Girls Will be Boys

So I just posted something that my post was going to be about intentionality. Well, I lied; expect something on that tonight. I have some navel gazing to do. And I wholly promise that this is not going to be one of those “nice boys finish last” posts. Not that I am a nice guy, I truly can be a first class asshole.

All girls are boys.

Boys get a bum rap for being emotionally unavailable, and just wanting a piece of ass. There are so-called “bad boys” and they end up getting boy band ass, they treat people like shit, and no one calls their bluff. They are probably more or less broken on the inside. Girls lie when they want someone who is deep and is going to truly value the person that they are on the inside, someone that will ask them about their feelings, their hopes, their dreams.

I think after failed relationships we wall off a tiny portion of ourselves and say that no one is going to touch us here again, because it hurts too fucking much when it stops. At least that is my experience. Some of us (present company included) started off like this even before we were hurt in a relationship. It makes emotional intimacy incredibly difficult, some would say impossible. We say that by reserving the inner 3% of ourselves that we won’t get hurt anymore, but we also have to resign to the fact that if we aren’t going to get hurt then we are not going to have to experience that inner deepest satisfaction.

The interesting thing is that this came up in two wholly separate conversations, one with an old friend, one with a new one recently. The old friend spoke in terms of ‘ghosts.’ That he has past relationships that have left scar tissue on his ability to form healthy relationships, he even went so far as to go to a frat party, act like the emotionally unavailable fuckwad and ended up getting invited up to a girls room for an ‘after party.’ In his words “he lost respect for humanity at that point.” But I like the idea of there being ghosts of relationships that are with us, no one ever said that ghosts have to haunt, but maybe they help us from making the same mistakes again, or guide us in making a new mistake.

The second friend brought it up as a fear; her analysis being that she can’t be with a nice guy for too long, he gets too boring, then she goes to a ‘bad boy’ because he is interesting. I can’t say that I have gone through this cycle personally, but my preliminary thoughts on this are two fold, 1. It’s ok to want someone to be emotionally unavailable, when it gets to the point where someone’s questions are no longer interesting but prying then it is time to stop. And 2. Why is there such a fucking double standard on girls that want to be emotionally unavailable? Who said that they all have to be deep, and want someone to care about their problems?

So back to the original premise… girls really are boys. Sometimes they really don’t want you to care about their problems or they don’t want you to probe into their inner thoughts and fears. And I guess that may be ok.

(A tidbit: Jews celebrate Thanksgiving just like the rest of us … I am so embarrassed…)

(A second tidbit: My First Kiss got engaged the other day. I feel sooooo old. But most definitely a congratulations is in order!)

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving with the family is always a good thing. We had the usual turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, etc. For the last 3 family holidays I have told myself that this may be the last time that I am going to get to hang out with all of my siblings. Next year, Joe may be on a rotation for the holiday, I could be on tour, Laura could be abroad, John’s internships could require him to have to stay in D.C. This Christmas we are all going to be here as well, but with next Christmas, well, you get the idea. I would have to say that this is what I am most thankful for. And this time around I really got to have some quality time with Ck to figure out where we are existentially. It is always really hard to go through this stuff. All that I can say is that I am glad that she is the person that she is and that I still really value her friendship.

Further Thoughts

Two postings in a day…. I feel so unproductive. I am in the middle of trying to write my observation paper for Art & Ethics. The reserve section of the library’s website is down, so I was forced to googling the articles, findings bits here and there. It can be so incredibly frustrating, I find that the technological component of FU is so incredibly mismanaged. It really can’t be that hard to get things right can it?

There is something about my previous post that isn’t sitting with me too well though. I am at odds with myself. I would take it down, but that would somewhat defeat the purpose of having an online journal that catches my stream of consciousness. I don’t think that it is OK to use people, or that it is ok to drift in and out of dysfunctional relationships simply because they are easier. One of my incredibly good friends here is in a functional, normal relationship in what she admits for the first time ever. I am so proud of her, especially when I compare it to so many of my other friends that have dysfunctional ones. A certain asshole and his pathetically small penis and minuteman tendencies come to mind. Quite frankly I think life is a little too short and I am too young to invest in a dysfunctional relationship.

But I can’t put myself on a soapbox as well. You want to hear about my dysfunctions. OK
1. I really am afraid of commitment. Most of my relationships have been on the long side, my shortest ever was 6 months. But it freaked me the fuck out when I thought I was in a relationship that could have ended in the “m-word.”
2. I hate taking risks, especially in a relationship. I never “go for it” not without permission, not without knowing that I am going to be granted ok. Not without knowing that I am going to get the Heisman. I am that guy, I am a wuss.
3. I have a bitter sense of humor, and I admit that I can take it too far. I am one of the few people that I have known to offend my mother with a remark or a joke.
4. I really don’t trust people. I am deeply introverted and really do believe that the person that is going to take care of my problems is myself and no one else. This has caused people to accuse me rightly of detachment from them, of ‘being in my own world’ and not trusting them.
5. I am a fisher of compliments when it comes to my looks, my talent, my whatever. I have never been comfortable being complimented on either of these things. This feeling of being uncomfortable is often manifest in overt humility which is sometimes, but not always genuine.
7. I think the desire to be liked carries over into my relationship life as well. It prevents me from telling them that I am upset with them or that they have hurt my feelings. This creates tense moments when I tell them after the fact that they hurt my feelings 2 weeks ago, and I didn’t give them a chance then to correct it or apologize.
8. Finally I have no qualms about wearing mismatched socks. This one speaks for itself.

It feels so good to get that off my chest. I have been so manic of late, I just fucking yo-yo from being in a good mood to being in a bloody poor one. I feel like I have been an ass to my friends and colleagues in the ways that I have treated them. I can honestly say that now my present mood is crappy, I leave to go home for thanksgiving on Wednesday and I hate the fucking city for the two days before I leave. We haven’t seen a stitch of snow yet this winter, it is raining outside now, I am just in my shirtsleeves, and am probably going to freeze my ass off. I am apprehensive about seeing Ck when I go home, I really don’t know how I am going to deal with that, I know I should just be myself, but what if myself isn’t good enough for her. I feel like the absence of her in my life is going to create a gap between us that can only be filled with banal small talk. What if she is better off than I am?

On a doubly sad note, my sister’s cat was run over Saturday and Jerimiah is no more. The fuckwit that ran him over didn’t even bother to check for tags to alert us that he had been hit, he just left him in the grass where my dad found him frozen the next day. God it is such a cruel world.

Further Thoughts

Two postings in a day…. I feel so unproductive. I am in the middle of trying to write my observation paper for Art & Ethics. The reserve section of the library’s website is down, so I was forced to googling the articles, findings bits here and there. It can be so incredibly frustrating, I find that the technological component of FU is so incredibly mismanaged. It really can’t be that hard to get things right can it?

There is something about my previous post that isn’t sitting with me too well though. I am at odds with myself. I would take it down, but that would somewhat defeat the purpose of having an online journal that catches my stream of consciousness. I don’t think that it is OK to use people, or that it is ok to drift in and out of dysfunctional relationships simply because they are easier. One of my incredibly good friends here is in a functional, normal relationship in what she admits for the first time ever. I am so proud of her, especially when I compare it to so many of my other friends that have dysfunctional ones. A certain asshole and his pathetically small penis and minuteman tendencies come to mind. Quite frankly I think life is a little too short and I am too young to invest in a dysfunctional relationship.

But I can’t put myself on a soapbox as well. You want to hear about my dysfunctions. OK
1. I really am afraid of commitment. Most of my relationships have been on the long side, my shortest ever was 6 months. But it freaked me the fuck out when I thought I was in a relationship that could have ended in the “m-word.”
2. I hate taking risks, especially in a relationship. I never “go for it” not without permission, not without knowing that I am going to be granted ok. Not without knowing that I am going to get the Heisman. I am that guy, I am a wuss.
3. I have a bitter sense of humor, and I admit that I can take it too far. I am one of the few people that I have known to offend my mother with a remark or a joke.
4. I really don’t trust people. I am deeply introverted and really do believe that the person that is going to take care of my problems is myself and no one else. This has caused people to accuse me rightly of detachment from them, of ‘being in my own world’ and not trusting them.
5. I am a fisher of compliments when it comes to my looks, my talent, my whatever. I have never been comfortable being complimented on either of these things. This feeling of being uncomfortable is often manifest in overt humility which is sometimes, but not always genuine.
7. I think the desire to be liked carries over into my relationship life as well. It prevents me from telling them that I am upset with them or that they have hurt my feelings. This creates tense moments when I tell them after the fact that they hurt my feelings 2 weeks ago, and I didn’t give them a chance then to correct it or apologize.
8. Finally I have no qualms about wearing mismatched socks. This one speaks for itself.

It feels so good to get that off my chest. I have been so manic of late, I just fucking yo-yo from being in a good mood to being in a bloody poor one. I feel like I have been an ass to my friends and colleagues in the ways that I have treated them. I can honestly say that now my present mood is crappy, I leave to go home for thanksgiving on Wednesday and I hate the fucking city for the two days before I leave. We haven’t seen a stitch of snow yet this winter, it is raining outside now, I am just in my shirtsleeves, and am probably going to freeze my ass off. I am apprehensive about seeing Ck when I go home, I really don’t know how I am going to deal with that, I know I should just be myself, but what if myself isn’t good enough for her. I feel like the absence of her in my life is going to create a gap between us that can only be filled with banal small talk. What if she is better off than I am?

On a doubly sad note, my sister’s cat was run over Saturday and Jerimiah is no more. The fuckwit that ran him over didn’t even bother to check for tags to alert us that he had been hit, he just left him in the grass where my dad found him frozen the next day. God it is such a cruel world.

Two postings in a day…. I feel so unproductive. I am in the middle of trying to write my observation paper for Art & Ethics. The reserve section of the library’s website is down, so I was forced to googling the articles, findings bits here and there. It can be so incredibly frustrating, I find that the technological component of FU is so incredibly mismanaged. It really can’t be that hard to get things right can it?

There is something about my previous post that isn’t sitting with me too well though. I am at odds with myself. I would take it down, but that would somewhat defeat the purpose of having an online journal that catches my stream of consciousness. I don’t think that it is OK to use people, or that it is ok to drift in and out of dysfunctional relationships simply because they are easier. One of my incredibly good friends here is in a functional, normal relationship in what she admits for the first time ever. I am so proud of her, especially when I compare it to so many of my other friends that have dysfunctional ones. A certain asshole and his pathetically small penis and minuteman tendencies come to mind. Quite frankly I think life is a little too short and I am too young to invest in a dysfunctional relationship.

But I can’t put myself on a soapbox as well. You want to hear about my dysfunctions. OK
1. I really am afraid of commitment. Most of my relationships have been on the long side, my shortest ever was 6 months. But it freaked me the fuck out when I thought I was in a relationship that could have ended in the “m-word.”
2. I hate taking risks, especially in a relationship. I never “go for it” not without permission, not without knowing that I am going to be granted ok. Not without knowing that I am going to get the Heisman. I am that guy, I am a wuss.
3. I have a bitter sense of humor, and I admit that I can take it too far. I am one of the few people that I have known to offend my mother with a remark or a joke.
4. I really don’t trust people. I am deeply introverted and really do believe that the person that is going to take care of my problems is myself and no one else. This has caused people to accuse me rightly of detachment from them, of ‘being in my own world’ and not trusting them.
5. I am a fisher of compliments when it comes to my looks, my talent, my whatever. I have never been comfortable being complimented on either of these things. This feeling of being uncomfortable is often manifest in overt humility which is sometimes, but not always genuine.
7. I think the desire to be liked carries over into my relationship life as well. It prevents me from telling them that I am upset with them or that they have hurt my feelings. This creates tense moments when I tell them after the fact that they hurt my feelings 2 weeks ago, and I didn’t give them a chance then to correct it or apologize.
8. Finally I have no qualms about wearing mismatched socks. This one speaks for itself.

It feels so good to get that off my chest. I have been so manic of late, I just fucking yo-yo from being in a good mood to being in a bloody poor one. I feel like I have been an ass to my friends and colleagues in the ways that I have treated them. I can honestly say that now my present mood is crappy, I leave to go home for thanksgiving on Wednesday and I hate the fucking city for the two days before I leave. We haven’t seen a stitch of snow yet this winter, it is raining outside now, I am just in my shirtsleeves, and am probably going to freeze my ass off. I am apprehensive about seeing Ck when I go home, I really don’t know how I am going to deal with that, I know I should just be myself, but what if myself isn’t good enough for her. I feel like the absence of her in my life is going to create a gap between us that can only be filled with banal small talk. What if she is better off than I am?

On a doubly sad note, my sister’s cat was run over Saturday and Jerimiah is no more. The fuckwit that ran him over didn’t even bother to check for tags to alert us that he had been hit, he just left him in the grass where my dad found him frozen the next day. God it is such a cruel world.

Coney Island

So on top of rehearsals, finishing my Senior Piece, producing commercials with my roommate, babysitting for some of the cutest kids on the Upper West Side. I found some time to get out to what is perhaps the creepiest place in New York: Coney Island. I will try to leave a short description of each photo.

There would have to be the requisite fresco tag-art with any Coney Island photo set. I like this shot because of the complexities and the meta-aspects of the face. The child's face morphing into the adult themes contrast the ironies of an adult theme park. Theme parks are marketed towards children, yet in Coney Island's case it seems to be an adult playground.

Ferris Wheels are fantastic. Like clowns individuals exhibit certain paranoia around the rides. They are kid friendly and a classical Hollywood symbol for romance. Something about a Ferris wheel without chairs on it.


These two images go together. The park is falling apart and some of the buildings are condemned. The lower image shows how the signs and beckoning calls are still asking you to enter the broken shattered building. It may be elementary and cliche, but I kind of like the irony...


The image about the spiritual reader hut was with a set of seven other black and white pencil painting on the wall. Again with the irony... But the second picture had me laughing out loud. "Hey Joey!" let's go to a clam bar. Again is this an adult playground? or for kids. I just have images of the 70s and 80s of young fathers leaving their kids to ride the rickety rides being at the mercy of the Carneys'. While they themselves slink off to the Boardwalk to have some brews and cheap clams and oysters.

Well there is a beach, and we are magically transported to the south shores of Belize getting ready to go snorkeling. Or the Pacific shore of Costa Rica getting ready to zip into the johnny suit and go surfing. But wait there must be a punchline...

Ah and there it is. The fake palm tree. I thought they were only in Vegas. I love this shot, it turned out so well if I do so say myself. But it kind of summed up the whole experience, there is something that is really beautiful about such a surreal experience.

Vulnerability

A guy is vulnerable in such a way only a few times in his life. There are three little words that a man says for the first time to someone else. “I love you.” I have said that to two people and meant it in the way of “I would take a bullet for you / I would leave my life to make you happy / I would leave your life to make you happy / I would do anything for you type way.”

My first love was Andy, it was as some would say puppy love, we were both in middle school. It was that awkward time when boys are first supposed to like girls in that way. Our relationship lasted in total about 9 months. It took me a long time to work up to say it to her. Most unfortunately I waited until I felt the relationship was waning, I sensed that it was close to the end, I was scared that I was “losing her” that we were no longer going to be “a couple.” I did what any teenager would do in that similar situation. I put on my leather jacket, put my boombox over my shoulder, and played Sting in front of her window in the rain. Figuratively of course. In reality, I just busted out the “I love you” line, I meant it, I did love her, and still do (not the same way…), but the point is this. That at the time I thought that the only thing I could do was to tell her how I really felt about our relationship. I think it may have bought me a month, but we were too young, too retarded. Honestly I would kind of feel weird if I was still going to be dating my 8th grade girlfriend now. That would just be weird. But at the time it seemed so terminal, like it was the end of it, forever. And it seemed like such a big deal, I didn’t know if I could go on. Funny how we lose perspective.

The second time that I said it to someone and meant it and still mean it when it is said is for CK. I don’t like dragging my personal stuff out here. But I think this story is ok. I couldn’t start with “I love you” I was such a pansy that I went with what I thought was the more innocuous, “je t’aime” thinking that she wouldn’t figure out what it meant cause it was in French…. Well she asked some of her friends and was quickly informed about the nuances of je t’aime. I was pretty sure that she knew, and that she knew that I knew, but I still went around using the French, cause like I said I am a pansy… Well eventually I got around to giving her the English I love you, once I was sure that I would get the “I love you too” in response. Cause I am pretty sure that there would be nothing more awkward than telling someone “I love you” and getting a stare in response, well maybe it would be more awkward if she coughed, or puked. Yeh, puking would be more awkward.

But Ck didn’t cough or puke, she said and meant “I love you too.” Actually it was kind of cute, we were underneath my bed in the basement of my parents’ house. See I have these massive bunkbeds that are made with these gargantuan 8-inch diameter logs that my brother, my dad, and I built. They are pretty awesome. But underneath one of them we put a bean bag and it would by my spot. And see CK and I were sharing my spot and she was getting ready to leave to go off to her first year of college and I was worried (again with the worry….) that we were going to have that “Well I don’t want you to be tied up… it will be the best for both of us…. type conversations.” So I thought that I should hit her with it right there. I told her “I love you” and got “I love you too” right there. It was pretty sweet. There is something really intimate about sharing that with someone and having the feeling be reciprocated. Granted I had led up to this point with the softball pitch of “je t’aime” for quite some time so I was pretty sure I was safe. But you still never know.

Well our relationship has since changed. Every day though I wake up and relieved that I still know she loves me and cares about my wellbeing. I honestly don’t know what I would do if that wasn’t the case. I think I attribute that to making yourself that vulnerable in front of someone. Once you do that you are bonded, and there is something there that you are going to carry on for the rest of your life. That bond fits into your DNA and becomes a part of you. I guess what the whole point of this is I just need to say that I am glad that there have been those people, specifically one, that I have changed myself in front of and have changed for me, and that I get to take that through my entire life cause it is something that is worth it. I love you.

I love the Park in the fall

Just thought a picture was in order. I love Central Park in the fall, something that I miss when I go home is changing leaves. The early snows knock them off the trees green in Wyoming. It wasn't until I got out here that I really experienced fall.

We do it for the love....

Busting up parties!!! Oh, excuse me, “documenting incidents.” There is nothing more that I hate than entering someone’s apartment when shit is going down usually. I can say that in my experience the best way to make an RA feel guilty is to be nice, and helpful when he is breaking up your party. When you genuinely realize that the RA doesn’t really want to be there, in fact, chances are he was already sleeping (cause we have no life), watching America’s Next Top Model (cause we have no life), or working on homework (cause we have no life), it goes a long way to make it feel like the 3rd world. Instead of greasing our palms with a 20 just be nice works almost* as well.

Then there are the times when it goes poorly. That is when I have to be a prick, and my prick is responding to your prickishness, and the rule of pricks is that there can only be so many, cause otherwise they cross swords, and fights break out, and we have all seen Troy so we don’t want that. Things I have heard and some back-story on the event. Ranked in no particular order, although some I did enjoy more than others.

Me: “are those bottles of rum under the couch?” – note I never really said this, just kept this on the inside.
Them: “We promise that we have nothing under the couch.”
Heh, why did you even bring it up? God I loved my residents last year, there was some drama, some parties, I resisted interfering as much as a I could and when I had to I kept them out of trouble as I could.

Me: “Were you guys smoking”
Him: “no” whilst shaking his head, he still has the acrid pot smoke in his lungs, I wait until he can’t hold it in anymore, 20 seconds pass as the pain for him increases, I just kinda look sorry for him. He capitulates and exhales a big hit of smoke. I do my best not to laugh, A for effort kiddo.

Me: knocking on door, sees someone come up to the peephole.
Her: “FUCK!!!! (At the top of her lungs mind you) It’s the RA, hide everything, John put that down, someone open the windows.”
This is a recurring experience, seriously guys, we can fucking hear you through the door, it makes us laugh soooooo hard. This one happens all the time.

Her: “Could I get a guest pass?”
Me: “Um, is that a beer in your hand?”
Her: “No….”
Me: “I didn’t know Corona made other things.”
Her: Looking at half empty bottle of Corona “Oh this thing?”
Me: “Look, could you just throw it out, you’re not allowed to consume alcohol in the public areas of the building.”
Her: “No way, I am not throwing out my beer.”
Me: “…”
Yes this happened, yes I didn’t know what to do, I just wanted to look at her, and be like, “tell your father thank you for the library.”

These are conversations, among other things I have been offered money (not enough), “favors” (gross), been told “but we’ve hung out before” (not true), “can you pretend you didn’t see” (some things you just can’t unsee), “do you have to write it all down” did you have to tell me to fuck myself? It goes on. Basically we get shit on, a lot, by the residents, by our bosses. Rough, but it does make for some fun times.

Rules of FaceBook

Alright, it has to be said. TheFacebook was made for stalking. Whoever invented this was obviously a creepy 9th year senior and needed to keep tabs on the incoming freshman. And chances are you are on it; that is if your parents loved you enough to get you a computer. So I think there should be some basic ground rules for TheFacebook and its use for proper stalking:

1. Do not take your own picture. TheFacebook is not Myspace. Although they have some similarities, one takes over your life, the other one consumes your soul and your will to live.
2. What goes on in Vegas stays in Vegas, same with highschool. I get it, let’s friend everyone in highschool that was cool enough like me to go to college like me, unless you are into stalking people from highschool…. Then by all means friend away.
3. You have 454 friends, none of them like you. (Oh know who you are.) Unless you are Tim Kubart, then you probably really do have 350 friends, and all I can say is “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy.”
4. For chirsakes, how can I stalk you if you don’t have a picture? I can’t stalk a question mark.
5. Speaking of pictures, if you put a picture up of you without a shirt, you had better be a lady … If you are a guy, put a fucking shirt on, you don’t want to be “that guy.”
6. And no pictures of you drinking, your in college, you drink, we get it, whoop de fricken do. And if you have pictures of you being shirtless and drinking? Fucking A man, fucking A.

So now that the ground rules have been laid, let’s talk about stalking, it is ok to look at that hot girl’s pic that sits in your English class, maybe tell your friends that you are seriously crushing on her, cause that is cool. We all like to have crushes. What is not cool is to save her picture as your desktop, watch all of her favorite movies, and recite quotes to her outside her door. As well I would consider it borderline sketchy if you have their AIM on your buddy list, and you check their away messages compulsively (another post) and you have never talked to them. Come on, just say hi, admit that you were stalking them on IM and just wanted them to know … on second thought that would be creepy.

Note: Inspiration for the post came from CollegeHumor

Catholic School Blues

I went to a Catholic grade school and Jr. High. My dad went to the same school, quite frankly so did my grand dad. My best friend Ck and I would get into arguments over if we were to have kids would they go to that school. (Presuming of course we somehow managed to be in Wyoming.) My standard argument was along the lines that I thought that the quality of education was on par with the public schools, but that the environment was smaller and more intimate. I wouldn’t trade my experience there for anything and would want my kids to have the same experience that I did.

She thought that the school was somewhat elitist, and that she wouldn’t want her kids having advantages others wouldn’t have and advantages that she might not have had growing up. I respected her so much for this view. She is now in MedSchool and when she graduates she is going to be a phenomenal doctor; with whomever she raises a family with she is going to be able to give her kids a comfortable lifestyle, essentially she is not going to ever have to say no. For me this is the definition of wealth, not having to say no to your kids, not spoiling them per se, but if they deserve what they earn, being able to allow them to fulfill to their full potentials. Whether this means being able to give a talented child singing lessons to develop his voice, allowing a talented athlete to play on a traveling team, or to let your children go to the college that they want to attend.

Only recently have I discovered the reconciliation between these two dichotomies. On one hand you don’t want to have to say no to your kids for things that they have earned, but as well, you as a parent, do you want to make choices for your children that parents may not be able to make even if there is a viable public option? An abstract example would be I am buying clothes for someone, all she needs is a t-shirt, Hanes Beefy T? Or a J.Crew undershirt. 3 for $10 or 1 for $16? Sometimes I feel like my parents bought be J.Crew undershirts for my education when all I probably needed was Hanes Beffy T’s.

I caught so much grief as a child for my upbringing. Both parents are internists, (even though my mom didn’t begin practicing until I was 13) I was always the doctor’s kid in school, people would poke fun and my peers would be downright mean. I tried to make myself as normal as possible and to stick out as little as possible. I kept a low profile. Ironically I choose to be on stage in the spotlight for my profession. The inflection that this caused on me from my youth led me to have a double personality. I have a hard, teaked outer shell impervious to emotion if I so wish, I had to have this to survive the barbed insults, stuffing my dance shoes into my soccer bag, or making my mom promise not to tell anyone that I was going to dance class and that if she did then I would not talk to her again.

As a result of this few people know me, retrospectively even my best friend Ck would have only caught glimpses of this part of me. I wish I had been more open and shared this with her when I had the chance. I guess that would be why we learn from relationships.

FU

Fordham is a bizarre place. It is full of contradictions, haphazard associations, and absurd extremes.

It demands that its educators educate the whole person under the guise of “cura personalis” i.e. a Latin term for “creating multitaskers.” Yet, as an institution FU shields the students from so much: last year’s Vagina Monologue debacle is a prime example, the guest pass/visitation policy is another, and let’s not forget that you have to meet with an advisor every semester as if we can’t figure out what courses we need to graduate. Does FU allow the students to make mistakes and to learn from them? Or are the safety nets too tight, and too plentiful?

Even before we have this discussion in the interest of full disclosure, my job is possible because I serve the pleasure of the University’s Board of Trustees. Let’s look at that statement, I serve at their pleasure, my bosses serve at their pleasure, Fr. McShane serves at their pleasure. For all practical purposes if you hate an aspect of Fordham, PARTICULARLY an aspect of student life/affairs then it has to do with someone serving at the pleasure of the board of trustees.

The Dean of Student Affairs all but admitted this spring that the Vagina Monologues debacle was manifest because of the Board’s dislike of the material and it offends their version of Catholicism. As a private university FU needs money from private entities to survive, if the actions of the university offend the alumni – with pocketbooks – then the university finds itself in trouble. Anyone who said that this wasn’t about money? a liar in my book.

Let’s look at another policy, how about guest pass and visitation. People hate, and when I mean hate, I mean Klan-rally hate, the Office of Residential Life for this policy. For outside readers, essentially Undergrads can’t have guests of the opposite sex spend the night. Law Students can. Why the discrepancy? Let’s go over the long answers:
1. Undergrads have roommates, and roommates may feel uncomfortable with a person of the opposite gender spending the evening in their room.
2. By allowing guests of the opposite sex to spend the night together there is a “heightened risk to the students violating the ‘moral growth and responsibility code’” In non-Orwellian speak this would read. Since I can’t sign a lady guest into the building over night, I will just have to have sex during the day.
3. Law students don’t have roommates, therefore awkward situation avoided.
4. Law students are “more adult” and can “handle themselves with increased responsibility” (this is laughable, any one who thinks law students are grown ups belongs in business school. I have found many a L1 and L2s passed out in the hallway with penises drawn on their faces in sharpie.)
Now for the simple answer: A different Board of Trustees. Coming up next who are these people shrouded in enigma? Stayed tuned for the premier segment of Crusty Old White People Even Now Interfere in School or COWPENIS for short.

Art & Ethics Live Blog

My dance class is so smart people have no idea. We joke, we kid, “I am a dancer I can count to 8, that’s all I need.” Hah, be prepared for some anecdotal discussion of arts and their relationship to social justice. Somewhat live-blogged – consider yourself forewarned. (My thoughts in parenthesis.)

8:37AM – Thank you for coffee (tall Americano, high ceiling … the nectar of life): The performing arts allow oppressed individuals to examine their lives and work toward revolution through self-expression and discovery.
8:42AM – Is social Justice inherently self-discovery and performance? … Almost, but not entirely, it helps get you there, but there must be further political action. Being able to participate in the arts, theatre is a mirror that is a reflection of society: the public must see their reflection in the mirror.
8:45AM – The arts bring awareness, their ambiguity does not bring action, but arouses emotion. Artists are permanent recreators of their realities.
8:48AM – Not every performance is going to aim to change the world, some may some may not, it depends on the motivations of the performers. It depends on its relationship to the context of the moment.
8:53AM – Some dance is inherently social justice. The restorative power of an oppressed people comes through the arts. I.e. Tap dance (any and all Africanist dance for that matter): you will take my drum I will keep the rhythm with my feet. (mmm coffee)
8:56AM – “American market mentality” – who wants to pay to be upset (GOD I LOVE AMERICAN LIBERALISM). We avoid conflict, reality, confrontation; we strip ourselves of context and remain ignorant. We must bring out a broader consciousness and awareness. Understanding the context allows it to operate on an entirely different level.
9:01AM – If theatre does not intend to have political actions, but if they are exploring the identity are they inherently participating in an act of social justice? The identity of the oppressed may be leveled and identified. The arts will represent their society in all contexts, critical, praise, political, etc. They are a barometer of social development.
9:05AM – In the US. We are afforded the freedom to add context, in a sense we must exercise the option or imagine the capacity to access the deeper meanings of arts, we are in an unconscious state of dependence.
9:11AM – Theatre is catered to the wealthier side of the spectrum stateside. As we cater to the elitist crowd, the quality of the audience declines (they have you get the Rolls or the Jag-You-Are – Fr. Drance) I paid for it ;; Freedom. Should the artists refuse to go on stage because the tickets are so high? Does the artists conscience prevent them from fully experiencing the audience.
9:17AM – The performing arts is of service to social justice when a person educates, advises, and entertains the public with truth and reality. If drama does not provoke it is a deodorant to sanitize society.
9:22AM – The artist to entertain? Entertainment rests the soul – Augustine. (No I will not be your monkey, I will not dance for you so you will be entertained, unless that is my aim. What about dance that is simply to play to enjoy, to relish in the movement? To do so may be liberating. But what about the business man who needs to see jazz hands once a month – it is his Prozac, if I can help him with that is it not an act of social justice?) Entertainment provides rest, and may allow a message to enter their consciousness. Issue: with “entertainment in social justice, in order for this to be effective must it be entertaining as well.”
9:28AM – Entertainment: to take into consideration to have in view, to maintain in theory in thoughts and feelings – OED. From middle French, entre + tenir, among + to hold. We support the audience; we empower others and ourselves.
9:29AM – The idea is not to let the audience off the hook, but it is to compel them to action. The revolutionary leader will engage and entertain the leader.
9:38AM – What Izzie said should not be put here, it would do it grave injustice.
9:45AM – Dance is so capable of articulating what cannot be said. In Graham’s lamentations the dancer is capable of dancing supreme sorrow and suffering, these actions are incapable to be articulated in any other way. Movement language is culturally imbibed in such a way that movement transcends because it is not dependent on universal experience.
9:51AM – Students look to established artists for guidance. It is not up to the artists to tell you what to do, but to push you to act. Oppression is a necessary thing for movements to survive.
10:12AM – (Fierce discussion, firebombs were thrown, good times were had). Oppressed art must come within the oppressed community, an organic movement. Culture is going to influence Africans when they were brought to America. Ailey – Revolutions was a ballet, but it spoke to a certain community. You no longer have exclusive rights to the language of ballet – a huge act of social rebellion.
10:35AM – (Back from break, more coffee and more food) Re-discussion of African-Americans and the stripping of identity of the identity (Ed note: full disclosure I am white and by no means am I going to Bork myself on this discussion … yes I am my own editor, get over it). Identify that we have come from Africa, but we are who we are now. We must acknowledge where we are from but there is immediate context presently that must be recognized.

Let me just say that my class is so incredibly inspiring, you are all geniouses, and I love you all.