Asperatus

I interpreted my horoscope as meaning that seemingly rough times are only a means to my landing on me feet; like growing pains. If you're friends with me on Facebook, you might have noticed something of a status update rant from me today:

I believe that this is the first actual complaint I've posted on Facebook since I've moved. Previous to this, I may have made some observations about New England (ie "it's hot", "it's humid" etc), but I've been very careful not to complain. This was move was after all, MY choice and I've been trying to just live through the "firsts" as a Californian on the East Coast. Besides my pride, I'm not sure why I've been so tight lipped about any negative experiences. Is it the quarter century's worth of Vitamin D and C that has motivated this openness and enthusiasm for change? Maybe it's just a sense a humility, and referring to my previous post, just having the instinct to know that the new kid can't/ shouldn't be making any demands. Regardless of the precise pathology, my Facebook update came 36 hours after sitting on the thought, several drafts later, and finally reaching a point of having to share. 

Now that I've been out here for over 3 months, I've gotten used to as much as I can: getting on and off the T (train), humidity, using the buses, the cobblestone streets while wearing heels, driving aggressively (but safely), impending inclement weather, impatience for small talk etc... Speaking of small talk, if you were to ask my boyfriend (who I moved here with) about my first social experiences with Bostonians, he will gladly tell you about my interactions with the local movers, RMV (in CA we call it DMV), city officials, etc. These people were NOT about to have any small talk with me. And by small talk, I'm talking tiny like "hi, how are you?" or if I was ever to ask for additional information etc. There were no smiles, no gracious efforts to assist, no interest to be more helpful. BAD CUSTOMER SERVICE. But I'm over that. I get it. I'm not supposed to go out of my way for them, because that's not what they want, nor would they go out of their way for me. And I'm not supposed to take it personally-- it's "cultural." 

When I was making my way across the country by car, there were consistent remarks/advice about my move to Boston from Cali: from developing a thick skin to the awful weather to just being aware of the off-putting nature of Mass-holes, I was warned to watch myself. I got the feeling that as a Californian, I'd be a target, which I prepared myself for. And up until now, I think I've been doing really well. As many other displaced Californians have also testified to, I'm consistently told that I went the wrong way: it's supposed to be East to West, not the other way around. As the gracious Californian that I am, I joke about my backwards move, I do the whole "yes, I miss the sunshine" or "oh gosh it was so humid when I first got here" and "yea, I know, what will I do this winter? Multi-vitamins and tanning beds! Har har!" Up until now, I just saw this as small talk, but I obviously and very obliviously, I forgot about the #1 rule of small talk in the North East: get that shit out of here.

For the first time, the question of my origin wasn't just small talk: it was a deciding factor in the decision to hire me (or not). This position was pretty amazing. It really could've changed my life and created some cray cray opportunities that I hadn't imagined before and I was a shoo-in. My professional experience, references, and personality had landed me in the finalists' pool consisting of me and only one other. I dressed the part, wrote thank you notes, prepped and prepped... But you guessed it, I was the runner up. My recruiter informed me that the company decided to go with the person who was based out of the area. As soon as he told me that I didn't get it, I knew that it was because my home state is beautiful. Too beautiful. Sooo beautiful and perfect that there is no way I would stay out here in awful New England long enough pay off the investment they'd make in me. In each of the 4 interviews I had with them, the issue of me moving back to California came up. It was a concern from the start, but I had underestimated that California would outweigh my qualifications/ potential. 

So here I am, 36 hours after I got the news and I'm bummed. Specifically, I'm bummed because there isn't much I can do to prove that I won't move back at the first sign of snow, especially to native New Englanders. I mean, I totally get it: the prospective employers were afraid and were looking out for themselves. I get it.  And again, these people aren't happy California cows, they are New Englanders.

Willem Lange, a pretty well-known New Englander (who doesn't even have a Wikipedia page), famously wrote:

“What New England is, is a state of mind, a place where dry humor and perpetual disappointment blend to produce an ironic pessimism that folks from away find most perplexing”

Thanks, Willem. Thanks. I don't know what's more perplexing: my perception of New England, or New England's perception of me. 

If you're friends with me on Facebook, you'll know that I have other very promising prospects for employment. And if you're friends with me off of Facebook, you'll also know that I've got other plans in place for my time here. But if you're neither, just know that I'm fine. I'm just at this point now that the undulatus asperatus that I see when I look up at the cloud formations above me have yet to be understood. If the asperatus cloud rarely ever brings a storm, I should see it as a good thing right? But at what cost should a storm be avoided? Am I supposed to be ashamed my California roots? Does my initiation to New England have to include perpetual disappointment leading to the development of genuine ironic pessimism? 

A previous horoscope has given me hope that I will be able to look back at these experiences with a comforting sense of meaning, like it all had to be done to get to December:

Here's the horoscope I would like to be able to write for you by the first week of December: "Congratulations, Aquarius! Your quest for freedom has begun to bear tangible results. You have escaped a habit that had subtly undermined you for a long time. You are less enslaved to the limiting expectations that people push on you. Even your monkey mind has eased up on its chatter and your inner critic has at least partially stopped berating you. And the result of all this good work? You are as close as you have ever come to living your own life -- as opposed to the life that other people think you should live."

In conclusion, I know that I'm different and different often means scary. So I'm scary. I get that I'm not from here and therefore cannot be as easily read or trusted by natives to this area. BUT unlike the New England rule about small talk, my #1 rule is to never cock-block youself. I realize now that my motivation to never complain about how different/ scary it is out here is because I refuse to be scared out of having an experience. I will persevere, and most importantly, small talk or not, will never cock block myself. 

Now, I'm going to put on my Tupac shirt, California sweat pants, put on some West Coast rap, and make myself a carne asada burrito with french fries in it. 

SHE gets it done

My boyfriend and I were driving through the Longwood area in Boston today during the morning rush hour. The street was bustling with activity: suicidal bikers, impatient drivers, power-walking pedestrians, and school-kids being yanked by a parent. The crosswalk guard blew her whistle and we stopped to let a woman and two children cross the street. The little girl was probably around 8, and the little boy looked 5 or 6 but he was in a stroller (and he was screaming his head off). I noticed them immediately because I identified with boy's emotion-- I didn't want to be up or stuck in traffic with all these fools, but my boyfriend felt otherwise: "He's too old to be in a stroller! I would just make him walk." Dang. Logically, I had to disagree with him. My reasoning this time? If I had to take a kid out of the house, like really HAD TO, and he was screaming like that (assuming that it started at the house, assuming they were coming from home), I would stick him in a stroller too! I'd rather push a screaming kid on wheels than drag him-- a body doesn't glide well on sidewalk (and then there'd be added cleanup). I don't think my boyfriend looked at it that way. 

Disagreeing on how we would handle any given situation is pretty typical for us, but I think it stems from our differing perspectives: My perspective is motivated by pragmatism, experience, and prioritizing. As a woman, these skills are required. For example, when I go to the grocery store nowadays, I have to figure out how much weight I can physically carry over the distance of a mile, to get the food back to my apartment in tact. Since I've moved, I no longer get the luxury of parking, so I have to be all old school and walk. Walking is a huge commitment. I can't just load up my cart with snacks and gallons of Snapple. Luckily though, Nilla Wafers/ Tate's Cookies are pretty light. And powdered tea is too. Oh the days where I only had to walk from the parking lot to my apartment.... So this multistep process involves finding a recipe or two, then making a specific list and cross checking it to what I already have on my shelf, and then estimating what I am capable of hauling home-- and on top of that, making sure I'm not breaking the bank. Exhausting. Being thoughtful is exhausting. BUT it's something I picked up, and I attribute that to my gender. 

From what I've seen, heard, and experienced myself, girls aren't raised to think they're invincible, aggressive, and powerful. Rather, we're raised to think we are precious, polite, and patient. I won't get into how fucked up all that is, but instead let's think on how that and other traditions of raising girls has created some (unintentional) gifts. I grew up knowing that I had to make up for my physical strength using strategy. I learned how to use my sensitivity and intuition to read situations and make decisions accordingly. I have just enough confidence to know to be cautious (I walk the streets of Boston w/ purpose-- I know it's better to look like I know where I'm going). I'm paranoid enough to parking signs four times (I'm not the one who got my car towed- AHEM). Survival skills, right? 

So all this has me thinking about the differences between men and women, and even moreso, what is women's competitive edge? I think our competitive edge comes from the life we've been forced to lead; the fact that we are not typically aggressors but instead the evaluators, the planners. Maybe it's just me, but I've been noticing this characteristic in women being celebrated, and at the very least, discussed (finally). 

Earlier this year HBO released a documentary called _Manhunt: The Search for Bin Laden_. It featured several female analysts who were integral in piecing together the puzzle of Bin Laden's whereabouts. What they mentioned throughout the piece was a) the women's natural talent for stringing seemingly unrelated pieces of intel together to create a narrative; b) how no one listened to them once they figured things out; and c) how little credit they received for the work they did/do. Check out the trailer here:

Manhunt: Trailer

Another film that directly addresses what I'll call today's "woman problem" is _Miss Representation_. It really helped me think through situations like Miley Cyrus sitting naked on a giant wrecking ball. My favorite line from this film is "we are a nation of teenage boys." I'd add, "we are a nation of corporations run by filthy rich teenage boys that vote." Think about it. Sex sells... but what kind of sex, who's watching, and who's buying?

This is all coming to a head for me because of something a lot more stimulating than Miley Cyrus's gyrations: politics; and for the the cherry on top: women in politics. As of today, the government shutdown has been shutdown itself after just over 2 weeks. With the debt ceiling deadline being tomorrow, it was critical that Congress get their shit together and come to some kind of agreement that would keep our nation going at good financial standing. Many, including the NY Times, are attributing this sudden moment of progress to female members of congress. 

One headline from the HuffPost on this subject is titled, "Leadership From the Foot of the Table":

One reason is that most women say they come to office in order to effect policy change, unlike many men, who are motivated by their own sense of personal leadership.

Rarely having had the advantage of command and control that comes from the head of the table, women have learned lessons from the foot: how to bring people together to think outside the box (which includes failing then adapting), and how to build mutual respect and trust.

Women in Congress have done this by co-sponsoring bills, particularly those that affect women and children, and regularly meeting for dinners to deepen their relationships.

On Monday, NY Times published "Senate Women Lead Effort to Find Accord" which was about Republican Senators Susan Collins, Kelly Ayotte, and Lisa Murkowski:

Together the three women started a bipartisan group whose negotiating framework formed the centerpiece of a tentative Senate deal nearing completion Monday to reopen the federal government and avert a disastrous default.

Did you see the keyword in that excerpt? BIPARTISAN. Unlike the rest of their party, these Republican women have chosen to do the jobs they were elected to do: keep the country running regardless of party schemes; "politics be damned" as Sen. Murkowski said.

Why are these women willing to betray their party for the greater good? What makes them willing to sacrifice another term/ their popularity to do what's right? Do they know the plight of the federal workers being furloughed? I think that being at the "foot of the table" offers a unique perspective that usually involves creativity, pragmatism, and the ability to prioritize what's necessary to achieve desired results. I retract my earlier statement about it being a "gift"-- gifts are given consciously and we have been gifted/given nothing: we TOOK this from the circumstances we are allowed to exist in.

In the end, let's just say that I can put together a couple of bomb-dinners with 3 good totes and 1 trip to the store. 

Hello, from 3 hours earlier than 2 months ago!!

It's been so long that I feel like I need to reintroduce myself. Things had chaaaanged up in here. I'm no longer writing from the perfect weather of sunny Southern California-- I've been transplanted to the heart of New England, The Hub, The Cradle of Liberty-- Boston, Mass. It's kind of appropriate dontcha think? I mean, my interest in American culture (and where it goes wrong) has lead me back to (well, one of the) beginning(s). 

Prior to arriving in this city, I knew of 1 other person living here currently. Luckily, she's a gem (and a fellow so-cal Filipina), but other than that ZERO. That's 1 out of 7,601,061(one- seven million six thousand one sixty firsth, if you wanted to say that fraction out loud). I've been here for just over 2 months now, and have learned a lot in my isolation. You ready? Here goes:

Filipinos are so far underrepresented in the Cradle of Liberty. There is one Filipino store, that isn't in the immediate Boston-Metro area. No Filipino restaurants. Other than my long lost college friend, I have not run into any other Filipinos. I must have really taken So-Cal for granted in this respect because I miss it. I've probably cooked 10 cans of corned beef and spam, and am waiting for the fall and winter seasons to start cooking more Filipino comfort foods. The smell of sinigang, nilaga, adobo, etc will be a nice change from that moldy musk in the hallways. (wink)

Isolation has made me appreciate my own heritage but also made me realize how precious it is in this predominantly white city. (Debatably) luckily for me, I live in Allston, an area that is rich in ethnic restaurants, and people of color, which (you guessed it) isn't a favorable place to be, and is loaded with college kids. A 20 minute train ride east, the faces change and while I blend in fine as a model minority who could be "half-white" anyway, I am very aware that this a different predominantly white crowd that's unlike Santa Barbara. 

Speaking of Santa Barbara, Jezebel posted an article about a yoga studio in the American Riviera: 

And while I wasn't surprised, just as I wasn't at the George Zimmerman not-guilty verdict, I was not about to just move on with my day. After finding this article, I checked out the studio's Facebook page to find the original advertisement for this "Ghetto Fabulous" yoga class.

And when you click on "Need some ideas," what you'll get is a Wiki-how-to on being "Ghetto Fabulous." Dang. 

When the Jezebel article came out, there were only 30 comments on the yoga studio's Facebook page under the above ad and I was the only sharer of the post. Today, 24-hours later, there are 168 comments and 16 shares. #backlash

Funny enough, before the backlash and 2 days after the ad for the "Ghetto Fabulous" event, this was posted by the studio and is also receiving some attention:

Dang. Real winners eh? I decided to Yelp about it, and today there are 3 more 1-star reviews on their page. I'm glad others are trying to spread the word.

I have had the conversation with some people that pop culture is a non-subject, but I disagree. Why? Because of the above at the very least. It's annoying, yes, but the implications of how these issues are a mirror of where people are, especially white people, is very important. Like Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines," these incidents aren't blatant; these incidents aren't clearly fucked up (but oh they are). But also like "Blurred Lines," they aren't isolated. America serves up millions of insults and setbacks every day. It's so easy to write off pop culture, but why not challenge it head on? 

I am a student of the humanities. I study human behaviors and patterns. Popular culture is exactly that: popular human culture. Right now, it's heavy on cultural appropriation, a false sense of racial and sexual confidence, and colorBLINDness (like, y'all must be straight-blind if you can't tell y'all are messing up). 

Pop culture is a window into the real world that we all need to get to. The worlds of "Chiraqs" and Trayvon Martin murders and rape and destruction and violence. If it's a window, I will draw up the blinds and let that ugly light shine through. 

So this is me reintroducing myself in a timezone that's three hours ahead of where I've always been and where I was 2 months ago, in a humid, unreliable climate. I'm still trying to keep the well clean, one blog post at a time. 

People are stupid, so now what?

It's time we stop categorizing "stupid" in groups. By now, it's unnecessary to say that those who are right wingers, tank top rockin' bros,  hipsters, etc are a stupid type of person. We should just accept the fact that everyone, yes, everyone is stupid. There are of course different levels of crazy and awareness of one's own stupidity, but at the end of the day, we all are. I'm not immune either-- I write this blog, right? 

Contrary to what you may be thinking that I'm thinking, being stupid isn't a completely bad thing. It's natural. We all do it. I think what it comes down to is intent and circumstance. Are you just ignorant, or are you trying to be an ass? Are you ignorant because your don't try to learn? Are you trying to be an ass to get attention? There are degrees of stupid, but everyone does it. 

I was inspired to write this because my significant other was telling me about (aka talkin' shit) a  person that belonged to a group similar to one I opened this entry with. I was actually quite hung over and after his rant, all I could muster to say was, "everyone is stupid so I'm not surprised". He laughed and agreed, but neither of us can remember what exactly we talked about that morning. They say that truly funny things are never remembered because your brain is too busy... well, laughing to retain it. Without this key piece of information, I was stuck with an unfinished blog entry. People are stupid. It's annoying and frustrating. Ok, so now what? 

I recently read Do Nothing by Damian Mark Smyth. The point of the book was to fight the feeling of forcing a result. It was a quick read from the Kindle Lender's Library and I had no TV at the time. Anyways, I put that method into use for this blog entry, and in return I was rewarded with this:

This Time Magazine cover with accompanying article that cites Time was sent to me as a screenshot via email from a family member. I read the article without knowing much about Filipino politics. All I saw was that Time says it's stupid. What I do know is that they're a democratic country with a poverty and violence problem. From what I've heard, Filipinos like to elect celebrities. From what I know, Filipinos are loyal, especially to family and dynasties. From what I've seen on TV, Specifically on HBO's documentary series Vice, the Philippines loves their guns. Especially during election season. It's election season and this Time cover is about Nancy Binay, candidate for the senate, whose father is current Vice President Jejomar Binay and whose mother is former mayor of Makati City, Elenita Binay.. When asked about her credentials and experience, Ms. Binay apparently cited 20 years of "on the job training" due to her exposure to her parents' political careers as their personal assistant, and as deputy campaign manager of the UNA (United National Alliance). 

Long-story-short: remember how I said that Filipinos love their celebrities and dynasties? Well, a celebrity, among others, openly criticized Ms. Binay for her lack of experience. Ms. Binay responded by saying that she had no real intent on running but she had to step into the role when the original UNA candidate dropped out. Despite her disinterest in holding office and lack of public service, she was a popular candidate and yet, "72 percent of Filipino voters [were] 'mystified' by the process through which the vice-president's daughter, a total unknown, got into the candidates' list and why she is rating so highly in polls". The poll also cited "glamour" and "dad's money" as possible explanations to her popularity (Survey: Many voters still don't understand how Nancy Binay became a candidate).

So let's come full circle here. After only reading the initial article that was sent to me, which was accompanied by this Time Magazine cover, I sought out the actual Time article. The cover is pretty bold-- how can Time really back this up? There are plenty other stupid government systems out there, ours included (US Congress tried to repeal "Obamacare" for the 37th time today). After a couple Google searches, I asked the sender to link me to the article. No link was provided but I was told that he "googled Time magazine" and found it. Soon after, I saw that another family member who this article was also sent to, had already posted the screenshot to Facebook. Taking a shot in the dark I commented on the photo:

I did. I checked Time Magazine Asia edition, and came up with nothing. All Time Magazine covers have a millennial on the cover, cos apparently at everyone's surprise, they're almost all grown up. After searching for the Time article and news director and coming up empty, I again "did nothing" to take a break. To take my mind of things, I attended a talk on race and colorblindness by Dr. Felice Blake, associate professor at UCSB. It was very enlightening and motivating. More about that talk later....

I got home last night to try one more time. This time though, I looked for the source and bingo: So What's News dotcom. They had doctored the cover, which explains how ratty it is, to create "satire". Ugh, people and their satire. SMFH. They're a Wordpress site that "is a satirical & fictional news website" whose aim is "to inject humor into everyday news to provide respite to readers who have grown weary with mainstream news organization’s partisan, biased and depressing way of presenting the news" (So What's News? "About"). Stuuuuupiiiid. I started reading the comments for the entry w/ Time, and despite my difficulties w/ reading Tagalog, it seemed that people really thought Time printed that article and cover. Some said that Time was being harsh, some said Time was being fair. Later, there were a few comments left by "anonymous" who said that the cover is fake and explained that So What's News is a satirical site, but the conversation kept going about politics, what's fair, etc...

I emailed the information I had learned to the family member who had originally sent me the article and also to the one who posted it on Facebook. I also had to comment on the photo again for anyone else who was "watching":

So I'm going through all this with the idea of "stupid" in the back of my mind because this story, the website, people involved, all of it-- is so stupid. Like, why would they post a story like that? Why are Filipinos so "die hard" (as they would say) about status and family names and stuff? Why'd my family send me this article on how stupid our countrymen are? Me included: how stupid was I stupid for looking into something so stupid! Filipinos as a whole?... I won't say stupid cos that's mean, but they're interesting. The country, their politics and priorities. How quickly they are ready to admit how stupid they are. What does it mean? Where does it come from? 

Really though, I wasn't surprised. Filipinos, politicians, bros, old people, young people, white people-- People and what they do, what they say are just stupid. Naturally. People are just people. Knowing that really does calm me in a way. No need to wonder why anymore-- it's just who we are: we're all just stupid human.

I'm going to work on following Filipino politics now. I think all their... humanity comes from their very... interesting history. More on this topic as well as Dr. Blake's talk in a future entry. Stay tuned.

Pray for Rain

"We have a moral responsibility to the most innocent victims of climate change: the poorest citizens of the world and those yet to be born" - Dr. Steven Chu

On May 2, I was able to attend a talk by Dr. Steven Chu, Chinese-American Nobel laureate in physics, and the 12th US Secretary of Energy under the Obama administration. It's been a while since I've attended a talk, but after a really good one, I feel so invigorated and kick myself in the ass for not going to more (especially free ones like this). This one was no exception.

One of the questions Dr. Chu got was on how scientists can be better advocates of policy related to their work. Dr. Chu's reply was to stay "steady at the helm". You've got to stick to your guns, explain your position, explain, explain, and explain again (without taking attacks too personally), and continue your quest for the truth. You put your work out there and hope that it will make the impact that it could-- or should. You stand by your work, and get the voices of the voters behind you. Ultimately, policy comes down to voter pressure so you gotta make 'em understand the facts so they can make the change happen.

Steady at the helm is a universal message, with science as a great example. The same goes for arguments on post-racism, reverse-racism, post-women's rights, the list goes on and on. There are always going to be those who say that facts and realities don't exist, but we have to outnumber and "outnoise" them.

The same day that Dr. Chu came to campus was the same day the Camarillo Spings fire started. As of now (5 days later) it is 80% contained and has gone through about 28,000 acres. Dayum. That's a lot of burned stuff, dontcha think? That may be a lot but it's still not enough to have a real solution based discussion on climate change. I've lived in SoCal all of my life and fire season used to start in the fall-- now it's starting in May? 

Friends (well, Facebook ones at least) were posting pictures of the smoke they could see from home/ work/ wherever, with captions describing amazement and  fear. One in particular was captioned "pray for rain". I admit that there are a million interpretations for that caption, but the first one I thought of was "pray for rain [cos I don't know any better than to ask God for help as we are helpless little humans]". I know, I know-- I'm cynical and mean. I go there first most of the time. The only clouds in the sky that day were clouds of smoke. There wasn't going to be any rain. Why pray for rain? Later I figured the caption could've referred to rain in general-- as in we need more rain so that fires like this aren't sparked in the spring. I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and interpret it  as the latter from now on. 

As passionate as I may seem about politics and policy, I'm no expert. And based on this particular Facebook friend's profile page s/he posts 100% foods, activities, cats.... and 0% serious stuff. There is no political or religious information... Likes include Walmart and Stewie from Family Guy. Do you get where I'm going here? Do you see why "pray for rain" made me feel the way I did at the moment? It really seemed like the caption meant the first thing-- only God can save us now.... I know, I need to stop going there.

Either way, the intentions of praying for rain are good. It's not like the caption said "I Love wildfires!" or "burn it all!". But there's a part of me that feels like intentions aren't good enough. We can't just post a picture and hope for an outcome-- we need to make that change happen. There are things we can do to indirectly "make it rain". How about being more supportive of public safety workers? How about pressuring congress to adopt better energy policies? I guess what bothers me the most about the praying comment is how the burden is taken away from you and given to God, when really, like Dr. Chu said, change comes from the people. At the same time, I hate when people turn breaking news into political talking points. Apparently I hate when they bring prayer into it too. 

I don't want the Camarillo Springs fire to just be another SoCal blaze. This fire impacted so many people I know. I grew up with a lot of people in Camarillo, and the ones that stayed are mostly the ones who have families now. And parents just seem to think differently than the childless, but that's another blog topic. Anyways, I want to see these people really think about the fire that could have so easily burned their lives down. I want them to think about why it happens (as complex as that may be), and to do something about it-- even if it only means spreading the word. Don't just leave it up to Congress alone-- they're a mess right now!

And I will continue on. Steady at the helm!

Mother Tongue

Last night before going to bed I was asked about Tagalog noun- adjective order. I'd say it depends. I didn't study Tagalog formally, but I know what sounds right to me. For example: 

Babae = woman ; Maganda = beautiful

Beautiful woman = maganda ng babae OR babaeng maganda 
(they both have the same meaning but the usage depends on the context)

After answering that question and using that example, I couldn't sleep. I laid in bed, eyes closed trying to speak Tagalog to myself in my head. It went something like this:

Hindi ako nagsasalita ng Tagalog ngayon kasi walang sinoman sa buhay ko na marunong mag Tagalog-- ingles o kaunting espanyol lang. Ang aking mga magulang, lola, at mga pelikula nagturo sa akin upang magsalita Tagalog. Hindi ako marunong magbasa o magsulat. Hindi ko alam ng anumang mga bastos na mga salita. Ito ay mahirap na isulat.

I need practice. It actually made my head hurt. Each sentence took for-e-ver to write-- having to sound it out first each time. It made my hurt last night too. I had to force my brain to stop trying so hard. 

My pronunciation is good, and in conversation, I can do well. Luckily Filipinos learn a lot of English, so Tagalog sounds more like Tagalog w/ English words popping up pretty often. Funny thing: I remember trying to practice Tagalog with my parents, but they'd answer me in English. HAH. Of course they'd do that. Like I said in that painfully executed paragraph above, I learned the language from my parents, grandmothers, and Filipino movies. The movies I watched were mostly romantic comedies that I'd borrow from my uncle's Asian foods and supplies market. The plots were always the same: boy meets girl in some unusual circumstance, they are either stuck together or keep running into each other, she resists as he persists, then she sees him without her and falls for him, told with a lot of slapping and yelling. One in particular was called _Maging Sino Ka Man_ (no matter who you are), starring Sharon Cuneta (Filipina megastar). It was kind of Bodyguardesque because I think she played a megastar and had to hide with this rough and tuble dude, played by Robin Padilla. Looking at the movie poster it may have been more of a drama... But don't let the gun fool you, Filipinos love their guns.

Out of all 18 cousins, I was the second to be born in the US. There are 5 that were born Americans after me. I'm sure that they can understand at least some Tagalog, but I never hear them speak it. My sister, who is one of the 5 barely understands it. The older ones don't speak it either, but I'm sure they can and at the very least can easily understand. There's a story about one of the older ones who refused to speak English once he got to America because he was embarrassed of what Tagalog sounds like. He was probably around 10 at the time he immigrated.  

I like to think that I have the best Tagalog skills overall among all my cousins. I really wanted to learn the language when I was younger, probably because of all the time I spent with my maternal grandmother who was MY grandmother and I didn't have to share her with any of my paternal cousins. She lived with us when I was young enough to pick up language really quickly. My other grandmother would take naps and put Tagalog movies on for me (like _Maging Sino Ka Man_). 

Our parents will still speak Tagalog to each other and just as I think I have the best Tagalog, I think my dad speaks the best English. He's a retired sheriff's deputy and started his career with the LAPD. I'm pretty sure that once picks up language pretty quickly when you work with a bunch of LAPD cops. 

So all this was brought on by me thinking about how long its been since I've had anyone to speak Tagalog to. It might be time to find some Tagalog workbooks to keep it alive.. better than trying to actually meet people, eh? LOL....

Just cos I'm here doesn't mean I like it.

Not gonna lie: I'm super tired of experiencing plain old bad taste. I don't know if the people I'm around are too drunk to notice, or if their desire to be drunk/ cool/ seen/ (all of the above) supersedes a desire to be in a pleasant environment. Maybe it also has to do with Santa Barbara being a small town with businesses that close soon after they open. Maybe this is why they close. Maybe not though, cos this is Santa Barbara, and I am one of the few people I know who seem bothered. Keep reading.

There's a new place in the Funk Zone of Santa Barbara that is trying to offer something new, hip, artsy, and just overall funky. My most recent interaction with this place involved their single occupancy bathroom which contains a toilet, a urinal, a sink, and a piano. The bathroom is large enough to put at least two stalls in, but instead, this establishment opted for the piano. There are so many things wrong with putting a piano in a bathroom-- sanitation alone should have been a thought. But what do you get when you put a drunk ass and a piano together? Now, imagine that happening in a bathroom. A bathroom that locks from the inside, which you are waiting to use. A bathroom you are waiting to use, but can't use because someone is "playing" (with) the piano. And what about when one of the two women that was using the bathroom opens the door, but the other woman won't stop playing the piano with drunk concentration? So much drunk concentration in fact that she doesn't see you've walked into the bathroom, and have asked her to please stop playing with the piano so you can piss (yea, that thing you're supposed to do in a bathroom besides playing a piano). Bathroom piano? I vote nay, it's not a good idea. How about try to be cool in another way? Well, they do.

The first time I went there, it was the soft opening (though I didn't really hear of them having a Grand Opening, so IDK what happened with that). The people who attended were a mix of scenesters and Santa Barbarans in their later twenties and on. I've been looking for a cool bar in Santa Barbara where I could feel comfortable, and hoped that this would be the spot, but quickly saw that it was not. In keeping with the exposed brick, concrete floored, industrial look of the bar, were large, acrylic pops of color over screen prints of nameless Native American faces. Canvas after canvas lined the brick walls completing the look of.... real America? Hardcore America? American grit? More like American habit of cultural appropriation. 

It's my instinct to be automatically suspicious of anything Native, ethnic, cultural, etc when it's in a setting of pure decoration. It's hard to explain: it's more of a feeling. In this case, I'm basically at a pricey hipster bar, and this is the shit on the walls. Nothing that explains the faces in the pieces. At the time, the piano in the bathroom didn't even stick out as something "different" because the wall decor was so distracting. Native faces modge podged onto a canvas with magazine prints, stencils, under acrylic paints, like comic book Warhol. Dang.

A few weeks later, I returned to the bar for a birthday celebration, and the artist was in the house. I approached him and amicably started a conversation in hopes of feeling comforted by the creator himself. NGL, I didn't have high hopes. The artist was an older, white man dressed in a bright green, sleeveless pullover cardigan with a screen printed native man wearing a feather headdress on the side. He completed his look with a light colored fedora, maybe it was straw, matching the color of the print on his sweater. He appreciated being identified as the artist behind the canvases, and when I said I wanted to ask him about his "inspiration" for his subject matter, he smiled and was ready to enlighten me. I told him that his choice of using Natives in pop art was "bold" and before I could actually ask a question, he proudly said that he's heard that before. "Why did you do that?" I asked. I couldn't hear much of what he said over the noisiness of the crowd, but I definitely heard him say that he's part Native American and that it all started with his screen printing work in fashion. He had been screen printing Natives on t-shirts for quite some time apparently. Fashion, the trillion dollar industry that has a bad habit of calling patterns "Aztec" and "Navajo", selling tribal jewelry, socks, and underwear at Urban Outfitters.

I reiterated how his subject matter, or at least who he puts on his canvases is quite shocking, and he answered with another nod and smile saying "Yea, I know, I know" like he's some sort of pioneer doing something amazing for humanity. The conversation was going nowhere and seemed to be giving him encouragement, so I politely excused myself. Before I could go, he pointed at two sheets of white paper taped to the wall next to the exit. It was his "About Me" and price list. He's slangin' his art for up to $8,500.00 under titles like "Vivre 805" (pictured above), "144 Cowboys and Abandoned America", and "Chief Wallace" (yes, he native'd himself, and was promoted to chief). 

The image above is his logo... like drippy Wonder Bread. Wonder Bread was white bread, 
right? When I looked at his site, I scrolled through his pieces for sale, and it kinda goes something like: native, native, native, Michael Jackson, native, native, Kobe Bryant, native.... Oh, and then there's the one where he makes himself Chief Wallace. What bothers me the most is how he can stick a Native face on a piece, like it's just a thing.... No names. We know Michael, Kobe, and we know what a Native person looks like so why even acknowledge who they are-- they can be whoever we want them to be. Like magic. They're just there. For decoration.To be superimposed over Louis Vuitton print, cos that's profound. Fortune behind the unfortunate? Not too different from Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens rocking bindis at Coachella and the MTV awards cos it's sexxxy. Forget any cultural or religious "symbology"-- rock it out in the name of art, fashion, and self expression. That's hawt.

Judge for yourself: You can check out all this stuff online at walliceisart[dot]com -- I'm obvi not gonna link you, but that's where all of it is at. .

So I'm sure I'll be at that bar again because that's where my friends are, and they're there because one of them in particular really wants people to be there (cos he works there). I don't like being there, and I am not impressed by their service, food, drinks, or atmosphere. I try to have a good time, and don't like having conversations about the place at the place. That's just awkward. Their Yelp score has thatm at 4.5/5, with 6 reviews. I am not one of the reviewers (yet). I'm disappointed that we go there, and pay. Considering the experiences I've had there, I always walk in feeling uncomfortable and ready for something to offend me. The only comfort I do feel is my discomfort, if that makes sense. And when things to do awry, I'm right there to say "yup, I told you so". So far though, those moments have only happened to me, and like I said earlier, no one else really seems to care. I've been accused of "feeling too much" and "not letting things go". Maybe that's true, but that's why I have this blog. :)