#22

Today I got my first guide to alumni events from Fordham. They make being an alumnus sound so glamorous. They do alumni bar nights, alumni GO trips, alumni excursions to places like Ireland, China, and French Polynesia.

Boy I hope they still have French Polynesia on the list 20 years from now—since it'll take 11 years to pay my student loans and 9 more to save up for French Polynesia…

I got caught up watching C-Span earlier this afternoon. I'll have to elaborate on that when the train's not swinging back and forth so violently.

Later…

So anyway, I was watching C-Span today and they were discussing a bill that had to do w/ funding and support for Native American housing which I thought brilliant at first. It was drawn up by, I think, 2 republicans and 3 democrats, and helmed by a Republican representative from New Mexico, which is fantastic because it was drawn up by a state that actually has dealings w/ Native American tribes.

But then a problem was brought up – the fact that the Cherokee people do not see former slaves (now free-men) of their tribe as Cherokees and if funding went through, it would not assist THOSE people. Now, this is an interesting situation. Because it calls into question where we draw the line when it comes to Native American tribes, as independent nations within the US.

Morally, and according to American history, it would only be right that the Cherokees accept black freemen as their brothers. That's one argument. But at the same time, it seems to bear a similar ring as a certain college applications controversy. Where do you draw the line? Do we, as a nation, recognize tribes as independent nations with their own by-laws…why are we spending money to help "Native American Reservations" instead of "new Mexico" or "South Dakota" and "Montana."

It's because we, as a nation, are afraid. I completely respect sovereign Native American nations as such and am eternally heart broken about what this country did to them and their land. But why is our country willing to take these steps and not others? Fear.

For instance, the bill presented includes assistance for Native Hawaiians. Well, in Hawaii, there's a government-funded program through Kulaiwi schools to protect and maintain the use of the Hawaiian language. Why is there no such gov't-funded program fro the Sioux or the Cherokee or the Seminole? Is it because Hawaiian is more novelized? Is it because of fear of more "foreign" languages in the continental US? Why do US schools offer courses in German, French, Spanish, Italian, and Japanese and, only in some places, Chinese? Why do we not encourage Swahili, Arabic, Twi, Hawaiian, Cherokee, Hebrew, Portuguese, Russian, Slavic languages….

Why do our "classics" involve Greek and Latin but not ancient Egyptian?

It's not as if we couldn't find people to teach these classes. We're letting enough French and Spanish persons emigrate, why would letting in more Israeli, Iraqi, Kenyan, Polish and Ugandan be such a problem?

Since when is the American dream only for those who speak "cleaner" languages?

That was a long and, I think, non-sensical rant.

But I'm stuck on the train in Brooklyn right now and can do nothing but write.

Sometimes…much of the time… I wonder if I'm the only person thinking about these things. Does anyone else watch C-Span? Has anyone but me, in the past two years, accessed the Kulaiwi site and taken online lessons in a language I have no rational relation to? Does anyone else realize how loud Barney Frank is…or know WHO he is? Does anyone else find that they're torn constantly between what they love to do, and what they WOULD love to BE doING?

I went to a random baseball game today. Phil had tickets to the Cyclones/Spinners game out at Keyspan Park at Coney Island. I'd never been. I figured I'd have a good time w/ Phil and get to see a landmark before it goes. And, of course, I brought my camera.

I said, to Phil, if there were one thing I could enhance photography with, it would me scent…smell. For instance, when he and I finally walked down to the boardwalk and the pier, it was dark. The waves were lapping in, there were people still fishing at 9:30pm, there was a man who rode by us on his bike, topless, who proceeded to park his bike on the boardwalk, strip his pants and underwear off on the sand, and go swimming naked in the ocean. But at the same time, you could smell the salt water, you could smell the heat in the sand leftover from day, you could smell the fish being caught down the pier, and you could smell the caramel corn that'd been spilled on the playground yards away, hours ago. That's what I wanted in my pictures THAT smell. Of all of it.

I'll have a lot to type out tomorrow. It's a long ride home from Coney Island. And I'm starting to come down from my pixie stick high.

"It's a long way down
It's a long way down
It's a long way down
To the place where
We started from…"

Suddenly Sarah McLachlan came to me. Random. I remember, freshman, sophomore, and junior years of college…I don't remember doing this senior year…I would go to the piano practice rooms after rehearsal and play multiple riffs and renditions of Sarah McLachlan's "Last Dance." It calmed me made me want to get through the next day. Makes me wish I had a real piano to go home to and not the face one-handed keyboard on my Mac.

It's 11pm now. I got on this train 45 minutes ago. I think. I've gotten on trains far later than this, but never felt this tired. At least I'll probably sleep well tonight. Maybe. Last night I didn't. I had a strange dream about sneaking into a child-labor factory and pretending to have an accent…it was part-Valjean, part-Indiana Jones, and part-Law & Order. Good times.

We're crossing a bridge. I THINK that means we're almost to Manhattan. My New York geography blows but I can see the Empire State building so I know I must be right. I discovered this morning that, I THINK you could see the Chrysler building from my corner. When I went down to the bodega this morning, through the haze, I think I saw it. I'll have to investigate. This train keeps starting and stopping and it hurts my ass.

I don't ACTUALLY know whether or not I'm IN Manhattan yet…I hate the D. I have no idea where it comes from, only where it goes. Which is the complete opposite of our lives. We always know where we came from, but we're not sure where we're going.

Oh, we ARE in Manhattan. Bway/Lafayette Station. Actual people. People who smell like city and Chinese food while I smell like garnier and ocean, and perhaps a whiff of Russian vodka—that I didn't actually drink, but there were enough Russians on the pier…

This…today's entry is already 17 pages long. Wonderful. This train just got SO loud at West 4.

11:11 make a wish. Mine never come true, but I still wish. Another example and proof of my being a romantic.

My hair seriously smells like Garnier and salt water.

34th Street Station is really dim. It hurts my eyes. It's amazing how my intellectual moments are over now because the post-theatre crowd and post-theatre noise have entered my brain.

I wish this train would just skip the next 2 stations. I'd like to make my transfer faster. But things never work out precisely the way you want. And these seats hurt my ass. Boo.

This guy across from me is using his friends as a sounding board for his relationship issues…

I was right. Once again. The wishing didn't work. But it was worth a shot, right? Sure. I'll just keep telling myself that.

Home stretch now. 11 more stops, 4 flights of stairs, 200 yards, and an elevator ride. I'm glad I brought this book and not Dumas. I might have fallen asleep to Dumas but this will keep my brain active.

I should go to the museum again soon. It's been a few weeks. Maybe next week instead of all-day TNT and cleaning I'll walk to the museum.

I'll say one more thing for now about missing school—I miss having someone/thing to go home to. Like, now, I have roommates that I don't really know and my computer, and my bed. At school I had Ali to go home to. I had papers to write, paperwork to do…but then I was also not as social. I mean, I went to 2 ballgames in the past 4 years. One was today, and one was in April. Why did I not go to more? Why have I never been to Coney Island before today? Am I really that jaded w/ life? Dear god, I hope not.

Heh, god. That's a fun topic. Phil and I were talking about Communion bread today and I explained how the girl in Jersey not being allowed to make communion because she was allergic to wheat was a factor in my giving up on religion. If there's a god out there, he doesn't need man and HIS church corrupting the purity of his mercy and understanding. Man just fucks things up. This is generally well-known.

3 more stops… the trinity.