mariachismes

from ciudad juarez, with love

So there was that video. And then allathis:

http://visiblechildren.tumblr.com.nyud.net/

http://whitthef.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/kony-2012/

http://www.reddit.com/r/worldnews/comments/qlejg/kony_2012_is_a_campaign_that_aims_to_make_joseph/c3yi7d1

among others. The Invisible Children video has been filling up my newsfeed, but now vying for attention are the critics. They’re a mixed bag, as they usually are, of those who know what they’re talking about, and those who are loathe to be followers in such droll internet chatter and so feel the need to post anti-trend articles and videos along with a comment about how the internet is full of sheep and the drollness of it all. As far as my newsfeed goes, I’ve so far only seen the latter, mainly because I don’t have any friends involved in the politics or humanitarian efforts in Uganda or any part of Africa. There are few other qualifications that I would accept for the “people who know what they’re talking about” group.

The IC video was made to go viral, and so it did. I find this interesting. Not that the video went viral, but that it was made with this intention. This reveals a very simple assumption about human nature that lies at the core of IC’s efforts— human beings will help other human beings. They believe that world’s inaction in this situation is due to its lack of awareness, and so they’ve mounted a campaign with the sole intention of getting the word out. They have faith that once we know that there are people to help, we as human being will have no other choice but to help. And so it becomes clear why they believe the internet and the connected-ness of the modern world are so wondrous and full of positive potential. It is faster and easier for people to know! mostly about how funny cats are and that there are a lot of people with webcams out there who think they can sing, but also about ugandan children! and about them being kidnapped! from their beds! by a man! named! KONY! 2012.

And then came the critics. I found their commentary to be quite fascinating. No, I’m just kidding, I didn’t, because most of their commentary came riddled with misspellings, grammatical errors, and self-righteousness via facebook and blog comment sections. What I did enjoy about the critics was that they revealed nuances in this human tendency for empathy and compassion, which IC has swallowed as a simple truth. And then created a whole nonprofit organization and launched a campaign based on it.

This is what IC imagined would happen: people watch the video, become aware, cheer uproariously, and then form mobs in the street like villagers on the trail of a virgin-eating ogre.

This is what really happened: people diddling around on facebook clicked on a friend’s shared video, were moved, entertained, horrified, and then felt awfully guilty about their time spent diddling around on facebook instead of finding Joseph Kony.

So it’s not exactly awareness that would spur action. It’s guilt. And what the critics have illuminated for us is that there is a lot of room for interpretation in guilt and also in action. They’ve also made it clear that feelings of guilt often make us very grumpy. **Of course, there will be plenty of people who won’t feel any guilt at all, but no judgment here, my sociopath brethren. You keep doing you.

I imagine some people will respond to their guilt by signing up with IC, pouring unbridled passion into their efforts to make up for the decades of inaction they unwittingly committed. They might even book a plane ticket to Uganda right then and there, although this would mean they should have done a little more research since Kony’s not in Uganda anymore. Some people will address their guilt by donating a few bucks to IC and will even change their profile pic to KONY2012. Still others will make themselves feel a little better by liking their friend’s link and maybe even posting a comment.

But the most shrewd response is definitely that of the critic. They do further diddling around on the internet research, become outraged, and then post something about how outraged they are over others not doing more research and allowing themselves to be duped by emotional trash propaganda. Not only do they address the feelings of guilt, they also respond to the all their friends who posted the information like-so-two-seconds-ago with an anti-post! I see your so-two-seconds-ago and raise you a so-cliche-and-two-seconds-ago. To this I say, well played, sir, well played.

As far as my personal opinion goes on the Kony campaign, Kony isn’t in Uganda anymore, and I don’t know how training soldiers in Africa and deploying soldiers from the U.S. will help end any war. As for Invisible Children, I like to think that the organization and its participants are well-meaning. Yes, it screams “White Man’s Burden!!” but I believe that even white people can be well-meaning sometimes. I question the solutions the organization proposes, as well as its understanding of the problem itself, but you can be stupid and well-meaning at the same time. As for the grumblers, so some of your fb friends felt moved after they saw children in need and reposted a video. Why must you make them feel stupid? It’s not like they’re out kidnapping children or anything. And sure, you watched the video, researched the organization, then did a bunch of counter-research, but if in the end it led you to do exactly what you would have done if you hadn’t ever heard of Kony in the first place— nothing— then what exactly is the point of your bellyaching? Probably not very different from the point of the IC film.

Of the interneterfluffle I read, I found these to be thoughtful and informative: 

http://psychotropicpolitics.tumblr.com/post/18901379053

http://blog.foreignpolicy.com/posts/2012/03/07/guest_post_joseph_kony_is_not_in_uganda_and_other_complicated_things

http://davidsangokoya.wordpress.com/2012/03/07/selling-old-newspapers-shouldnt-be-profitable-invisible-children-and-kony-2012/

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Shelter animals break my heart. I wonder, how could anyone abandon a sweet loving companion? What could have possibly happened to compel such cruelty and heartlessness? And then I find myself being dug out from under the covers on Sunday morning, and for one split second I think to myself, oh. I see now.

hungry

Over the weekend, I visited a Chinese grocery in El Paso, hoping to find the ingredients for wonton noodle soup. I was sorely disappointed. I’ve always been an eater— random, strangely specific cravings strike me at various moments in the week and, when unfulfilled, threaten to derail my sanity. Pregnancy is not making anything better. This wonton noodle soup craving (specifically for the one at great ny noodle town, which used to sit not 2 blocks away from my old apt. Oh regrets…) has been torturing me for the past 2 weeks. TWO WEEKS. I dream about it at night. Nothing tastes right. Throughout the day I imagine that I can smell it hiding around the corner somewhere. It. Is. Driving. Me. Mad.
But I have so far maintained a level of normalcy so as not to alarm friends, family, or the gmen currently conducting my work-required background check. Last night I made kale pie for dinner, which, looking past the acrid taste of disappointment and dissatisfaction, turned out pretty good. Beforehand I had to stop by the grocery store near our house for one last minute ingredient and ended up with a full cart. Roasted jalapenos and churros rellenos have a rather awesome effect on me. In that moment, the irony struck me. Here I was, wishing for a Chinese market with thin egg noodles and some decent wonton wrappers, when I had the best ingredients for Mexican cuisine at my fingertips. I would hate to look back 2 years from now when I’m craving menudo and mole in Tokyo, kicking myself for not appreciating the grocery stores selling dried chilis, fresh chorizo, queso blanco, and 5 avocados for $1.
So this is my new resolution: to immerse myself in whatever culture we’re in, and make the most of the short period of time we are given. Even though it seems like our first tour has just begun, we’ll find ourselves far far away from burritos de lengua and chilaquiles soon enough. But when we’re there, I won’t waste my time missing things I can’t have. I’ll fully enjoy the endless wonton noodle soup, baklava, fresh caught sashimi, or whatever the local cuisine may be. And I’ll be sure to have fun experimenting with making it myself while any and all authentic ingredients are available to me.

moo moo time

a few weeks into my pregnancy, all of my bras and pants started to fit. not just like hang-in-there-at-least-until-we-get-home-or-to-a-bathroom-stall-fit, but really really fit. and it felt good. an especially feel-good win, this beautiful skirt i bought a while back because it was on sale at anthropologie even though it was just a tad too big and so i either had to stick out my gut or use a safety pin. beautiful skirt and i finally had our moment in the sun.

unfortunately, this was a very brief moment. as of the past few days, i’ve graduated from the Just LOOK at my fantastic boobs bustin’ out of this top! stage to the I-see-now-why-cows-don’t-wear-pants stage. when i was little, i used to say that if i ever got pregnant, i would don a large potato sack and not bother with changing for until the baby came. i thought i was such a bad ass. well, bad ass baby ileen, the time has come. let’s find us a potato sack.

Peanut graduates from embryo to fetus today. Good job, peanut! I’ll eat an extra slice of cake for you.

Peanut graduates from embryo to fetus today. Good job, peanut! I’ll eat an extra slice of cake for you.

Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.

—G. K. Chesterton

marfa was a strange little town. this photo was technically taken 37 miles outside of marfa, closer to a town called valentine, but it’s called prada marfa. so.
i first spied it at night on our way to marfa. as it blew past, my brain had a thought-spasm that sounded something like— light!SHOES!what?!BAGS!prada!wait.NO!yes?WHAT. followed by a dark downward spiral into self-doubt and insecurity.
but as it turns out, i was not hallucinating or suffering a psychotic break. we went back in the light of day and found it to be as real as something like this could be. prada marfa is a fitting entry into marfa, i think. it embodies the very essence of marfa: minimalist. out of place. out of date. empty. closed. so small you might miss it. and even if you don’t, you might just wave it off as a strange dream.

marfa was a strange little town. this photo was technically taken 37 miles outside of marfa, closer to a town called valentine, but it’s called prada marfa. so.

i first spied it at night on our way to marfa. as it blew past, my brain had a thought-spasm that sounded something like— light!SHOES!what?!BAGS!prada!wait.NO!yes?WHAT. followed by a dark downward spiral into self-doubt and insecurity.

but as it turns out, i was not hallucinating or suffering a psychotic break. we went back in the light of day and found it to be as real as something like this could be. prada marfa is a fitting entry into marfa, i think. it embodies the very essence of marfa: minimalist. out of place. out of date. empty. closed. so small you might miss it. and even if you don’t, you might just wave it off as a strange dream.

turkey has begun! this year’s brine includes apples and oranges. and if rosemary were similar to cocaine, i would be dead of an overdose by now. mm…

turkey has begun! this year’s brine includes apples and oranges. and if rosemary were similar to cocaine, i would be dead of an overdose by now. mm…

seriously, you don’t even want to know how many of these jpgs of ryan gosling + dog i have in my computer.

seriously, you don’t even want to know how many of these jpgs of ryan gosling + dog i have in my computer.