Slumdog Millionaire

First, let me start be saying: WHOA! 

This movie took me to film heaven. It was everything I could have asked for in a movie. Here's why. 

I'm a sucker for the rags to riches story, especially when it avoids being cliche and is as authentic as this one. To see the reality of poverty, religious conflict and the social factors that can determine whether one survives or dies, is powerful. 

There's one scene in the movie when Jamal encounters his childhood friend, the blind singer, and he says to Jamal, "I was not as lucky as you." Luck. It is the hope of those in situations like the ones Jamal and Salim are in. Their hope for a better life does not lie in rule of law, democracy or education. It lies in luck. And Jamal was lucky. He was lucky that the questions that were asked of him coincided with his experience. He was lucky that he and his brother were able to escape the children's camp they were confined in. Chance. 

So does chance and luck determine our fate to the same degree that it might determine the fate of those in the developing world? Perhaps. But perhaps the risk is more acute for them because they do not have other institutions or privileges to rely on. 

But there's another aspect to this movie, "It is written." And it brings me back to the idea of a telos, of our purpose--a telos that is pre-determined by something above ourselves.... Something that we cannot necessarily control. I'm not advocating for Calvinism in any way here, but I am saying that we do not control our purpose. We may control the extent to which we fulfill this purpose. We may control our choices, but the greater purpose for which we are here and the contributions to the world we are supposed to make are probably designed by something larger than us. 

 www.youtube.com/watch?v=mV912uIRM_A

A word to cupid

So my friends and I are in our twenties; either college graduates or soon-to-be. Its that time where there seems to be an epidemic of engagements, weddings and babies (not necessarily in that order).

Some of us want to be part of the flock and be part of this party---understandable when all that our engaged/married friends seem to talk about is how great their relationships are. Yet, others of us couldn't care less. Others of us are absorbed in the possibility of careers, travel, Europe, figuring ourselves out, reconnecting with Latin America, finding ourselves and doing that which we love most. Others of us wouldn't completely reject the idea of dating people, finding companionship, compatibility, love...bla bla bla, but are content to fall in love with things like music, art, friendships, pursuing goals and our respective sense(s) of calling.

And so here's a word to cupid (e.g. my friends who lovingly want to set me up)...

Most things in life happen naturally...

I was struck by the words of my professor: Marriage is miracle. Marriage is mercy.

And I would agree with her that its totally a supernatural thing--a miraculous thing--to find someone who you connect with on the levels of mind, body, emotion and spirit. And I trust God to bring one who connects with me in that way when its time and when its appropriate. And if its never time and never appropriate I've seen this Being bring me through seemingly impossible situations before. Yes, Latino mothers, grandmothers and pastors....it is possible to be a woman with a calling who is unmarried and satisfied with her life.

Don't get my wrong here...I'm not someone who says, "I don't need a man." I just don't know if I NEED a man. Its a want....like most people. Its a desire. But its not a need. And its not in my radar.

So next time I say, "that guy is kind of cute" please refrain from calling him; slipping a marketing ad about how great I am in his Bible; winking at him and pointing at me...OH! And my all time favorite: Setting up some kind of "random" get-together where we just "happen" to meet (I think you all give it away when everyone at the event miraculously disappears from the room and only us two are left twitling our fingers and making small talk:

-So....ugh....where do you go to school?

-Harvard...you?

-A small school in the middle of nowhere...Gordon College.

-yea. I've never heard about it before.

-So...how do you know __________ and _________....

30 minutes of small talk pass....

UGH...WE CAN HEAR YOU WHISPERING AND GIGGLING IN THE KITCHEN!

I really hope that this is not the only way people can meet.

I love the saying, "romance is a friendship on fire." And I'm a true believer of this. Some of my greatest friendships have been the most natural. I would imagine that a relationship works similarly. Anything forced, anything pushed...doesn't usually work. I would imagine that meeting "the one"is similar. It's natural, there's a discernible connection and chemistry that happens almost instantly.

And to my gurls...I am socially satisfied and thankful for all of you...(so much)...

But please stop trying to be cupid.

Lovingly,

Your sister.

Picture from : memyselfandhi.wordpress.com/2008/06/19/

My Favorite Cafe's

Algiers: Cambridge, MA

Brattle Street, Harvard Square

Algiers is a Middle Eastern cafe: serves Turkish and Arabic coffee and wonderfully prepared Middle Eastern meals.

This is one of my favorite cafe's, particularly because of how aesthetically pleasing it is. The combination of beautiful paintings on the walls, the steel stairs/railing, the mirrors, decorative hookas, wine bottles, deep reds and earth tone colors is enough to provide a relaxing atmosphere for me.

I'm particularly a fan of the windows on the first floor overlooking the quaint Cambridge Center for Adult Education building.
I usually go here when I am wanting to read, in need of a good workspace, for a coffee date/lunch or when I just want to relax and journal. The crowd helps provide a "study-like"atmosphere. Throughout the years I've picked up a lot of conversations about string theory, for instance, and psychology, Harvard professors and existential crises. These people make me want to study!


Trident Booksellers and Cafe
Newbury Street, Boston

Funkier feel.


Perks: Free Wifi, a versatile assortment of books (from philosophy to literature to those humorous books with titles like: "100 things to do before you get old and boring"), magazines (from all over the world), funky cards and journals.

I go here with a group of people or when I'm in the mood for finding a new good read. I've bought many cool gifts here, including a card with a decked-out Monalisa (she had bling, a nose ring, a clutch and lipstick, I believe). I especially like going on Sunday afternoons--good crowd, good chill spot.


1369 in Inman Square, Cambridge

I have a special affection for this place.

It is so Cambridge...
Homier feel...


Here's what I mean:

You have your typical college-aged barristas: you got your nose ring, your indie-type and your punkish guy.
Then you have the man who's always rocking some sort of interesting constume (everything from a funky version of Santa Clause to rocker dude). You must also know that he is always super happy and friendly.

You have the old couple that have been coming here on Sunday mornings for like 25 years (exaggeration--I dont know when this cafe was built). You have the professor; the sociologist; that archeologist that has made some awesome discoveries; the dude who comes here with his kid to draw and then folks like me (i.e. college students looking for a place to study)..all against the backdrop of indie music, rock and your occasional Erykah Badu (I've received some good music recommendations here...Good place to build up your music collection).

I get a lot of good studying done here. I've had some great conversations; had some good book recommendations and met some wonderful people.

Essentialy... love 1369 for the sense of community. It's really cute too.



Pleasant Street Tea Co.
Pleasant Street, Gloucester

I was introduced to this cafe through a couple of friends on the North Shore. On the afternoon that I was there they had a good poetry reading. Its relaxing, funky and good for hanging out with friends/dates.

They had some of the funkiest tea and coffee travel mugs I had ever seen and a lot of cool decorative items for sale.
The barristas were also friendly and chill...



Pictures cited
Algiers:loquelasguiasnodicen.wordpress.com/2006/11/
Trident Booksellers and Cafe: www.telegraph.co.uk
1369: www.dkimages.com
Pleasant Street Tea Co: www.udine4less.com

Thinking Practically

So I usually utilize this blog to write really intense things that I don't particularly want everyone to see. That's what facebook is for.


But I find myself on vacation, contemplating "the meaning of life"as usual (go ahead laugh...) and I realize that my time may be better spent by emersing myself in practical things. I was struck by Kierkegaard's idea of the self: the relation. If one is stuck in the realm of the infinite (the abstract) one goes into despair, and if one dwells only the realm of the finite (materialistic) one is also in despair. The "knight of faith" is the one who is able to travel between these two realms--can engage life and think about it's meaning; can be spiritual and embodied; can be ambitious and understand her finitude. So all that philosophical jargon only to say that I've been trying to be more practical as of late. It's hard!

A list of things that help me become more practical:

• Sodoku
• Working towards being one of those super disciplined clean people I have trouble becoming by taking small steps to organize my room, clean and try to follow the to-do lists I make for myself
• 
  Thinking about what I want to be when I grow up
• 
  Researching possibilities through websites, tapping into my networks and employment search engines
  
• Learning about other countries, looking at pictures of different cities and wondering how realisitc it is for me to live in these places
• Knitting (I made a scarf and I have no idea how to finish it)
• Browsing through interesting blogs about fashion, politics, art, photography and cooking [Yes...cooking. I bought myself a baking book at Borders and it is sweet! Hopefully one day my creations will actually look like the pictures].
  
  
  
  And all of this practicality helps balance my philosophical tendency--my tendency to get lost in the realm of the infinite. Life is beautiful--not just because of the way we might interpret it, but there are plenty of beautiful things to see and experience. We'd be missing out by locking ourselves in an ivory tower, or by hiding in our books. In fact, there wouldn't be much to interpret without the content--the living, the experienes.
  
  
  
  Picture by Ansel Adams: http://www.anseladams.com/images/assets/main_anselAdamsPhotography.jpg
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Hard words

Hard words
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Today at 1:55am Edit Note Delete
These are harsh words...difficult words to hear...and difficult words to say. And I'm debating whether I should use words to convey this message or just keep hoping you realize it one day:

That one day you'll get why I can't just get up and buy myself some groceries when I'm hungry
That one day you'll understand why I can't just get up and buy myself a car when I can't get from point A to B
That one day you'll understand that you are not poor...
And for that matter, I am not poor.
And for that matter, no one really is poor.

That one you'll understand that this topic is understood in terms of relativity.
Because you are poor in relation to Oprah who lives down the street from your house. And I am poor in relation to you, and the others from middle class America who you consider poor. And I am wealthy in relation to the families in Dominican Republic who live under tin roofs and sweep their floors made of soil every day.
And yet they are rich in relation to me because they know how to keep what little they have in order. And they treasure every little ounce of dirt, tin roofs, beans and cups of rice they may have. And when I go to their homes they want to give me everything they have--that they can turn 5 loves of bread into 5,000 when I'm there visiting. And for this reason, to hear me complain about what I don't have is a slap in the face to them.

I hope that one day you'll understand why I cringe when I have to ask you for a favor. Because in my life the only people that have done me these favors willingly are people who are from my community and know what "need" means. In my experience, wealthy people (I've met)/wealthy people who think they are middle class/upper middle class people who think they are poor. do not like to give of their shit. They count every penny and calculate every cent that has been given in a this for that game.

I just spent a week at my cousin's house. They grew up poor and now they're doing pretty OK. for themselves. But you better believe that they made me feel like a queen at their home. They gave me of their food without calculating how much it would cost me, they drove me places without expecting gas money (or even thinking about it), they bought soaps, gifts for me....out of love.

I hope that one day you understand why I hate living here. I hope that you understand how I breathe inequality and feel the aura of "how come you have sooo much more than me" every day. I hope you understand that when one of my possessions break I am pissed because I cannot replace it all the time. And I hope you understand what a slap in the face it is whenever you tell me:
Just replace it. Just buy yourself a car. Just buy yourself some juice.
Just fulfill your desires and wants when you feel them co me on.


And I hope that one day this will not be the case; that one day you'll come to my house and I'll give you presents, and drive you around without asking you for gas money (or even thinking about it), that I'll buy you soaps and let you sleep in my house without counting the cents it cost me. And I hope that one day I can be like that family in Dominican Republic who doesn't even think about the inequality, who wouldn't even dream of charging anyone for any service they give.

So understand that when you calculate everything we've given each other in a this-for-that game, it's a step into the classroom: "never ask wealthy people for anything" 101. Understand that I turn to my gurls every time and we share stories of how this inequality haunts us; that we sit around in our PJ's talking about it. And when they need me I got them. And when I need them they got me. I hope one day you learn these lessons.

How will we ever unite?

How will we ever unite
if I find myself annoyed at wealthy whites?
Right when I think I've assimilated enough;
that I've become quadrilingual,
fluent in the languages of white middle class America,
listening to Sufjan Stevens and Coldplay.
Just when I think I'm able to relate almost fully and find many friends from this demographic,
I find myself mad.

I'm mad because she always wants to help me. Because she always thinks she's right. Because she calls me "cute" when I cook differently. But little do you know that I consider your food bland and find myself longing for that adobo and sofrito. Little do you know that I don't know how to use your fancy kitchen gadgets because I never had them; because I had to use knives instead of can openers, and napkins instead of coffee filters. Nevertheless, your one summer cooking expertise can't top mami's platanos, beans and rice in the kitchen. And maybe your palet wouldn't appreciate it and maybe you would have the audacity to give her "advice" and to "help" her, but she doesn't need your help and neither do I.

I'm mad because when I say: "Damn, I want juice." I get a reply: "You need to buy yourself some juice." Hhhhmmm....why didn't I think of that?
Little do you know that you're advice is based on a couple of assumptions: The assumption that I can get myself to the Supermarket from this suburban college I am in. And the assumption that I have money for food right now.
And you, who have a car and enough money (which your parents send you) ask me to get you groceries everytime I go when I catch a ride with someone once every two weeks. Do you know that I lived off of those oatmeal packets in the kitchen for a week because I had no one to take me to the supermarket?

And you, who don't pick up your plates ever, have the audacity to ask me if all of the plates in the sink are mine. Why the assumption? Yet, you overlook the fact that I vaccum every week and wash the mugs that are lying around.

And I'm mad because I just came back from being with people who know me and who I can let my hair go with, and now I have to come back to you. And we don't understand each other. And we don't get each other. And you are so far away from my context and I am so far away from yours. And you exoticise my language and my music and my country and LOVE going on missions trips there to "help" us. And I love being with my people and singing and rapping and beat boxing and....living. And when I offer to help you, you refuse it, because of course, I can't possibly help you.

I'm tired of you trying to help me. I don't need your help.
I don't need your help beyond the help I get from my community. I don't need your help beyond the help I get from my mother. You cannot help me because you don't understand me.


And I'm mad because I wish I didn't feel this way. I wish you all didn't annoy me. I wish I didn't have to racialize this, and I could just see it as difference in experience. I'm mad because I wish I could see you as God's child and nothing else, who's abundance has made you broken and unaware. And I'm mad because I miss my people, my music, my culture when I should just love to be in community. But the contrast. The contrast serves as a reminder of the fact that we are worlds apart; that although I can philosophize with you all day I don't belong here. I'm mad that there are not more Latino professors. I'm mad that there are not more professors from an urban background. I'm mad that I don't see more of myself represented.

Missing the trees for the forest

I go to sleep late last night after fighting a range of emotions and sadness and unmotivation. Standing up, changing positions, changing scenes to get myself to read this shit. "C'mmon Annery, you like school. You have to do well on this exam tomorrow." I go to sleep at 3am, absorbing way less than I should have. I wake up at 8am, then again at 9am, then again at 10am. "Wake up, Annery." Each time I want to hide from the world; each time the bed seems like such a better idea than facing what's out there. Each time my body is split between logical impulses and illogical emotions and body aches. Finally, I listen to the last wake up call and fight my body to get up.
I'm up, disoriented and dizzy. Lethargic.
I go to the computer. Check my email. Pace. I should open that book. I get ready, sit in the sofa, and stare at these words. Everything in me screams: :"I can't." I self talk: "This is ridiculous. You have to get this shit done. Just do it." But I keep convincing myself that nothing is worse than what I'm feeling right now--this lethargy, this dizziness, this realization that perhaps I cannot accomplish all that I dreamed of. That perhaps my kindergarten teachers were wrong: Did the mistake skies for apartment roof tops, when they said 'sky is the limit'?
So I push myself to class--I get there. No one. Class is empty. What am I? In a twilight zone?
I must have missed something. So I sit there. Eat--maybe food will motivate me. But I just stare at the book blankly.
I go to bed again, finding refuge in my sheets. But my body keeps protesting--You don't really want to be here. You really want to be engaging life, engaging the world...facing your dilemmas.
After and hour and a half, I end up saying: "this is enough. Work with what you can control, Annery. Make lemonade out of lemons." So I change and do all of those girly things that make me feel better. I shower and put make up on and a pretty dress. I clean and get organized.
Sit down at my desk--Oh yea. That apple computer I worked so hard to get: broken. My old dell....too slow to get anything done. But in hopes of change, I try it anyway. I press on, and iron and make phone calls I was late on. Get back to my desk: the machine is still making odd noises--not working. And that stupid little sand clock/timer is still on the screen. Ok. No problem. Next computer--my friend let me borrow it and I have some documents in there I need for my paper: Not turning on. But it worked yesterday! Ugh!!!! I want to cry.
But I hold back the tears. I get up, go to the library, get my books and borrow a computer. I'm ready to go to work. I'm determined to make the most of this day.
I'm relaxed, so I conduct a routine email check, and there it is-- an email from my professor saying she's not sure how to deal with me again and all of my absences. Tears.
I just want to give up.




What does one do when she keeps falling over and over again? When she trips on the same stone repeatedly? Why does she not learn? Where is the disconnect?

"You can do it," some would say. But the ironic thing is that my overly ambitious spirit has the tendency to overlook real limitations. And this very attitude has caused me more sorrow and dissapointment than admitting that I cannot--atleast without some guidance and some external intervention--whether it is divine or human. Now that I admit to myself that this pattern has real origins; now that I realize that if I do not face my limitations I will probably never progress, and I will undoubtedly keep tripping over the same stone, I find some consolation.
But what is one to do when she keeps failing those she answers to? What is one to do when everything seems to be coming down hard on you? What is one to do when its getting in the way of your dreams--especially, when time is becoming scarce and you may not have the same opportunities open to you as when you were 15? The options were open and I undermined them during these last five years of college. Why didn't I take full advantage of them? Where is the disconnect between my grandiose visions and the details that get me there? I've missed the trees for the forest, and the consequences of doing so are large.

So...what am I to do in the middle of a semester when I've missed so much class and professors are dissapointed? What am I to do when I have had a rough day and finally motivate myself to get out of bed, face the three computers in my room--none of which work (papers are lost), get myself to the library to borrow a computer, sit down to do my work and I get an email from a professor expressing her dissapointment. What does one do other than cry? Other than surrender? Other than face the music?
Making lemonade out of lemons has gotten me through most of life. But I'm finally admitting it to myself:
This shit is tough.