Today was definitely a recovery day. This weekend was absolutely insane in that terrible kind of way, and yesterday was atrocious. At least it’s all over now and I thank God for that. Good positive attitude has to be a lifestyle, not a choice ;)
* * *
Today I started making phone calls to patients because tomorrow, my tobacco cessation program finally kicks off. The first call I made was, well…
She sounded like a cool calm breeze in my ear, curious like the first stroke of a painter’s brush. I introduced myself and told her my reason for calling. Her change in tone was enough of a response than her words were, “o I’m so glad you called”. She elaborated more: her brother recently suffered from a stroke losing use of his arm as a result, their mother had just recently passed away, he had just gone through a divorce, and lost his company due to the economy. She was concerned about him having his next stroke; he was concerned about having his next cigarette. Don’t take away from me the only thing which makes me happy she told me he said to her.
20 minutes later revealed their relationship had gone sour after her attempts to convince him to quit. She had all types of people calling him: he would hang up, appointments made: they were cancelled. He was tired of hearing her lecture about what he should do with his own life, and she said just wanted him alive.
She had been seeking help for several years now- made phone calls to everyone and anyone who she thought could help. His doctor, a kind man, was very helpful in throwing meds for depression at him, but it seemed he couldn’t throw in some effort. “You can’t make him quit” is all he said, even after emails pleading for some help, he couldn’t manage to reply to one. Doctor didn’t care. Siblings didn’t care. He didn’t care.
She told me I was her hope, that I was God sent, and she could hear it in my voice.
But I heard God in her voice and I replied.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
2
I have slept 8 hours in the past two days, but will make sure to sleep 8 tonight. I have no car, (again), but thanks to a stranger who used to be a mechanic I got home safely. I locked myself out of the house, but thanks to my roommate who left the window open I was able to break back in from the 3rd floor. I look forward to the fact that things have no choice but to get better. I'm appreciative that for all that went down today there was/is something good to counterbalance. Thank you Universe.
Friday, March 12, 2010
But I am le tired
I think when people say “things happen for a reason” that it’s just a positive way of making the most out of a situation. Although it’s too much of a deterministic statement for me, those seemingly serendipitous moments are more than welcome. I’ve been having so many great conversations with people lately and it appears they have happened with perfect timing. The final thought of one conversation, left me with an introduction to another conversation with someone else, and so on and so forth. One topic of conversation essentially extrapolated into several others, and they’ve all helped out in further developing a simple observation about me and about the world. I feel those conversations will keep me going. Thank you.
Let’s end that on a vague and positive note. I have to wake up in 6 hours for my marathon training. Peace.
Let’s end that on a vague and positive note. I have to wake up in 6 hours for my marathon training. Peace.
Black Skin
I am currently experiencing some intense shooting pain in my leg. It’s been like this since this I drank two big cups of coffee and ate two donuts. I stayed home today to work on my grad school application and I can’t wait till this is all over. Things haven’t been relatively unorganized for me, since I’ve been focusing all of my energy in finishing up this task. I can’t wait for the return to normalcy. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about edits I can do, and then I fall right back asleep and forget them in the morning. I want to be able to wake up, go to the gym, go to work, and then spend some time doing work for the organizations I volunteer with. I guess I must have grown pretty used to life after college and not worrying about assignments or tests. Power, however, is not gained without a struggle. I’d rather do something well, even if I have to temporarily sacrifice some things I like to do do, or not do it at all.
In having read just the first chapter of Black Skin White Masks, I was struck by Franz Fanon analysis on the power of language as it relates to Blacks (and minorities in general) and their/our use of it. Fanon argues that to effectively use language is to also tap into the culture, society, and world of its users. For the Antillean Blacks (the group he did his studies on), the use of “France’s French” as opposed to Creole, is demonstrative of an effort to assert their own humanity and more importantly, because to speak is to exist for others, sending out a message to Whites: I have the same mental capacity as you do, so don’t treat me otherwise. Good shit Fanon. Good shit.
Now that we’re on the race note, I’d like to bring up something. Growing up I was well aware of what I call, my racially ambiguous features. Like a chameleon it seemed that wherever I traveled to, I was able to blend in with the people I was surrounded by; In NYC I was Dominican, in DR I was Dominican, In Uganda I was Ugandan, in Egypt I was Egyptian, and so on and so forth. In LA however, many people assume that I am Black. This assumption naturally leads to specific behaviors; ones that I am seriously disturbed by. I feel that I have received second class treatment and attention because of this assumption. As a Latino minority, I know the feeling of going into a White owned establishment and having the feeling of being treated differently, so when I walk into a Latino owned place and feel that same time of oppressive air, I know it’s not because they think I’m Latino. It’s being at the bottom of the totem pole where White>Yellow>Brown>Black; the spectrum of color seems to correlate perfectly with the spectrum of discrimination. Absolutely disgusting. This idea is further supported by the fact that I’ve been keeping an eye on the interaction between the people living in the neighborhood (a neighborhood that is almost 100% Latino) and the Black guys in their 20s who just moved in (mind you -in my 5 months of living here I’ve NEVER seen Black people in my neighborhood). People stare and avoid them as if they were the plague and it pisses me the fuck off. The funny thing is one of the guys is Dominican. The reason this is funny is because when I walk into Latino owned stores and I feel the tension I previously mentioned, and then bust out my Spanish, I literally feel the relief of the pressure. It is the realization that I know Spanish, and their realization that I speak Spanish, which completely changes the situation and puts us on the same level. Because he is darker than me, I would have to assume that not only does he feel the oppression I’ve felt in my neighborhood, but he feels it more than I do. But I’m sure if he busted out his Spanish, people would not be so scared to approach him or to discriminate based off of the color of his skin. The fact that language can break those walls is interesting to say the least, but the fact that even has to be done in order to see someone who is a darker skin than you as your equal is more fucked up than I can say.
Frantz Fanon was most certainly a genius.
In having read just the first chapter of Black Skin White Masks, I was struck by Franz Fanon analysis on the power of language as it relates to Blacks (and minorities in general) and their/our use of it. Fanon argues that to effectively use language is to also tap into the culture, society, and world of its users. For the Antillean Blacks (the group he did his studies on), the use of “France’s French” as opposed to Creole, is demonstrative of an effort to assert their own humanity and more importantly, because to speak is to exist for others, sending out a message to Whites: I have the same mental capacity as you do, so don’t treat me otherwise. Good shit Fanon. Good shit.
Now that we’re on the race note, I’d like to bring up something. Growing up I was well aware of what I call, my racially ambiguous features. Like a chameleon it seemed that wherever I traveled to, I was able to blend in with the people I was surrounded by; In NYC I was Dominican, in DR I was Dominican, In Uganda I was Ugandan, in Egypt I was Egyptian, and so on and so forth. In LA however, many people assume that I am Black. This assumption naturally leads to specific behaviors; ones that I am seriously disturbed by. I feel that I have received second class treatment and attention because of this assumption. As a Latino minority, I know the feeling of going into a White owned establishment and having the feeling of being treated differently, so when I walk into a Latino owned place and feel that same time of oppressive air, I know it’s not because they think I’m Latino. It’s being at the bottom of the totem pole where White>Yellow>Brown>Black; the spectrum of color seems to correlate perfectly with the spectrum of discrimination. Absolutely disgusting. This idea is further supported by the fact that I’ve been keeping an eye on the interaction between the people living in the neighborhood (a neighborhood that is almost 100% Latino) and the Black guys in their 20s who just moved in (mind you -in my 5 months of living here I’ve NEVER seen Black people in my neighborhood). People stare and avoid them as if they were the plague and it pisses me the fuck off. The funny thing is one of the guys is Dominican. The reason this is funny is because when I walk into Latino owned stores and I feel the tension I previously mentioned, and then bust out my Spanish, I literally feel the relief of the pressure. It is the realization that I know Spanish, and their realization that I speak Spanish, which completely changes the situation and puts us on the same level. Because he is darker than me, I would have to assume that not only does he feel the oppression I’ve felt in my neighborhood, but he feels it more than I do. But I’m sure if he busted out his Spanish, people would not be so scared to approach him or to discriminate based off of the color of his skin. The fact that language can break those walls is interesting to say the least, but the fact that even has to be done in order to see someone who is a darker skin than you as your equal is more fucked up than I can say.
Frantz Fanon was most certainly a genius.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Where's my damn seat?
MARCH 11, 2010
I have been so angry lately.
After being a student who graduated from a public institution of higher learning, I am just recently realizing how important the access to that public education actually was. This dénouement came to me in an interesting way: the fact that I'm writing a personal statement so that I can gain special access to information regarding the past of my own people. For some dumb reason I forgot college/university is a privilege few of us get to enjoy.
Let’s say, hypothetically *cough cough* I wanted to learn more about myself as a Latino: the origin of my people, the past struggles of my ancestors, the current situation we find ourselves in, and the work which has yet to be done to develop a socially just world; shouldn’t that information be accessible to me academically!? Shouldn’t scholarly work/cultural analyses/history written on my own people (but not necessarily written BY them) be at my fingertips? Shouldn’t I have a seat at the table discussing my own identity?! The current system in place doesn’t let us move on up, because only a handful of people are getting educated on matters that 1) may not even be important to them and therefore 2) at the end of the day won’t do anything to help me out with my situation. The only person who can fix the problems I’ve experienced/I am experiencing is me and if I don’t have the right knowledge regarding history and the underpinnings of the ills in the system I live in, how do you expect me to fight for me? How do you expect me to make changes, if you don't let me get my hands on this vital information?! You don’t............and that’s probably how you want it too.I refuse to not receive the education I deserve. I demand my own education.
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MARCH 10, 2010
I was going to explode today. I refuse to watch people be kicked while their down. People will do anything to make a buck, especially at the expense of the poor. When all that is left is hope and you have nothing to lose, quick fix solutions are dangerously appealing, yet while they may offer a temporary fix they do nothing to solve the root of the problem.
I have been so angry lately.
After being a student who graduated from a public institution of higher learning, I am just recently realizing how important the access to that public education actually was. This dénouement came to me in an interesting way: the fact that I'm writing a personal statement so that I can gain special access to information regarding the past of my own people. For some dumb reason I forgot college/university is a privilege few of us get to enjoy.
Let’s say, hypothetically *cough cough* I wanted to learn more about myself as a Latino: the origin of my people, the past struggles of my ancestors, the current situation we find ourselves in, and the work which has yet to be done to develop a socially just world; shouldn’t that information be accessible to me academically!? Shouldn’t scholarly work/cultural analyses/history written on my own people (but not necessarily written BY them) be at my fingertips? Shouldn’t I have a seat at the table discussing my own identity?! The current system in place doesn’t let us move on up, because only a handful of people are getting educated on matters that 1) may not even be important to them and therefore 2) at the end of the day won’t do anything to help me out with my situation. The only person who can fix the problems I’ve experienced/I am experiencing is me and if I don’t have the right knowledge regarding history and the underpinnings of the ills in the system I live in, how do you expect me to fight for me? How do you expect me to make changes, if you don't let me get my hands on this vital information?! You don’t............and that’s probably how you want it too.I refuse to not receive the education I deserve. I demand my own education.
--------
MARCH 10, 2010
I was going to explode today. I refuse to watch people be kicked while their down. People will do anything to make a buck, especially at the expense of the poor. When all that is left is hope and you have nothing to lose, quick fix solutions are dangerously appealing, yet while they may offer a temporary fix they do nothing to solve the root of the problem.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Writing this personal statement has been interesting. When it comes to human rights, I feel that no credential is better than the experience of being oppressed. I think that’s why although I’ve already written tons of versions of this personal statement in an effort to include “relevant coursework, preparation in language, professional activity”, I continue to return to the version based off of my own personal life. Deeply intimate thoughts and previous feelings of being dehumanized and made to feel worthless, are valid enough for me. My interest in the field does not stem from any formal education, let alone any professional activity I’ve done in preparation to arrive at this point. It stems from my deeply rooted need to develop a world where humanity is treated as such, and where people are free to be whoever they are, or whoever they want to be, without any barriers.
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