Though I am a firm believer that to completely trust the theory of evolution takes about as much faith as believing in anything else (to trust that billions of years and billions of minor changes are responsible for what we know as our modern world and everything in it is beyond our direct comprehension - we can accept it, we can even understand it, but we cannot grasp "billions" as a concept other than it's a damn lot) the difference lies in the unflinching testing of the theory.
Religions have a lengthy history, and even a modern reputation, for being unwilling to be put to the test while scientific theories are pretty much hanging it out there at all times and are regularly reinforced or modified. I mean, prove it wrong! I think that's what bothers me most about a biblically literal "creationism" being taught in a science classroom. It's untestable and it's unapproachable - and the only reason it "has" to be taught in the classroom is because biblical literalism and evolution go together like oil and water. But in the realm of reality, biblical literalism and evolution are about as old as each other. In the history of Christianity, for all the good and horrible things contained within it, Biblical literalism is a reactive (and reductive!) ideology that has only come to prominence since the mid 19th century as a foil to the literary criticism of the Bible of the same age.
Early church fathers are on record as interpreting Genesis' creation story far more allegorically than their modern, literal, American Christian contemporaries. Maybe that's the reason Catholicism has accepted evolution (mostly). The downside, our modern "Creation Science" is rooted in scientific sounding half-truths furthered by non-scientists and scientists working out of their depth/field. Cherry picking science much like believers cherry pick the principles of their faith from their holy books.
In Madison, every outdoor farmers market (so every Saturday between May and December), there are dozens of people crowded around "Evolution is a Lie" posters and giant information collages, along with plenty of other "witnesses." Though I agree with them that rationality/evolution is a worldview, it is a worldview that is grounded in testable, observable science (though conceptually difficult to grasp - like a concept of "God"), the people who disagree with that don't have facts on their side, instead having only faith. While that sort of resolve is commendable, that's the same sort of faith that is responsible for an unjustifiable level of ignorance and intolerance throughout history (which is not commendable).
No one can make you believe the truth, but no amount of belief can make something true. I just think it's sad that we (as a society) are hung up on these ideas and debates (creationism/evolution, gay marriage) when there is so much suffering here and abroad and innumerable and infinitely more important problems to solve. Ultimately, I think it just comes down to anomie - for (closed-minded, biblically literal) Christian parents to have their children subjected to such rational alternatives to their irrational beliefs creates an incredible feeling of anomie in their children, but more importantly, in themselves. And nobody likes to be told that they don't have a grasp on reality.
I think religion should be taught in schools, not A religion, but all - the facts, history and worldviews. Talk about creationism then. Leave science to the science class and leave religion out of it. What the bible says isn't science and it isn't really history either. It's not ALL bad but it's pretty ignorant to take two, or four or six thousand year old information and assume that the authors were aware of everything we know today. Especially in terms of modern science where twenty years is ancient history.
That said, I'm a spiritual guy from a spiritual family and my youth was spent bouncing from one fundamentalist Christian church to another. My extended family includes a high percentage of young earthers and I was taught creationism, I was also taught about evolution (though it wasn't framed as anything remotely close to truth). The evolution I was taught was the straw-man version that's rife with misunderstandings that make it look as unbelievable as this sentence makes it sound: Evolution goes against the Bible and against other laws of science - like the second law of thermodynamics (thank you for clearing that up).
Now that I'm on the other side of my childhood, there is a divide between my spirituality and my rationality. Though I prefer my material world to be infused with metaphor and meaning I also prefer my spirituality to maintain (at least) a modicum of rationality, ultimately they are separate. My spiritual experience in life has little to do with the material world, and the origins of the material world have nothing to do with my spiritual experience. Though my spirituality has a tremendous effect on how I interact with the world around me and see myself, and my experience of the material world regularly tests me and my faith, it's not a zero sum game. Thankfully.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
It Hurts Me Because I Care
The Constitution
This is ONE of my problems with the whole "tea party" ideology. The decision to amend the constitution instead of remaking it was so we would understand our own mistakes and see where we came from. Not so we could gloss over it in a bunch of hoo-ha and rigamarole.
This is 'priestly' civil religion, when the leaders are big on their own team and not so up on their failures. I'm far more interested in what the 'prophetic' side of civil religion, where what we're doing is looked at and the mistakes and flaws are pointed out so we can improve upon the current situation.
You shouldn't read the constitution as it is, but as all that it is and has been. It is both. And! Our elected officials can't even be troubled to STAY through the whole reading? F'n A cotton, f'n A. Guess doing their job doesn't pay the bills.
This is ONE of my problems with the whole "tea party" ideology. The decision to amend the constitution instead of remaking it was so we would understand our own mistakes and see where we came from. Not so we could gloss over it in a bunch of hoo-ha and rigamarole.
This is 'priestly' civil religion, when the leaders are big on their own team and not so up on their failures. I'm far more interested in what the 'prophetic' side of civil religion, where what we're doing is looked at and the mistakes and flaws are pointed out so we can improve upon the current situation.
You shouldn't read the constitution as it is, but as all that it is and has been. It is both. And! Our elected officials can't even be troubled to STAY through the whole reading? F'n A cotton, f'n A. Guess doing their job doesn't pay the bills.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
A Friend of Mine Said...
...Wonder which of our rights they'll take away as a result this whole Tucson deal...
Well, hopefully this stays within the state. And, frankly, Arizona has pretty much zero gun legislation at the moment. The 2nd amendment is in full effect man, too many guns to take that away. Maybe they'll take away "Congress on your Corner" style events - I'd be far more concerned with what this is going to cover-up in terms of Media coverage.
But I agree, rights are being taken away. Legislation contrary to the will of the majority, or of some majorities, is somehow coming into effect, either through our representatives or through our courts. Some of these are heartfelt and passionate, like homosexual marriage on the Liberal agenda, some of these are coldly self interested like big business Republicans attacking Net Neutrality. It's a shame everybody else either doesn't care or seems to have a price - or at least everybody who's motivated enough and cold enough to run a company well, or run for office has a price - and the price buys complicity and complacence.
There is an uneasy and regularly changing balance between corporate interests and big gov't interests (to call them by the names they're called by their enemies) but ultimately, there is only one problem, man's lust. Specifically in this situation, man's lust for power. And! it runs deeper than that, there is a lust for safety, for security, and in unsafe places where money buys everything, money is security but don't ever think that more money doesn't come with more problems; catch-22. In a way, it's like "Skora" how can you blame Skora for his nature? It's our nature to seek security, both as a group and from the group, as families (real and imagined) and, especially in the modern, western milieu, as individuals.
Our society praises and treasures success, if only through our sycophantic worship of celebrity and wealth. The very idea of an entourage! It's nothing to celebrate to be a blue collar worker, nothing to celebrate to be middle management. It's really no wonder that the powerful, the price-tagged, are the people in charge of it. They're the people who have made their decision, whatever it may be, for good or for bad. Their movtivated and they make it happen. Think Frank Costello. The shame is how we need them. In some ways it's reminiscent of Mein Kampf, but it's not Jews, it's no ethnic other, it's just something akin to C. Wright Mills' "Power Elite." Our way of life is like an open-air prison, but it keeps us "safe" from most-everything but each other.
Somebody has to buy what's produced, or everyone has to find something else to do. The whole system is out of control man. I agree that "big gov't" isn't the answer, but until we change the way we live on a massive scale, "big corp." doesn't have another counter-balance. So we vote for guys like Russ Feingold... oh wait, I guess we don't anymore.
Or, that's just the way I see it Tony. Miss ya bud.
Well, hopefully this stays within the state. And, frankly, Arizona has pretty much zero gun legislation at the moment. The 2nd amendment is in full effect man, too many guns to take that away. Maybe they'll take away "Congress on your Corner" style events - I'd be far more concerned with what this is going to cover-up in terms of Media coverage.
But I agree, rights are being taken away. Legislation contrary to the will of the majority, or of some majorities, is somehow coming into effect, either through our representatives or through our courts. Some of these are heartfelt and passionate, like homosexual marriage on the Liberal agenda, some of these are coldly self interested like big business Republicans attacking Net Neutrality. It's a shame everybody else either doesn't care or seems to have a price - or at least everybody who's motivated enough and cold enough to run a company well, or run for office has a price - and the price buys complicity and complacence.
There is an uneasy and regularly changing balance between corporate interests and big gov't interests (to call them by the names they're called by their enemies) but ultimately, there is only one problem, man's lust. Specifically in this situation, man's lust for power. And! it runs deeper than that, there is a lust for safety, for security, and in unsafe places where money buys everything, money is security but don't ever think that more money doesn't come with more problems; catch-22. In a way, it's like "Skora" how can you blame Skora for his nature? It's our nature to seek security, both as a group and from the group, as families (real and imagined) and, especially in the modern, western milieu, as individuals.
Our society praises and treasures success, if only through our sycophantic worship of celebrity and wealth. The very idea of an entourage! It's nothing to celebrate to be a blue collar worker, nothing to celebrate to be middle management. It's really no wonder that the powerful, the price-tagged, are the people in charge of it. They're the people who have made their decision, whatever it may be, for good or for bad. Their movtivated and they make it happen. Think Frank Costello. The shame is how we need them. In some ways it's reminiscent of Mein Kampf, but it's not Jews, it's no ethnic other, it's just something akin to C. Wright Mills' "Power Elite." Our way of life is like an open-air prison, but it keeps us "safe" from most-everything but each other.
Somebody has to buy what's produced, or everyone has to find something else to do. The whole system is out of control man. I agree that "big gov't" isn't the answer, but until we change the way we live on a massive scale, "big corp." doesn't have another counter-balance. So we vote for guys like Russ Feingold... oh wait, I guess we don't anymore.
Or, that's just the way I see it Tony. Miss ya bud.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Life, Beyond the Stars
What a fantastic idea, that perhaps "we" are not alone in the vastness of the ever (at least for the moment) expanding universe. Broadcasting our presence via radio-waves, well... that one I'm not so sure about. We've got science and we've got sci-fi, either way we really don't know anything, if all our knowledge teaches us anything it should be humility - because we don't know jack. Maybe it's because I watched Star Trek the Motion Picture at a young age, but it just doesn't seem like a great idea. If the universe we know turns out to be like Star Trek and warp drive is the test of a civilization, we're still quite a ways off, and hopefully safe from outside forces until then. If it's a Battlestar Gallactica situation, there's a completely different set of problems and we're probably still a long ways off from whatever is going on in the universe. If it's more like Simbieda's Mechanoids, Bear's Von Neuman machines or even Michael Bay's interpretation of the Transformers, ultimately we're probably just f'd.
Stephen Hawking made his opinion on the matter known, and of course we're free to agree or disagree with him - and though on this matter I basically agree - I feel that something is going overlooked. Radiowaves. We're using radiowaves to show the universe how technologically advanced. Hawking made the connection to Columbus and the people of the "New World" that he found, but I'd only add to that, using radiowaves to show how advanced we are could be like using a smoke-signal to show how advanced we are to a group of people with radios.
I've been told that believing that humanity is God's chosen is arrogant but I must say, it seems just as arrogant to assume that we're the most advanced race in the universe and if we don't, if we aren't, I think it's probably a bad idea. If there is a more advanced race out there, I agree with Hawking that we might not want to be discovered, especially if they find radiowaves but a primitive technology.
The matter of language is a whole other development - imagine a group who was able to learn the language of another group without the other group knowing their language. In terms of codes and code-breaking, one can argue that this has had a lot to do with how wars have been won and lost in our own history. They'd know our language and we'd have no idea of theirs, they'd know what kind of technology we use to communicate, even if they were so far beyond it that it would have only struck them as white noise and gibberish had they just stumbled across us.
And besides, so long as we keep proving Bill Hicks right we don't deserve the stars.
Stephen Hawking made his opinion on the matter known, and of course we're free to agree or disagree with him - and though on this matter I basically agree - I feel that something is going overlooked. Radiowaves. We're using radiowaves to show the universe how technologically advanced. Hawking made the connection to Columbus and the people of the "New World" that he found, but I'd only add to that, using radiowaves to show how advanced we are could be like using a smoke-signal to show how advanced we are to a group of people with radios.
I've been told that believing that humanity is God's chosen is arrogant but I must say, it seems just as arrogant to assume that we're the most advanced race in the universe and if we don't, if we aren't, I think it's probably a bad idea. If there is a more advanced race out there, I agree with Hawking that we might not want to be discovered, especially if they find radiowaves but a primitive technology.
The matter of language is a whole other development - imagine a group who was able to learn the language of another group without the other group knowing their language. In terms of codes and code-breaking, one can argue that this has had a lot to do with how wars have been won and lost in our own history. They'd know our language and we'd have no idea of theirs, they'd know what kind of technology we use to communicate, even if they were so far beyond it that it would have only struck them as white noise and gibberish had they just stumbled across us.
And besides, so long as we keep proving Bill Hicks right we don't deserve the stars.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
New Years Day
Usually, over the course of my life, I have made time on New Years Eve or in the week before to go over my year, to process it and make some adjustments for the coming. 2010 was different. I spent some time before Christmas doing a fair amount of revaluation, checking my intentions and looking for possibilities. 2010 was a year of "plan b's." A year where things turned out, just not as planned. New Years Eve was like a microcosm of the entire year. Maddy and I threw together a fairly last minute party plan. We did a lot of inviting people who already had other plans, but that was fine in our book. This is the text message I sent to everyone, in two parts: "Maddy and I are throwing a lil party for NYE. Manhattans, Old Fashioneds and a Woodford Reserve midnight toast at my place tonight." Followed by, "If you don't have any plans, or even if you do. We're saying 6pm-???(after midnight); hors d'oeuvres, snaks and some casserole - stop through, even if it's on your way elsewhere." I arrived back in my town around noon from a quick trip out to visit my pops in his locale, so this message wasn't sent until the afternoon of New Years Eve. So it goes.
I spent the evening fielding polite no's from my friends, most of whom are lucky enough to be working but whose jobs require their working on days like New Years Eve. I have no grudges about it. In addition to the short timing, most of my friends are an hour (+) away, or have children and family plans for the holiday. That the party turned out to be me, my fiancee and her bestest friend with guest appearances by her aunt, sister and my brother, didn't bother me. Maddy though was basically stabbed in the back by her "friends." The "friends" in question were mostly people she works with and old pals from High School. We both put effort into the party, ultimately, she spent more of her time, effort and money on the party than I - and I never expect my friends to come to my functions, because I understand that they are regularly unable to.
There was an incredible fog in Madison all day and night New Years Eve, so dense it cancelled my flight home from Chicago and I got rerouted by bus. So it goes. I know the fog kept at least one of my friends away, no telling for hers though as they just come from across town. It's unfortunate that this has thrown her into not just doubt about the quantity and quality of her friends, but also about herself. Tough to deal with when you keep in mind that she's a "reep what you sow" ideologue.
That was 2010, and frankly, besides the importance of having contention plans (b, c and often d) all I learned in 2010 was that I don't have to talk about it if I don't want to. I am done with 2010. It's peaks were memorable, but I hope to keep it's valleys sheltered in the shade until they simply fade away, forgotten beneath the sands of time.
2011 is a year of big, though possibly bittersweet plans, and unmissable opportunities. From a semester in Spain, to a transfer into the University system from Community College. I'm making machinations to make 2011 the year I remember how to have fun and feel alive. 2011 is the year I test my boundaries. I don't have a good track record when it comes to being away from home, but I haven't tried it in twenty years - twenty years that have led me away from home and shattered my "home" into four or five different states (depending on how one counts). So it goes.
2011 is the year of the kindle, the year I read classics and see more of the world than I ever knew existed. 2011 should be the year I get a real job again, though we'll see what happens with that. 2011. Ok then, moving on...
I spent the evening fielding polite no's from my friends, most of whom are lucky enough to be working but whose jobs require their working on days like New Years Eve. I have no grudges about it. In addition to the short timing, most of my friends are an hour (+) away, or have children and family plans for the holiday. That the party turned out to be me, my fiancee and her bestest friend with guest appearances by her aunt, sister and my brother, didn't bother me. Maddy though was basically stabbed in the back by her "friends." The "friends" in question were mostly people she works with and old pals from High School. We both put effort into the party, ultimately, she spent more of her time, effort and money on the party than I - and I never expect my friends to come to my functions, because I understand that they are regularly unable to.
There was an incredible fog in Madison all day and night New Years Eve, so dense it cancelled my flight home from Chicago and I got rerouted by bus. So it goes. I know the fog kept at least one of my friends away, no telling for hers though as they just come from across town. It's unfortunate that this has thrown her into not just doubt about the quantity and quality of her friends, but also about herself. Tough to deal with when you keep in mind that she's a "reep what you sow" ideologue.
That was 2010, and frankly, besides the importance of having contention plans (b, c and often d) all I learned in 2010 was that I don't have to talk about it if I don't want to. I am done with 2010. It's peaks were memorable, but I hope to keep it's valleys sheltered in the shade until they simply fade away, forgotten beneath the sands of time.
2011 is a year of big, though possibly bittersweet plans, and unmissable opportunities. From a semester in Spain, to a transfer into the University system from Community College. I'm making machinations to make 2011 the year I remember how to have fun and feel alive. 2011 is the year I test my boundaries. I don't have a good track record when it comes to being away from home, but I haven't tried it in twenty years - twenty years that have led me away from home and shattered my "home" into four or five different states (depending on how one counts). So it goes.
2011 is the year of the kindle, the year I read classics and see more of the world than I ever knew existed. 2011 should be the year I get a real job again, though we'll see what happens with that. 2011. Ok then, moving on...
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Una Dia en Mi Vida (in espanglish)
Hoy! Today, what a day. Tons of unexpected problems, and plenty of amazing people to help me out with them. Vaguely, the agenda of my trip to the Windy City: acquire passport photos for my visa; finish the visa application, perfect and copy; get some sleep; get to N. Michigan avenue and turn everything in at ten thirty en la manjana; get on a bus back home at noon or five. No problem right?
I arrived in Chicago last night by megabus - the purpose of the trip, a visit to the Spanish Consulate to apply for my student visa - after the ride, I spent a little too long wandering around in the cold looking for an open Walgreens for my liking, but I lived. Earlier I'd tried at my local Walgreens but their photo-making-machine was broken and I was forced to delay my passport photos accordingly, I figured, hell, it's downtown Chicago, there's a Wallgreens on every corner, this shouldn't be a problem. Much to my surprise, at seven forty en la noche, when I arrived most were closed and the closest open one was closing at eight. So I walked, in the wrong direction for a bit, then got in touch with one in Greek Town, and turned around accordingly. Forty minutes of walking and bam, photos in my hands in less than five minutes, things are looking up (or so I thought!).
After wandering past some pretty fancy hotels, I found a Holiday Inn and warmed up with a nicely made Chicago pizza. I cozied up in my room while the Pats whooped the Jets, texting back and forth with friends about football and politics. After, I finished my Visa application. I got some pretty dark complimentary copies of my important documents from the Holiday Inn, and then headed off to dreamland after an extra-long and exceptionally warm shower (this is by my standards, so it was probably still not as hot or lengthy as the one you're imagining - but it's the archetype, the experience that counts - not the exact details).
I woke up at 1:30, 3:47, 4:45, 6:34 and 7:35 (two minutes before my second alarm - I apparently slept through the first at 7:00). Each wake-up was preceded by a dream where I was irreparably late for my appointment at the consulate. So, I just got up, packed up, and then called my Mom for some advice in booking my flight. At this point in the morning, my biggest concern was whether or not I had to have the flight booked to apply for the visa. After the call, I checked my email on a whim, something had gone wrong, the first of what would be many troubles raised its ugly head. My loan didn't come through as planned and my tuition check bounced. A few phone-calls to the bank and some extra legwork (thanks again to my Ma and Jessica at my bank) and it was worked out, but I wouldn't find out until after the solution to problem three presented itself.
I had planned to take a train and walk to the consulate, but there was a cab outside the hotel as I was leaving, thinking perhaps this is providential, I took it. The cab driver tried to tell me that the consulate wasn't on Michigan, but on Ashland, that it had recently moved. I said, Sir, I respectfully request that you take me to Michigan - and if it's not there, then you can take me to Ashland. I let my smart phone do some finding, and sure enough, the Mexican consulate had recently moved from Michigan to Ashland, I explained that we were both right, and we had a nice chuckle about the mixup - Spain, Mexico, I mean, what's the difference (plenty more than just the distance from Michigan Ave to Ashland). Dodged a bullet there.
I arrived at the Spanish consulate about an hour early for my appointment, but was glad that I saw the sign inside that said I needed copies of ALL my documents (not just the Visa application itself). OMG, this is my fear, am I dodging another bullet? I hope so, I'm doing everything I can to be prepared. With a little help from the doorman (my first excellent person of the day), I was off to Kinko's, where I also acquired an envelope that was a little too small, but with a little help from my second excellent person of the day, I also got a free, slightly damaged envelope that was much larger (but not too oversized as to be useless). I stopped for a Mocha across the street from the consulate and tried to kill about half an hour.
About ten minutes earlier than my appointment I headed to the consulate and I was immediately seen, an outright contradiction to the consulate's website. The website makes it sound like a cold, hard, unfeeling bureaucracy, but I met excellent people three and four here. I also came into my second problem of the morning. See, my dog chewed up my passport when I moved at the end of this past summer, not much, just a little, but it was enough to qualify my passport for "mutilated" status and by law this brings "null-and-void" status (it says so right in the passport, though of course I'd never read that before it was pointed it out to me). My passport is rendered useless, except to get another passport and the people at the consulate are optimistic, I might even be able to get it today, they say. In my little country world, a passport takes weeks (even when expedited) - fortunately this is not so in the Windy City where the State department keeps an office. Excellent persons three and four let me know I should go and do this now, and I might even be able to get back by two (when they close).
So, I book it down to the State Department offices. My "Last Supper" belt buckle gets a few good laughs out of the security guards, "I would definitely wear this," one of them says, to which I reply, Does this mean I'm going away? We all had a nice laugh - I wish airports had this kind of sense of humor, but it might be better that they don't. I get upstairs, I wait in line for the better part of an hour - the whole time, hoping and praying that I get a kind hearted person on a good day, like a mantra, kind hearted person on a good day, kind hearted person on a good day... I have no appointment, I have no travel itinerary - this is a problem, this is problem three. After a little cajoling and a lot of puppy dog eyes, excellent person number five decides that my letter of acceptance IS enough to qualify for the intention to travel, and that I can get an emergency passport replacement. But I don't have passport photos, or the proper paperwork filled out and I still might not be able to get it today. Minor problems, we'll combine them as problem four. She gives me the proper paperwork, and sends me on my way, "Just come right up to my window when you're done."
I get two sets of slightly overpriced but very quick passport photos from a specialty business across the street, fly through the application, including frantic phone calls to both of my parents (I needed both of their locations of birth for the passport application), and I'm back at the State department. At this point, I have no idea if I'll be able to get my emergency passport today, tomorrow or next week in the mail. Excellent person number five shuffles me down to excellent person number six, who checks me out and tells me to come back and pick it up at three - after we make some jokes about Dogs/cuteness, the cost of chewing up passports, and that even though I didn't list it on my list of countries I intend to visit, that I should check out Morocco. I nervously agreed, hoping it wasn't a trick question, So I've heard, I said. After raising my right hand and signing a hurtfully large receipt, I was back on my way to the consulate - which of course, closes at two. It was one.
I opt for a cab, because it is cold and I'm sick of walking and sweating, there is no middle ground for me in the winter, I am too hot or I am cold, period. We get back to Michigan avenue and my card is declining. SRSLY? I'm calling the bank to find out what's going on while the cabbie is telling me that I'm declined again, and again, I try to explain, I tell him to keep the meter running - I know I've got money, maybe it's because I'm in Chicago (out of my town) and I've spent a few hundred dollars in the past twenty four hours. He "lets" me out after about five minutes, says forget about it. He's been speaking in Afrikaans or Arabic on a bluetooth since I got in, so I give him some nice blessings in Arabic, maybe it assuaged the burn I accidentally gave him. Turns out, when I finally get ahold of someone at the bank, it must have been his machine because there was no record of the transactions on their end. I decide I've got to get some cash, silly me - when I changed pants before I left the night before I didn't transfer my twenty two dollars in small bills.
Upon my return to the consulate, excellent persons three and four remain amenable, helpful and nice. They help me get my papers in order, and tell me to just bring the passport and slip it in the mail slot after I pick it up from the State department at three pm. I make a quick trip to the post office to get a return envelope for the passport that I don't even have, and voila, all that's left is to make it back to the state department and then back to the consulate. Turns out, that smaller envelope that I bought at Kinko's is going to be needed after all. And all the while, I've got Gogol Bordello running through my head. I stop at an ATM and pay a crazy stupid fee to pull out some cash for later emergencies. At this point, I'm beginning to suspect that this is in fact, "just one of those days."
I hate eating corporate in a place like Chicago, I mean, there's so many options. Still, I opt for a chain because I need some normalcy and I'm craving a mozzarella and basil sandwich. I killed about an hour for lunch with a wi-fi connection, doing some correspondence, writing a little, helping a friend with his sociology woes and finally booking my return bus for 4:55 pm. My smart phone tells me that It'll take me seventeen minutes to walk to the State department building. At 2:17 I start the walk, after a couple of short detours, it's twenty to three and I'm checking through security for the third time. I get up stairs, I show them that my phone is off (NO phones allowed in the State department) again, they send me to the room to wait.
In the room, I see many of the same people I saw earlier, just grumpier, more excitable and looking pretty worn out. I wait my turn at the window. My passport isn't finished, it is in process, just wait, thirty/forty minutes - max, he says. My heart sinks, I see my bus-ride slipping away and I start to feel stupid for not buying the refundable ticket. I cheer myself up, plenty of time I think to myself, I'll still be at the terminal by four thirty, NBD. Besides, without access to my phone I probably couldn't cancel the ticket anyway.
At four, the gentleman calls my name, my heart leaps for joy but when I get to the window he's not holding one of the blue passport envelopes that he's been handing out. They misspelled your name, he tells me, they're remaking it, just a few minutes longer. He then, disappears for an indeterminate amount of time and people start packing up behind the windows. There is no clock in the passport room, and you're not allowed to turn your phone on - too bad my phone is my watch. After what feels like an eternity, the huffy woman at the next window over calls my name. She seems pretty flummoxed by this turn of overtime events for her - I'm not even the last one in the room. I sign for the passport, I grab my mighty selection of winter wear that I've been alternating between wearing and carrying all day, and head for the door.
By the time I get my phone turned on it says four thirty four. I have twenty minutes to make it ten blocks, take a fifteen story elevator ride up and then back down, and then make it twenty five blocks to the bus-station. Cripes. Whatever hope I have is looking like fumes on a gas gage. Taxi time! 180 N. Michigan please. Elevator ride up. Brand-new passport into the undersized envelope from earlier, slipped into the mail slot so that it falls with my name and purpose face up - success. Call the elevator, it takes forever (or about ten seconds), it stops on the way down and floods with ladies, positive, jubilant ladies. We make a couple of quick jokes - I told them they might not want to get on the elevator with me, they told me they'd been stuck in THIS exact elevator just hours earlier. I'm thrilled when we touch down. I yog past them through the revolving door, apologizing, but they seemed to understand that I was hurried. It is 4:47, my bus is twenty five blocks away and leaves in eight minutes.
The first cab passes me by, the second cab passes me by - one full, one empty. The third cab brings me excellent person number seven and is the nicest cab I've been in all day, a Mercury Sable? who knew. I've got twenty dollars if you can get me to the greyhound station by 4:50, or just before 4:55. It's 4:48 and in as thick an Eastern-European accent as I've ever heard from an immigrant, he says, "Woy - maybe in eight minute. You got your ticket?" Nope, it's will-call, gotta pick it up. He "Woys" again. We get cut off by the same car three times, we get stuck behind two out of service busses, we hit the first four possible red lights, but then traffic broke and lights were green for a mile. We laughed the entire time, I told him my story - or at least an abridged version - and by no small miracle, in Chicago rush-hour traffic, he got me to the terminal at 4:54. He got the twenty.
I ran in. I mixed up the young woman at the counter's prompt for "Your credit card or confirmation number," and I started reading her my credit card... What number are you giving me? My credit card - No, I need your card OR your confirmation number. Woy. I give her the card, flash my ID, sign my ticket and I'm off again. Sir, Sir, she calls after me, I look back, It's that side. I was running to the wrong exit. I shift direction like a young Fred Taylor, and somehow maintain my momentum, only to have my exuberance noted by a guard - Woah there he says to me. 4:55 to Madison? I say. I can see the bus. Oh, he says. Ok, you almost missed it. He signs me off, walks me out (I swear I'm still yogging at this point, like I never stopped) and says to the driver, "We got a runner." And we're all laughing again. This is how my entire day has gone, I clue them both in. I can't believe how hard I had to work to make this happen, but it's even harder to believe that it all actually worked out.
Going into this, all I could think about was how perfect my paperwork needed to be and how scared I was about being turned away for not having everything correct. It turns out, perfect as it was, my paperwork was barely glanced at and most of what I've had to do involved legwork, sweat and the kindness of others. I never imagined that my day would end with a race to the bus depot, a brand-new passport with my information sitting in an envelope on the floor of the Spanish consulate waiting to be discovered en la manjana, and me blogging about my day in Chicago on the Wi-Fi connection of a Greyhound bus - but it is out of my hands now and it's over. Dio mediante, إن شاءالله , there's nothing more for me to do but book my flight... (And the adventure begins again? Woy, I hope not.)
I arrived in Chicago last night by megabus - the purpose of the trip, a visit to the Spanish Consulate to apply for my student visa - after the ride, I spent a little too long wandering around in the cold looking for an open Walgreens for my liking, but I lived. Earlier I'd tried at my local Walgreens but their photo-making-machine was broken and I was forced to delay my passport photos accordingly, I figured, hell, it's downtown Chicago, there's a Wallgreens on every corner, this shouldn't be a problem. Much to my surprise, at seven forty en la noche, when I arrived most were closed and the closest open one was closing at eight. So I walked, in the wrong direction for a bit, then got in touch with one in Greek Town, and turned around accordingly. Forty minutes of walking and bam, photos in my hands in less than five minutes, things are looking up (or so I thought!).
After wandering past some pretty fancy hotels, I found a Holiday Inn and warmed up with a nicely made Chicago pizza. I cozied up in my room while the Pats whooped the Jets, texting back and forth with friends about football and politics. After, I finished my Visa application. I got some pretty dark complimentary copies of my important documents from the Holiday Inn, and then headed off to dreamland after an extra-long and exceptionally warm shower (this is by my standards, so it was probably still not as hot or lengthy as the one you're imagining - but it's the archetype, the experience that counts - not the exact details).
I woke up at 1:30, 3:47, 4:45, 6:34 and 7:35 (two minutes before my second alarm - I apparently slept through the first at 7:00). Each wake-up was preceded by a dream where I was irreparably late for my appointment at the consulate. So, I just got up, packed up, and then called my Mom for some advice in booking my flight. At this point in the morning, my biggest concern was whether or not I had to have the flight booked to apply for the visa. After the call, I checked my email on a whim, something had gone wrong, the first of what would be many troubles raised its ugly head. My loan didn't come through as planned and my tuition check bounced. A few phone-calls to the bank and some extra legwork (thanks again to my Ma and Jessica at my bank) and it was worked out, but I wouldn't find out until after the solution to problem three presented itself.
I had planned to take a train and walk to the consulate, but there was a cab outside the hotel as I was leaving, thinking perhaps this is providential, I took it. The cab driver tried to tell me that the consulate wasn't on Michigan, but on Ashland, that it had recently moved. I said, Sir, I respectfully request that you take me to Michigan - and if it's not there, then you can take me to Ashland. I let my smart phone do some finding, and sure enough, the Mexican consulate had recently moved from Michigan to Ashland, I explained that we were both right, and we had a nice chuckle about the mixup - Spain, Mexico, I mean, what's the difference (plenty more than just the distance from Michigan Ave to Ashland). Dodged a bullet there.
I arrived at the Spanish consulate about an hour early for my appointment, but was glad that I saw the sign inside that said I needed copies of ALL my documents (not just the Visa application itself). OMG, this is my fear, am I dodging another bullet? I hope so, I'm doing everything I can to be prepared. With a little help from the doorman (my first excellent person of the day), I was off to Kinko's, where I also acquired an envelope that was a little too small, but with a little help from my second excellent person of the day, I also got a free, slightly damaged envelope that was much larger (but not too oversized as to be useless). I stopped for a Mocha across the street from the consulate and tried to kill about half an hour.
About ten minutes earlier than my appointment I headed to the consulate and I was immediately seen, an outright contradiction to the consulate's website. The website makes it sound like a cold, hard, unfeeling bureaucracy, but I met excellent people three and four here. I also came into my second problem of the morning. See, my dog chewed up my passport when I moved at the end of this past summer, not much, just a little, but it was enough to qualify my passport for "mutilated" status and by law this brings "null-and-void" status (it says so right in the passport, though of course I'd never read that before it was pointed it out to me). My passport is rendered useless, except to get another passport and the people at the consulate are optimistic, I might even be able to get it today, they say. In my little country world, a passport takes weeks (even when expedited) - fortunately this is not so in the Windy City where the State department keeps an office. Excellent persons three and four let me know I should go and do this now, and I might even be able to get back by two (when they close).
So, I book it down to the State Department offices. My "Last Supper" belt buckle gets a few good laughs out of the security guards, "I would definitely wear this," one of them says, to which I reply, Does this mean I'm going away? We all had a nice laugh - I wish airports had this kind of sense of humor, but it might be better that they don't. I get upstairs, I wait in line for the better part of an hour - the whole time, hoping and praying that I get a kind hearted person on a good day, like a mantra, kind hearted person on a good day, kind hearted person on a good day... I have no appointment, I have no travel itinerary - this is a problem, this is problem three. After a little cajoling and a lot of puppy dog eyes, excellent person number five decides that my letter of acceptance IS enough to qualify for the intention to travel, and that I can get an emergency passport replacement. But I don't have passport photos, or the proper paperwork filled out and I still might not be able to get it today. Minor problems, we'll combine them as problem four. She gives me the proper paperwork, and sends me on my way, "Just come right up to my window when you're done."
I get two sets of slightly overpriced but very quick passport photos from a specialty business across the street, fly through the application, including frantic phone calls to both of my parents (I needed both of their locations of birth for the passport application), and I'm back at the State department. At this point, I have no idea if I'll be able to get my emergency passport today, tomorrow or next week in the mail. Excellent person number five shuffles me down to excellent person number six, who checks me out and tells me to come back and pick it up at three - after we make some jokes about Dogs/cuteness, the cost of chewing up passports, and that even though I didn't list it on my list of countries I intend to visit, that I should check out Morocco. I nervously agreed, hoping it wasn't a trick question, So I've heard, I said. After raising my right hand and signing a hurtfully large receipt, I was back on my way to the consulate - which of course, closes at two. It was one.
I opt for a cab, because it is cold and I'm sick of walking and sweating, there is no middle ground for me in the winter, I am too hot or I am cold, period. We get back to Michigan avenue and my card is declining. SRSLY? I'm calling the bank to find out what's going on while the cabbie is telling me that I'm declined again, and again, I try to explain, I tell him to keep the meter running - I know I've got money, maybe it's because I'm in Chicago (out of my town) and I've spent a few hundred dollars in the past twenty four hours. He "lets" me out after about five minutes, says forget about it. He's been speaking in Afrikaans or Arabic on a bluetooth since I got in, so I give him some nice blessings in Arabic, maybe it assuaged the burn I accidentally gave him. Turns out, when I finally get ahold of someone at the bank, it must have been his machine because there was no record of the transactions on their end. I decide I've got to get some cash, silly me - when I changed pants before I left the night before I didn't transfer my twenty two dollars in small bills.
Upon my return to the consulate, excellent persons three and four remain amenable, helpful and nice. They help me get my papers in order, and tell me to just bring the passport and slip it in the mail slot after I pick it up from the State department at three pm. I make a quick trip to the post office to get a return envelope for the passport that I don't even have, and voila, all that's left is to make it back to the state department and then back to the consulate. Turns out, that smaller envelope that I bought at Kinko's is going to be needed after all. And all the while, I've got Gogol Bordello running through my head. I stop at an ATM and pay a crazy stupid fee to pull out some cash for later emergencies. At this point, I'm beginning to suspect that this is in fact, "just one of those days."
I hate eating corporate in a place like Chicago, I mean, there's so many options. Still, I opt for a chain because I need some normalcy and I'm craving a mozzarella and basil sandwich. I killed about an hour for lunch with a wi-fi connection, doing some correspondence, writing a little, helping a friend with his sociology woes and finally booking my return bus for 4:55 pm. My smart phone tells me that It'll take me seventeen minutes to walk to the State department building. At 2:17 I start the walk, after a couple of short detours, it's twenty to three and I'm checking through security for the third time. I get up stairs, I show them that my phone is off (NO phones allowed in the State department) again, they send me to the room to wait.
In the room, I see many of the same people I saw earlier, just grumpier, more excitable and looking pretty worn out. I wait my turn at the window. My passport isn't finished, it is in process, just wait, thirty/forty minutes - max, he says. My heart sinks, I see my bus-ride slipping away and I start to feel stupid for not buying the refundable ticket. I cheer myself up, plenty of time I think to myself, I'll still be at the terminal by four thirty, NBD. Besides, without access to my phone I probably couldn't cancel the ticket anyway.
At four, the gentleman calls my name, my heart leaps for joy but when I get to the window he's not holding one of the blue passport envelopes that he's been handing out. They misspelled your name, he tells me, they're remaking it, just a few minutes longer. He then, disappears for an indeterminate amount of time and people start packing up behind the windows. There is no clock in the passport room, and you're not allowed to turn your phone on - too bad my phone is my watch. After what feels like an eternity, the huffy woman at the next window over calls my name. She seems pretty flummoxed by this turn of overtime events for her - I'm not even the last one in the room. I sign for the passport, I grab my mighty selection of winter wear that I've been alternating between wearing and carrying all day, and head for the door.
By the time I get my phone turned on it says four thirty four. I have twenty minutes to make it ten blocks, take a fifteen story elevator ride up and then back down, and then make it twenty five blocks to the bus-station. Cripes. Whatever hope I have is looking like fumes on a gas gage. Taxi time! 180 N. Michigan please. Elevator ride up. Brand-new passport into the undersized envelope from earlier, slipped into the mail slot so that it falls with my name and purpose face up - success. Call the elevator, it takes forever (or about ten seconds), it stops on the way down and floods with ladies, positive, jubilant ladies. We make a couple of quick jokes - I told them they might not want to get on the elevator with me, they told me they'd been stuck in THIS exact elevator just hours earlier. I'm thrilled when we touch down. I yog past them through the revolving door, apologizing, but they seemed to understand that I was hurried. It is 4:47, my bus is twenty five blocks away and leaves in eight minutes.
The first cab passes me by, the second cab passes me by - one full, one empty. The third cab brings me excellent person number seven and is the nicest cab I've been in all day, a Mercury Sable? who knew. I've got twenty dollars if you can get me to the greyhound station by 4:50, or just before 4:55. It's 4:48 and in as thick an Eastern-European accent as I've ever heard from an immigrant, he says, "Woy - maybe in eight minute. You got your ticket?" Nope, it's will-call, gotta pick it up. He "Woys" again. We get cut off by the same car three times, we get stuck behind two out of service busses, we hit the first four possible red lights, but then traffic broke and lights were green for a mile. We laughed the entire time, I told him my story - or at least an abridged version - and by no small miracle, in Chicago rush-hour traffic, he got me to the terminal at 4:54. He got the twenty.
I ran in. I mixed up the young woman at the counter's prompt for "Your credit card or confirmation number," and I started reading her my credit card... What number are you giving me? My credit card - No, I need your card OR your confirmation number. Woy. I give her the card, flash my ID, sign my ticket and I'm off again. Sir, Sir, she calls after me, I look back, It's that side. I was running to the wrong exit. I shift direction like a young Fred Taylor, and somehow maintain my momentum, only to have my exuberance noted by a guard - Woah there he says to me. 4:55 to Madison? I say. I can see the bus. Oh, he says. Ok, you almost missed it. He signs me off, walks me out (I swear I'm still yogging at this point, like I never stopped) and says to the driver, "We got a runner." And we're all laughing again. This is how my entire day has gone, I clue them both in. I can't believe how hard I had to work to make this happen, but it's even harder to believe that it all actually worked out.
Going into this, all I could think about was how perfect my paperwork needed to be and how scared I was about being turned away for not having everything correct. It turns out, perfect as it was, my paperwork was barely glanced at and most of what I've had to do involved legwork, sweat and the kindness of others. I never imagined that my day would end with a race to the bus depot, a brand-new passport with my information sitting in an envelope on the floor of the Spanish consulate waiting to be discovered en la manjana, and me blogging about my day in Chicago on the Wi-Fi connection of a Greyhound bus - but it is out of my hands now and it's over. Dio mediante, إن شاءالله , there's nothing more for me to do but book my flight... (And the adventure begins again? Woy, I hope not.)
Monday, November 15, 2010
Dear Scott Walker
You have made it apparent that you're very interested in cutting our high-speed rail project. By all accounts, you're looking into what it would take to give the money back, and you've said so much as well. Your emphasis, and I'm guessing impetus in cutting the rail project has to do with cutting government spending - in and of itself a noble goal, but nothing in life is free.
I fear that there is an idea that is gnawing at our American identity, this idea that things can just be had for free. It manifests in people who look to the government to provide for them without any, or with only limited personal involvement in the process. Welfare is a prime example of this, the government providing for the people (whether or not they deserve it is not up for debate, that's not my purpose), and in this last election, this idea was fostered by Republican across the country, including but not limited to this state. These candidates told us (the people) that they would bring the government budget(s) back into line with reality. Focusing on an ideology of independence and individual liberty, and tying big budgets to big government and high taxes. Americans are wary at the least of big, progressive government and the inherent loss of liberty that sort of forced taxation brings. But that is only one side of this coin.
The other side has to do with outsourcing, because you can't just cut from the budget without losing services - nature abhors a vacuum - what the government drops is either directly or indirectly outsourced to the private sector. Either civil programs that aid the underprivileged are cut never to return, which indubitably presents a raised cost to these hard-working, underprivileged, poor, tax-payers - or - other programs become privatized.
If you cut the Federal government funding from the train program, if you kill the train program, are you working in Wisconsin's best interests or are you working for the Federal government's best interests or are you looking out for the contractors who may pick up that cross and simply change the price-tag instead?
My point is this, you cannot outsource government programs to the private sector and claim any sort of aid to the taxpayer. Services that were once subsidized by tax dollars increase in price - possibly out of the range of those who would use them. Let's take a bus for example, or perhaps a high-speed train. If tax dollars, state or federal, are keeping a bus-fare low and that subsidy is taken away, the price to ride the bus increases (and people would demand more of the bus service accordingly - we already have non-public transportation in the form of personal automobiles and taxis) and the people who need it most are denied. In turn, the bus sees less business and less funding, then as though a miracle of the market, the bus folds and there is not public transportation. Obviously, because it is not profitable it is not beneficial - hopefully you can see through my sarcasm and recognize that as the bold-faced lie it is.
This is the myth of corporatism, of privatization, this is the cold, unfeeling hand of the market. It is dis-compassionate and it is based in an American mythology of the individual - even you sir could not have gotten to where you are (as an elected official) without the votes of people. You may be our face and you may be a very hard worker, but you are not the machine without us. Perhaps you could take the time out of your busy schedule to reevaluate your agenda.
You are the governor of our state, your duty is to the people of Wisconsin. Not to the upper classes, not to the privileged elites, not to the business interests who bankrolled you into office, not even to the Federal government - you are OUR governor and we are asking you to take notice of that. You were elected by less than a five percent margin, you have anything but a carte blanche to do what you will with this state and it's inhabitants. Your constituents include an incredible amount of working poor that transcends ethnic and racial lines.
And besides, wouldn't a high-speed train make your Milwaukee to Madison and back commute a little easier, I mean, you can afford it. Let the federal government worry about how much money they're going to give you or not, don't say no to help. This train isn't going to break the country, but your cuts into Wisconsin just might destroy the state - whether or not you can balance the budget because of them.
sincerely,
SAM
I fear that there is an idea that is gnawing at our American identity, this idea that things can just be had for free. It manifests in people who look to the government to provide for them without any, or with only limited personal involvement in the process. Welfare is a prime example of this, the government providing for the people (whether or not they deserve it is not up for debate, that's not my purpose), and in this last election, this idea was fostered by Republican across the country, including but not limited to this state. These candidates told us (the people) that they would bring the government budget(s) back into line with reality. Focusing on an ideology of independence and individual liberty, and tying big budgets to big government and high taxes. Americans are wary at the least of big, progressive government and the inherent loss of liberty that sort of forced taxation brings. But that is only one side of this coin.
The other side has to do with outsourcing, because you can't just cut from the budget without losing services - nature abhors a vacuum - what the government drops is either directly or indirectly outsourced to the private sector. Either civil programs that aid the underprivileged are cut never to return, which indubitably presents a raised cost to these hard-working, underprivileged, poor, tax-payers - or - other programs become privatized.
If you cut the Federal government funding from the train program, if you kill the train program, are you working in Wisconsin's best interests or are you working for the Federal government's best interests or are you looking out for the contractors who may pick up that cross and simply change the price-tag instead?
My point is this, you cannot outsource government programs to the private sector and claim any sort of aid to the taxpayer. Services that were once subsidized by tax dollars increase in price - possibly out of the range of those who would use them. Let's take a bus for example, or perhaps a high-speed train. If tax dollars, state or federal, are keeping a bus-fare low and that subsidy is taken away, the price to ride the bus increases (and people would demand more of the bus service accordingly - we already have non-public transportation in the form of personal automobiles and taxis) and the people who need it most are denied. In turn, the bus sees less business and less funding, then as though a miracle of the market, the bus folds and there is not public transportation. Obviously, because it is not profitable it is not beneficial - hopefully you can see through my sarcasm and recognize that as the bold-faced lie it is.
This is the myth of corporatism, of privatization, this is the cold, unfeeling hand of the market. It is dis-compassionate and it is based in an American mythology of the individual - even you sir could not have gotten to where you are (as an elected official) without the votes of people. You may be our face and you may be a very hard worker, but you are not the machine without us. Perhaps you could take the time out of your busy schedule to reevaluate your agenda.
You are the governor of our state, your duty is to the people of Wisconsin. Not to the upper classes, not to the privileged elites, not to the business interests who bankrolled you into office, not even to the Federal government - you are OUR governor and we are asking you to take notice of that. You were elected by less than a five percent margin, you have anything but a carte blanche to do what you will with this state and it's inhabitants. Your constituents include an incredible amount of working poor that transcends ethnic and racial lines.
And besides, wouldn't a high-speed train make your Milwaukee to Madison and back commute a little easier, I mean, you can afford it. Let the federal government worry about how much money they're going to give you or not, don't say no to help. This train isn't going to break the country, but your cuts into Wisconsin just might destroy the state - whether or not you can balance the budget because of them.
sincerely,
SAM
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About Me
- Sam Osborne
- I am a student @ MATC in Madison, WI. I am in the Liberal Arts Transfer Program. I plan on teaching, and on continuing my education إن شاء الله