A recent New York Times article (Long Road to Adulthood is Growing Even Longer) raises the issue that our definition of "adult" is growing archaic. Though we used to mark adulthood with the traditional milestones of financial independence, marriage and having children, more "adults" are taking longer to reach financial independence and see raising a family as a "lifestyle choice." I find this interesting in light of my conversation with a friend about maturity. I was starting to see maturity as the ability to take care of other people, and adulthood as the ability to make a commitment to take care of other people.
All adulthood really is is the stage in life where you're most accountable to other people. I'm sure a few of these beta adults have adjusted their definitions--maybe they have parents they need to take care of, or have jobs with a high level of responsibility. But I think we might have a generation of people who are increasingly only accountable to themselves. If we're deferring accountability and responsibility, why must we have better institutions to help us get by as the article suggests?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Humanity
I consider this post a pretty unsound piece of writing, but it reflects the world as I see it in the most general terms. This is part of why I'm starting to lose faith in activism. We have to burn this mother down. The only way to move forward is via destruction.
Due to it's ubiquity in the news, the BP oil rig explosion and recent developments in the Bhopal Disaster set me off to thinking about doomsday scenarios and the value of mankind. I know meditations on karma are cliche, but I really have to sort this out for myself.
Karma makes sense on a large-scale level. Everything that has ever been said or done has extremely far-reaching effects, and there have been enough books and movies made (Butterfly Effect...and others) to illustrate this. But our impact on the environment--which has been summarily awful--is pinching us in the butt. Birth defects, cancer and obesity are all making our brains and/or bodies slower, simpler. Diseases are killing us off in huge numbers.
Earth pushing back. Nature's tendency for equilibrium. Homeostasis. Whatever you want to call it, you know it's happening.
Development is a fucking disease so humans (rather, we. I keep forgetting to include myself in this) have to be wiped out or slowed down. We have caused most of the shit that's killing us and the rest of the planet. We need to reduce consumption, and the only way that will ever happen is if we reduce our numbers. The only thing that is being rewarded in the dominant culture is maximization of profits.
I don't want to fight against cancer. I don't want to fight against anything that slows the 'developed' world down. This "fight" --this battle against the plagues of humanity--is not equal. The people least damaging to the world are being killed off at a greater rate than those who should be stopped. It's a disgusting but true fact.
Activists and Marxists understand that a lot is at stake, and with each political defeat of the left the world is moving faster to a globalized, capitalist disaster. Humanity will forever change the face of the earth.
Rather than work to reverse or slow down this trend, I see myself working to make amends with the world. I see myself working to humanize capitalism, help people whenever I can, and raise a family. Working for the private sector is okay if I don't compromise on my morals. Right now, the only thing I refuse to do in my corporate career is directly stand in the way of unions and their bargaining rights and be complicit with unethical decisions.
I can no longer refuse to be a cog in the machine. But I can still refuse to be an unthinking, depoliticized cog in the machine.
Due to it's ubiquity in the news, the BP oil rig explosion and recent developments in the Bhopal Disaster set me off to thinking about doomsday scenarios and the value of mankind. I know meditations on karma are cliche, but I really have to sort this out for myself.
Karma makes sense on a large-scale level. Everything that has ever been said or done has extremely far-reaching effects, and there have been enough books and movies made (Butterfly Effect...and others) to illustrate this. But our impact on the environment--which has been summarily awful--is pinching us in the butt. Birth defects, cancer and obesity are all making our brains and/or bodies slower, simpler. Diseases are killing us off in huge numbers.
Earth pushing back. Nature's tendency for equilibrium. Homeostasis. Whatever you want to call it, you know it's happening.
Development is a fucking disease so humans (rather, we. I keep forgetting to include myself in this) have to be wiped out or slowed down. We have caused most of the shit that's killing us and the rest of the planet. We need to reduce consumption, and the only way that will ever happen is if we reduce our numbers. The only thing that is being rewarded in the dominant culture is maximization of profits.
I don't want to fight against cancer. I don't want to fight against anything that slows the 'developed' world down. This "fight" --this battle against the plagues of humanity--is not equal. The people least damaging to the world are being killed off at a greater rate than those who should be stopped. It's a disgusting but true fact.
Activists and Marxists understand that a lot is at stake, and with each political defeat of the left the world is moving faster to a globalized, capitalist disaster. Humanity will forever change the face of the earth.
Rather than work to reverse or slow down this trend, I see myself working to make amends with the world. I see myself working to humanize capitalism, help people whenever I can, and raise a family. Working for the private sector is okay if I don't compromise on my morals. Right now, the only thing I refuse to do in my corporate career is directly stand in the way of unions and their bargaining rights and be complicit with unethical decisions.
I can no longer refuse to be a cog in the machine. But I can still refuse to be an unthinking, depoliticized cog in the machine.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Kumari's cup
"Don’t take that. It’s Kumari’s cup.”
I set down the small clay tea cup I was fingering and for a moment brood the loss of such a fine little thing. Though inexpensive, I find its earthiness charming. I am disappointed I would have to put off my next use to some indefinite time in the future. Or, depending on how severely my mother thinks Kumari is tainted, I may never drink from its delicately shaped rim ever again. But then I am smarted by shame.
“Mom, that’s ridiculous. Should I be avoiding her shadow, then?”
“It’s not like that!” Her sudden response suggests that she did not intend to sound like a stuck-up Brahmin who unrelentingly follows the groupthink of the caste system. But she becomes quiet and reflective.
Kumari enters the kitchen and wordlessly signals for us to leave. Her mop traces half circles, again and again, across the short distance to the washing room. When she gets to her sink, she rinses the mop and ties up the small garbage bag—her garbage bag—that has been accumulating vegetable peels since yesterday morning. We re-enter. My mother goes to Kumari’s sink and makes a few discriminating sniffs in the air.
“You have to understand, they have different standards of hygiene. See here. She clearly has an incontinence problem. We’ll get sick from being stupidly idealistic! Don’t just stand there—smell it!”
But all I can acknowledge is the lingering smell of the trash.
My mother continues her lecture, casually gesturing to sixty percent (according to my History teacher) of the world’s second most populous country as she talks about “their” water, “their” bathing habits, and “their” eating utensils. By the time the country gained independence, “they” actually had a multitude of names: dalits, shudras, untouchables. The most patronizing one of all was coined by Gandhi—harijan, meaning “child of God.” But in our house, none of these names are used. After all, “that” isn’t what we’re talking about.
I was very sick only last week, but exhausted our supply of mugs in pampering my throat. Kumari washed them as she gabbed on about her family and attempted to draw gossip out of my mother about the other building residents. Kumari knows how to slip in a request for an advance or a hint that she will not come in to work the following day. My mother says her sly little monologues have to be heard out, however tedious.
When I was studying world history in sixth grade, my grandmother told me that you could always tell the difference between a Brahmin and a non-Brahmin.
“We have a certain neat look,” she said in her usual cluelessly vain way, to which my mother always rolls her eyes.
“You mean, we dress rich and they don’t, right?” I asked.
“No, no. Even without finery, you can just tell. It’s perhaps in the face—certain features. You can tell if you have been in India for a long time. You are young, so you don’t understand right now. But when you grow up, you’ll see that there is a difference.”
Indeed, there is.
I set down the small clay tea cup I was fingering and for a moment brood the loss of such a fine little thing. Though inexpensive, I find its earthiness charming. I am disappointed I would have to put off my next use to some indefinite time in the future. Or, depending on how severely my mother thinks Kumari is tainted, I may never drink from its delicately shaped rim ever again. But then I am smarted by shame.
“Mom, that’s ridiculous. Should I be avoiding her shadow, then?”
“It’s not like that!” Her sudden response suggests that she did not intend to sound like a stuck-up Brahmin who unrelentingly follows the groupthink of the caste system. But she becomes quiet and reflective.
Kumari enters the kitchen and wordlessly signals for us to leave. Her mop traces half circles, again and again, across the short distance to the washing room. When she gets to her sink, she rinses the mop and ties up the small garbage bag—her garbage bag—that has been accumulating vegetable peels since yesterday morning. We re-enter. My mother goes to Kumari’s sink and makes a few discriminating sniffs in the air.
“You have to understand, they have different standards of hygiene. See here. She clearly has an incontinence problem. We’ll get sick from being stupidly idealistic! Don’t just stand there—smell it!”
But all I can acknowledge is the lingering smell of the trash.
My mother continues her lecture, casually gesturing to sixty percent (according to my History teacher) of the world’s second most populous country as she talks about “their” water, “their” bathing habits, and “their” eating utensils. By the time the country gained independence, “they” actually had a multitude of names: dalits, shudras, untouchables. The most patronizing one of all was coined by Gandhi—harijan, meaning “child of God.” But in our house, none of these names are used. After all, “that” isn’t what we’re talking about.
I was very sick only last week, but exhausted our supply of mugs in pampering my throat. Kumari washed them as she gabbed on about her family and attempted to draw gossip out of my mother about the other building residents. Kumari knows how to slip in a request for an advance or a hint that she will not come in to work the following day. My mother says her sly little monologues have to be heard out, however tedious.
When I was studying world history in sixth grade, my grandmother told me that you could always tell the difference between a Brahmin and a non-Brahmin.
“We have a certain neat look,” she said in her usual cluelessly vain way, to which my mother always rolls her eyes.
“You mean, we dress rich and they don’t, right?” I asked.
“No, no. Even without finery, you can just tell. It’s perhaps in the face—certain features. You can tell if you have been in India for a long time. You are young, so you don’t understand right now. But when you grow up, you’ll see that there is a difference.”
Indeed, there is.
Friday, April 24, 2009
4/24/09 Kare 11 6:00pm Newscast
The Kare 11 newsbroadcast this evening reminded me why I usually don't watch local news; coverage of the majority of the stories is shallow enough for me to lose interest or completely miss significant points of information. I understand that local news doesn't typically give in-depth coverage of things. . . but I can still feel frustrated for missing important information, right?
A woman was raped in her garage and police cautioned city residents to be "on alert" but information about the suspect's looks or his whereabouts is missing. That the victim couldn't catch any significant descriptors about her attacker sounds horrible. The story was so fast, I initially missed which neighborhood this even happened in.
Other frustratingly fleeting stories included the bomb threat from a middle-aged woman (though it was mentioned, I totally missed the how and where. Completely missing is the why) and the swine flu strain this year which claimed 60 deaths in Mexico. This story is turning out to be a big deal--even the University of Minnesota issued an email this morning about this, but according the written story, the U.S. health officials are saying the disease isn't cause for alarm in the U.S. yet. Some more coverage about the nature of the disease would be great, but I don't blame Kare for this. The website includes a statement from some guy saying that health officials could have responded sooner to the outbreak. Clearly, not all the information had trickled out in time for the 6 pm newscast.
The closing segment, "Grow with Kare," went more like an infomercial than an a legitimate news story. They featured a short, white-bearded grubby-looking guy raving with enthusiasm about a corn gluten-based weed preventer. The stuff doesn't allow seeds to germinate. It works by stopping new growth by 40% the first year it's applied, 70% by the next year it's applied, and 100% in the following years. Of course, there was heavy encouragement to check out the product on Kare's website. I'm not sure if all "Grow with Kare" segments are like this, but this was so partial, I wonder why it's part of a newscast. This product sounds too good to be true. According to the website, the product was originally patented in 1991 but is most widely available this year. Why wasn't it made widely available until now? They could have done a really interesting piece if they asked scientists and horticulture specialists what the environmental effect could be. Perhaps I'm just not understanding the point of local news.
A woman was raped in her garage and police cautioned city residents to be "on alert" but information about the suspect's looks or his whereabouts is missing. That the victim couldn't catch any significant descriptors about her attacker sounds horrible. The story was so fast, I initially missed which neighborhood this even happened in.
Other frustratingly fleeting stories included the bomb threat from a middle-aged woman (though it was mentioned, I totally missed the how and where. Completely missing is the why) and the swine flu strain this year which claimed 60 deaths in Mexico. This story is turning out to be a big deal--even the University of Minnesota issued an email this morning about this, but according the written story, the U.S. health officials are saying the disease isn't cause for alarm in the U.S. yet. Some more coverage about the nature of the disease would be great, but I don't blame Kare for this. The website includes a statement from some guy saying that health officials could have responded sooner to the outbreak. Clearly, not all the information had trickled out in time for the 6 pm newscast.
The closing segment, "Grow with Kare," went more like an infomercial than an a legitimate news story. They featured a short, white-bearded grubby-looking guy raving with enthusiasm about a corn gluten-based weed preventer. The stuff doesn't allow seeds to germinate. It works by stopping new growth by 40% the first year it's applied, 70% by the next year it's applied, and 100% in the following years. Of course, there was heavy encouragement to check out the product on Kare's website. I'm not sure if all "Grow with Kare" segments are like this, but this was so partial, I wonder why it's part of a newscast. This product sounds too good to be true. According to the website, the product was originally patented in 1991 but is most widely available this year. Why wasn't it made widely available until now? They could have done a really interesting piece if they asked scientists and horticulture specialists what the environmental effect could be. Perhaps I'm just not understanding the point of local news.
The Startribune featured a story from the AP about new documents that illuminate who gave the okay for a case of waterboarding in 2002. In the story, former Bush administrators give differing accounts of how they were briefed on interrogation methods; some say they were warned that the waterboarding was extreme and others say they were told it was safe. The story mentions Obama's stance on the issue--that the CIA will not torture--as well as the fact that he won't press for charges on CIA officials or put them through special investigation. That last bit is the most important. What good is declaring that the state won't use torture as an interrogation method if it won't hold itself accountable for it? I don't believe transparency on this issue has improved much, if at all.
The Washington Post picked up a story from the Detroit News about a girl in Canton, MI (my hometown) who got perfect scores on the ACT, SAT and PSAT. Instead of turning it into an insightful story on college admissions tests or how different school districts prepare kids for college or any sort of story at all, it turns out to just be a little bulletin so this girl can get bragging rights. I was expecting an actual story! I suppose it's still a pretty awesome feat that deserves national recognition, but it would be nice to at least see a fuller profile on the kid. Maybe I should blame Detroit News instead of the Washington Post.
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