Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Congratulations, Country
Yes, I know millions are saying it, and now more than ever, our collective voices mean more than each separate. Today is a new day. Today I woke up inspired because we have elected a leader that I admire. Although I'm not one to boast my political values, last night I was so moved I decided to show my support and made an Obama logo (LogObama) for my front door. Here's how. So can you.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
"To Go"
He told me, "Enjoy your dinner."
I thanked him and walked out the door.
***
It was almost 8:30pm. It was getting late and I still had plenty of homework to truck through. But, worst of all, I was uninspired. I opened the cabinets in our kitchen—I have two for myself—and couldn't think up a mealish experience. Yes, I opened a can of beans, but since the big frying pan was soaking with water and egg particles, I would have to use the microwave for my quesadilla. No good. Just as I finished opening the can of refried beans, I realized. It was going to be a Maple Garden night.
So I called them up—their number is now saved on my phone—and ordered the usual. After a surly twenty minutes of translating Mandarin into English I hopped on my bike and pedaled down to the nearby Chinese dive.
The workers behind the register knew I my business as soon as I walked in. Maybe it was my posture, or frantic eyes, looking for the meal that I couldn't conjure on my own. The shift manager was a petite Chinese man, with a short white paper hat. We performed the exchange: Goods for money. And then he told me, "Enjoy your dinner." Enjoy your dinner, I thought. Something about it struck me. Enjoy your dinner. I visualized the word "Enjoy" printed in Shanghi red letters on the take-out box. I thought of the phrase, "Enjoy your meal." But somehow, this was different. It felt, personal.
I love the Chicken Curry dish. But,you know, this stuff is probably packed with MSG. It gets gummy and gelatinous after refrigeration. I don't know if they use real curry, or even real chicken. It's definitely not the best for my health, but that didn't matter. Enjoy your dinner. This man had worked on, created, something that would sustain me. He put his energy into what would give me energy. I am eating his energy.I relied on him, because I didn't have the motivation or inspiration to rely on myself. This meal is keeping me alive. I wasn't "inspired" to keep myself alive?
Every day, multiple times a day, we rely on other people to keep OUR lives functioning. In lieu of this fact, many respect "The Golden Rule". ("Treat others how you would like to be treated", for you miscreants out there.)I've done this my whole life because I know it is right, but not because I could quantify why. Tonight I was able to attach a face, a demeanor to the Golden Rule.
So while I shovel down mushrooms, peppers, onions, rice, and "chicken" mixed with an oozy, yellow, salty sauce, I think about that cook who made my food. "Enjoy your dinner." Enjoy your dinner. Poignant.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Orange You Glad...
It's nearly 2am, late for a college kid to be up working... on winter break. The fragrant box of Holiday Satsumas sitting next to me on the counter exercise a passionate romance with my nose. I shamelessly eat one. When selecting my second post-holiday Satsuma I realize how soft the peel is. and while I peel it, realize how ripe the fruit must be. last call by produce time. Time for eatin. a memory from a few days earlier hops to the front of my stream of conscious: The mandarin orange's cousin was sitting in my car. A friend picked it up to move and laughed. "Rachel," she said. "Do you know how soft this Satsuma is?" I did. "How long has it been sitting here? Are you going to throw it out?"
And now, enjoying the fragrance, anticipation, and pure suppleness of this ready little orange, I think about who else might find a Satsuma in a similar condition. Who else might revel in the fruit's ripened glory? While this box of little guys are all from the United States, I imagine a farmer or little boy in China, Turkey, or South America, picking one up off the ground. Suddenly, the fruit in my talons was the connection between me and a world i have only imagined. While I select fruit from a box sitting next to me, someone else might pull it off a tree or pick it up off the ground. While I work on my Mac making an invitation for my parents' 25th anniversary party, and someday hope to be paid for this skillset, someone else is walking down a dirt road, well set in their lifelong profession. It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I have the leisure, safety, and privilege to sit in a house and "work" on something completely intangible.
It's moments like these that connect me to the greater world. Thinking about the things we all share, and the circumstances that separate us. This time, though, I think our lives aren't so far apart, tiered away from each other. Just different. Because anyone with good sense can enjoy a really ripe Satsuma.
(image courtesy of Pappaliscious > http://flickr.com/photos/pappalicious/1463641070/)
And now, enjoying the fragrance, anticipation, and pure suppleness of this ready little orange, I think about who else might find a Satsuma in a similar condition. Who else might revel in the fruit's ripened glory? While this box of little guys are all from the United States, I imagine a farmer or little boy in China, Turkey, or South America, picking one up off the ground. Suddenly, the fruit in my talons was the connection between me and a world i have only imagined. While I select fruit from a box sitting next to me, someone else might pull it off a tree or pick it up off the ground. While I work on my Mac making an invitation for my parents' 25th anniversary party, and someday hope to be paid for this skillset, someone else is walking down a dirt road, well set in their lifelong profession. It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I have the leisure, safety, and privilege to sit in a house and "work" on something completely intangible.
It's moments like these that connect me to the greater world. Thinking about the things we all share, and the circumstances that separate us. This time, though, I think our lives aren't so far apart, tiered away from each other. Just different. Because anyone with good sense can enjoy a really ripe Satsuma.
(image courtesy of Pappaliscious > http://flickr.com/photos/pappalicious/1463641070/)
Friday, December 21, 2007
Rumpled Braid
She patted my shoulder and leaned in close, with a firm, pressed smile in her rosy face. "Excuse me," she said.
Startled, I pulled down my glasses instead of my headphones, to hear her. When responding to spontaneous strangers, I feel the pressure to pick one action and stick with it. You know, like saying, "You too" to someone who said, "Thanks". Yeah, I don't know anyone who's discovered a way to remedy these passing social pressures. And either way, you're going to kick yourself, whether or not you try to right the situation.
"Can I just tell you," her hand pressed onto my shoulder, she was unusually close, but not threatening or uncomfortable. I tried to imagine what she wanted to tell me. There was definitely a "dear" vibe. Her physical impression was too strong for a passing warning, or 'I know your mother' conversation.
So, there I sat, inches away from her face, glasses pulled down to the tip of my nose, peering up blindly, eyebrows arched cluelessly. "You have the prettiest hair," she said definitively. The man accompanying her looked on approvingly. She patted my shoulder again, as I feebly thanked her, and they walked out the door.
For a moment, I paused my work and listen flow. Last night, I took a shower and braided my hair before bed, so it would turn out in, at least, some sort of predictable mess the next day. This morning when I went out to our local greasy spoon to eat grease and use free WiFi, I assumed no one would notice my hair . And, being in my own neighborhood, didn't care. Well, I guess it just goes to show. One woman's rumpled braid is another woman's adoration.
It is no small task to be yourself, though for some it's merely morning laze. But this is the greatest gift you can give. Share your light and joy with the world around you. Prepare for the best in the universe's smiling reflection, and fear not the worst. Have a meaningful holiday everyone.
Startled, I pulled down my glasses instead of my headphones, to hear her. When responding to spontaneous strangers, I feel the pressure to pick one action and stick with it. You know, like saying, "You too" to someone who said, "Thanks". Yeah, I don't know anyone who's discovered a way to remedy these passing social pressures. And either way, you're going to kick yourself, whether or not you try to right the situation.
"Can I just tell you," her hand pressed onto my shoulder, she was unusually close, but not threatening or uncomfortable. I tried to imagine what she wanted to tell me. There was definitely a "dear" vibe. Her physical impression was too strong for a passing warning, or 'I know your mother' conversation.
So, there I sat, inches away from her face, glasses pulled down to the tip of my nose, peering up blindly, eyebrows arched cluelessly. "You have the prettiest hair," she said definitively. The man accompanying her looked on approvingly. She patted my shoulder again, as I feebly thanked her, and they walked out the door.
For a moment, I paused my work and listen flow. Last night, I took a shower and braided my hair before bed, so it would turn out in, at least, some sort of predictable mess the next day. This morning when I went out to our local greasy spoon to eat grease and use free WiFi, I assumed no one would notice my hair . And, being in my own neighborhood, didn't care. Well, I guess it just goes to show. One woman's rumpled braid is another woman's adoration.
It is no small task to be yourself, though for some it's merely morning laze. But this is the greatest gift you can give. Share your light and joy with the world around you. Prepare for the best in the universe's smiling reflection, and fear not the worst. Have a meaningful holiday everyone.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, Monday...
so good to me. Monday, Monday, it was all I hoped it would be.
It sure was. Well, it's been a while since last our souls melded, bloggerland. I find myself at the edge of paradise once again tonight, looking over my shoulder at the most amazing day of the term. The day's experience was not something to be passed up, and required heartfelt documentation. Where better than a place of perpetual bliss... my blog.
The Simpsons, a great inspiration, once ran an episode which featured a life coach character. He asks a group of Springfield slack jawed locals, "Life is hard, right?" Their answer returns staggered, "Yeah, sure, uh-huh." "WRONG!" says the man,pointing an accusing finger in the collective face of the crowd. "Life is easy! You suck!" He goes on to tell the classroom that "you've got to grab life by its little bunny ears and get in its face!" When it comes to impossible days and weeks that are all Mondays, this character's declaration is food for my soul.
Meetings upon meetings, upon cameras and video and handshakes and questions. When the day's obligations were through a small group of UO Ad students were privileged enough to take out two of the biggest minds in the advertising industry. The experience was priceless. During classroom presentations each made some mind widening comments, but spending personal time with the two professionals caused my exploring brain cells to set up vacation in a far flung corner.
Not only did I receive an in depth and human look into the life and industry of these guys, but I learned about myself as well. In my mind, and occasionally outloud, I would identify or disagree with a direction, a path, an angle. Listening to the opinion of an established individual and also forming my own take became the most thrilling brainhurricane of the quarter.
I am so proud of my department and the amazing people we foster and feature. After a long day of only the advertising department in the UO Jschool, with its lofty demands and recommendations, I walked home feeling completely charged. I think this is a good sign. The best sign.
It sure was. Well, it's been a while since last our souls melded, bloggerland. I find myself at the edge of paradise once again tonight, looking over my shoulder at the most amazing day of the term. The day's experience was not something to be passed up, and required heartfelt documentation. Where better than a place of perpetual bliss... my blog.
The Simpsons, a great inspiration, once ran an episode which featured a life coach character. He asks a group of Springfield slack jawed locals, "Life is hard, right?" Their answer returns staggered, "Yeah, sure, uh-huh." "WRONG!" says the man,pointing an accusing finger in the collective face of the crowd. "Life is easy! You suck!" He goes on to tell the classroom that "you've got to grab life by its little bunny ears and get in its face!" When it comes to impossible days and weeks that are all Mondays, this character's declaration is food for my soul.
Meetings upon meetings, upon cameras and video and handshakes and questions. When the day's obligations were through a small group of UO Ad students were privileged enough to take out two of the biggest minds in the advertising industry. The experience was priceless. During classroom presentations each made some mind widening comments, but spending personal time with the two professionals caused my exploring brain cells to set up vacation in a far flung corner.
Not only did I receive an in depth and human look into the life and industry of these guys, but I learned about myself as well. In my mind, and occasionally outloud, I would identify or disagree with a direction, a path, an angle. Listening to the opinion of an established individual and also forming my own take became the most thrilling brainhurricane of the quarter.
I am so proud of my department and the amazing people we foster and feature. After a long day of only the advertising department in the UO Jschool, with its lofty demands and recommendations, I walked home feeling completely charged. I think this is a good sign. The best sign.
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