gas and electric scheduled for transfer, check.
phone and DSL scheduled for transfer, check.
mail service scheduled for transfer, check.
I close escrow on Tuesday. I finish the move on January 3rd. I'll have DSL up and running on Monday the 5th.
People are being amazingly supportive and giving. A friend of Lorelei's is offloading a table-desk on me, which will live in the recording studio/laundry room. Kristi has a friends who is offloading a queen sized bed with sleigh-frame for a pittance. There are rumors of other items in the pipeline as well that people would rather sell super cheap or give away than have to trash (like sheds or even hot tubs). It's all quite amazing.
I've still got some major purchases to make (washer, dryer, fridge, stove, dishwasher), but thanks to another friend I should be able to get these at contractor prices. We've already gotten a completely new cabinet set for $500.
In all of this I continue to be flabbergasted.
The first month will be chaotic, as Chris rips out the kitchen and downstairs bathroom and reassembles it, I'll be using the upstairs bathroom exclusively, as will my houseguest, and I'll probably have the fridge hooked up in the living room. Dishes may be done in the upstairs bathroom sink for a bit. Still, it's all more than good, and it will be for a very brief period.
On Tuesday, Kristi will help me move the boxes that are already packed (mostly books, DVDs, knick knacks, summer clothes, and art) into the house, unpack it all and put it in the corner. Then I'll take the boxes back and pack up the remainder of office and kitchen stuff for the move on the 3rd.
Now, I need to contact a locksmith, and then I'll need to find out how to turn off the alarm system on Tuesday so it quits beeping futilely.
Happy new year.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
looking at the big picture
Like many, I got my feathers ruffled when I started getting emails about how Rick Warren was doing the opening prayer at Barack Obama's inauguration. A slap in the face of the gay and transgender community! Salt on the wound of Prop 8! Petition! Clamour!
And then I read the article in the New York Times. Yes, Rick Warren is doing the opening speech, and yes Rick Warren was a major voice for Prop 8 and against the gay community.
However
"Ms. Douglass noted that the benediction, or closing prayers, would be offered by the Rev. Joseph E. Lowery, a civil rights icon who has expressed support for gay marriage, and that the Lesbian and Gay Band Association would march in the inaugural parade, the first time such a group would do so."
This puts a new light on things, and is entirely within Obama's way of handling matters. What is he saying with these choices? I believe he's saying, as he did on his election night "I am the President of ALL America." This isn't anything new. Part of the reason I elected him is because he's interested in getting people together in the same room and talking to each other.
Still, note the order.
We are transitioning from a right wing, fundamentalist regime to something quite different. We open this transition with a voice from the Right. A strident voice, loud and harsh. We close the transition with a very different prayer, a different voice, one of civil rights and equality.
I don't think anything Obama does is accidental. I won't be signing any petitions against Rick Warren opening the ceremony. I'm fine with that. His voice is one of the many voices of the American people, and we should not deny him or his followers the right to pray for our president. But at the end of things, it is not his voice that will linger in the air, but another's.
And then I read the article in the New York Times. Yes, Rick Warren is doing the opening speech, and yes Rick Warren was a major voice for Prop 8 and against the gay community.
However
"Ms. Douglass noted that the benediction, or closing prayers, would be offered by the Rev. Joseph E. Lowery, a civil rights icon who has expressed support for gay marriage, and that the Lesbian and Gay Band Association would march in the inaugural parade, the first time such a group would do so."
This puts a new light on things, and is entirely within Obama's way of handling matters. What is he saying with these choices? I believe he's saying, as he did on his election night "I am the President of ALL America." This isn't anything new. Part of the reason I elected him is because he's interested in getting people together in the same room and talking to each other.
Still, note the order.
We are transitioning from a right wing, fundamentalist regime to something quite different. We open this transition with a voice from the Right. A strident voice, loud and harsh. We close the transition with a very different prayer, a different voice, one of civil rights and equality.
I don't think anything Obama does is accidental. I won't be signing any petitions against Rick Warren opening the ceremony. I'm fine with that. His voice is one of the many voices of the American people, and we should not deny him or his followers the right to pray for our president. But at the end of things, it is not his voice that will linger in the air, but another's.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Music and comedy
I wish Milk had come out two months earlier, but regardless I highly recommend everyone go check it out.
On a lighter note, let's look at our current battle through the eyes of community musical theatre.
Also, for gamers, you'll want to check out this musical game.
On a lighter note, let's look at our current battle through the eyes of community musical theatre.
See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die
Also, for gamers, you'll want to check out this musical game.
Monday, December 01, 2008
On Race
I just finished two books: No Matter How Much You Promise to Cook or Pay the Rent, You Blew It Cauze Bill Bailey Ain't Never Coming Back Again, by Edgardo Vega Yunqué and Dreams From My Father by Barack Obama.
Both books deal largely with issues of race, and with issues of identity around being multi-racial in particular. One is fictional, and one is biographical. Both, in their own ways, are at times heartbreaking.
Back in college, I took a fairly awful class that was being taught by a guest professor. It was part of my performing arts minor, but I honestly couldn't tell you anything I learned in the class. There was one interaction that I've never forgotten, however. I don't remember why, or the larger context of the discussion, but the instructor told me that I was a racist. I protested, and she dismissed me casually, saying that by virtue of being a white male I was a racist and that was that.
I had never been so insulted in my life, and I mean that without hyperbole.
Now, almost twenty years later, I think I understand a little bit of what she so cavalierly claimed. In my time with the California School Leadership Academy I was exposed to a lot of research about racial attitudes and especially about the ignorance that white people tend to have about their own racial experience. Most white people wouldn't even claim to HAVE a racial experience because we equate whiteness with normality. We don't have a white experience, we're just normal. Be normal like us.
This was about ten years ago, and opened my eyes to a whole host of assumptions I had made about my life and experience. I was not actively engaged in any oppression, wasn't in the habit of uttering racially derogatory statements or epithets, and thought myself relatively free of racial attitudes. But I had no sense that my white suburban history provided me with a life experience that was ... well ... white, privileged, special. My life experience was NOT normal, and in fact had little to do with the life experience of most people on the planet.
Since then, I've evolved a more sophisticated understanding of how race plays a factor in my life, but these books held another surprise for me. Obama's reflections in particular gave me a jolt.
He talks about the full blown resentment towards whites by those who are under oppression. It is not based on individual actions, but is based on history and despair and suspicion. I could spend my days doing everything I can to alleviate suffering in a poor, predominantly black area and it might do little to nothing to heal race barriers because my actions could be resented because my presence was an example of the white man's ability to choose to do whatever he wanted, and the fact that I could walk away at any moment from the suffering I had embraced would make me an object of distaste and suspicion. My very presence in such a community would act as a reminder of white privilege. This is phrased awkwardly, but what Obama describes is a catch-22, a social paralysis. No matter what I might do to heighten my awareness, no matter what acts I might take to help fix the injustice and social inequity around me, my very freedom to act marks me as the oppressor... as one who is simply patronizing.
In short, by being a white male, I am viewed as a racist.
Of course, this in and of itself is racist thinking and white people are not the only racists in the country, let alone the world. But the problem stands even more starkly before me as a result of this realization. No matter how much I try to live in a way that does no harm, shows equity, and tries to withhold judgement on those I encounter until I see them in fullness, I stand as recipient of a history of harmfulness, blindness, and oppression.
The visiting professor was right, in her way, although she did absolutely nothing to help me understand her statement at the time.
So, where do I stand currently? In the same spot I have been, really. I stand in a position of awareness not only of my own experience and cultural inheritance, but also where I stand in the cultural inheritance of others. To those who know me, I can move outside that placeholder, but for those who see me on the street, on BART, in the local shops, I carry my own kind of stigma. The best I can do is to acknowledge these histories and refuse to play into expectations.
It's a start.
Both books deal largely with issues of race, and with issues of identity around being multi-racial in particular. One is fictional, and one is biographical. Both, in their own ways, are at times heartbreaking.
Back in college, I took a fairly awful class that was being taught by a guest professor. It was part of my performing arts minor, but I honestly couldn't tell you anything I learned in the class. There was one interaction that I've never forgotten, however. I don't remember why, or the larger context of the discussion, but the instructor told me that I was a racist. I protested, and she dismissed me casually, saying that by virtue of being a white male I was a racist and that was that.
I had never been so insulted in my life, and I mean that without hyperbole.
Now, almost twenty years later, I think I understand a little bit of what she so cavalierly claimed. In my time with the California School Leadership Academy I was exposed to a lot of research about racial attitudes and especially about the ignorance that white people tend to have about their own racial experience. Most white people wouldn't even claim to HAVE a racial experience because we equate whiteness with normality. We don't have a white experience, we're just normal. Be normal like us.
This was about ten years ago, and opened my eyes to a whole host of assumptions I had made about my life and experience. I was not actively engaged in any oppression, wasn't in the habit of uttering racially derogatory statements or epithets, and thought myself relatively free of racial attitudes. But I had no sense that my white suburban history provided me with a life experience that was ... well ... white, privileged, special. My life experience was NOT normal, and in fact had little to do with the life experience of most people on the planet.
Since then, I've evolved a more sophisticated understanding of how race plays a factor in my life, but these books held another surprise for me. Obama's reflections in particular gave me a jolt.
He talks about the full blown resentment towards whites by those who are under oppression. It is not based on individual actions, but is based on history and despair and suspicion. I could spend my days doing everything I can to alleviate suffering in a poor, predominantly black area and it might do little to nothing to heal race barriers because my actions could be resented because my presence was an example of the white man's ability to choose to do whatever he wanted, and the fact that I could walk away at any moment from the suffering I had embraced would make me an object of distaste and suspicion. My very presence in such a community would act as a reminder of white privilege. This is phrased awkwardly, but what Obama describes is a catch-22, a social paralysis. No matter what I might do to heighten my awareness, no matter what acts I might take to help fix the injustice and social inequity around me, my very freedom to act marks me as the oppressor... as one who is simply patronizing.
In short, by being a white male, I am viewed as a racist.
Of course, this in and of itself is racist thinking and white people are not the only racists in the country, let alone the world. But the problem stands even more starkly before me as a result of this realization. No matter how much I try to live in a way that does no harm, shows equity, and tries to withhold judgement on those I encounter until I see them in fullness, I stand as recipient of a history of harmfulness, blindness, and oppression.
The visiting professor was right, in her way, although she did absolutely nothing to help me understand her statement at the time.
So, where do I stand currently? In the same spot I have been, really. I stand in a position of awareness not only of my own experience and cultural inheritance, but also where I stand in the cultural inheritance of others. To those who know me, I can move outside that placeholder, but for those who see me on the street, on BART, in the local shops, I carry my own kind of stigma. The best I can do is to acknowledge these histories and refuse to play into expectations.
It's a start.
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