making lame comments related to it. After what had to be 30 traffic lights we reached the heart of Hollywood. I found my way onto Sunset using the 101 (getting on and off Los Angeles Freeways is unreasonably complicated, every ramp is different) in search of an In N Out Burger. We found it. Mike got a combo, I got a shake and fries, and the girls missed out by getting nothing. I love In N Out…great food but not expensive, and additionally they are a family owned non-franchise company that donates generally to charities and missions in the L.A. area. Well satisfied we drove back home down the 101 though heavy traffic and the clock approached midnight (something I’m learning not to be surprised about is midnight traffic jams)…ending one of the most eventful, fascinating and fun days of my life.
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