Reflections on Thanksgivings Past

So yesterday was my first Thanksgiving without turkey! Yesterday felt so “random” that it got me thinking about the ragtag collection of thanksgivings I’ve had the past few years—none of them quite the same.

So Thanksgiving Day 2009 I spent volunteering with some co-workers (http://www.celebratethanksgiving.org/History.html) which really just consisted of driving a bunch of cooked food to Compton. I spent the afternoon spent on a public trans adventure getting to know one of my new roommates, Jessie, on our way to a fairly new friend’s house out in Diamond Bar where we had a wonderful Japanese meal with tempura shrimp and a whole lot of other dishes whose names I can’t recall.

T-day 2008 was spent in Inglewood—making and then eating dinner with fellow EUIP interns, paid for by a gracious parent. I made green bean casserole. The only food we had in the house was for dinner and so mid-day a few of us got hungry and went on a search for an open fast food place---all we could find was Boston Market where we ended up with a pre-dinner turkey lunch that we ate on our rooftop (dinner table and kitchen tables were occupied with dinner preparation activities). We all thought this was pretty ridiculous.

T-day 2006 and 2007 were spent in Azusa. The morning was volunteering at Foothill Community Church’s meal and the evening eating at neighbors’s apartments. 2007 was especially memorable because somehow had two thanksgiving dinner meals one right after the other. I had been invited by two brothers to eat with their families. Since they were brothers, I assumed they were inviting me to the same meal. So I arrived at one brother’s house with my contribution of candied yams. Both brothers’ families were there and so I stuffed myself to the brim. Then, I was informed, we were to all go to the other brother’s house and, lo and behold, another entire T-day meal was awaiting us! I don’t know exactly what happened—a miscommunication on their part? I’m not sure. I ended the night exercising to some Zumba DVDs with 6 year old Nyzeth trying to work off some calories.

T-day 2005 was spent with the Higson family in Ojai. A few things were memorable about this trip: witnessing a slightly tipsy Mr. Higson get out of a ticket after getting pulled over by a cop, helping Nancy buy tons of toys for Cerritos kidz at a local toy store and then stressing with her about how she was gonna pay for all of them, meeting all of Nancy’s unique and wonderful friends and family.

T-day 2004 was with the Fleming family in San Diego. On Black Friday I made the rounds to SD’s finest malls with my friend, Laura, the self-professed shop-a-holic. We took a midnight stroll on a la jolla beach with her friends. We made Christmas cookies and beaded pens for Christmas gifts. I looked through all her family scrap books and heard all the latest family joys and dramas.

I think these different thanksgiving day experiences are representative of my life over the past five years—moving around, joining in others' communities every year, not staying in one place long enough to have my own. Lately when people ask me “where are you from?” I have a hard time answering it. I was especially thrown off when I went to Philadelphia and in the context of that conference, I was from LA—that’s where I work and that’s what I was presenting on. I have so many people and places that are a part of me, I’m getting to the point that I feel like I am from nowhere and everywhere all at once!

The Spray-Painted Limousine

The other day on a walk during my lunch hour I encountered a man spray painting a limousine. No, it was not graffiti. He was the owner and he was spray painting some portion of the car. It struck me as strange because limousines are associated with such class and sophistication. Someone spray painting that class and sophistication on, on the side of a moderately busy road—just didn’t seem right.

It got me thinking: this year has allowed me to see the world in a new light. I’ve started to see all sorts of spray painted limousines in my life and that make up society. I guess it’s another stage of growing up. But I’m seeing that a lot of what I thought were firm stable structures that support the weight of a messed up human society are really very weak and fluid as the humans that create them. You think that they are impenetrable tons of steel that are sturdily created elsewhere and by other hands that had confidence in the stability of the structure they were creating and expertise in how to make a good structure. And then you see a humble dude with the spray can painting on the illusion of stability and class and the very thing that made it seem so untouchable and sturdy.

This is what I see with my organization and a lot of the organizations I work with—non profits, governments, associations, etc. We see m to be powerful entities and structures not to be messed with. Glossy brochures, a nice logo, color graphics, and well written mission statements and other material is all that gives any one of the above legitimacy. In essence, it’s just spray paint—it’s a little gloss and shine that anyone with money (and education paid for by money) can buy.

Sometimes it seems the only thing that keeps us from falling into complete chaos is the repetition to ourselves and others the ideal to which we strive—what we are doing theoretically, what we are doing ideally.

Thus it seems in many cases the success of organizations, or any entity that is striving for something other than what they are, are articulate passionate people who really believe in what the entity is striving for, who don’t get tired of holding that ideal before themselves, their colleagues, and the broader public.

Learning of the intricacies of the spray-painted limousines is a strange experience. On one hand it feels like illusion and deception. On the other it just seems like a reality of human life and what I’ve learned in church all these years—we are not who we are supposed to be….we are getting there, but we are not there yet.

Should I pick up a spray can and help build the structures and organizations around us, push to make them better? Do I stand to the side and study the spray painters, the limousine itself—organizations and those who participate in them? Do I involve authorities to make sure all limousines are safe, that if organizations are human/flawed that at least they aren’t hurting anyone?

Or do I take a break from all this thinking and growing up. Maybe I’ll get in the limousine and drive it to my cabin in the forest….

Top 10 Sounds of Los Angeles

1. The mid-night howl: Once in awhile all the dogs in the neighborhood decide to have a little chat in the middle of the night. Summer, the beautiful coyote-like Australian/German shepherd with whom I live, often participates.
2. The cat’s meow: We had one hanging around this house wanting someone to adopt it. Someone came by to take it though saying “we’re taking a bunch to get fixed if you want us to take it.” I haven’t seen it since then. But it is probably one of the five I saw hanging out across the street the other day taking turns running half way up a tree, clinging for dear life before falling back down and letting the next in line take their turn.
3. Cockadoodledoo: folks next door have a rooster that is audible usually in the mornings.
4. Rock'n'Roll: The house next to us, the non rooster house, has the garage band. They seem to have quite a repertoire—who knew you could do so much with an electric guitar and drums?
5. Ice cream trucks: At least two or three different ones every night during the week. Weekends they seem to lighten up.
6. Helicopters: They are low and loud and shine lights into your windows looking to find the “bad guys” or something. My co-worker refers to them as the Ghetto-copter. http://www3.merriam-webster.com/opendictionary/newword_display_alpha.php?letter=Gh) .
7. Seventh Grade Monologues: I am privy to any number of conversations between mother and daughters seeing as we do live in kind of close quarters. But my favorite ramblings come from one of the daughters who is in seventh grade. She has some of the best monologues announced to no one in particular. My favorite line I heard her loudly proclaim just today was “When I die I want my corpse put in death valley!”
8. Football: New as of last week, I hear loud and clear the announcer at the Coliseum- the USC football venue. They were playing Washington State. I also heard the band interjecting their spirited diddies in between the roaring crowds. While LA does not have a city team, most people ally with USC or UCLA. I hear that most are USC fans unless they attended UCLA. Me? No preference, I just know that the Coliseum parking lots are among the largest open spaces in this area and so when you drive by during the week it is spotted with locals doing laps, trying to get some physical activity in.
9. Sonic boom: this is not a common occurrence. But I can’t lie—I thought it was a little over the top when I heard it. I was on the porch talking to my father on the phone and was already having trouble talking to him over the car alarms and helicopters.

Drumroll please.......

10. Silence: surprisingly—while there are moments when multiple of the above make me daydream of living in a forest cabin-just me and the trees- there are moments like the present that are silent. And I wonder—how can I live in the middle of Los Angeles and not hear a sound?

La Casa

My house as of the last three weeks. I realize this picture is a bit ominous, but just imagine the sun shining down on it as it usually is...you know, during the daylight hours when I see it...
And an even more ominous picture of the one of many ice cream trucks and other food vendors that make their way up and down our street every night with various jingles-"Fur elise" and "Do your ears hang low" among others...

Miracle makes cameo appearance

I started out last Thursday praying for some small miracles to happen that day and ended thanking God for a series of huge ones.

I started out last Thursday knowing two things: I had a meeting to facilitate at 6:30 PM and the potential for chaos was high. There were a lot of unknown factors that I just didn’t know how they would play out and what would be required of me in dealing with them.

Would sectors within the community remain civil? I had a series of politically-charged, accusatory e-mails in my mailbox and we were not on everyone’s good side, to say the least. Would myself and/or CHC get stuck in the middle of a yelling match? Would people focus personal tiffs instead of the common issues at hand? Would there be any order at all? Would CHC’s reputation be marred FOREVER?!?!

Would the main speakers arrive and be prepared for their roles in the meeting? Because of other controversies happening, we had not been in a whole lot of communication beforehand. Had they talked amongst themselves? Would they fill their allotted time? I had neglected to communicate the exact time until that very afternoon—would they even come?

As a carless individual, how was I going to manage logistics of transportation without seeming like a needy child? I have no car because somewhere in the past few years of my college education and living near an oil field, I got it in my head that I should not own a car.

Theoretically a good idea, practically speaking- it’s hard. As community liaison, I am responsible for, among other things, bringing refreshment and other supplies needed for meetings that I plan. In addition, I needed to get home without being a burden to co-workers that live in the opposite direction and who have already driven me home in my last three carless weeks.

So, are you dying to know how everything turned out? We did not end in a bloody heap. There were some hand shakes and even hugs by some of those individuals most upset with one another. All the speakers were coordinated and gave great presentations. The meeting was going well enough that our LA County Supervisor (somewhat of a celebrity around here) made a surprise appearance and made some concluding remarks.

My carless situation was my favorite "miracle" of the night. I was able to get a ride to the meeting with my direct supervisor, no problem. And we were able to put the meeting supplies in her trunk and stop at the grocery store on the way there to pick up refreshments, no problem. I had ordered a taxi to pick me up from the church where the meeting was at, and thought that would be no problem as well.

But when my executive director (who I have not spent much time with this past year) heard I was taking a taxi, she INSISTED she drive me home. When the yellow cab drove up, she looked at me: “DON’T YOU DARE!” and then she intercepted my gaze and yelled to the driver, “MR CABDRIVER, I’M SORRY, BUT SHE JUST LEFT. SHE JUST LEFT. SHE WANTED TO CALL TO CANCEL, BUT COULDN’T. THANKS ANYWAY.” I ended up having some great debriefing
time with my co-workers and one-on-one time with my ED.

So I end this week thankful for "miracles," for things not always going wrong and falling to chaos. For points of connection. For moments of joy and beauty and grace that show up for a cameo appearance when you least expect and deserve them.

Member Story(ies)

A few times this year, the reality of our broken health system, health disparities, and unregulated industries became a tangible reality to me. May I share?

~One of my first weeks on the job, an older gentlemen--a resident of Baldwin Hills--came to the office and asked for some information on a certain kind of cancer he heard about in a presentation that is caused by certain gasses used in oil drilling. His wife had died of that kind of cancer recently. He was so humble and genuinely seeking information about what happened to probably one of his most beloved--that visit early on in this year has stuck with me and helped me make some of those early days of phone banking.

~One day walking up the big hill from the bus stop to my office building, I met a stranger in distress. I had just passed Ihop and was waiting at a stoplight when I heard something behind me. A young man was sobbing, cell phone in hand, hands to his face, sitting on a small retaining wall. There a lot of medical buildings around and he must have just come from one of these because he described to me how he is in so much pain and no doctor can tell him what's wrong with him and his family doesn't understand his pain.

~One particular bus ride downtown, I was either especially surrounded by the sick and lame or they especially stuck out to me. A man got on the bus with a huge tumor on his neck; he had a cup of change, although he asked no one on the bus for change but greeted all with "Happy New Year." Another man walked across Broadway with the hugest limp I've ever seen. A woman on the bus held a baby with a phlegmy cough. A man asked me for change at Pershing square, his arm bending at some unnatural angle as if he had a muscle-contraction disease I had just learned about on the TV show House.

~You know when you ask how someone is doing as a way of saying hello? You know, like, "How u doin?" Well I ask this a lot and I really do care how the person is doing, but usually people don't tell you. However, with this one particularly active resident with whom I interact quite a bit, in this whole past year, of maybe the 20 times I've had a chance to ask how this person was doing, never once have they given the traditional "good." The health conditions they are battling and the stress they have over the oil fields keeps them from, even in polite, usually mindless conversation, from answering any other way then being completely honest about the health battles they are facing and how it really effects them all the time...

Does anyone else have experiences like these....

Easter Sanctuary

I just found this random, but lovely, picture of the Holy Faith sanctuary from around Easter/ Pentecost time. Thought I would share....

Bike to Work Day

A few months ago I had heard that Bike to Work Day was May 14. I told all roommates about it and had a poster hanging at work outside my cubicle. But when it came to May 13, everything inside of me did not want to ride to work the next day. I had ridden other places during my stay in Inglewood, but never to work.

The night before I couldn’t find my bike lock key so I didn’t think I was actually going to do it. But then the morning of the 14th I accidentally found it and so decided, gosh darnit, I had to do it; I had to walk the talk of a physical activity advocate in South LA.

So I did.

It was harrowing. That is the best word that comes to mind. I wore my helmet and pumped up my tires before I left. But right away, there were too many cars on every single street I went on. And not enough bike lanes (no bike lanes, actually). And I had way too little confidence.

I was going back and forth between being a car and a pedestrian (riding on the street and sidewalk), which I hate doing. I somehow managed to ride by a garbage truck at the exact moment it was dumping trash in the back and got a few pieces of debris flung at me.

I got to work in enough time. But when I went to unlock my bike to go home, I saw someone had tried stealing the front tire. It was detached from the frame, but still within the lock (good thing I locked all tires and frame together to a fence). I was shocked--this had never happened in all three years I had a bike in Azusa.

I made it home within the same time it takes on the bus. But to top the day off, I ended up a slight tan line where my helmet came on my forehead.

Other BIke to WorK DaY observations:

• A sign near my work that says, “NO CRUISING: Cruising is riding by the same place more than once within six hours.”
• Florence avenue has a bunch of really tiny cracks in it that makes a biker feel like they are riding a jack hammer when they ride over it.
• Garbage day is apparently Thursday
• I saw a young man driving along the most harrowing area of Florence, with what looked like grocery bags on his handle bars. No helmet. Changing lanes, turning with cars in the turn lane. I bet he didn't know it was bike to work day--probably just going to pick up some dinner for the night...
• Surprisingly a lot of people like to blare rap music at 8:00 in the morning.

"Shake n Bake"

Two earthquakes in the last two days. Both were centered just a mile from Inglewood (even though a lot of news stations are saying they were centered in Inglewood, they were actually in a small town “Lennox” just south of Inglewood). They were on the “Newport-Inglewood” fault line.

The one two days ago was 4.7. I heard it before I felt it. At first I thought a roommate Jay was dropping something upstairs, and then I thought he was falling down the stairs. My first thought was, “Omigosh, I hope he’s okay, we’re gonna have to go to the emergency room.” And then when the rumbling got so loud and the room started shaking with it, I figured it wasn’t Jay.

My other roomate PJ, his friend Lauren, and I were sitting around the kitchen table. We all looked at one another and were like “earthquake?” I got up and started heading toward a doorway when it stopped. I proceeded to embrace Lauren—someone I had barely met. It took me another few minutes to process what just happened.

The one today happened at work. I barely got to the cubicle aisle when it stopped. All my co-workers immediately started blaming the weather. My co-workers say it’s something about this time of year. The hotter it is, the more earthquakes there are, thus "Shake n Bake." A little bit of local wisdom there....

It really adds a new aspect to the oil field issue. There is a group of “radical” residents that would always, in a manner similar to screaming “fire” in a theater, claim “7.0 earthquake” at all hearings related to the oil fields. They were sure that the new water injection techniques used by the oil field near their home and near the Newport-Inglewood fault line were going to cause a 7.0. People would look down upon them because there isn’t much scientific proof of a definite linkage.

But, actually feeling a few lately—and how scary it is—I can really feel their fear in a new way.

Sights from Baldwin Hills

My latest Webshots album:

Sights from Baldwin Hills

North Fork

Our third intern retreat was last Thursday and Friday at a cabin in North Fork, California. Five hours north, between Fresno and Yosemite. We stayed in an amazing cabin with the finest craftmanship of everything I'd ever seen. The woods used on all the walls and cabinetry almost didn't seem like wood to me because I had never seen wood look so natural and beautiful.

There were no paper towels anywhere. All the bath tubs were the old fashioned kind with the feet. As we were eating dinner outside at sunset we saw flocks of bats leave the rafters--live bats, a first for me.

And this is the car I've been driving recently. 1993 Saturn. I learned stick shift on it at the request of my program director who wanted to sell the other car I had been using. This pictures was on the way back from our retreat. You can see we took some of the dirt roads with us.

Growing up and the working world

It's been 9 months since I started my first professional work experience. Below are some thoughts and experiences about work, working, and co-workers:

• Coworkers 10 years older than me are strangely at the same place in life as me. I realize the question "What next?" is life-long, not just specific to my age group and life stage.



• I notice how a lot of co-workers have side projects/jobs/passions. I think this is really great. It's a good example to me of how to stay active, keep one's mind going, and not become complacent or stagnant. One is opening a chain restaraunt, one teaches on the weekend and has a real estate license, another has an event planning business, and another is really invovled in Toastmasters.



• Recently a coworker asked me how I was doing, I told her "blah," and she told me "Welcome to becoming an adult." She said the same thing to me when I was having foot spasms. "Growing up is one of the least fun things you can do," she has said on another occasion.



• When I entered this year I really was interested in seeing how the "intentional community" would play out at home. But I really have noticed that my work place is just as much of a community as my homelife is. The shared space, the drama, the teasing, the conversations focusing on vocation, the arguments about whose dirty cubicle is attracting the cockroaches...



• I'm amazed at how much respect I get just from my affiliation with my organization's name. Just the name CHC gives credibility to whatever I say. I've never expereinced this before.



• I'm amazed how much people get paid for the work they do. It seems going to school is more work than a job is and you had to pay others an arm and a leg to do it. Now it seems you get back so much for doing less work. Maybe this sounds silly, but it's what my young eyes perceive...



• When I was a teenager I used to think adults were so very magically different. But judging from the drama, the personality clashes, and the ways of dealing with conflict that I see around me the past few months-- they are exactly the SAME! Even in the working world, it seems things still boil down to silly things like popularity...
• There is a certain politics around e-mails. Who is and is not included on certain e-mails. Who is in the "To:," the "CC:," and the "BCC." When to put everyone in the "BCC" (so that no one knows anyone else's contact info." Whether to push "reply" or "reply all." What business to take care of through e-mail, phone, or in-person (do I really need to type any letter to the person who sits in the cubicle next to me?" Etc., etc., etc.,

A great story

A story from "The Alchemist" by Paulo Coelho, translated and paraphrased by me:

A merchant sent his son to learn the Secret to Happiness from the wisest of all men. The boy traveled 40 days through the desert until he reached the beautiful mountaintop castle where the wiseman lived.


The boy found in the immense entry way tons of merchants and people conversing, a small orchestra playing their melodies, and a table covered in the most delicious dishes of tht region. The wiseman conversed with everyone and the boy had to wait 2 hours until the wiseman came to him.


The wiseman listened to the boy, but explained that at that moment he didn't have enough time to explain the Secret to Happiness and suggested that he return in two hours, meeting him at a different gate to the castle. But before the boy departed, the wiseman asked him a favor: he gave the boy a teaspoon with two drops of oil and asked the boy to guard the drops until he returned, not letting them fall.


The boy kept his eyes on the two drops of oil while he made his way to the new meeting place. The wiseman asked the boy: did you see the garden created by the master gardeners over the past decade and the Persian tapestries hanging in the hall and the beautiful parchments in my library?


The boy, ashamed, confessed he had not seen any of it. He was preoccupied with not letting fall the drops of oil the wiseman had entrusted to him.


The wiseman told him to go back, then, to see the wonders of the his palace.


The boy took another pass through the palace, taking notice this time at all the works of art, the gardens, the mountains, the delicacy of the flowers, etc. When he returned back to the wiseman, he was able to relate all the details of what he saw.


"But where are the two drops of oil that I trusted you with?" asked the wiseman.


The boy realized he had dropped them.


"Well this is the only advice I have to give you," said the wisest of all wiseman, "The secret to happiness is in being able to see all the wonders of the world, while not ever forgetting the two drops of oil in your teaspoon."


"El secreto de la felicidad esta en mirar todas las maravillas del mundo y no olvidarse nunca de las dos gotas de aceite de la cucharita."

Some real news :)

NBC Newsclip



Last week was Food Desert to Food Oasis, a Grocery Store Symposium sponsered by CHC and some other policy organizations. Gwen, on the video, is my Supervisor.....

Video

A USC Broadcast student's blog and video:

http://inglewoodoilfield.blogspot.com/

On the video you'll see Gary--a very active resident I work with a lot--and Damon, an attourney that is representing CHC in a lawsuit against the county and has also come to a lot of meetings, etc. They are both also involved in the group I organized to address oil issues all over LA, not just in Baldwin Hills.

Nailing it

Last Saturday night I majorly stubbed my toe. Big toenail bent backwards halfway. Blood all over my foot and shoe. Sunday morning I had a little crisis about going to the doctor because 1) I have not attended one in awhile 2) I have not used my current insurance--but my roommates have and say it is not great and really hard to find a doctor on the plan, etc. 3) I work at an organization really active in the crisis of quality health care in South LA and I wonder if there are any competent podiatrists around here 4) And I've seen Michael Moore's Sicko 3 times

So I have a mini crisis in my head first about myself--trying to figure out what to do (two of my roommates thought I could take care of it myself, without a doctor), where to go if I did go to a doctor, what my insurance covered and what I wanted to pay, etc. And then, since I am such a big-picture person, I have mini crisis in my head about the state of healthcare in general-- in America/in South LA.

It was just an awful thing to have to worry about. And I only had a small little problem with my toenail. I can't imagine having a worse problem and having to navigate "the system." I am so proud of those at my organization that help the non-insured and underinsured navigate the mess of providers and hospitals and insurance and state programs.

I hope and pray that in the near future will come: changes in healthcare at the Federal level and new pairs of CLOSED-TOE shoes.

(BTW: I found a podiatrist that was on my plan in nearby Culver City--I am now pain free and alomst back to normal.)

Learning

I completed a First Aid/CPR class that happened over the course of the last two Tuesdays.

The instructor opened the class with the questions: "Who has called 911? Who has called 911 and gotten through?"

I've never called 911, but this was news to me that one could call 911 and not get through. Is it like this everywhere?

After class I mentioned my surprise to my co-worker that organized the class. She has lived within five miles her whole life--all around my current residence and our office.

"They don't come, it's true! They just don't come." My co-worker went on to say something to the effect of: "That's why we need to educate ourselves and create these resources within our own community, to help ourselves...because outside help doesn't come."

She told me about the various serious incidents the area has experienced in her lifetime: the Rodney King riots, the Baldwin Hills arson fire on La Brea, the Northridge earthquake. In all cases, not receiving adequate government support. For example, she told me how in the riots the police from South LA were sent to Beverly Hills to protect looting from happening there instead of trying to restore peace in South LA!

The instructor's lesson to us was to have the local police station numbers in our cell phones, in addition to 911....

Reflection

This month's EUIP E-News with reflection by me.

Through the above link, I belive you can sign up to be on the mailing list and receive reflections from my roommates too.

Some CHC folks

Folks with whom I work/ spend 8.5 hours of my day / 42.5 hours per week. All are amazing amazing people, but there are a few with which I interact the most. Let's see...some tidbits--

Gwen: my direct supervisor is in the orange. A wonderful "stoic" woman, very encouraging to me and my personal development.

Lark: Exec Director is to the upper left of me. So wise. If you are familiar with strength tests I admire her strength of "command."

Mia: top row, second from the right. She arranged a karaoke night at a local bar in my honor after I told her I wanted to meet more locals. I admire her street smarts and her practical opinions on things.

Annie and Mark: bottom row, farthest two on the right. I eat lunch with them almost every day and sometimes go on lunch time walks with Mark. Hopefully soon we will restart an organizational wellness committee (I'm really excited about that). Both are "Policy Analysts" and I pick their brains about public policy school.

Jon: top row, fourth from the right. Also a lunch buddy. I don't know his actual title, but I refer to him as "the data guy"--which, you can imagine, he really appreciates.

Heili: Top row, farthest right. Heili also is a policy analyst in my policy area. She is doing amazing work with Mia around the food resource environment in South LA--trying to get more nutritous food options in the area.

Thoughts on this good day and place

Today was the most energizing day I've had in awhile. I had a great meeting today with Oil Organizers from all around LA. It was the first of its kind and only the third meeting I've facilitated "all by myself" since my internship has started. We probably had together 15-16 people from six or seven different areas all around LA--the first time (that I know of) that such a thing has been done. Everyone really wants to meet together again and find ways to affect city/county/state policy in order to put more regulations on the oil and gas industry when it comes to how it affects public health.

I'm in such a strange position. I really am. I never would have put myself here. Especially three years back when I was on LA Term and doing community organizing for the first time. I hated it so much and vowed I would never do it again. But then my love for the Azusa Community Garden led me to be a Student Ministry coordinator my senior year and now I find myself organizing Angelenos around LA Oil and disparity of parks in South LA.

But maybe that's what I get when I major in sociology--there is not much to do with it except this kind of work. It didn't give me many practical skills--and so I find myself doing something that I probably could have done before college. But I probably wouldn't have been interested in social issues until I went to college. And I definitely wouldn't view them the same way as I do now if it weren't for college (espeically my Sr. Seminar class which I think about everyday).

Why can't I get away from community organizing? I don't feel good at it. Often I really hate the phone calls and "outreach" parts of what I do. I don't like the public speaking part or the part where I have to pick a side and "fight" for it--as they say. The networking part is not the easiest either. Today I liked it though. The whole past few months of planning came to fruition today at the LA Oil Organizer meeting. We were doing something that hadn't been done before. Everyone was really excited to be there. There was lots of energy and potential for change. I'm gaining a local knowledge of oil and broad knowledge of environmental/community issues.

As strange as my life is right now to all my past selves--I'm learning SO MUCH about policy, about government, about organizational culture, about communication, about South LA, development, urban planning, disparities, public health, organizing, and, well, I guess--the real world. I'm surrounded by amazing people at CHC and I have such great opportunities to learn.

Well that was my little optimistic spiel for the night.

I miss all who read this--write/call me with info about your life and deepest, most pensive thoughts. ;)