Thin Mints!
Today, I felt a part of the working world. Moreover, today I felt a part of the American working world. I felt American. I felt I
belonged. I've been working on my own for so many years now, that I forgot what it was like to be a part of office culture, which was a huge part of the 1990's for me. You know, water cooler chat, brownies in the lounge, Super Bowl pools. The lot. Today, in the departmental office, there was a sign by the photocopier to buy Girl Scout cookies. I mean, what's more American then that? There's no equivalent in Britain where I've been living the better part of the past 5 years. No Thin Mints. No Tagalogs. And moreover, no sign up sheets for Troup 564 by the stapler. But it's more then some odd national symbolic cultural moment, it is the embodiment of office life. A way through which office-ness is enacted. The rituals of the workplace and their role in everyday life. Participatory biscuit consumption.
Sometimes, it only takes a box of cookies to make one feel at
home.
The more things change...
A professor I ran into gave me the less than subtle once over with his eyes. I am a lecturer. Not a professor. But a peer, even if a lesser and subordinate peer. I don't even know his name. But I got the visual body check - the kind only an older male can give a younger woman. The kind they don't even realise they do cos they are nice guys, but the kind that makes you feel icky none the less.
The worst part of it was that my first reaction wasn't to get pissed off. No, at 37, my first reaction was "shit, I'm wearing baggy trousers and a dumpy sweater cos I was running late. If only I had at least put lipstick on!"
What in the hell is going on there?!
I mean really. My second reaction, mind you, was to be disgusted. And to feel sad that some things have really not changed all that much. You know, check out my ass when my back is turned. Fine. But don't give me the up and down eyeball that is the reserve of catty women and fashion designers.
A friend of mine jokes that there are some things ultra-pc Antioch College couldn't have prepared him for. Then there are some things that not even Westwood One could prepare me for. I mean, corporate radio is supposed to be full of sleazeballs with hookers on their expense accounts. But academia should not have middle aged eyeballers. Sorry.
Hot off the press
Today one of the seminar leaders for one of my courses had a group presentation in which two students performed a dramatic reinactment of FCC Commissioners Michael Powell and Michael Copps debate over proposed changes that would have allowed for cross-platform media ownership (ie ABC buying the New York Times).
OKay, so the Kennedy / Nixon debates it is not. But the thought of undergradiate students putting on suits and practicing the vocal intonations of FCC bureaucrats to illuminate an important media ownership issue at a time when the rest of the class is SO over caring about who owns the media, is just too cool for school. And a lot more interesting then my student who argued that it's okay to have a few companies own the media cos it's just, like, synergy, you know, except that, like, product placement in the movies is super annoying. Word.
Anyhow, things are looking up here at post-liberal U. There is a naked protest next week against sweatshop apparel. And there have been announcements written in chalk drawing attention to the need to improve the diversity of minority representation on campus. Now THAT's the Berkeley I was expecting!
Hemp bracelets for everyone!
Note to self
Futons are over-rated.
An update on an old adage
Teaching = inspiration + preparation + photocopying
And the worst part is, technology has made it possible to set up class websites. Sounds like a good thing, right? But, like a blog, or a cat, they require a fair amount of care and maintenance. An un-updated site is worse than no site at all. Expectations get raised. Disappointment, thus, inevitable.
Biting the hand that feeds
At the risk of the aforementioned, I have to share this post from a Cal student's blog, circa 2004. I don't feel bad because it has nothing to do with the really great people I work with, and I have a lot of great students, many of whom have just never been exposed to a lot of things we take for granted. And really, isn't college when you're supposed to find out about things you were never really exposed to? I mean, should I be surprised that a room full of 20 year olds who were 4.0's in high school should know about pirate radio, or who the Zapatistas are? I wouldn't have.
Or would I have? Was there an activist sensibility in Surf's Up San Diego in the late 80's? Or was the weather too nice and the water just right? I went to the Che Cafe on campus because they had dirt cheap all you can eat buffets, not cos I knew anything about Che Guevara. But stuff was happening. You just had to look harder. Or care just that bit more to find out about it. I didn't go to Antioch College where friends got degrees in how not to be a sexist. I had to read
The Gender Gap and talk about voting behavior before I got to Feminism 102 and those great esoteric debates with friends about whether or not we were a Marxist Feminist or a Socialist Feminist. We sure as hell weren't Liberal Feminists. They were boring and middle class and straight and white and only talked about things like gender gaps.
But back to this student blog post from 2004...
Tho as another friend from UCSD reminded me, we used to whine about the same thing in our department when we were undergrads. It was US vs. the GIRLS WHO WANTED TO BE TV ANCHORS. Are you with me or against me?
So now, here I am, on the other side of the fence, feeling protective of my students and my department, whom I value greatly, yet keenly aware of the stereotype that pervades us on campus. Of course I don't agree with it! It's an unfair tag, and I myself was probably just a snotty lefty student at times. Yet this surprised me still...
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an excerpt from a student blog:
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Why didn't anyone warn me about Mass Comm?
I'm an Interdisciplinary Studies Field major (ISF) here at Cal, which means I get to more or less make up my own course of study within some perameters. In my field of concentration, I have chosen to analyze mass media, consumerism, visual representation, and the like in what has proven to be a more intellectually stimulating series of classes than I had expected. I have taken courses in American Studies, Visual Studies, ISF, History of Art, Women's Studies, and now Mass Communications. In addition to learning volumes about consumer culture, advertising, and visual communication, this academic path has taught me another very important lesson:
The Mass Communications department is for lazy students incapable of conducting critical and/or sub-superficial analyses of social issues!
There, I said it. I swear to Baby Jesus, my Mass Comm discussion section is populated by consumer culture apologists who can't comprehend existence outside their own little personal spheres of affluence and complacency. One woman in my class went so far as to claim that, Hey, we're products of overkill 1980s Regean-era regulation-free advertising aimed specifically at unsuspecting children, and we turned out fine.
NO! No we didn't! We're not fine! We all buy way more stuff than we need, we all inject identity into ourselves via commodities, we all thoughtlessly produces tons of garbage each year and waste water and waste paper and waste plastic, and only see a product for its consumptive value and not the productive process that preceeded our purchase of the product! Aggghh!
I was under the erroneous impression that Mass Comm is for people who are interested in critiquing mass communications; it turns out that it's full of Haas rejects who think this is their second chance at a career in advertising and television. So sad.
In short, ISF rocks. People who go into ISF are there because they want to think for themselves. We're the rebels. We dance to our own beat. And we were most likely unpopular in high school.
found at:
http://caljunket.blogspot.com/2004_09_01_caljunket_archive.html
The CAT's meow?
I am subletting from a crazy lady. Only she's not really a lady because she is my age. But she loves her cat. So much so, that she took her cats name for herself. Yes, now the cat has a name that doesn't suit it, and she has re-christened herself with the third new name in less than a month.
I love animals. And I have the capacity to love other people's animals. But there are limits. I submit to you a true test of such. Following is an excerpt from an email I just received from her with pointers on how to best take care of the cat formerly known as Rosie:
1) She particularly likes small signs of love and respect. For instance, when she is about to take a nap, if you pick up one of her fluffy balls and place it in front of her near her face or between her paws. She likes to fall asleep with one of these right in front of her face – to warm her nose. (There are some in the paper bag marked “gifts for daisy” that you will find in the box marked Rosy on the main shelf to the left as you go into the cupboard.)
2) When she is about to go to sleep for good often around 10 p.m. at night, but it may be later with Kate working late in the room, Daisy loves for people to say goodnight to her. Petting her face and head and kissing her on the head is particularly welcome.
3) She likes when you set up a nice place for her. If she is napping, you could add a nice piece of cloth or wool for her to lie against or wrap it around her a bit.
4) It is helpful if people are vigilant to her needs. Make sure to change the water frequently and keep the beaker and water bowls full so she always has fresh water. Make sure not to give her too much extra food, but she also shouldn’t be ravenous by the time she is fed at night. When it is cold out she sometimes needs a bit more dry food, because she’ll be hungry after being out in the cold for long.
5) Finally, remember to talk to her. When you are home alone with her, she appreciates a bit of conversation. When there are lots of people around, she appreciates it when someone talks to her also in a warm, soft, reassuring voice.
6) Once in a while, it’s fun to dance with her. Put on some fun music and dance around.
7) And if you happen to think of it, it's nice to put a flower in her little flower vase (by her food dishes).
8) If anyone feels real ambitious, you can buy her a medium-size mouse or a small rat for $1.60 at the snake shop (they are very sanitary - no diseases!), the address is in Rosy's box on a business card.
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No, I am not partaking in low end animal cruelty with the live playmate and no, I don't think a formerly stray cat gives a crap about whether her knife and fork are on the left or right side! Good lord. Some chow, some water, some outdoor access, some luvin, and a place to lay her weary feline self down. Isn't that what we all want?
