ghetto ramblings (repost)

Although I identify as a woman of color, like most suburbanites of privilege, I grew up (mis)using the word ghetto. When I went to college I became friends with people who were personally hurt by the misuse of the word. What is use and misuse?

Use:
During World War II, Jews were forced to live in the ghetto.
Ghetto superstar, that is what you are... (jk)

Misuse:
This car is such a piece of crap, it's like sooo ghetto.

After returning from my liberal undergraduate education, my friends soon learned that I was not a fan of the word. Rather than trying to discern when it was ok to use, I just tried to cut it out of my vocabulary.

Here is another example of misuse:

A: Yeah, John's cousin is this Chinese guy who thinks he is black. He like wears jerseys and has his hair in corn rows.
B: Dude! Like a ghetto Chinese guy!

Do you see the problem? Ghetto = pejorative descriptor, Ghetto = black. And when and if you use it, are you really reclaiming it in a positive way? Who even owns the word? The Jews? The Blacks? The Poor? The Brown? In this particular situation I didn't say anything. Maybe because I've grown tired of speaking up about this word. Maybe because I didn't feel like rocking the boat. Maybe because I myself get sick of worrying about what words to use. Do words matter?

Being P.C. is worth very little because I am sure Michael Richards (formerly of Seinfeld fame) is PC 99% of the time. But as we all know now, he's a racist _______. I do not claim to be free from his disease. I am just trying to identify it and fight against it.

I am curious as to what people think about this word. In any case, I've decided it is time for me to start speaking up again.

don't blame me...

My comment to a coworker today:

"I am finding more and more that 'I was an English major' has become more of an excuse rather than a qualification".

I still love me my books and words and such!

aggression

Maybe it is because the Golden Bears left me unsatisfied this season.
Maybe it is because I went mountain biking for the first time on Saturday, and though left in total body aching pain with some residual soreness, I enjoyed it.
Maybe it is because we spent several hours on Saturday night boxing, golfing, and bowling on the new Nintendo Wii.
Maybe is is because I consumed more than my fair share of Thanksgiving goodness this weekend.
Maybe it is because I am reading a short story right now about a guy who happens upon boxing and is empowered by it.


But I feel the need to play some competitive sports on a semi-regular basis. I looked online and all adult leagues are far (20+ miles) away. So friends in the 909, don't be surprised if I hit you up to play with me. My dream for the moment would be very basic level women's soccer. But I suppose I could settle for some co-ed (insert sport here). This feeling is not sure to last (most of the time I'm such a lazy ass). But I will add it to my list of things to accomplish in 2007:

1) Learn how to make dumplings from scratch.
2) Play competitive sports on a semi-regular basis.

I like to make lists.

Thursday + Friday

Thursday: Pomona Orphan Thanksgiving, 17 people, 21+ dishes


Friday: Chino Hills Family Thanksgiving, 5 people, 10+ dishes

Can you spot the 2 dishes the meals had in common?

Hope?

an acrostic for mordy

M auls my arm for no apparent reason,
O ther tims purrs peacefully on my lap.
R eally likes to sit in open windows, but
D oesn't get it that he isn't allowed on
E lizabeth's bed. He can be the
C oolest companion,
A nd then the bipolar cat from Venus, yet
I am learning to live with him.

longevity

You know those scenes that are interspersed throughout “When Harry Met Sally”? For those of you not familiar, there are interviews with elderly couples who are telling these great vignettes about how they met way-back-when. I did a brief home visit today and got to meet such a couple. They have been married for over 60 years, and each finishes the others sentences in a very unassuming and non-trite way. They have the humor, playful sarcasm, and realistic outlook on life and on each other that made me feel lucky to have a job that allowed me a chat with them.

The receptionist at work has been married to her husband for over 50 years. I never heard her talk about him, but one day I saw her having her lunch in a side room with an older gentleman. She told me he only comes to have lunch (the senior center provides lunches) when she can find a quiet room for the two of them to eat in. This is how they met. They had worked together for over a year, but never spoke. He had thought that the girl was supposed to initiate conversation; she had thought that it was the guy’s responsibility. One day, they were passing each other in an underground hallway (somewhere on the east coast) when she decided to say hello to him in order to avoid the unwanted attention from another male coworker. They dated for three months, and then got married at City Hall, et voila!

Of all the people I have met, receptionists, and others with gatekeeper type jobs are some of the best judges of character. So I asked her how she knew he was the right one to marry. She didn’t have anything huge or profound to offer, she just said that he was pretty crazy about her, and she figured that must be a good thing, and that he had all the good qualities that she thought that a man should possess. From what I can tell, they are still really happily married, he is still crazy about her (in a more subdued, less obvious way, I’m sure), and she still sees in him the qualities that she respected about him at the start.

sports talk

I love college football and the Golden Bears will always be My Team. But honestly, I don't know how some people follow multiple sports and multiple teams with such fervor and committment. Cal's loss to (WHO?) on Saturday just about gave me an ulcer.

I watched the first half at my parent's house and was feeling confident and sleepy. I returned to my apartment to a tied game. Mordecai regarded me and the strange screaming/whimpering noises I was making with the look of disdain only a cat trying to sleep can make. I was trying to keep it under wraps because I didn't want my neighbors to think the new girl was (1) psycho or (2) being attacked. Maybe it actually was a little of both.

the eagle has landed, aka the pigeon has flown the coop

I moved. I have a new apartment, a new zip code, a new county, a new city, a new roommate, a new cat-roommate, a new bed, new neighbors, a new, shorter commute, a new phone number… you get the idea. And I’m less than 5 miles away from my parents, less than 3 miles from work.

I began on Tuesday night, and I’m not really done yet. Saturday was the big push and thanks to Frank’s generosity, the Hwang’s muscle/truck power, and my mom, I have a very spacious, comfortable, and livable bedroom. Friday night I even managed to sneak in a screening of Borat with old world (high school) and new world (P-Town) people; it was very appropriate for my last night at my parent’s house.

After moving the big things on Saturday, Megan and I did a Target run. We coveted curtains at World Market. We discovered my front headlight is not working. Back at home I killed my first apartment spider. Later, I had an impromptu “toast my first night in Pomona” with some friends from the area. We went through two bottles of wine/champagne. Based on the women who had gone before me in the apartment, it was decided that I had only two ways out – to go overseas or to get married. (Or to get married and go overseas) Either of the two would be nice. Grad school too. There was some cat-hating going on too. Poor Mordecai. I washed the dishes like a good roommate, took my first shower, and tried to go to sleep in my lovely new bed.

It was probably a combination of first night unfamiliarity (bed and place) and possibly the champagne, but I didn’t sleep that well. Also I woke up at like 6 in the morning after I heard a sound and looked down to see Mordecai, the cat, staring at me with his big green eyes.

I’ve been sleeping on the same bed since I was two (take away the 4.5 years in Berkeley and Oakland). It’s a lumpy little twin. Now I have a full. I’m learning that I don’t have to sleep with my arm scrunched up next to my body. As Borat would say, very niiiiice.

On Sunday after meeting/church/lunch/errands/book moving/Kadie visit/dinner/prayer I pretty much crashed.

arrived

First official night.