Coffee and Internet Explorer have two unfortunate things in common:
They are effective in closely controlled doses.
They are addictive, which make their intake hard to closely control.
This morning, I couldn’t step out into the world’s flurry until I appeased my fix for both. Coffee had to be had to endure that exceptionally early morning meeting with my boss. Email checking became the next prerequisite for my day’s successful functioning.
The question of where/when to access coffee and the web subsists as a trusted companion I consult throughout the day. You have become a close friend, Question, but when and how I met you remain a mystery.
*Pause for eye roll.*
We met in college. We met in the information revolution. We met on a sleepless night, in a computer lab, by overhead, fluorescent candlelight. We met in a privileged, middle-class, academic space.
We became close friends on sluggish walks between class and on yuppie dates downtown. We became close friends when final papers no longer required paper and when discussion boards no longer physically convened.
And we became close friends when you became increasingly easier to answer--
at least for those of us privileged enough to consult you in the first place.
09 April 2009
22 March 2009
20 March 2009
Realization #2
Before today's midterm exam in Public Policy and the Black Community, my professor asked: "Moore, do you work?"
[I work my ass off, all the time, yes].
"No" I replied.
After the exam, I whispered, "actually I do work. I'm an ARD in the dorms." I tried to explain Temple's partnership with Messiah College, and how I'm an ARD at my pseudo-campus across the street from Temple's cafeteria. I usually have this terribly confusing explanation down to a science, but it's harder when you're trying to whisper.
"How many hours a week do you do this?"
"Well, I usually just do whatever my boss needs--no set hours."
"Do you have any free time?"
[gasssppp, LAUGH, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?]
"Yeah! Why do you have something for me?"
"I have some work in the Policy Center. What's your schedule like Monday? We can talk about it."
[I would love to work in the Policy Center...if I had energy. any energy whatsoever.]
"I could meet after 12:30?"
"Great!!" He sounded overjoyed.
I realize I have no free time (at least for functioning productively). I eat meals at my computer, and eat them so fast (and do this so regularly) that when I am out, I mechanically shovel food down and feel uncomfortable afterwords (in addition to a complete hog against my leisurely-lunching friends). I take showers on no kind of regular basis because I would rather look and feel like a dirtball than lose those 20 minutes (+ those additional minutes for hair drying, no way!).
I have two sweatshirts I usually wear: 'Messiah Falcons' and 'Harvard University.' A friend last semester said, "This is my archetype Sam," pointing to me in my black Harvard hoodie, out-of-style flares, nike sneakers, and greasy bun. He said it kindly, endearingly even, but I slouched and pitied my prototype.
My tailbone sometimes hurts from sitting so much (isn't it absurd I stay seated to complain about this? This sitting-typing thing is all I know, damnit!).
My friend replied to a rather frantic text I sent after class: "We'll work on your free-time apology later," she said.
"Ok!...but, but, I still might do it if I can join it with this project, or that project, or..!"
I need help. Or maybe, a bulky supply of magical wands to conjure up and ensure some free-time (so I can fill it up with more work)? Anyone know of a good magical wand wholesaler?
[I work my ass off, all the time, yes].
"No" I replied.
After the exam, I whispered, "actually I do work. I'm an ARD in the dorms." I tried to explain Temple's partnership with Messiah College, and how I'm an ARD at my pseudo-campus across the street from Temple's cafeteria. I usually have this terribly confusing explanation down to a science, but it's harder when you're trying to whisper.
"How many hours a week do you do this?"
"Well, I usually just do whatever my boss needs--no set hours."
"Do you have any free time?"
[gasssppp, LAUGH, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?]
"Yeah! Why do you have something for me?"
"I have some work in the Policy Center. What's your schedule like Monday? We can talk about it."
[I would love to work in the Policy Center...if I had energy. any energy whatsoever.]
"I could meet after 12:30?"
"Great!!" He sounded overjoyed.
I realize I have no free time (at least for functioning productively). I eat meals at my computer, and eat them so fast (and do this so regularly) that when I am out, I mechanically shovel food down and feel uncomfortable afterwords (in addition to a complete hog against my leisurely-lunching friends). I take showers on no kind of regular basis because I would rather look and feel like a dirtball than lose those 20 minutes (+ those additional minutes for hair drying, no way!).
I have two sweatshirts I usually wear: 'Messiah Falcons' and 'Harvard University.' A friend last semester said, "This is my archetype Sam," pointing to me in my black Harvard hoodie, out-of-style flares, nike sneakers, and greasy bun. He said it kindly, endearingly even, but I slouched and pitied my prototype.
My tailbone sometimes hurts from sitting so much (isn't it absurd I stay seated to complain about this? This sitting-typing thing is all I know, damnit!).
My friend replied to a rather frantic text I sent after class: "We'll work on your free-time apology later," she said.
"Ok!...but, but, I still might do it if I can join it with this project, or that project, or..!"
I need help. Or maybe, a bulky supply of magical wands to conjure up and ensure some free-time (so I can fill it up with more work)? Anyone know of a good magical wand wholesaler?
18 March 2009
Realization #1
I’m sitting at an outdoorsy kind of table in our row house’s backyard, fully equipped with a space for the hammock, a gazebo, patches of yellowish grass-straw, superfluous stepping stones in the mulch, myself, and a Dell laptop. It’s odd taking a laptop outside-- hearing birds squeak, the faithful subway boom, and bare branches rustle alongside my crackling computer keys. There is a robin that picks at the dry grass and looks over occasionally, bemused no doubt by my unnatural union with this silver box [crackle, crackle, crackle].
I have to squint into my sun-blasted screen to write this.
My fingers can easily access the world wide web if I want.
I am outside on a beautiful day, staring voluntarily into a rectangle of radiation.
I am trying to merge two different worlds; I realize I will try harder to keep them separate now.
I have to squint into my sun-blasted screen to write this.
My fingers can easily access the world wide web if I want.
I am outside on a beautiful day, staring voluntarily into a rectangle of radiation.
I am trying to merge two different worlds; I realize I will try harder to keep them separate now.
03 March 2009
"Religulous" ?
Do you…
…Believe that science and critical thinking should play an important role in national culture and policy? Yes. …Believe in the necessity of the legal separation between Church and State? Yes. …Believe that freedom of religion cannot exist without freedom from religious impositions? Yes. …Want to meet others who share your passion for freedom of inquiry, science, reason and critical thinking, and the separation of Church and State? Yes. …Identify as an atheist, agnostic, freethinker, humanist or otherwise non-religious? No.
According to a small black and white flyer featuring a chimpanzee clasping its chin deep in thought, I am an ideal member candidate for the Secular Society of Temple University. Except for one sizable detail: I do believe in God.
An affiliate of the Secular Student Alliance, the Center for Inquiry, and the Greater Philadelphia Coalition of Reason, the Temple Secular Society meets every Thursday in the Student Activities Center and provides an organized space for open discussion, political advocacy, and community, particularly for non-religious students. To advance a more open and pluralistic society through critical thinking and inquiry is the mission of this on-campus group. The Greater Philadelphia Coalition of Reason says promoting a “wider acceptance of a more rational and contemporary view of humanity and the world in which we live” serves as the general aim for these kinds of local rationalist associations.
As a Christian believer, I can confidently say our dynamic transnational milieu merits rational and contemporary reflections, ones we must continually bend, revisit, and vary to keep up with society’s vigor. And I can say this not despite my affiliation with Christianity but rather and readily because of it.
The belief that critical thinking and inquiry are not and cannot be associated with religious practitioners actually limits the prospect for a more open and pluralistic society. But unfortunately this kind of dualism where logic stands as faith’s polar opposite infuses much of contemporary society. Perhaps to promote larger acceptance of a “more rational and contemporary view of humanity” we must first bridge the gap that serves to catalog a person’s quality based on his or her religious stance (humanists as “most credible” vs. believers as “least sensible," freethinkers as “good advocates” vs. Christians as “bad advocates”, etc.).
As a Christian and student of anthropology, I can expect weird looks from students in my Temple classes. I can expect questions concerning the apparent irony of embodying faith and more “humanist” kinds of studies. I can expect cynicism from Temple Secular Society members when I attend my first meeting this Thursday. But my spiritual beliefs do not make me any less of an analytical, concerned, lucid person, just as others’ non-belief does not make them any less ethical, feeling, or benevolent.
For a more open and pluralistic society then, perhaps our greatest aim from both sides should be humility, the kind that inspires the rational and religious to come together, rather than diffuse further. So for us students of faith and academia, perhaps this kind of bridging opportunity could be where effective reconciliation in church and society really begins.
Anyone up for a secular society meeting?
…Believe that science and critical thinking should play an important role in national culture and policy? Yes. …Believe in the necessity of the legal separation between Church and State? Yes. …Believe that freedom of religion cannot exist without freedom from religious impositions? Yes. …Want to meet others who share your passion for freedom of inquiry, science, reason and critical thinking, and the separation of Church and State? Yes. …Identify as an atheist, agnostic, freethinker, humanist or otherwise non-religious? No.
According to a small black and white flyer featuring a chimpanzee clasping its chin deep in thought, I am an ideal member candidate for the Secular Society of Temple University. Except for one sizable detail: I do believe in God.
An affiliate of the Secular Student Alliance, the Center for Inquiry, and the Greater Philadelphia Coalition of Reason, the Temple Secular Society meets every Thursday in the Student Activities Center and provides an organized space for open discussion, political advocacy, and community, particularly for non-religious students. To advance a more open and pluralistic society through critical thinking and inquiry is the mission of this on-campus group. The Greater Philadelphia Coalition of Reason says promoting a “wider acceptance of a more rational and contemporary view of humanity and the world in which we live” serves as the general aim for these kinds of local rationalist associations.
As a Christian believer, I can confidently say our dynamic transnational milieu merits rational and contemporary reflections, ones we must continually bend, revisit, and vary to keep up with society’s vigor. And I can say this not despite my affiliation with Christianity but rather and readily because of it.
The belief that critical thinking and inquiry are not and cannot be associated with religious practitioners actually limits the prospect for a more open and pluralistic society. But unfortunately this kind of dualism where logic stands as faith’s polar opposite infuses much of contemporary society. Perhaps to promote larger acceptance of a “more rational and contemporary view of humanity” we must first bridge the gap that serves to catalog a person’s quality based on his or her religious stance (humanists as “most credible” vs. believers as “least sensible," freethinkers as “good advocates” vs. Christians as “bad advocates”, etc.).
As a Christian and student of anthropology, I can expect weird looks from students in my Temple classes. I can expect questions concerning the apparent irony of embodying faith and more “humanist” kinds of studies. I can expect cynicism from Temple Secular Society members when I attend my first meeting this Thursday. But my spiritual beliefs do not make me any less of an analytical, concerned, lucid person, just as others’ non-belief does not make them any less ethical, feeling, or benevolent.
For a more open and pluralistic society then, perhaps our greatest aim from both sides should be humility, the kind that inspires the rational and religious to come together, rather than diffuse further. So for us students of faith and academia, perhaps this kind of bridging opportunity could be where effective reconciliation in church and society really begins.
Anyone up for a secular society meeting?
06 January 2009
North Pole Politics
Before dashing away to Erie for winter break, I and my fellow RAs went to see Jeff Goode's play The Eight: Reindeer Monologues in a quaint Philadelphia black box theater. A "dark Christmas comedy" was how online advertisements described the show's nature. The main scandal? Vixen accuses Santa of raping her.
You might be gasping in your computer chair, and that's ok. My above statement is fully gasp-worthy, especially if you still put out reindeer mix on Christmas Eve and amuse your family with North Pole fables. But, we are supposed to gasp at that statement-- not just because it's darkly funny and crude but because it appears too implausible for us to actually believe. Santa's raping one of his reindeer is an absurd, repulsive action; it is something I don't ever want to have to think about. It's much easier to dismiss and laugh around Vixen's claim than to actually confront it. And that's the point.
The reviews I read about The Eight discuss how the play attempts to comically critique our commercialized holiday rituals, beliefs, and images. More than deconstruct Christmas folklore and capitalist Christmas practice however, The Eight makes a burly statement about the politics of power relations in general. Who carries the largest bag of clout at the North Pole? Santa, of course. It's his word against a woodland creature he uses to fly about the earth one night a year. So any potential problems or accusations from the bottom (i.e. the reindeer) are always handled by the same vertical structures in which these problems arise and are disguised in the first place. For Vixen, getting others to believe her story poses quite the challenge then because a. it threatens their relationship with "the boss" and b. it threatens their own constructions of reality at the North Pole.
Understandably, some people in my party were offended by The Eight. Beyond the dark wit and vulgarity however, I was simultaneously offended and awakened by the stark parallel to larger structures of power with which people grapple everyday. I recognize that I have much less power and say than a renowned politician in my region, for example. But my sheer recognition and acceptance of this positioning solidifies the legitimacy of these kinds of status relations. If I for any reason were to challenge a "boss" or "Santa," it would likely jeopardize my personal and professional status, as it did Vixen's. I might be taken as a fool or fake, a vixen only seeking attention, as many reindeer judged. In addition, my accusations, no matter how valid, would illuminate for me harsh structural realities like corruption, injustice, and indecency--things I'd rather obscure than accept in the world.
It's easier to excuse and tuck away the wrongs rather than to confront and seek to change them, especially when they're situated in such dominant constructions of reality: i.e. Santa is good, pure, his power is fixed, his actions are defensible, and that's just the way things are and should be, believe North Pole residents. But Vixen's decision to challenge "just the way things are" represents a leap of faith, a leap of hope for those truly being exploited at the bottom.
Unfortunately however, her action might simply represent just one of countless Santa-declared frivolities, incidents that are easily erased from North Pole memory because the power to deny and dismiss such claims still remains in the hands of the "good" person, the boss, the powerful one being accussed.
Ultimately, Goode's scandal brings to light numerous complexities inherent in the realm of power relations--the incongruities that arise, get veiled, challenged, and blanketed once again along the same verticality. Vixen and her gang offer a weighty social commentary on power, even if the author didn't intend it. As most of the other reindeer along with most of the audience soon realized, it's much much easier to dismiss and laugh around Vixen's claim than to actually confront and back it. This way, no one's status has to be threatened and no one's comfortable conceptions/illusions of how things work in this world have to be rocked or sullied.
You might be gasping in your computer chair, and that's ok. My above statement is fully gasp-worthy, especially if you still put out reindeer mix on Christmas Eve and amuse your family with North Pole fables. But, we are supposed to gasp at that statement-- not just because it's darkly funny and crude but because it appears too implausible for us to actually believe. Santa's raping one of his reindeer is an absurd, repulsive action; it is something I don't ever want to have to think about. It's much easier to dismiss and laugh around Vixen's claim than to actually confront it. And that's the point.
The reviews I read about The Eight discuss how the play attempts to comically critique our commercialized holiday rituals, beliefs, and images. More than deconstruct Christmas folklore and capitalist Christmas practice however, The Eight makes a burly statement about the politics of power relations in general. Who carries the largest bag of clout at the North Pole? Santa, of course. It's his word against a woodland creature he uses to fly about the earth one night a year. So any potential problems or accusations from the bottom (i.e. the reindeer) are always handled by the same vertical structures in which these problems arise and are disguised in the first place. For Vixen, getting others to believe her story poses quite the challenge then because a. it threatens their relationship with "the boss" and b. it threatens their own constructions of reality at the North Pole.
Understandably, some people in my party were offended by The Eight. Beyond the dark wit and vulgarity however, I was simultaneously offended and awakened by the stark parallel to larger structures of power with which people grapple everyday. I recognize that I have much less power and say than a renowned politician in my region, for example. But my sheer recognition and acceptance of this positioning solidifies the legitimacy of these kinds of status relations. If I for any reason were to challenge a "boss" or "Santa," it would likely jeopardize my personal and professional status, as it did Vixen's. I might be taken as a fool or fake, a vixen only seeking attention, as many reindeer judged. In addition, my accusations, no matter how valid, would illuminate for me harsh structural realities like corruption, injustice, and indecency--things I'd rather obscure than accept in the world.
It's easier to excuse and tuck away the wrongs rather than to confront and seek to change them, especially when they're situated in such dominant constructions of reality: i.e. Santa is good, pure, his power is fixed, his actions are defensible, and that's just the way things are and should be, believe North Pole residents. But Vixen's decision to challenge "just the way things are" represents a leap of faith, a leap of hope for those truly being exploited at the bottom.
Unfortunately however, her action might simply represent just one of countless Santa-declared frivolities, incidents that are easily erased from North Pole memory because the power to deny and dismiss such claims still remains in the hands of the "good" person, the boss, the powerful one being accussed.
Ultimately, Goode's scandal brings to light numerous complexities inherent in the realm of power relations--the incongruities that arise, get veiled, challenged, and blanketed once again along the same verticality. Vixen and her gang offer a weighty social commentary on power, even if the author didn't intend it. As most of the other reindeer along with most of the audience soon realized, it's much much easier to dismiss and laugh around Vixen's claim than to actually confront and back it. This way, no one's status has to be threatened and no one's comfortable conceptions/illusions of how things work in this world have to be rocked or sullied.
01 October 2008
Rage Against the Machine
It’s the first of October, the room is decked out in Halloween garland, and I am sniffling. The pavement has a sheen to it because of the rain, and the air is peacefully gloomy. Happy October!
I could go on about the chilly autumned city and the anticipation I feel every October, but I wanted to write about the gadgets that distract and often spoil these simple giddy moods, that test our patience, and create unnatural glitches in our social expectations and relations.
Like this morning. I was getting in the spirit, chatting with a friend over granola about October poems. I was feeling good. Then I strolled to the computer lab to do some research on how different media outlets covered the debate for an inclass discussion. I was copying and pasting away to an unsaved word document while simultaneously working on a paper for my evening class. Gradually, the internet sites start taking longer to download. My one document does not respond every now and again. And finally, everything freezes. I lose my wordpad of article headlines and quotes, the last paragraph in my second document, and my good ol’ autumn bliss. I start communicating to the computer as if it were personally responsible for its actions and my distress. As if its unresponsiveness was a deliberate jab at my sanity. I grip the face of the monitor on either side and yell WHY? I realize I am trying to scold a machine.
Monday, I was standing outside my journalism classroom, waiting for the professor to arrive. I was bordered by at least 7 other students. I looked around, and each of them had some technological contraption in hand, whether a cell phone or ipod. No one knows each other very well in the class, so we usually turn to texting or fidgeting with playlists to absorb the lack of interaction. I looked around and felt so incredibly compelled to pull out my phone, I guess to show everyone I had someone or something with which to occupy this time too. Then I thought, has texting become more contextually prompted these days? More and more triggered by stillness, inactivity, delays in our daily, familiar momentum? I mean, I felt that I needed to interact with a phone to alleviate this hovering tension. I felt like everyone was engaged in some sort of interaction, and I wasn’t, so I became the 15th wheel.
Every day, at least once a day, I can’t hear someone on the phone. The call drops, it’s windy, he’s mumbling, I’m distracted, we keep talking at the same time, a motorcycle rumbles by, someone else beeps in. What happens next? One person calls the other back, now unconsciously or consciously directing his/her frustration mostly at the other person, not the device that created this conflict. These palm-sized instruments create unnatural resentments towards the people we love. They’re supposed to be channels through which we communicate, but instead, become obstacles when they fail "to do their job." Treating them like human beings from whom we expect dependability and faultless performance.
But humans aren’t perfectly dependable, faultless beings. So, why do I expect a human-made object to be? Maybe I need to be more patient. Yes, I do need to be more patient. But maybe I also need to really consider this unique technocentric trend. Why has it become so common to experience feelings of betrayal or real anger when we “interact” with things to interact with people? Why is it a social symbol to be in constant association with my phone? Why do I feel better, more at ease, when I am? Why do I curse Verizon like it’s an ex-boyfriend out to make my day miserable? Why do I delicately grip the sides of my computer and tenderly encourage it to make mommy proud today?
I could go on about the chilly autumned city and the anticipation I feel every October, but I wanted to write about the gadgets that distract and often spoil these simple giddy moods, that test our patience, and create unnatural glitches in our social expectations and relations.
Like this morning. I was getting in the spirit, chatting with a friend over granola about October poems. I was feeling good. Then I strolled to the computer lab to do some research on how different media outlets covered the debate for an inclass discussion. I was copying and pasting away to an unsaved word document while simultaneously working on a paper for my evening class. Gradually, the internet sites start taking longer to download. My one document does not respond every now and again. And finally, everything freezes. I lose my wordpad of article headlines and quotes, the last paragraph in my second document, and my good ol’ autumn bliss. I start communicating to the computer as if it were personally responsible for its actions and my distress. As if its unresponsiveness was a deliberate jab at my sanity. I grip the face of the monitor on either side and yell WHY? I realize I am trying to scold a machine.
Monday, I was standing outside my journalism classroom, waiting for the professor to arrive. I was bordered by at least 7 other students. I looked around, and each of them had some technological contraption in hand, whether a cell phone or ipod. No one knows each other very well in the class, so we usually turn to texting or fidgeting with playlists to absorb the lack of interaction. I looked around and felt so incredibly compelled to pull out my phone, I guess to show everyone I had someone or something with which to occupy this time too. Then I thought, has texting become more contextually prompted these days? More and more triggered by stillness, inactivity, delays in our daily, familiar momentum? I mean, I felt that I needed to interact with a phone to alleviate this hovering tension. I felt like everyone was engaged in some sort of interaction, and I wasn’t, so I became the 15th wheel.
Every day, at least once a day, I can’t hear someone on the phone. The call drops, it’s windy, he’s mumbling, I’m distracted, we keep talking at the same time, a motorcycle rumbles by, someone else beeps in. What happens next? One person calls the other back, now unconsciously or consciously directing his/her frustration mostly at the other person, not the device that created this conflict. These palm-sized instruments create unnatural resentments towards the people we love. They’re supposed to be channels through which we communicate, but instead, become obstacles when they fail "to do their job." Treating them like human beings from whom we expect dependability and faultless performance.
But humans aren’t perfectly dependable, faultless beings. So, why do I expect a human-made object to be? Maybe I need to be more patient. Yes, I do need to be more patient. But maybe I also need to really consider this unique technocentric trend. Why has it become so common to experience feelings of betrayal or real anger when we “interact” with things to interact with people? Why is it a social symbol to be in constant association with my phone? Why do I feel better, more at ease, when I am? Why do I curse Verizon like it’s an ex-boyfriend out to make my day miserable? Why do I delicately grip the sides of my computer and tenderly encourage it to make mommy proud today?
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