PDX went smooth as a clean shaven face. I breezed right through security, found a cup of coffee and a seat near a wall plugin in less than 20min. After surveying the seating situation near my gate (E6, which is downstairs, mind you) I opted to sit upstairs as gate E4 was completely empty other than a few old ladies reading their Diane Steele novels. Luckily my travel instincts told me to head on downstairs at around 11:15 as my flight would board at 11:20 since it was scheduled to depart at 11:49 (a 25min delay from my original 11:23am scheduled time). I had tuned into the Jim Rome show, and employed both earbuds to drown out the rest of the airport ambient noise. As I was packing up my personal effects, I heard over the intercom that my flight was boarding. I was the last person to make it onto the flight. Just in time? No...a ninja always takes strategic advantage of perfect timing.
I took my seat in row 13. Foreboding? Only if you've recently watched Final Destination or some other movie where the main character puts too much weight into unlucky numbers. The flight went by with minor turbulence. The choppy weather played a part in my entertainment, however. I decided to take advantage of my 2hr20min flight by watching the last 4 episodes of “The Dead Set”. I was at the climax of the story when the turbulence kicked in.
*SPOILER ALERT*
Just as the zombies closed in on the main character, the plane started to shake vigorously. The intensity of the turbulence increased as the zombies drew nearer and began pounding on the layer of plexiglass which stood between them and a meal made from human flesh. Very nice. Almost as perfect as back in 2000 when the aftershock from an earthquake was felt in Vancouver, WA. At the time, I was busy playing Diablo 2. I remember it vividly. Just as I had slain one of the 4 bosses, and the ground began to crack open and expose hot magma, my cousin's dog (Tiger) came running up the stairs. She hid under the computer desk, as I'm sure she was taught in grade school to duck and cover underneath your desk in case of earthquake or nuclear attack. I thought I'd definitely slipped into an alternate reality when I looked out the window to see the trees and the poles which held up the laundry line (what do you call a line that you use to sun dry your clothes on?) shaking violently. I readied my battle axe, as I expected the ground to break open, and demons to start spewing out at any moment. Much to my surprise, the shaking stopped, and I snapped back into reality.
“The Dead Set” was quite entertaining. It's no “The Walking Dead”, but it's good nonetheless. I don't know how I feel about zombies being the latest fad. I really enjoyed vampires until they went all sappy the past few years – see the Twilight series for more information. The good thing about zombies is they aren't capable of rational thought, and therefore, aren't capable of anything except death and destruction. No heartfelt love stories, just rending flesh.
I wonder what the people around me were thinking if they caught a glimpse of my screen. The series was graphically grotesque. I kept waiting for someone to make some wise ass comment. I could see the conversation going something like this:
Some Idiot - “What are you watching?”
Me - “The Dead Set. It's a mini-series loosely based on reality TV and the zombie apocalypse.”
SI - “It's really violent, and I don't think you should be watching that. I have kids/elderly/sandy vag with me, and they are offended by all the blood and guts.”
M - “Maybe you should stop looking at my screen then. Would you prefer that I be watching hardcore pornography? Last time I checked, this is my personal netbook, and I'm enjoying this television show. Mind your own bidness, turn around and eat your bigass biscuit.”
As the series came to a close, I realized that the triple-americano and two 6oz cups of water I ingested had combined and processed, and I now had to empty my bladder. As much as I don't like using airplane lavatories, I was prepared to risk depressurizing the cabin in exchange for releasing the pressure in my stomach. As soon as the last episode ended, I took a peek at the back of the plane to make sure there wasn't a line. As I turned forward to remove my seatbelt and make my way back to the vessel, I saw an older gentleman wearing a plaid flannel. He looked a little surly, and I was dreading my visit to the toilet closet since he'd be given the chance to deuce it up before me. I let out a sigh when I imagined the horrible stench he'd leave, and received more bad news. The nazi-stewardess announced that we had began our descent, and we were to remain in our seats for the duration of the flight. Denied again.
The nazi-stewardess earned her name by strictly enforcing the rules to a tee. I knew not to mess with her if I wanted to deboard the plane without having to test my ninja skills against a member of the brownshirt army. I knew by the way she drilled the 4 gentlemen sitting in the exit row that she was not to be tested. My preconceived notions were confirmed during our descent. During her final cabin sweep, she saw that one of the men sitting in front of me had his iPod headphones in. She asked him if his iPod was on, to which he replied, “What?” Her accusation was confirmed, and the following one-sided conversation happened,
Flight Nazi - “Is your iPod on?”
Businessman – removes his earbuds and turns off his iPod
FN - “You must not want to land. I'm going to tell the other 65 people that we can't land because you don't want to land.”
Seriously lady. The iPod isn't going to make the plane crash. Well, maybe if he threw it as hard as he could, shattered the door between the cabin and the cock pit, and shrapnel from his laser-rocket throw impaled the pilot and the blood spatter blinded the co-pilot.
20min of descending later, I feel my eyeballs floating in my skull. I chose to hold my urine after I saw that Adolf's wife was seated in front of the lavatory door. After we touch down, I expected about 10min of taxi-ing, and then we'd deboard, I'd make a mad dash for the mens room, and all would be well. Boy was I wrong. After landing, I was informed that we'd be traveling to gate B86 (I looked out the window to see gate B3 passing by slowly) but there was an aircraft in our gate. We'd have to wait on the runway since they were running behind schedule. The pain increased in my bladder and I began to debate whether or not I could talk Mrs. Hitler into letting me relieve myself.
Just as I thought about hitting the call button, a lady 3 rows in front of me took the liberty.
FN - “We aren't allowed to leave our jumper seats, so unless it's a medical emergency, we'll have to wait until after taxi-ing and answer your questions then.”
Translation - “NO SOUP FOR YOU!”
15minutes elapse, and I'm beginning to get upset. I notice that the other passengers are also getting stir crazy.
FN - “Ladies and gentlemen, you have to leave your seatbelts on while we're taxi-ing. Reach down, and buckle you're seatbelts until we've reached the gate. Thank you.”
We were all prisoners in her concentration camp. At least there was no six point star on my jacket. I could rest assured that at least I'd be at the back of the line to the “showers”.
15min later, we make it to gate B86. We “taxi-ed” for 30min, most of which was spent in park on the runway. I made a beeline for the bathroom only to be greeted by a 5 person line, 4 urinals, 3 toilets, and 45sec before my bladder explodes. WTF there's never a line at the men's room. I made it to a urinal just before pissing myself.
Enter the Denver airport. I've heard that the airport is suspiciously shaped like a swastika. That would help explain the nazi I encountered on my flight. I did find it curious that all of the maps only showed the wing you were on, never showing the big picture, thus keeping the dirty secret intact. I made my way towards the opposite end of the B terminal only to watch another episode occur on the escalator. About 3 automatically folding stairs before I reached the top, I notice a commotion. The people in front of me were all picking up their luggage and trying to move out of the way. I halfway expected to see the Flight Nazi beating someone to a bloody pulp for stepping out of line. To my surprise, I see an older lady struggling with her luggage. One of the people in front of me hit the emergency stop button and brought the escalator to a sudden stop. I look up to see Beatrice pull her leg loose and limp towards the Starbucks with an embarrassed look on her face. I probably should've felt bad. She could've injured herself, afterall. I look down to see if I can identify what got caught in the escalator and see a frayed shoelace. So THAT'S why old people prefer velcro shoes! I knew there was a reason other than the difficulty that tying shoelaces presents someone with rheumatoid arthritis.
Next order of bidness, find something to eat. I noticed a sports bar on my way through the terminal, but I decide to carry on instead of going with my first option. There was a large open area ahead, and the moving walkways made it easy to people watch while on the move. Now that my bladder was empty, the only thing I could think of was whether the Raiders put up 54 or 59 points on the Broncos a few weeks ago. I make it to the atrium area, and scout the options. There's a sports bar on the side I'm headed towards, so I decide to go there instead of the first option I saw. I arrive at the location only to find a wall mural which says “Coming Soon: Some bar I'll never get to eat at”. Disappointed, I turn the other way to head back to Lefty's.
On my way back to Lefty's, I see a sports themed store chock full of Tebow jerseys. F'n disgusting. Even the Aryan nation likes Tim Tebow. If it weren't for the joy brought to me by moving walkways, I would've punched the next Bronco fan that crossed my path in the stomach.
I find a table at Lefty's and order the cheapest sandwich on the menu.
$6.75 for a 16oz beer or $8 for a 22. Now that's a suckers bet if I've ever seen one. Today's math lesson brought to you by our sponsor:
$6.75 / 16oz = $.42 per ounce
$8.00 / 22oz = $.36 per ounce
A savings of $.06 per ounce isn't worth springing for the 22oz unless you're planning on pounding it like a frat boy on a Saturday night. If you're a refined southern gentleman, like myself, you prefer to enjoy your Winter Lager in between bites of your pulled pork sammich. The problem with a 22oz beer is the last 3oz or so get warm while you're enjoying your delicious pig sammich. I don't know about you, but if my choices are warm beer or ice water, I'm taking the ice water even if I leave a dollars worth in my glass. $16 later, I leave feeling refreshed and ready for the second leg of my journey.
There's a mouth breathing, old man sitting across from me intently watching as I write this blog. I locked eyes with him, and he's now staring down at his Dell laptop. I guess my eyes are stinkier than his.
That's it for now, ladies and gentlemen. Stay tuned for more tales of a traveling man. Timothy and I always seem to run into a character or two when our powers combine.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Saturday, July 31, 2010
last round of poverty journals
07/14/10 Why do we actively avoid people who we think are homeless?
I have been conditioned to believe in the boogeyman from a young age. The boogeyman is a symbol for all things scary. I suspect that I am not the only person who has been brought up on this principle. The logic begins to skew when adults use the boogeyman to represent all things bad. The new spin is created when adults inject their own beliefs into the equation. The boogeyman then begins to represent the opposition of the social norm. This discriminatory method can be used to slander any outcast of any denomination. Any person who doesn’t adhere to the social norm is by way of logic, a scourge of society. The scourges do things that are bad like committing petty crimes while under the influence of malt liquor and illicit drugs. They are the visible stereotype of a person experiencing homelessness.
I’ve come to the conclusion that not all people experiencing homelessness are necessarily boogeymen (or boogeywomen, boogeykiddos, werewolves, etc). The hidden homeless are a perfect example of people who may in fact be trying their hardest to make ends meet, but just can’t catch a break. The individualist in me suggests that breaks are a natural occurrence just like unfortunate events happen to everyone. The trick is to be in position to take full advantage of the breaks when they come, and prepared to recover resiliently when the shit inevitably hits the fan. Some people don’t get the luxury of opportunity. It’s an unfortunate, but true statement. My vision is a result of being blessed with more opportunities than 60% of people. I’m glad that my parents worked for their wealth and have instilled a set of values in me. Their hard work has given me ample opportunities to succeed. Intergenerational opportunity exists, and my education thus far is a product of it.
When looking through my third eye, the boogeyman I see is a man in a suit. I imagine agent Smith from the Matrix movies. His freshly pressed black suit is complemented by his starch stiff white shirt, his face, expressionless. This boogeyman represents corporate America and sits at the end of the spectrum opposite that of a man experiencing poverty and food insecurity. There's something to be said about the enlightenment found in a minimalistic lifestyle. I bet buddhist monks and ascetics live much happier, fruitful lives than all of us caught in the rat race. Maybe all the boogeymen have it figured out, and it's the agent Smiths who have the formula wrong.
07/19/10 My feelings on TANF post 1996
I am completely supportive of TANF post 1996. Putting limitations on assistance is the first step in removing the allure of remaining on assistance perpetually. The emphasis on preparing the worthy poor to enter the workforce is the best solution. Doling out money without requiring any output from the party receiving the funds is like giving a man a fish. Giving the worthy poor the skills they need to find a job is like teaching a man to fish. By cultivating a work first, assistance secondary mentality, we are feeding the worthy poor for life. Forcing people who are in need of assistance to participate in work related activities is a system of checks and balances that insures that people who are given assistance are doing whatever is in their power to help themselves.
I believe that 24 months is plenty of time for anyone to receive technical training which would enable them to join the workforce as a trained, able bodied, asset. Even a stay at home mother of 3 has time to take online classes. These classes should be designed to give the student a marketable skill set. In the case of a needy head of household, vocational training is more important that higher education. Anyone in need of assistance should first be concerned with gaining skills which will allow them to find a job. The assistance should be used as supplemental income to help the needy families, not the primary source of income.
There are always exceptions to the rules, and I'm sure that some people need more than 5 years to get back on their feet. Those that need more than 5 years should be observed more closely to make sure they are still on the path to independence.
07/21/10 Reflections and a proposed solution
This class has definitely opened my eyes a little more to the problems associated with poverty in the US. An article published in the NYTimes back in 2007 says, “Children who grow up poor in the United States cost the economy $500 billion a year because they are less productive, earn less money, commit more crimes and have more health-related expenses.” (Eckholm). I believe the solution to poverty is in helping those in need, with an emphasis on children. In order to break the cycle, the culture of poverty needs to be broken. I believe change starts by giving those experiencing poverty the opportunity to succeed. On the first day of class, it was said that one way individualists would suggest to help people is to give them human capital. If communities were to work together to address the problem instead of sweeping it under the rug, perhaps more would get accomplished. I suppose by assisting parents, we are essentially assisting the children.
One day, I hope to own and operate a non-profit organization that takes the Sisters of the Road concept a step further. I envision a café with the same business model (hot meals for $1.25 or a negotiated amount of labor) as SotR, but with the addition of a bank of computers with free internet access. The bank would be comprised of recycled technology available at low cost via companies like Garten Services, Inc. (www.garten.org). I would use open source software on all the machines in order to save on licensing cost. These computers would be used to assist in job searching as well as cultivating job skills. Volunteers could teach classes on everything from basic computing tasks (ie: this is how you check your email) to administering a wireless network using a Linux server and client machines. I would approach Google with a proposal to use GoogleVoice to create a community voice mail service. A corporation like Google whose slogan is “do no evil” should be eager to showcase their product while helping a non-profit accomplish a noble task. To go along with a free voice mail box, I would dedicate a portion of the cafe to a P.O. Box system where I could give access to 100 or so individual mail boxes. The café would basically be a cross between the Worksource office in Vancouver and the Sisters of the Road café in Portland. By giving people the opportunity to cultivate job related skills, I would be teaching them to fish.
I could continue to speculate, but for the sake of brevity, I will conclude with a link to a song from the latest album from The Roots. I purchased, yes, I still purchase CDs, this album right around the time I started reading There Are No Children Here. Every time I listen to this song, I think about the Rivers (Walden?) family. I've enjoyed the perspective this class has given me.
If you're frightened of clicking a link forwarded by a student, I'm sure you can find a link to the song on YouTube.
The Roots, “How I Got Over”
http://dl.dropbox.com/u/114875/06%20How%20I%20Got%20Over.mp3
I have been conditioned to believe in the boogeyman from a young age. The boogeyman is a symbol for all things scary. I suspect that I am not the only person who has been brought up on this principle. The logic begins to skew when adults use the boogeyman to represent all things bad. The new spin is created when adults inject their own beliefs into the equation. The boogeyman then begins to represent the opposition of the social norm. This discriminatory method can be used to slander any outcast of any denomination. Any person who doesn’t adhere to the social norm is by way of logic, a scourge of society. The scourges do things that are bad like committing petty crimes while under the influence of malt liquor and illicit drugs. They are the visible stereotype of a person experiencing homelessness.
I’ve come to the conclusion that not all people experiencing homelessness are necessarily boogeymen (or boogeywomen, boogeykiddos, werewolves, etc). The hidden homeless are a perfect example of people who may in fact be trying their hardest to make ends meet, but just can’t catch a break. The individualist in me suggests that breaks are a natural occurrence just like unfortunate events happen to everyone. The trick is to be in position to take full advantage of the breaks when they come, and prepared to recover resiliently when the shit inevitably hits the fan. Some people don’t get the luxury of opportunity. It’s an unfortunate, but true statement. My vision is a result of being blessed with more opportunities than 60% of people. I’m glad that my parents worked for their wealth and have instilled a set of values in me. Their hard work has given me ample opportunities to succeed. Intergenerational opportunity exists, and my education thus far is a product of it.
When looking through my third eye, the boogeyman I see is a man in a suit. I imagine agent Smith from the Matrix movies. His freshly pressed black suit is complemented by his starch stiff white shirt, his face, expressionless. This boogeyman represents corporate America and sits at the end of the spectrum opposite that of a man experiencing poverty and food insecurity. There's something to be said about the enlightenment found in a minimalistic lifestyle. I bet buddhist monks and ascetics live much happier, fruitful lives than all of us caught in the rat race. Maybe all the boogeymen have it figured out, and it's the agent Smiths who have the formula wrong.
07/19/10 My feelings on TANF post 1996
I am completely supportive of TANF post 1996. Putting limitations on assistance is the first step in removing the allure of remaining on assistance perpetually. The emphasis on preparing the worthy poor to enter the workforce is the best solution. Doling out money without requiring any output from the party receiving the funds is like giving a man a fish. Giving the worthy poor the skills they need to find a job is like teaching a man to fish. By cultivating a work first, assistance secondary mentality, we are feeding the worthy poor for life. Forcing people who are in need of assistance to participate in work related activities is a system of checks and balances that insures that people who are given assistance are doing whatever is in their power to help themselves.
I believe that 24 months is plenty of time for anyone to receive technical training which would enable them to join the workforce as a trained, able bodied, asset. Even a stay at home mother of 3 has time to take online classes. These classes should be designed to give the student a marketable skill set. In the case of a needy head of household, vocational training is more important that higher education. Anyone in need of assistance should first be concerned with gaining skills which will allow them to find a job. The assistance should be used as supplemental income to help the needy families, not the primary source of income.
There are always exceptions to the rules, and I'm sure that some people need more than 5 years to get back on their feet. Those that need more than 5 years should be observed more closely to make sure they are still on the path to independence.
07/21/10 Reflections and a proposed solution
This class has definitely opened my eyes a little more to the problems associated with poverty in the US. An article published in the NYTimes back in 2007 says, “Children who grow up poor in the United States cost the economy $500 billion a year because they are less productive, earn less money, commit more crimes and have more health-related expenses.” (Eckholm). I believe the solution to poverty is in helping those in need, with an emphasis on children. In order to break the cycle, the culture of poverty needs to be broken. I believe change starts by giving those experiencing poverty the opportunity to succeed. On the first day of class, it was said that one way individualists would suggest to help people is to give them human capital. If communities were to work together to address the problem instead of sweeping it under the rug, perhaps more would get accomplished. I suppose by assisting parents, we are essentially assisting the children.
One day, I hope to own and operate a non-profit organization that takes the Sisters of the Road concept a step further. I envision a café with the same business model (hot meals for $1.25 or a negotiated amount of labor) as SotR, but with the addition of a bank of computers with free internet access. The bank would be comprised of recycled technology available at low cost via companies like Garten Services, Inc. (www.garten.org). I would use open source software on all the machines in order to save on licensing cost. These computers would be used to assist in job searching as well as cultivating job skills. Volunteers could teach classes on everything from basic computing tasks (ie: this is how you check your email) to administering a wireless network using a Linux server and client machines. I would approach Google with a proposal to use GoogleVoice to create a community voice mail service. A corporation like Google whose slogan is “do no evil” should be eager to showcase their product while helping a non-profit accomplish a noble task. To go along with a free voice mail box, I would dedicate a portion of the cafe to a P.O. Box system where I could give access to 100 or so individual mail boxes. The café would basically be a cross between the Worksource office in Vancouver and the Sisters of the Road café in Portland. By giving people the opportunity to cultivate job related skills, I would be teaching them to fish.
I could continue to speculate, but for the sake of brevity, I will conclude with a link to a song from the latest album from The Roots. I purchased, yes, I still purchase CDs, this album right around the time I started reading There Are No Children Here. Every time I listen to this song, I think about the Rivers (Walden?) family. I've enjoyed the perspective this class has given me.
If you're frightened of clicking a link forwarded by a student, I'm sure you can find a link to the song on YouTube.
The Roots, “How I Got Over”
http://dl.dropbox.com/u/114875/06%20How%20I%20Got%20Over.mp3
Monday, July 26, 2010
more journal entries for poverty class
07/07/10 Journal 6: Who do you least identify with from the film?
We recently watched Michele Ohayon's, “It Was A Wonderful Life”. The trouble with documentaries is, even if the film makes a valid point and is speaking about a just cause, the film often suffers from tunnel vision. By tunnel vision, I mean that we only see the story through the eyes of the director. We only see what she wants us to see. That said, I enjoy documentaries which tell the after story. At the very least, a summary of what happened to each of the characters in a relevant time range is necessary. I did, however, enjoy the part of the film that showed the cops auctioning off the BMW owned by the deadbeat dad. This Robin Hood-esque seizure of luxury items from the rich for the sake of helping the poor is exactly what is needed in these situations.
I have no sympathy for Josephine the college educated, starving artist who found herself homeless after a “bad financial investment”. I have trouble being compassionate for a woman who lived a lavish life, then lost it all due to her own bad decisions. She may have been led into that bad decision by deception, but it was her responsibility to take care of her assets while she had them. The fact that she never took the time to develop any real marketable job skills is also her fault. I am curious to know what her “honorary doctorate” degree is in, and also what she did to earn it. If you're good enough at painting watercolors to earn a doctorate degree, then how come you haven't held down a job outside of the art world?
I think it's important for everyone to cultivate relevant, real world job skills. It's part of the responsibilities associated with being a productive member of society. I'd love to sit around my house and make music all day, but I realize that I need to eat. Creativity is good, and it's good to cultivate it, but one should first take care of basic needs before allowing creativity to take over. If you aren't willing to toe the line long enough to earn a living, then you're destined to starve. Creativity takes a back seat to living within the confines of the real world in my book.
07/12/10 Journal 7: Response to professor comments
Q – What brought my parents to the US?
A – My folks wanted to raise their family in the land of opportunity. They wanted my brother and I to have access to the things the US has to offer as opposed to the poverty stricken Philippines. What they didn't realize is that all the opportunities you find in the US come accompanied by an American sense of entitlement amongst other evils.
Q – What did you think of Nickel and Dimed?
A – I absolutely loved it. I was a very broke college student at the time I read it, so I found it easy to identify with some of the budgeting dilemmas Barbara faced throughout the course of the novel. One of the jobs I had as a teenager was a member of the stock team (I put the cans on the shelf and made sure all the labels were facing outward) at the Winn Dixie of east Athens, GA. I had a hearty laugh at the part of the book where Barbara explained the atrocious uniforms she had to wear while employed at WD:Marketplace.
Q – re: drug testing for all of those who receive benefits, What would happen to those who test positive? What resources are in place for treatment? What happens to the children?
A – Those who test positive would be subject to rehabilitation. By rehab, I don't mean the celebrity rehab that involves a trip to an ocean front resort where you receive counseling for exorbitant amounts of money. I'm thinking rehab in a Horner-esque apartment. Only the bear essentials would be provided, ie: padded walls and peanut butter sandwiches. Upon successful completion of the rehabilitation program, benefits would be restored. I'm sure resources are slim, if in existence at all, for treatment. The children lose every time. I suppose orphanages and other shelters are over populated, and this solution would only result in another glut of children without a home, but is it better to bounce from orphanage to shelter or to live with parent(s) who are strung out on drugs?
Q – Do you feel this one observation has informed your viewpoint of an entire group of people?
A – I understand that my viewpoint is very biased, and that I shouldn't judge an entire group of people based upon the gentleman in my story. I now realize the mistake I've made in prejudging the population by only allowing such a small sample to determine the outcome for the rest. I also understand that TANF, SNAP, WIC, etc works for 85% of the people on the program (if not more). I shouldn't let one bad apple sour the entire bushel.
Q – re: food boxes, give folks less choice?
A – Yes, that is the idea, but thanks to our resident diabetic-former-Comcast-installer, I now understand that this stipulation doesn't allow wiggle room for dietary concerns. My counter argument is, would you have diabetes if you were concerned with your diet before being diagnosed with the disease? The first solution that comes to mind is, still limit the choices by giving allotted food boxes, but make 20% of the boxes “diabetes friendly” (and also one for those gluten intolerants). I'm discriminatory against vegetarians/vegans, but honestly, that's a dietary choice. Beggars can't be choosers.
Q – re: monthly drug testing, for what? Most drugs leave your system within 72hrs.
A – I was unaware that most drugs course their way through your system in 72hrs. That fact essentially invalidates all the drug screens that I've had to take over the course of my career. I suppose if you're truly addicted to a substance, it's probably hard to go 72hrs without it, so that kind of validates the need for drug screens prior to employment. However, the fact remains that my logic is flawed.
Q – re: less morally responsible parties, ?
A – This comment was made to point a finger at the classic case of a wealthy politician feeding his wife and 2.5 kids while also “taking care” of a single mother with a child or two of her own. I'm referring to the people who have found themselves in a bad financial situation because they fathered multiple children from multiple women while always having a stable of girlfriends “on the side”.
Q – Did “they” pay into the system already?
A – Perhaps they did, but I'm willing to bet if you're throwing a fit about the state not paying for your crappy beer, you aren't exactly a model citizen, and you're most likely trying to use every advantage available to you even if that requires being dishonest about what you feed your kiddos. Exploiting the system by using TANF or SNAP to improve your lifestyle is not what those funds were appropriated for.
We recently watched Michele Ohayon's, “It Was A Wonderful Life”. The trouble with documentaries is, even if the film makes a valid point and is speaking about a just cause, the film often suffers from tunnel vision. By tunnel vision, I mean that we only see the story through the eyes of the director. We only see what she wants us to see. That said, I enjoy documentaries which tell the after story. At the very least, a summary of what happened to each of the characters in a relevant time range is necessary. I did, however, enjoy the part of the film that showed the cops auctioning off the BMW owned by the deadbeat dad. This Robin Hood-esque seizure of luxury items from the rich for the sake of helping the poor is exactly what is needed in these situations.
I have no sympathy for Josephine the college educated, starving artist who found herself homeless after a “bad financial investment”. I have trouble being compassionate for a woman who lived a lavish life, then lost it all due to her own bad decisions. She may have been led into that bad decision by deception, but it was her responsibility to take care of her assets while she had them. The fact that she never took the time to develop any real marketable job skills is also her fault. I am curious to know what her “honorary doctorate” degree is in, and also what she did to earn it. If you're good enough at painting watercolors to earn a doctorate degree, then how come you haven't held down a job outside of the art world?
I think it's important for everyone to cultivate relevant, real world job skills. It's part of the responsibilities associated with being a productive member of society. I'd love to sit around my house and make music all day, but I realize that I need to eat. Creativity is good, and it's good to cultivate it, but one should first take care of basic needs before allowing creativity to take over. If you aren't willing to toe the line long enough to earn a living, then you're destined to starve. Creativity takes a back seat to living within the confines of the real world in my book.
07/12/10 Journal 7: Response to professor comments
Q – What brought my parents to the US?
A – My folks wanted to raise their family in the land of opportunity. They wanted my brother and I to have access to the things the US has to offer as opposed to the poverty stricken Philippines. What they didn't realize is that all the opportunities you find in the US come accompanied by an American sense of entitlement amongst other evils.
Q – What did you think of Nickel and Dimed?
A – I absolutely loved it. I was a very broke college student at the time I read it, so I found it easy to identify with some of the budgeting dilemmas Barbara faced throughout the course of the novel. One of the jobs I had as a teenager was a member of the stock team (I put the cans on the shelf and made sure all the labels were facing outward) at the Winn Dixie of east Athens, GA. I had a hearty laugh at the part of the book where Barbara explained the atrocious uniforms she had to wear while employed at WD:Marketplace.
Q – re: drug testing for all of those who receive benefits, What would happen to those who test positive? What resources are in place for treatment? What happens to the children?
A – Those who test positive would be subject to rehabilitation. By rehab, I don't mean the celebrity rehab that involves a trip to an ocean front resort where you receive counseling for exorbitant amounts of money. I'm thinking rehab in a Horner-esque apartment. Only the bear essentials would be provided, ie: padded walls and peanut butter sandwiches. Upon successful completion of the rehabilitation program, benefits would be restored. I'm sure resources are slim, if in existence at all, for treatment. The children lose every time. I suppose orphanages and other shelters are over populated, and this solution would only result in another glut of children without a home, but is it better to bounce from orphanage to shelter or to live with parent(s) who are strung out on drugs?
Q – Do you feel this one observation has informed your viewpoint of an entire group of people?
A – I understand that my viewpoint is very biased, and that I shouldn't judge an entire group of people based upon the gentleman in my story. I now realize the mistake I've made in prejudging the population by only allowing such a small sample to determine the outcome for the rest. I also understand that TANF, SNAP, WIC, etc works for 85% of the people on the program (if not more). I shouldn't let one bad apple sour the entire bushel.
Q – re: food boxes, give folks less choice?
A – Yes, that is the idea, but thanks to our resident diabetic-former-Comcast-installer, I now understand that this stipulation doesn't allow wiggle room for dietary concerns. My counter argument is, would you have diabetes if you were concerned with your diet before being diagnosed with the disease? The first solution that comes to mind is, still limit the choices by giving allotted food boxes, but make 20% of the boxes “diabetes friendly” (and also one for those gluten intolerants). I'm discriminatory against vegetarians/vegans, but honestly, that's a dietary choice. Beggars can't be choosers.
Q – re: monthly drug testing, for what? Most drugs leave your system within 72hrs.
A – I was unaware that most drugs course their way through your system in 72hrs. That fact essentially invalidates all the drug screens that I've had to take over the course of my career. I suppose if you're truly addicted to a substance, it's probably hard to go 72hrs without it, so that kind of validates the need for drug screens prior to employment. However, the fact remains that my logic is flawed.
Q – re: less morally responsible parties, ?
A – This comment was made to point a finger at the classic case of a wealthy politician feeding his wife and 2.5 kids while also “taking care” of a single mother with a child or two of her own. I'm referring to the people who have found themselves in a bad financial situation because they fathered multiple children from multiple women while always having a stable of girlfriends “on the side”.
Q – Did “they” pay into the system already?
A – Perhaps they did, but I'm willing to bet if you're throwing a fit about the state not paying for your crappy beer, you aren't exactly a model citizen, and you're most likely trying to use every advantage available to you even if that requires being dishonest about what you feed your kiddos. Exploiting the system by using TANF or SNAP to improve your lifestyle is not what those funds were appropriated for.
Monday, July 12, 2010
poverty blog round 2
06/28/10 Journal 3: Combating the culture of poverty
I can identify with the culture of poverty school of thought, but I have little sympathy for those caught in the cycle. The young children have no recourse, and there should be a support system for them, but the adults should be held accountable for their actions. By feeding a starving child, you are contributing to the health of that child. By educating the impoverished, and giving them the opportunity to succeed, you are contributing to the health of the entire village. We watched a video in class which showed examples of people who dedicated their lives to helping the poor Appalachian people. A care giver ran a free clinic, but she had to pack a pistol along with her brown bag lunch every day in fear of someone robbing the clinic of their fool’s gold (prescription pills which fetch a high price, but really only rot the community from the inside out – pun intended). Another noble ran a dentistry practice where he gave the Mtn Dew fueled peasants new teeth in hopes of donating one essential piece of human capital. These two play an essential role in the process. I’m sure they educate the people on the dangers of HFCS laden drinks (especially in the baby bottles of 2yr olds) when consumed in unison with Oxycontin, but are they playing a broken record in a roomful of deaf people?
To break the cycle, philanthropists should focus on the children. Those of malleable mind are the fertile soils where we should be planting seeds. The adults who are caught in the cycle are more than likely caught in their destructive mindset as well. Giving money to adults in hopes of them spending it on their children is a lot like giving money to Saddam Hussein in hopes of him spending it on the common Iraqi people. Dangling the carrot in front of the face of the horse is of no value when the horse has 2 broken legs and an addiction to Oxycontin. I’d like to see tax dollars (or donated funds) go towards drug rehabilitation and education. A portion of the proceeds should also go towards drug testing for all of those receiving benefits. This would help to insure that the efforts are not wasted.
06/30/10 Journal 4: The system and those who abuse it
I get very angry when people take advantage of the system that’s been put in place to help those in need. I can vividly remember an experience I had while standing in line at WinCo. I was 18 or 19 at the time. I had moved out of my parents’ home and was living in an apartment which housed 2 adults. Unfortunately, only one of those adults worked, and at best worked 30hrs/wk. My budget for monthly groceries was less than $100. The list that I took with me was planned down to $.25 increments. As I stood waiting behind my cart, filled to just below the halfway mark with ground turkey (it was cheaper than ground beef at the time), Ramen noodles and bags of various bulk bin items, I couldn’t help but notice the gentleman in front of me. His purchases ranged from the everyday items like toilet paper and Hamburger Helper to the extravagant t-bone steaks and shrimp cocktail rings (yes, I said rings with an S). I saw his total exceed 3 figures, 5 if you count after the decimal, which I always do. This gentleman was obviously eating much nicer than I, and I assured myself that the Lexus parked out front couldn’t possibly be his. Much to his dismay, the cashier wouldn’t allow him to pay for his 24 pack of Budweiser with his EBT card. Even though the surf and turf he was about to enjoy was completely courtesy of the state, he had to pay out of his own pocket for his libations. Preposterous. What kind of country makes a man pay out of his own pocket for such crappy beer? I mean, he’s got a family of 4 to feed, and the V8 in that Lexus sure burns up a lot of dinosaur blood.
I’m not saying we should do away with the system altogether, but I am a fan of regulations. Someone mentioned in class that “the man” will watch how you spend your state assisted funds (ie: if you shop at WalMart too much, you’ll get a cease and desist order in the mail). Food should be allotted through government run organizations. Families in need of assistance should be given food boxes much like the ones assembled at the Oregon Food Bank. The box would contain enough sustenance for a family of four to subsist for four weeks. These boxes will be priced on a prorated schedule based on monthly income much like the discounted lunch programs in public schools.
07/05/10 Journal 5: Assets from a previous lifestyle
There has been mention in class of people driving up to government offices in Lexus-es (or is it Lexi?). I wouldn’t normally nit-pick a statement like this, but it’s come up a number of times, so it got me thinking. If people retain things from a “previous lifestyle” they must also retain the mindset of that same lifestyle. I suppose that keeping up with the Jones’ doesn’t stop, even when you’re in situations of financial desperation.
If you’re receiving state benefits, you should be subjected to monthly drug testing, as well as an extensive background check. By extensive, I mean turning your financial records over to the state. This painstakingly long process would create jobs for those qualified. For starters, we could pay unemployed financial advisors to comb over the records in search of people who drive cars worth in excess of $50,000 (any arbitrary number would work here, I just picked 50k for the sake of illustration). There could be guidelines for what would be considered a “luxury item” or “excessive spending”. For those who meet these requirements, state assistance would be given sparingly. If you’re in need of state assistance to feed your family (-ies in the case of some less morally responsible parties) you don’t necessarily need the title to your BMW 745i. I’m sure your wife’s Range Rover works excellent for picking up groceries, but do you really need to haul the kids to and from the beach house every weekend? I’m sure all of the newfound time you’ve got due to unemployment goes well with the steak and shrimp you just purchased with your EBT funds, but the rest of us would like a chance at life in your shoes instead of just having to pay for it via unemployment insurance.
My point is, rich people who retained possessions from their previous life as a gainfully employed CEO shouldn’t get to draw from the state assistance bucket just because their severance package ran out. If I’m struggling to put food on the table, the first thing that comes to my mind is, how can I liquidate my current assets in favor of feeding my family? If I can sell my $75,000 Benz which I paid off between rounds of golf at the country club and lunch meetings with corporate bigwigs and use the proceeds to buy a Camry and still have $20,000 to feed my family with, I guess I’ll just have to wait for my next severance package to purchase the newest status symbol.
I can identify with the culture of poverty school of thought, but I have little sympathy for those caught in the cycle. The young children have no recourse, and there should be a support system for them, but the adults should be held accountable for their actions. By feeding a starving child, you are contributing to the health of that child. By educating the impoverished, and giving them the opportunity to succeed, you are contributing to the health of the entire village. We watched a video in class which showed examples of people who dedicated their lives to helping the poor Appalachian people. A care giver ran a free clinic, but she had to pack a pistol along with her brown bag lunch every day in fear of someone robbing the clinic of their fool’s gold (prescription pills which fetch a high price, but really only rot the community from the inside out – pun intended). Another noble ran a dentistry practice where he gave the Mtn Dew fueled peasants new teeth in hopes of donating one essential piece of human capital. These two play an essential role in the process. I’m sure they educate the people on the dangers of HFCS laden drinks (especially in the baby bottles of 2yr olds) when consumed in unison with Oxycontin, but are they playing a broken record in a roomful of deaf people?
To break the cycle, philanthropists should focus on the children. Those of malleable mind are the fertile soils where we should be planting seeds. The adults who are caught in the cycle are more than likely caught in their destructive mindset as well. Giving money to adults in hopes of them spending it on their children is a lot like giving money to Saddam Hussein in hopes of him spending it on the common Iraqi people. Dangling the carrot in front of the face of the horse is of no value when the horse has 2 broken legs and an addiction to Oxycontin. I’d like to see tax dollars (or donated funds) go towards drug rehabilitation and education. A portion of the proceeds should also go towards drug testing for all of those receiving benefits. This would help to insure that the efforts are not wasted.
06/30/10 Journal 4: The system and those who abuse it
I get very angry when people take advantage of the system that’s been put in place to help those in need. I can vividly remember an experience I had while standing in line at WinCo. I was 18 or 19 at the time. I had moved out of my parents’ home and was living in an apartment which housed 2 adults. Unfortunately, only one of those adults worked, and at best worked 30hrs/wk. My budget for monthly groceries was less than $100. The list that I took with me was planned down to $.25 increments. As I stood waiting behind my cart, filled to just below the halfway mark with ground turkey (it was cheaper than ground beef at the time), Ramen noodles and bags of various bulk bin items, I couldn’t help but notice the gentleman in front of me. His purchases ranged from the everyday items like toilet paper and Hamburger Helper to the extravagant t-bone steaks and shrimp cocktail rings (yes, I said rings with an S). I saw his total exceed 3 figures, 5 if you count after the decimal, which I always do. This gentleman was obviously eating much nicer than I, and I assured myself that the Lexus parked out front couldn’t possibly be his. Much to his dismay, the cashier wouldn’t allow him to pay for his 24 pack of Budweiser with his EBT card. Even though the surf and turf he was about to enjoy was completely courtesy of the state, he had to pay out of his own pocket for his libations. Preposterous. What kind of country makes a man pay out of his own pocket for such crappy beer? I mean, he’s got a family of 4 to feed, and the V8 in that Lexus sure burns up a lot of dinosaur blood.
I’m not saying we should do away with the system altogether, but I am a fan of regulations. Someone mentioned in class that “the man” will watch how you spend your state assisted funds (ie: if you shop at WalMart too much, you’ll get a cease and desist order in the mail). Food should be allotted through government run organizations. Families in need of assistance should be given food boxes much like the ones assembled at the Oregon Food Bank. The box would contain enough sustenance for a family of four to subsist for four weeks. These boxes will be priced on a prorated schedule based on monthly income much like the discounted lunch programs in public schools.
07/05/10 Journal 5: Assets from a previous lifestyle
There has been mention in class of people driving up to government offices in Lexus-es (or is it Lexi?). I wouldn’t normally nit-pick a statement like this, but it’s come up a number of times, so it got me thinking. If people retain things from a “previous lifestyle” they must also retain the mindset of that same lifestyle. I suppose that keeping up with the Jones’ doesn’t stop, even when you’re in situations of financial desperation.
If you’re receiving state benefits, you should be subjected to monthly drug testing, as well as an extensive background check. By extensive, I mean turning your financial records over to the state. This painstakingly long process would create jobs for those qualified. For starters, we could pay unemployed financial advisors to comb over the records in search of people who drive cars worth in excess of $50,000 (any arbitrary number would work here, I just picked 50k for the sake of illustration). There could be guidelines for what would be considered a “luxury item” or “excessive spending”. For those who meet these requirements, state assistance would be given sparingly. If you’re in need of state assistance to feed your family (-ies in the case of some less morally responsible parties) you don’t necessarily need the title to your BMW 745i. I’m sure your wife’s Range Rover works excellent for picking up groceries, but do you really need to haul the kids to and from the beach house every weekend? I’m sure all of the newfound time you’ve got due to unemployment goes well with the steak and shrimp you just purchased with your EBT funds, but the rest of us would like a chance at life in your shoes instead of just having to pay for it via unemployment insurance.
My point is, rich people who retained possessions from their previous life as a gainfully employed CEO shouldn’t get to draw from the state assistance bucket just because their severance package ran out. If I’m struggling to put food on the table, the first thing that comes to my mind is, how can I liquidate my current assets in favor of feeding my family? If I can sell my $75,000 Benz which I paid off between rounds of golf at the country club and lunch meetings with corporate bigwigs and use the proceeds to buy a Camry and still have $20,000 to feed my family with, I guess I’ll just have to wait for my next severance package to purchase the newest status symbol.
Monday, July 5, 2010
New shit...for school, but entertaining nonetheless
I've been tasked with writing a journal for this Human Development class I'm taking this summer. This class, HD403 is entitled, Families in Poverty. It's very depressing, but somewhat educational. Most importantly, the class meets two graduation requirements, so in the name of Maximillion Eduardo Fischency, I elected to complete the course. That's Max E. Fficiency if you didn't catch that the first time around. Think about it...yeah, that's right. Clever, huh?
Journal 1
This class is going to be much more interesting than I originally assumed. When I registered for this class, I was under the impression that I was making the best use of my time by enrolling in a class which qualifies as both a tier 3 and global learning credits. The topic of the class was of no concern to me, as I was only interested in maximizing efficiency. After sitting in the first lecture for about a half hour, I realized that I was sitting in a class intended for human development majors. This class is much different from what I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few years of quantitative academics and a welcome change for a business major, indeed.
My opinion on poverty is skewed to say the least. I’ve been exposed to poverty by both American and Filipino standards. My parents emigrated from the Philippines in the early 80s while I was still an infant. Coincidentally, our first stop in the United States of America was in Portland, OR. I’m told that we purchased a station wagon (a Dodge Aries, beige with wood paneling on the side) and made our way to Athens, GA where my mom landed a job as a registered nurse at Saint Mary’s Hospital. My dad owned an Asian grocery store before he landed a job as a materials handler at St. Mary’s. Both of my parents earned baccalaureate degrees in the Philippines before immigrating.
I grew up in the beautiful city of Athens, Georgia which lies approximately 52 miles northeast of Atlanta. Athens is a college town that lies north of the Fall Line and east of the Appalachians. I grew up in a small house in a less affluent side of town. At the age of eleven, my family moved into the suburbs of Watkinsville. To make a long story short, I grew up poor, but as my folks furthered their education by earning master’s degrees, they ascended the corporate ladder in the healthcare industry. At the age of 15, we took a 3 week “vacation” to the Philippines. Needless to say, the third world culture shocked the silver spoon in my mouth. I’m still feeling aftereffects to this day.
To symbolize the opening act of my rebellious stage, I moved out of the home my parents bought in the affluent part of Camas, WA at the tender age of 18. I learned how to support myself, and my unmotivated girlfriend at the time on a $10/hr part time job. Instead of taking advantage of state assistance, I found income whoring myself out as a computer technician and aspiring graphic designer. By exploiting market inefficiencies, I was able to make ends meet.
Around this time, I read “Nickel and Dimed” by Ehrenreich. It wasn’t long before I found a full time, $10/hr job to go along with my part time job and part time school. I graduated from Clark College with an associate’s degree in 2004. After realizing all of the graphic design classes I took weren’t enough to find a job as a graphic designer, I decided to go back to school in 2007 in pursuit of a business degree. While in pursuit, I worked as a contractor at Hewlett Packard. I used my leverage as a hardware tester to land a job as a quality assurance tester. Through references and on the job experience, I ended my career at HP as a Linux Software Technician. Unfortunately, my ~40k/yr job was shipped to Bangalore, India where three Indian engineers now perform my job 50% as efficiently.
Journal 2
My first journal entry conveniently leads me into my second. Of the four views on poverty as illustrated by the Seccombe text, I most identify with individualism. My parents grew up in a third world country where the Federal Poverty Line in the US would translate to lower middle class. For sake of illustration, a room at the Four Seasons in downtown Iloilo City cost 600 pesos in 1998. Even if you were to calculate for inflation, the price difference is still astonishing. Back in 98, the USD was worth about 40 pesos. The current exchange rate, as per finance.yahoo.com is 46 PHP to 1 USD. Cost of living is radically different in the Philippines, so I’m essentially comparing apples to oranges. My point is that poverty in the US is much different from poverty in the Philippines. I suppose that if you take the definition of impoverished as, “not having enough money to subsist within the confines of a given city” then being poor in the Philippines is the same as being poor in the US. However, I bet it’s much easier to live off the land on a tropical island than in the foothills of the Appalachian Trail.
That said, my parents were afforded the same opportunities as any US national upon immigrating. Having an educational background from a foreign country is definitely better than having a high school diploma or GED (or less for that matter) from the US, but in some cases, it’s just as irrelevant. I was fortunate that my mom had a job secured as a nurse before we immigrated, but I’m a firm believer that my folks would have found prosperity in the US whether St. Mary’s was willing to employ them or not. By saying that my parents are a “rags to riches” success story is cheating them of the hard work they’ve put in over the years. They improved their economic viability by making sacrifices so that they could both finish their respective master’s degrees and further their careers while my brother and I were still young.
I believe that everyone is responsible for their own actions, and America is, in fact, still the land of opportunity. The past few years have reduced the amount of opportunities available, but the supply is still ample. The Obama administration has made it abundantly clear that the supply will remain ample for the time being, and I am thankful for it. Because of the Trade Adjustment Act, I am able to claim unemployment benefits while finishing my bachelor’s degree. I also believe that the culturist view has valid points as well. The poor have an affinity to remain poor just like the rich are inclined to stay rich, assuming they don’t self destruct by way of various forms of addiction.
Journal 1
This class is going to be much more interesting than I originally assumed. When I registered for this class, I was under the impression that I was making the best use of my time by enrolling in a class which qualifies as both a tier 3 and global learning credits. The topic of the class was of no concern to me, as I was only interested in maximizing efficiency. After sitting in the first lecture for about a half hour, I realized that I was sitting in a class intended for human development majors. This class is much different from what I’ve grown accustomed to over the past few years of quantitative academics and a welcome change for a business major, indeed.
My opinion on poverty is skewed to say the least. I’ve been exposed to poverty by both American and Filipino standards. My parents emigrated from the Philippines in the early 80s while I was still an infant. Coincidentally, our first stop in the United States of America was in Portland, OR. I’m told that we purchased a station wagon (a Dodge Aries, beige with wood paneling on the side) and made our way to Athens, GA where my mom landed a job as a registered nurse at Saint Mary’s Hospital. My dad owned an Asian grocery store before he landed a job as a materials handler at St. Mary’s. Both of my parents earned baccalaureate degrees in the Philippines before immigrating.
I grew up in the beautiful city of Athens, Georgia which lies approximately 52 miles northeast of Atlanta. Athens is a college town that lies north of the Fall Line and east of the Appalachians. I grew up in a small house in a less affluent side of town. At the age of eleven, my family moved into the suburbs of Watkinsville. To make a long story short, I grew up poor, but as my folks furthered their education by earning master’s degrees, they ascended the corporate ladder in the healthcare industry. At the age of 15, we took a 3 week “vacation” to the Philippines. Needless to say, the third world culture shocked the silver spoon in my mouth. I’m still feeling aftereffects to this day.
To symbolize the opening act of my rebellious stage, I moved out of the home my parents bought in the affluent part of Camas, WA at the tender age of 18. I learned how to support myself, and my unmotivated girlfriend at the time on a $10/hr part time job. Instead of taking advantage of state assistance, I found income whoring myself out as a computer technician and aspiring graphic designer. By exploiting market inefficiencies, I was able to make ends meet.
Around this time, I read “Nickel and Dimed” by Ehrenreich. It wasn’t long before I found a full time, $10/hr job to go along with my part time job and part time school. I graduated from Clark College with an associate’s degree in 2004. After realizing all of the graphic design classes I took weren’t enough to find a job as a graphic designer, I decided to go back to school in 2007 in pursuit of a business degree. While in pursuit, I worked as a contractor at Hewlett Packard. I used my leverage as a hardware tester to land a job as a quality assurance tester. Through references and on the job experience, I ended my career at HP as a Linux Software Technician. Unfortunately, my ~40k/yr job was shipped to Bangalore, India where three Indian engineers now perform my job 50% as efficiently.
Journal 2
My first journal entry conveniently leads me into my second. Of the four views on poverty as illustrated by the Seccombe text, I most identify with individualism. My parents grew up in a third world country where the Federal Poverty Line in the US would translate to lower middle class. For sake of illustration, a room at the Four Seasons in downtown Iloilo City cost 600 pesos in 1998. Even if you were to calculate for inflation, the price difference is still astonishing. Back in 98, the USD was worth about 40 pesos. The current exchange rate, as per finance.yahoo.com is 46 PHP to 1 USD. Cost of living is radically different in the Philippines, so I’m essentially comparing apples to oranges. My point is that poverty in the US is much different from poverty in the Philippines. I suppose that if you take the definition of impoverished as, “not having enough money to subsist within the confines of a given city” then being poor in the Philippines is the same as being poor in the US. However, I bet it’s much easier to live off the land on a tropical island than in the foothills of the Appalachian Trail.
That said, my parents were afforded the same opportunities as any US national upon immigrating. Having an educational background from a foreign country is definitely better than having a high school diploma or GED (or less for that matter) from the US, but in some cases, it’s just as irrelevant. I was fortunate that my mom had a job secured as a nurse before we immigrated, but I’m a firm believer that my folks would have found prosperity in the US whether St. Mary’s was willing to employ them or not. By saying that my parents are a “rags to riches” success story is cheating them of the hard work they’ve put in over the years. They improved their economic viability by making sacrifices so that they could both finish their respective master’s degrees and further their careers while my brother and I were still young.
I believe that everyone is responsible for their own actions, and America is, in fact, still the land of opportunity. The past few years have reduced the amount of opportunities available, but the supply is still ample. The Obama administration has made it abundantly clear that the supply will remain ample for the time being, and I am thankful for it. Because of the Trade Adjustment Act, I am able to claim unemployment benefits while finishing my bachelor’s degree. I also believe that the culturist view has valid points as well. The poor have an affinity to remain poor just like the rich are inclined to stay rich, assuming they don’t self destruct by way of various forms of addiction.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Defeated
The agony is almost unbearable.
How did my 2010 playoffs go? Not well. What was once an unlimited resource has now been depleted. I can remember a few short years ago when I would have to decide where to watch a playoff game based upon a number of factors. I was faced with these decisions because I not only had guys inquiring as to where I would be watching the game, but also a stable of athletically minded young gentlemen who were eager to find out my decision because they would pledge their allegiance to the majority decision of the group. Alas, my comrades have departed one by one to various life sentences. Some are chained to their wives, some are chained to their children and a small percentage are chained to professional commitments. Meanwhile, I have the luxury of watching the NBA playoffs in the comfort of my own home on my high definition television equipped with not only a digital video recording device fed high definition signals via satellite, but also a surround sound system so in tune that I can hear vuvuzelas even when I'm watching basketball. With no child raising, career or academic obligations, I'm free – until school starts on Monday, of course. I don't know why I complain, really.
Due to time constraints, I've decided to keep this short.
Ray Allen – congratulations on costing yourself millions of dollars in free agency. After setting the record for most 3s in a playoff game, you proceeded to sleep walk through the rest of the finals. Ok, well, maybe not on defense, but on offense, you were severely lacking. Thank you for showing the world what a real Kobe stopper looks like (yeah, that was aimed at you, Ruben Patterson) and hopefully you sign with Atlanta for the veteran minimum.
Kobe Bryant – you call that a legacy game? You were terrible in the biggest game of the year, and quite possibly, the biggest game of your career thus far. You were supposed to make a statement with this victory. You barely shot 20% from the field, had less than 10 assists and were it not for some crucial free throws at the end of the game, you were atrocious.
Derek Fisher – you are the dagger in my side. The devil himself jabbed you into my side back in 2004. As I lay immobilized from having 2 hernias removed from my innards, the one thing I had to look forward to was the NBA Playoffs. You sold your soul in the moments before the inbounds pass. When you launched a prayer with .04 seconds left on the clock that would end game 6 with a Laker victory, I felt the poison tipped dagger inserted into my side in the soft spot between 2 of my ribs. I felt my heart stop as the pain sent my body into shock. That dagger has remained lodged in my side ever since, and today, you twisted the dagger to reopen the wound that had still not yet fully healed. When you made the 3 that tied the game with roughly 7 minutes to go, I knew what was happening. Your bargain with the devil was again paying it's yearly dividends. I knew the game was taking a turn off course and headed straight for the cliffs and into a 300ft canyon filled with jagged, impaling rocks. Why couldn't you just stay in the locker room for the remainder of the game? The day you retire from the league is the day the newly twisted dagger is removed from my side. The wound will take years to heal as it's now infected with your evil diseases.
Pau Gasol – I hate you and your Spanish facial hair/expressions.
I feel so defeated. I'm $20 poorer than I was yesterday. I'm +$42 at the end of the day, but my soul took a beating.
How did my 2010 playoffs go? Not well. What was once an unlimited resource has now been depleted. I can remember a few short years ago when I would have to decide where to watch a playoff game based upon a number of factors. I was faced with these decisions because I not only had guys inquiring as to where I would be watching the game, but also a stable of athletically minded young gentlemen who were eager to find out my decision because they would pledge their allegiance to the majority decision of the group. Alas, my comrades have departed one by one to various life sentences. Some are chained to their wives, some are chained to their children and a small percentage are chained to professional commitments. Meanwhile, I have the luxury of watching the NBA playoffs in the comfort of my own home on my high definition television equipped with not only a digital video recording device fed high definition signals via satellite, but also a surround sound system so in tune that I can hear vuvuzelas even when I'm watching basketball. With no child raising, career or academic obligations, I'm free – until school starts on Monday, of course. I don't know why I complain, really.
Due to time constraints, I've decided to keep this short.
Ray Allen – congratulations on costing yourself millions of dollars in free agency. After setting the record for most 3s in a playoff game, you proceeded to sleep walk through the rest of the finals. Ok, well, maybe not on defense, but on offense, you were severely lacking. Thank you for showing the world what a real Kobe stopper looks like (yeah, that was aimed at you, Ruben Patterson) and hopefully you sign with Atlanta for the veteran minimum.
Kobe Bryant – you call that a legacy game? You were terrible in the biggest game of the year, and quite possibly, the biggest game of your career thus far. You were supposed to make a statement with this victory. You barely shot 20% from the field, had less than 10 assists and were it not for some crucial free throws at the end of the game, you were atrocious.
Derek Fisher – you are the dagger in my side. The devil himself jabbed you into my side back in 2004. As I lay immobilized from having 2 hernias removed from my innards, the one thing I had to look forward to was the NBA Playoffs. You sold your soul in the moments before the inbounds pass. When you launched a prayer with .04 seconds left on the clock that would end game 6 with a Laker victory, I felt the poison tipped dagger inserted into my side in the soft spot between 2 of my ribs. I felt my heart stop as the pain sent my body into shock. That dagger has remained lodged in my side ever since, and today, you twisted the dagger to reopen the wound that had still not yet fully healed. When you made the 3 that tied the game with roughly 7 minutes to go, I knew what was happening. Your bargain with the devil was again paying it's yearly dividends. I knew the game was taking a turn off course and headed straight for the cliffs and into a 300ft canyon filled with jagged, impaling rocks. Why couldn't you just stay in the locker room for the remainder of the game? The day you retire from the league is the day the newly twisted dagger is removed from my side. The wound will take years to heal as it's now infected with your evil diseases.
Pau Gasol – I hate you and your Spanish facial hair/expressions.
I feel so defeated. I'm $20 poorer than I was yesterday. I'm +$42 at the end of the day, but my soul took a beating.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Tom Sumner lecture
Last week's guest speaker left something to be desired. I found his lecture informative, and could see myself reading one or more of the novels in the series which featured political commentary in the form of compiled blogs. But when asked how he felt about the technological forces have affected publishing, I felt like Mr. Sumner dodged the question.
"Asking me how I feel about that is like asking me how I feel about air. It's there.."
I thought the question was well said. As I recall a student asked how Mr. Sumner felt about how new forms of technology have affected traditional publishing. The discussion was revolving around the Kindle, the blogosphere, and "home brew" publishing.
I feel like Mr. Sumner has a biased opinion on how new technology has a perverse and often baffling affect on traditional forms of publishing.
Perhaps he could elaborate further on the topic via the class blog.
"Asking me how I feel about that is like asking me how I feel about air. It's there.."
I thought the question was well said. As I recall a student asked how Mr. Sumner felt about how new forms of technology have affected traditional publishing. The discussion was revolving around the Kindle, the blogosphere, and "home brew" publishing.
I feel like Mr. Sumner has a biased opinion on how new technology has a perverse and often baffling affect on traditional forms of publishing.
Perhaps he could elaborate further on the topic via the class blog.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Persuaders
The video we watched in class last Tuesday was interesting. We're all subjected to a seemingly endless stream of advertising. Even if you don't own a TV, you're still just as likely to be force fed some sort of advertising on a daily basis. I suppose if you lived completely off the grid, read nothing but advertising free literature, never logged onto the internet, and never listened to the radio, then you could increase your chances of never seeing advertising. However, you never know when an airplane wrapped in vinyl advertising may fly by your small slice of ad-free land.
The part of the documentary that stuck out in my mind was the piece about the protesters down in Georgia rallying in defense of the state flag. The narrator explained how you may intend to send one message, and that message may be clear to your target audience. For example, by defending the confederate flag that encompasses half of the GA state flag, you may intend to send the message that you're supporting the history of the state, and the confederacy was a major part of that history. However, an African American male living in Cleveland may interpret the message as supporting segregation and racism. Newton's 3rd law of motion applies in this context. "Every action has a reaction equal in magnitude and opposite in direction."
The part of the documentary that stuck out in my mind was the piece about the protesters down in Georgia rallying in defense of the state flag. The narrator explained how you may intend to send one message, and that message may be clear to your target audience. For example, by defending the confederate flag that encompasses half of the GA state flag, you may intend to send the message that you're supporting the history of the state, and the confederacy was a major part of that history. However, an African American male living in Cleveland may interpret the message as supporting segregation and racism. Newton's 3rd law of motion applies in this context. "Every action has a reaction equal in magnitude and opposite in direction."
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Rhetoric redux
For this week’s piece on rhetoric, I chose an article from the January 27th 2010 Willamette Week. I felt uninspired by the blog topic this week, so I found myself searching for an example of rhetoric instead of just stumbling upon one. The topic of tone is still fresh on my mind. I was able to quickly identify the tone in this piece. Stay tuned for more information.
For a better look, click here
Rhetoric of the logos flavor is abundant in the first column. The dollar amount ($20,000 in case you missed it) was mentioned in two of the first three paragraphs. The factoid embedded in the middle of the first two columns reiterates this figure while comparing it to the miniscule amount raised for the competition. But the fun doesn’t stop there. The importance of the endorsement is highlighted as well. The article mentions that jails take up 70 percent of the budget, therefore making the endorsement of the corrections union a key to victory. All of the numerical data suggests that Staton has this election in the bag. The logos landslide alludes to a similar conclusion.
The overwhelming tone throughout the article is that of political mudslinging. This article sounds to me like an expose on how Staton’s supporters are playing against the rules by canvassing a federal building. The manager of Staton’s campaign, Carol Wessinger, is quoted in an appalled tone. She sounds shocked at the evidence, and very defensive. She denies all knowledge of the posting incident, and attempts to preserve Staton’s innocence in the matter.
I usually only read the Willamette for information regarding upcoming shows, or for the occasional commentary on what’s going on in the
Thursday, January 28, 2010
watch your tone
Allow me to preface this week’s blog entry with a little background information. I work as a software technician at Hewlett Packard. The job title implies a professional atmosphere and although at times the utmost professionalism is required, most of the time, the work environment is very relaxed. Below is an email thread from today between myself and two engineers. I’m the test lead for a software project, and they are the driving force behind the code.
#13 is up in Dropbox. Also, I put Dave's new 0.24 hpmudn drop in there too.
I got Bravo working on Mac again, and we should probably check Linux to make sure we are OK there too
-Don
As you can see, the tone of this email is very relaxed. There’s a wealth of technical jargon to be sifted through before the instructions present themselves. The phrase, “we should probably check..” is the red flag signaling what this particular engineer would like to see.
Linux is working a-okay.
-Stan
Again, the tone is relaxed. This engineer is letting everyone else know that he’s already looked at the software in Linux, and everything is working properly as far as he can see.
Treetop isn't happy post bravo012. Stan and I saw the Treetop throwing a 49 error yesterday afternoon. It looks like when bravo tries to communicate with Treetop, the unit errors out. I'm currently using the Sprint 5 driver which I'm told is the latest. I just got the same error while using Dave's latest (.24) hpmud stuff.
Log files attached.
-Linus
Upon further review, I probably should’ve used a more professional tone in my email to Don and Stan, but in an effort to maintain status quo, I chose to use a relaxed tone. If I were emailing my supervisors, I would have chosen a more appropriate vernacular (ie: less slang, more specifics). Since I’ve worked closely with these two engineers and consider our relationship to be more friendly than not, I feel comfortable speaking in such tone.
Maybe Dave could take a look at it? If hpmud is giving the same error, it must be some sort of low level IO issue?
-Don
Don seems to enjoy camouflaging his instructions so as to not seem demanding. He’s also deferring the investigation to Dave by using deductive reasoning.
As per Dave, the laserjet LEDM xml packets are different from the inkjets, thus resulting in a system hang. The 49 error translates to an IO hang which requires a power cycle with the USB cable unplugged to clear.
-Linus
My reply seems very robotic. I was typing this email as Dave, another engineer on the same project, was dictating his analysis to me orally. After re-reading the email, I realize that I could have been more descriptive. In my defense, this was my own reduction after I processed what Dave was telling me. It’s really easy to get confused when engineers are rattling off complex technical terms while explaining what’s happening and why.
Dave, can you please expand on this? My examination of LEDM on Treetop is that is it mostly the same, with a few different elements here and there. I put a few small hacks into our code to handle the small differences. I've had no problem talking to Treetop with LEDM over the network, for example.
-Don
I obviously didn’t do a good job relaying the information between the two engineers. Don has asked for clarification on the matter. Don’s tone has changed from very relaxed to mildly pressing. He’s stated his theory and backed it up with logos rhetoric. “My examination … is that it is mostly the same with a few different elements...” This statement shows that he’s already done some research, and taken measures to prevent the issue. “I put a few small hacks into our code…” This is letting Dave know that he’s already made adjustments to handle the issue. The tone is unaggressive while still stating his stance. This will most likely be the first topic tackled upon returning to work in the morning.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
rhetorically speaking
One statement from last Tuesday's class that stuck in my head is, "rhetoric is the basis of every argument". Argumentative to me means pertaining to argument, but when describing rhetoric, argumentative is meant to infer a suggestive statement rather than a combative one. Rhetoric is the backbone of all methods of persuasion.
Rhetoric plays a larger part of my everyday life than I imagined. I've always heard the term "rhetorical" in reference to a statement made with no expectation of a retort. Little did I know, the term is much more encompassing. Rhetoric is the backbone of all methods of persuasion. Advertising comes to mind when I think of rhetoric. I come across advertising in some shape or form a number of times on an hourly basis. For example, I came across this ad while reading Sports Illustrated.
(see picture above)
The ad is an example of the pathos form of rhetoric. The presumed sick child sitting on an examination table in what looks to be a hospital or clinic is clearly akin to the pathos or emotional side. Upon further inspection, the ad indicates that PI affects 10 million and that early detection can lead to a better quality of life. These statements are meant to strike a chord of fear in the reader and alert them to investigate this matter further via the web address or phone number provided. I wouldn't expect a full page ad like this in a sports magazine, but rather some kind of dietary supplement to aid in body building. Nonetheless, this ad immediately caught my attention, even given my lack of my own children.
The vast majority of the rhetoric I use on a daily basis is of the logos form. I'm a software technician, so I speak in binary code (figuratively, of course) all day. I'm constantly relaying information between engineers. I try to keep things simple to cut down on confusion, so I make sure to leave out the fluff and stick to the technical specs and data they're most concerned with.
Friday, January 15, 2010
First blog entry
I'm currently reading A Crack In The Cosmic Egg by Joseph Chilton Pearce. I've just now made it through the first chapter, and I've been reading it on and off for about a week. This book is quite possibly the toughest piece of literature I've ever read. If the subject matter weren't so abstract and interesting, I would most likely put the book down and opt for something lighter. This is my third attempt at this novel, and I'm sure I'll wind up putting it back on the shelf once the reading load for the semester picks up.
When I try to think of the latest good book I've read, the first one that comes to mind is Freakonomics by Levitt and Dubner. This book is what I would consider the polar opposite of the Pearce novel. I enjoyed this book thoroughly, and even found myself reading tidbits of the “Freakonomics” column on the New York Times online. The crazy correlations backed by empirical evidence were quite entertaining and warranted out loud laughter on a number of occasions.
Outside of textbooks, these are the last two books I've read, or in the case of A Crack In The Cosmic Egg, made an attempt to read. Reading websites, magazines and newspapers qualifies under a different kind of reading. Most of my reading comes from this alternate category. I don't consider Audiobooks as reading at all. Some would argue that this form of ingesting literature is more effective than the traditional method, but I would wholeheartedly disagree. I do enjoy listening to Audiobooks from time to time, but I find that I don't retain the material nearly as well.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
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