Mathetes award and other stuff

So thanks to Cura and Jeff for their nominating me for a Mathetes award. :) Here's my response:

The Mathetes Award, created by Dan King of Management by God to recognize those who take to heart the Great Commission and further God’s Kingdom by creating more disciples for Him.

The rules for the award, as posted by its creator are as follows:

In the spirit of this award, the rules are simple. Winners of this award must pick five other “disciples” to pass it on to. As you pass it on, I just ask that you mention and provide links for:

1) This post as the originator of the award (Dan King of management by God)
2) The person that awarded it to you, and then
3) Name and sites of the five that you believe are fulfilling the role of a disciple of Christ.

My five (order meaning nothing beyond where they are in my blog bookmark folder):

1.) Rev. Mommy

2.) Crystal at Perspectives

3.) Sr. Julie at A Nun's Life

4.) Sr. Susan at Musings of a Discerning Woman

5.) Liam at Sententiae et clamores

Something of substance to come, I promise!

Be cool to the Pizza Dude

NPR junkie that I am, I'm listening to an interview on my local affiliate with the person who produces the "This I Believe" segment on NPR. (Link takes you to the program's site.) They just played one segment from the show entitled "Be Cool to the Pizza Dude." You can listen to it or read it here.

For the link-phobic:

Be Cool to the Pizza Dude
by Sarah Adams

If I have one operating philosophy about life it is this: "Be cool to the pizza delivery dude; it's good luck." Four principles guide the pizza dude philosophy.

Principle 1: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in humility and forgiveness. I let him cut me off in traffic, let him safely hit the exit ramp from the left lane, let him forget to use his blinker without extending any of my digits out the window or towards my horn because there should be one moment in my harried life when a car may encroach or cut off or pass and I let it go. Sometimes when I have become so certain of my ownership of my lane, daring anyone to challenge me, the pizza dude speeds by me in his rusted Chevette. His pizza light atop his car glowing like a beacon reminds me to check myself as I flow through the world. After all, the dude is delivering pizza to young and old, families and singletons, gays and straights, blacks, whites and browns, rich and poor, vegetarians and meat lovers alike. As he journeys, I give safe passage, practice restraint, show courtesy, and contain my anger.

Principle 2: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in empathy. Let's face it: We've all taken jobs just to have a job because some money is better than none. I've held an assortment of these jobs and was grateful for the paycheck that meant I didn't have to share my Cheerios with my cats. In the big pizza wheel of life, sometimes you're the hot bubbly cheese and sometimes you're the burnt crust. It's good to remember the fickle spinning of that wheel.

Principle 3: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in honor and it reminds me to honor honest work. Let me tell you something about these dudes: They never took over a company and, as CEO, artificially inflated the value of the stock and cashed out their own shares, bringing the company to the brink of bankruptcy, resulting in 20,000 people losing their jobs while the CEO builds a home the size of a luxury hotel. Rather, the dudes sleep the sleep of the just.

Principle 4: Coolness to the pizza delivery dude is a practice in equality. My measurement as a human being, my worth, is the pride I take in performing my job -- any job -- and the respect with which I treat others. I am the equal of the world not because of the car I drive, the size of the TV I own, the weight I can bench press, or the calculus equations I can solve. I am the equal to all I meet because of the kindness in my heart. And it all starts here -- with the pizza delivery dude.

Tip him well, friends and brethren, for that which you bestow freely and willingly will bring you all the happy luck that a grateful universe knows how to return.

Evening Odds and Ends

1.) Stomach flu. Came out of nowhere last night/yesterday afternoon. Haven't made an emergency trip to the bathroom in a bit now.

2.) Watching the Ken Burns documentary on WWII. Maybe I'm just jaded, but I wonder if our perceptions of the war would've been different, had CNN, google news, and the internet existed back then. What if Halliburton and Blackwater existed then?

I'm trying to understand some of the hatred some of the people interviewed still have for the Japanese. I don't hate the Saudis, who were mostly responsible for 9/11. Granted, my family isn't winning any racial harmony awards, but some of the things I've heard them say (of the generation who lived through that time), don't bear repeating, as if the firebombings of Tokyo and two atomic bombs weren't enough. Does that generation of Japanese hate Americans?

I guess part of what I'm reacting to is how lily-white and innocent the Americans are being portrayed in this. Sure, they probably didn't come close to some of the atrocities elsewhere, but having heard of the crap that happened in Vietnam through present day, I'm a bit incredulous.

I'm tired of hearing how my generation isn't as patriotic as the "greatest generation," because we oppose the war in Iraq, or how our morals are askew. Or how we don't compare in education to that generation. Maybe they need to realize that the world is completely different than it was 60 years ago.

Here's a podcast interview with Paul Cornell, the writer of the book Human Nature that became the episodes "Human Nature," and "Family of Blood" of the season of Doctor Who that just aired. (That's season 29 for the old school fans and season 3 for the new school fans.) It's really well done. Boy howdy, if you haven't seen Utopia/Sound of Drums/Last of the Time Lords, hold off if you don't want it spoiled.

And here is a blog about the theology of Doctor Who. Don't agree with all his conclusions, but I like it nonetheless. (That and I tend to see the Doctor more as St. Michael than a Christ-like figure, but I need to work out my thoughts on that sometime when I've got more brain space. If the last three episodes of the current season follow Revelations, it kind of follows, but I'll let the episodes air over here before spewing forth.)

A day in the life of a fool...

Thanks to Liam I have this song stuck in my head. (Worksafe.)

I admit I get a bit frustrated, when I hear someone say that laity should just be content with the rosary, the Mass, and vocal prayer, generally some saccharine verbiage out of a prayer book published before 1950. Don't get me wrong, I like the rosary (the Dominicans are rubbing off on me, even if I get more out of making them than praying them), but purely verbal prayer doesn't always fill a need.

It's one instance of that "Don't you worry your little lay head *pat pat*" attitude that you see among the generation younger than me. While the Liturgy of the Hours is important, one of the reasons why I switched to Latin was because I found myself just spitting out the words as fast as I could, without really considering their meaning. The LotH is the prayer of the entire Church. As such, it should have relevance and speak to our lives. When it works, it's uncanny how a particular psalm (usually just one for that day) speaks to something going on in my life.

But also it should be more than just the words on the page. There should be something in the words that points to something greater than us, which is the point of lectio divina. (Or should be.) Granted, I'm a barely-closeted contemplative, but I believe we're all called to a deeper relationship with the Divine. Hiding behind pious prose isn't going to expose us to that deeper mystery.

Others have written about how contemplation is a gift and a calling from God. If this is true, then what possible reason is there to restrict people from that to which they're being called?

Ah heck. Anyone know how to get videos from youtube working on blogger?



Bleiben Sie in Ruhe...

Obituary for Zawinul here.

St. Gabriel, patron of twisted pairs, fix my DSL...

So for almost two years, I haven't had to so much as reboot my DSL modem. I realize I'm lucky in this respect. I piggyback my DSL on my existing phone service through another provider, and the relationship has been great. I will admit that I would recommend speakeasy, even though I'm currently having problems.

They're shipping a new modem, so hopefully that will fix things. If that doesn't work, they'll ratchet up the pressure on my phone company. I'm tempted to dump my phone, get a prepaid cell, and just go bare DSL. It's not much more than what I'd be paying, if I upgraded my existing service. Any recommendations as to cell phone providers? I should probably get one, anyway, with as much travel as I do. I'm looking at prepaid plans, since I hardly use a phone.

You know, St. Gabriel the Archangel is the patron saint of telecommunications. I'm beginning to think he'd be faster than my ISP goading my telco into fixing the damn line. Maybe it's just coincidence, but I found a silly little novena to him. My DSL hasn't dropped yet...

There's something about Real Live Preacher's newest series in the Foy Davis stories. The latest three center around a boy named David Friedman. His stories and writings always hit hard in an ultra-realistic way, but it's not that.

In another life, back in school before college I was David Friedman. During fifth grade, I was beaten up daily and blamed for it. (Smart kids ask for it, apparently, and should just act normal.) Middle school wasn't much better. High school the beatings became emotional. College? It was wonderful. But my experience reflected through David's aren't what's eating at me through those stories.

For awhile, a part of me wanted those who bullied me to be monsters, still. Probably some are. Probably some are ordinary people. Even some may be nice people once they grew up some. Another part of me wanted to lord over them that I've managed to do things with my life that they haven't--I'm one of the few from my suburban high school who's living further than 10 miles away from the suburb I grew up in.

There was a time when I wanted to show up at a reunion, Hoopy Frood in tow, and name-drop the composers, choreographers, visual artists, and other people I've met, while reciting my CV. In the end, I didn't go to my 10 year reunion. Now I don't feel much towards those people. If I hadn't read the story, I probably wouldn't have thought about them. I have people who love me, and I have people I love. I'll never be a social butterfly, but when the mood strikes I have people to do stuff with. Life is pretty good.

What made my stomach sink was the idea that those who bullied me are feeling some kind of remorse, yet I want them to be faceless monsters. Can anything erase what they did? Probably not. Will I forget what was done to me? Probably not. Catholic teaching says as much that we have responsibility for the effects of the sins we commit. What reconciliation does is allow us to go on with our lives. Do I want their lives to go on? Sure. Do I want them to feel awful for what they did? I'd be lying if I said I didn't, but no I don't as much as I once did.

What would happen, if we ran into each other in QFC? Probably the initial pleasantries. I'm sure they'd be as interested in my forays into the arts like I'd be interested in their kids. We'd exchange smalltalk over avocadoes, and then go on with our lives. Maybe they need to hear that my life is as boringly normal as theirs is. Maybe I needed to hear that they're just people.

So a few weeks back when I knew my desktop was needing last rites, I broke my coffee mug. Said coffee mug was perched precariously somewhere where it shouldn't have been perched. I wasn't overly attached to the old coffee mug. It was a shade of blue I wasn't fond of. The lip was curled inwards, making it difficult to drink from without spilling. Its redeeming feature was that it held about three cups of liquid.

Today I schlepped to a St. Vincent de Paul store to replace it. Thrift stores are weird and slightly sad places. So many well-loved and used things are there, and you can't help but wonder the stories behind them.

I found one mug to replace my old one that would do quite well. But then I happened upon this one. At first it struck me as hideous. It's an uneven yellowish-green glaze with some sort of flower-cum-blueberry motif going on. Trust me. It photographs prettier than it really is.

I couldn't put this mug down, though. It was well worth the 40 cents it cost (since today was 50% off day, I got both mugs for the price of one.) For the price, it was a good investment. It'll hold half a hotpot (about 22-25 oz of beverage.) It holds the heat pretty well. (Better than my old coffee mug.)

I wonder what its story is. There weren't any other dishes there like it. It's mass-produced from China, but aside from that, who owned it? Was it some grandmother, who had her tea or coffee in it? A college student, who moved? Maybe it was a white elephant, and its recipient didn't know what to make of a one-of mottled green mug of vague flower pattern. Did its original owner just tire of it? Did its old owner die? Probably not...the "made in China" sticker is still firmly attached. It probably wasn't even used. Which, in a strange way, makes this mug that more appealing. Someone somewhere disliked it enough to not even use it, a sad tale, if it were a gift.

It does well with tea, although my loose tea diffuser is a bit too short for it. We'll see about coffee tomorrow.

I had this spiffy post prepared about the topic of "boot camps" for children and teens, but nothing I can say can compare to the words of someone who went through one, herself: http://shoiryu.livejournal.com/492507.html

Here's another article on boot camps and teens.

I don't deny the right of parents to raise their children as they see fit. I do agree that sometimes kids/teens need a nudge out of the nest. But these places are institutionalized child abuse.

I think I've got most things back in place. I imported my bookmarks from my old windows computer, so if I haven't stopped by your blog for a bit, give me a ping. I probably lost the link somewhere. I still need to recover about 40-60GB worth of crap from my old drive, but I want to get some sort of external hard drive enclosure. I'm intending to use the old IDE drive as my mp3 library.

It used to take an hour to compile a minute's worth of music with csound on my old computer. New one? About five minutes if I'm doing something with lots of voices or a complicated texture. I don't think csound 5 is optimized for dual core processors yet, but it's nice that I can do other things while it crunches. Friday night I was watching "Austin Powers" while compiling csound, just because I could. (My old computer would come crashing to a halt if I did that, since both activities are so CPU-intensive.)

Yesterday I tested my computer for burn in by playing "Lord of the Rings Online." It's pretty nifty. I'm on Landroval, where a lot of the people I used to play "Dark Age of Camelot" are.

*bounce bounce bounce*

Computer parts are in Renton! I'm always surprised at how it takes 2 days for UPS to deliver a box that's 40 minutes away (with traffic).

I'm getting an intel core duo 2 2.4 ghz processor, 1GB DDR2 800mhz RAM (motherboard will take up to 8), a 160GB SATA 7200 rpm hard drive, and a nvidia 8500GS video card with 512MB DDR RAM. I wasn't able to recycle my current video card because the new motherboard won't support AGP. (Which is just as well, since my current video card is an nvdia 5600FX and is crap.)

I have no compunction about wiping and reinstalling *other* people's computers. My own? I hate doing it. But I think my current excitement is overshadowing the loathing of recompiling csound.

Props to Crystal, who got me looking into the Enchiridion of Indulgences. There's some really cool prayers in there, too. Such as:

Hidden God, devoutly I adore you,
Truly present underneath these veils:
All my heart subdues itself before you,
Since it all before you faints and fails.

Not to sight, or taste, or touch be credit,
Hearing only do we trust secure;
I believe, for God the Son has said it --
Word of Truth that ever shall endure.

On the cross was veiled your Godhead's splendor,
Here your manhood lies hidden too;
Unto both alike my faith I render,
And, as sued the contrite thief, I sue.

Though I look not on your wounds with Thomas,
You, my Lord, and you, my God, I call:
Make me more and more believe your promise,
Hope in you, and love you over all.

O memorial of my Savior dying,
Living Bread, that gives life to man;
Make my soul, its life from you supplying,
Taste your sweetness, as on earth it can.

Deign, O Jesus, Pelican of heaven,
Me, a sinner, in your Blood to lave,
To a single drop of which is given
All the world from all its sin to save.

Contemplating, Lord, your hidden presence,
Grant me what I thirst for and implore,
In the revelation of your essence
To behold your glory evermore.

Partial indulgence for that one's devout recitation. So's this one:

Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom his love commits me here, enlighten and guard, rule and guide me. Amen.

You know Stephen Colbert's "De-Deification" skit? Yup. Partial indulgence for the recitation of the Nicene Creed. (or did he rattle off the Apostle's Creed?)

Do you teach or learn Christian doctrine? Partial indulgence for you, so long as it's done with faith and Christian charity.

Here's another neat one you don't hear too often:

Hear us, Lord, holy Father, almighty and eternal God; and graciously send your holy angel from heaven to watch over, to cherish, to protect, to abide with, and to defend all who dwell in this house. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

This one's a favorite of mine:

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to your protection, implored your help or sought your intercession, was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to you, O Virgin of virgins, my Mother; to you do I come, before you I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in your mercy hear and answer me. Amen.

Maybe I should remember to do the Divine Office (or the version of it that I do--the old Benedictine Office), since there's an indulgence on Psalm 50/51.

Hey Rev. Mommy. Make sure your congregation sings this one on Pentecost. (Isn't this one also a hymn used in Protestant churches?) They'd have a chance for a plenary indulgence:

Come, Holy Spirit, Creator blest,
And in our souls take up your rest;
Come with your grace and heavenly aid
To fill the hearts which you have made.
O Comforter, to you we cry,
O heavenly gift of God Most High,
O fount of life and fire of love,
And sweet anointing from above.
You in your sevenfold gifts are known;
You, finger of God's hand we own;
You, promise of the Father, you
Who do the tongue with power imbue.
Kindle our senses from above,
And make our hearts o'erflow with love;
With patience firm and virtue high
The weakness of our flesh supply.
Far from us drive the foe we dread,
And grant us your peace instead;
So shall we not, with you for guide,
Turn from the path of life aside.
Oh, may your grace on us bestow
The Father and the Son to know;
And you, through endless times confessed,
Of both the eternal Spirit blest.
Now to the Father and the Son,
Who rose from death, be glory given,
With you, O holy Comforter,
Henceforth by all in earth and heaven. Amen.

This one's a good one to end on, since it's the final collect before the Marian antiphon in the old Benedictine version of Compline:

Visit, we beg you, O Lord, this dwelling, and drive from it all snares of the enemy: let your holy Angels dwell herein, to keep us in peace; and let your blessing be always upon us. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Care and Feeding of Your Catholic, part 4, Myths and urban legends

Welcome back to part 4 of "Care and Feeding of Your Catholic!" Sorry for the hiatus, but today's episode deals with urban legends. With something as old and byzantine as the Catholic Church, there are bound to be odd superstitions and urban legends. Here's a few I've heard over the years:

1.) Catholics are forbidden to read the Bible. False. They weren't encouraged to before Vatican II in some circles, but we've had translations into Latin (St. Jerome, his vernacular for the time) and the vernacular (Douay-Rheims, New American, New Jerusalem, etc), like everyone else. We do have more books than the Protestant churches, so neener.

2.) The Immaculate Conception refers to Jesus. Nope. That would be Mary, who was conceived without original sin. (A priest at my parish likes to refer to the feast of the Immaculate Conception as "the feast of the Immaculate Confusion.")

3.) We pray to saints. Nope. We ask them for prayers. You ask your friends and family to pray for you? We do, too. It's just that we don't think their intercession ends at death. Relics: do you keep pictures or hairs from people you love? Same thing.

4.) We worship Mary. Well...It depends on how you define "worship." (See also the difference between doulia--honor paid to the saints--and latria--worship of God.)

5.) We're cannibals. Not really. Look, the Eucharist is pure Aristotle. A thing can retain its accident and still be completely different in essence. If you burn the heck out of toast, it's still toast, but burnt. If you forget that you're supposed to be an EM and take antihistamines before Mass (since medicine is allowed for the Eucharistic fast), and then have to finish off a cup of consecrated wine, odds are you'll experience the accident of the wine, even though its essence is different.

6.) *insert conspiracy theory here* I'd tell you, but then the people in black helicopters would have to find you.

7.) The pope is always infallible. Newp. It's only within very specific situations that a papal writing or teaching is infallible, and that has to do with faith and morals and must specifically be stated to be infallible. It's not as easy as it seems, and it's not used often. Conversely not everything the pope says or writes is the same weight. For instance, if he were to write a book, it doesn't have the same weight as an encyclical, an apostolic letter, etc. As we well know with our current pope, it's easy to say something and have it taken wrong. If something official comes out, odds are it has had a lengthy drafting and revision process. And that's just encyclicals. Something more important would have a much longer draft/revision time. (see also the new translation of the Mass or the recent motu proprio.)

8.) The pope doesn't sin. Newp. He has to go to confession, like the rest of us.

9.) Priests hate women. I haven't personally met any, but I'm sure they exist. They're as diverse a population as the rest of us. Older generations tend to be more standoffish. Once I was an altar server for an older (visiting) priest. He didn't say much to me getting ready, and I try to give them their space beforehand. (So they've got time to pray, deal with nerves, or whatever.) So after the recessional at the end of Mass, he turned to me, thanked me and said how wonderful it was that "young people" were involved in the Liturgy. (I was thrilled to be called young at 30.) So you meet all types.

10.) Catholics can buy their way to heaven. Nope. We've got to rely upon God's grace and mercy like everyone else. Plenary indulgences--those which remove all temporal punishment of sin (not the sin itself) up to the time of the indulgence--are actually rare and difficult to do. (Try remaining in a state of non-attachment to sin, even venal sins sometime.)

Yippie! New computer parts are on their way. I'm actually moving into the 21st century. One of the problems with linux is that it'll literally run on anything. This is good, because you can use older hardware. This is also bad when your dissertation is computer-intensive, and your progress is bottlenecked by an ancient CPU. You don't want to replace your computer, because, by God, it still runs linux.

I'm saving a ton of money, since I buy parts. (Still need a new video card, since mine is AGP, and the new motherboard is PCI-E.) This is a tool, not a toy. Or so I keep telling myself. I hate making big purchases, even when I know they're necessary.

No Vista. I've seen vista, and it's a steaming heap. I'll stick with XP for as long as I possibly can, I think. (I dual boot.) I'm open for suggestions as to what to call the new computer. I had a gamelan naming scheme going on for awhile. Not stuck on it.

I inherited a digital camera, so I'm madly running around taking pictures of things. My oldest niece has been sending me pictures, so I'm returning the favor. I just hope an academic gamer-geek's life isn't too boring for her. I'm hoping the people upstairs left the door open to their patio, so I can go get a picture of the Space Needle from Chez Jen.

But I've taken a bunch of pictures of some of my knit finished objects. The whole gallery is here. Here's my first bit of fandom knitting. They're Rose's wrist warmers from the "Doomsday" episode of Doctor Who:



The pattern for them is here. Have I mentioned how easy it is to get a camera working under linux? Edit /etc/fstab, mount it, and you're good to go. USB Mass Storage Devices, I love you.

So a post over on Erin's blog got me thinking in a roundabout way about men and women. The original post was about some survey that Colleen Hammond did, in which a percentage of men are threatened by women in pants. In my response, I wondered if her sample of men isn't skewed.

I'm in a male-dominated field, and it's safe to say that all my colleagues are men. All of my professors in my field have been men, and those I studied with privately were also possessors of a Y chromosome. A few assholes aside (fortunately very few and far between), I've never had a problem. Certainly not with any of my professors--who've all been encouraging.

In the interest of full disclosure, I dress like a geek. My day job involves computer support, and it wouldn't be practical--or safe, considering some of the crawlspaces I'm in--to dress in overly girly clothes, not that I'd be comfortable wearing such things. Also I don't have the figure for overly revealing clothing. So it's geek chic for me. My colleagues and professors have always been nothing but professional with me, and I with them.

Am I "feminizing" my discipline, when that term usually refers to watering down rigor? I'm held to the same standards as anyone else in my program. One thing I find refreshing from my colleagues is that they're--sometimes brutally--honest. If I weren't toeing the line or doing my end of the work, I'd hear. Then again, where are the non-white people in my discipline? I can't think of any PoC in my department, much less among the faculty.

One of the more eye-opening moments came in the context of a seminar. Someone played a music video featuring scantily-clad, ultra-thin women. I anticipated the rest of the room being attracted to it. Newp. To a person, they were all disgusted by it. Comments ranged from "Ew, gross" to "Poor thing needs a cheeseburger."

So where are all these men that are so titillated by women, that they're resentful of them in pants and can't function when women are in "men's" jobs? I'm sure they're there, like I'm sure there are women who're inappropriate at a job. Resentful at my presence? Threatened by my jeans? Doesn't overly give my male colleagues any credit.

So I like curry. I like all kinds of curry. And I'm a total chili head, so I like spice. (As one friend put it when eating pho with me--"Hey, did you know your food is glowing?" And from the Hoopy Frood when eating Thai with me: "I can feel your food's heat from across the table." Others have mentioned something about my food not having anything on the Hanford Nuclear Reservation.) What can I say? I can handle my spice.

I haven't made Thai curry in awhile--I was embarrassed to admit to my Thai roommates that I used curry paste as a base. Then I asked them for their recipe. It included pulling out a tub of curry paste from the fridge. Fry up some meat or protein. Dump a few healthy tablespoons of curry paste in. Cook with the meat for a bit. Then dump your veggies (bamboo shoots, mushrooms, whatever) cover with coconut milk. Give it a splash of fish sauce to taste. (You can also add lime leaves or basil leaves.) Serve over rice. (Jasmine.)

Japanese curry: Brown some cut-up meat. Cube some potatoes, carrots and onion. I like to give them a quick toss in the pan to get them started and carmelize a bit. Look on the back of the box of curry to see what the proper ratio of water to curry is. Dump the water over and boil until everything is mostly cooked. Then dump in your curry cubes. Thicken and serve over rice. (Short-grain.)

So I have had notoriously bad luck cooking Indian food from scratch. I lived with a post-doc from India for awhile, and she'd laugh off my requests for recipes, saying I wouldn't be able to handle the heat. (O ye of little faith...) But the elusive cuisine was out of my grasp. Thus, I have discovered the wonder that is Pataks. And...I have tasty curry atop a fluffy pile of basmati (organic) rice. As my neighbors can attest to my contented belch, I have discovered how to make good Indian food.

Their hot curry paste isn't that hot. I wonder if they tone it down for export across the Pond. Now if I can find an import shop that sells shetland wool for lace, Doctor Who DVD's, and curry paste, I would be very happy. (And probably never leave the house.)

Speaking of curry, it seems that there are some who are addicted to it. Who, me? Naw, I can stop eating curry at any time...

Can the subaltern sing?

Something doesn't sit right with me about this blurb in my alma mater's website. I grew up in that area, and I know what kind of poverty those kids face. I can't get out of my mind how incredibly colonial the author's being.

What strikes me about it is how jubilant she is to learn that her students are capable of learning something like how to read music. Her comment about them sticking with music so they can get scholarships to college reminds me of the comments about PoC playing basketball so they have a shot at college. Not for their own merits or abilities. They're not studying western art music for a well-rounded education or to participate in culture. (In the interest of full disclosure, although I was a music major, I was on mostly academic scholarships.)

I grew up with teachers telling me that although I was in honors and AP classes, my coursework wouldn't mean much and that I would never be able to keep up with college-level work, since my school didn't have the opportunities that other more well-off schools did. I was also told that I'd never be able to compete musically because I couldn't afford lessons from the best people, like other more economically-advantaged people could.

I object to her perpetuating power and class structures, as if western art music is only the realm of the financially elite. Instrumental music isn't the be-all and end-all of western art music, either. There's music theory, music history, musicology, historical musicology, and composition. All of which don't require any financial backing beyond a library card and basic research skills. Yet she's holding up an expensive instrument as their only exposure to the vast discipline of music.

I'm all for helping the less-advantaged out. But if the so-called help is only to keep existing power structures in order, then it's worthless. I don't see any empowering going on at Lakewood.