Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
September 13: The 9/11 Survivor, Fred
On behalf of my beautiful coworker, I accepted the gift of the knowledge of a presentation of Remembering 9/11 which featured two survivors. Both of them worked at the World Trade Center and were in the buildings on that day. Both struggled to leave the building, helping others, and made it out only minutes before they collapsed.
I absolutely admire and respect both, but why is Fred the person of the day? Let me explain the other survivor, Rahm. Rahm exhibited a calm and joyful attitude. He spoke of helping people, he spoke of the joy of assisting others, of the peace of accepting the tragedy, of attending the funerals of the 10 coworkers his office lost and of concentrating and meditating on the lost souls and passing vibrations and thoughts to the lost ones. Rahm continues to be joyful and says his positive movements forward after 9/11 may be why he has never suffered a nightmare since. Rahm is a person I admire and someone I would strive to be like.
But, for better or for worse, Fred is who I identify with. Someone who suffered survivors guilt and still questions his spirituality and what to make of the incident. I felt a connection with him and empathized from afar. I thought about him long after I had left the meditation center.
I absolutely admire and respect both, but why is Fred the person of the day? Let me explain the other survivor, Rahm. Rahm exhibited a calm and joyful attitude. He spoke of helping people, he spoke of the joy of assisting others, of the peace of accepting the tragedy, of attending the funerals of the 10 coworkers his office lost and of concentrating and meditating on the lost souls and passing vibrations and thoughts to the lost ones. Rahm continues to be joyful and says his positive movements forward after 9/11 may be why he has never suffered a nightmare since. Rahm is a person I admire and someone I would strive to be like.
But, for better or for worse, Fred is who I identify with. Someone who suffered survivors guilt and still questions his spirituality and what to make of the incident. I felt a connection with him and empathized from afar. I thought about him long after I had left the meditation center.
Monday, September 12, 2011
September 12: The Native Speaker of Wakhi
My favorite branch of linguistics is historical-comparative and documentation. So when the linguistics department at Columbia was offering Language Documentation and Field Methods, I jumped on it. The first class was last night and it. was. FABULOUS. Man I feel really rusty and out of my linguistics training, but I loved it. The best part about the class is that it is going to be focused on actually going through the entire process to document a language that has very little documentation, and the professor has chosen Wakhi, an East Iranian language spoken in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Tajikistan and China.
With a native speaker in the class, he sat patiently, awkwardly, and uncomfortably as the professor explained the syllabus, structure of the class, history of Wakhi, etc. The course is 3 hours every Monday, so after all this and the introductions, the professor wanted to just dive right in and begin the process. Setting up the recording device, we needed to start by creating a Swadesh List to begin to identify the phonemes of the language. This basically means we simply ask the speaker for vocabulary in their language. Listing categories and transcribing the words into the IPA, we collected the words of animals, numbers, family terms, clothing, fruit and colors in Wakhi. After asking him to repeat the terms for "mother" and "green" or "say plum goat together" or "what is chicken brother?" to hear the contrast of sounds in Wakhi, everyone was giggling, the speaker was laughing, and even as we all debated or hmm'd and haw'd over sounds he would whisper "I think it sounds like 'g' to me!" he was all smiles trying to help.
I'm so looking forward to the class, but the experience with Nazeer touched me and made him my Favorite Person of that Monday.
With a native speaker in the class, he sat patiently, awkwardly, and uncomfortably as the professor explained the syllabus, structure of the class, history of Wakhi, etc. The course is 3 hours every Monday, so after all this and the introductions, the professor wanted to just dive right in and begin the process. Setting up the recording device, we needed to start by creating a Swadesh List to begin to identify the phonemes of the language. This basically means we simply ask the speaker for vocabulary in their language. Listing categories and transcribing the words into the IPA, we collected the words of animals, numbers, family terms, clothing, fruit and colors in Wakhi. After asking him to repeat the terms for "mother" and "green" or "say plum goat together" or "what is chicken brother?" to hear the contrast of sounds in Wakhi, everyone was giggling, the speaker was laughing, and even as we all debated or hmm'd and haw'd over sounds he would whisper "I think it sounds like 'g' to me!" he was all smiles trying to help.
I'm so looking forward to the class, but the experience with Nazeer touched me and made him my Favorite Person of that Monday.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
September 11: The Park Bar Bartender
Without explicitly stating it, myself and two other girls from my ballet class have fallen into a bit of a routine on Sundays: a grueling 2 hour class at the City Center studio near Columbus Circle, followed by the Park Bar in Union Square from after class, to potentially all evening.
Aside from having fun ourselves and getting to know each other, we now know the bartender pretty well! Being the only people in there 4p when we arrive, he's talkative and great fun. A few weeks in, and he's officially my favorite bartender, on par with Eddie back at Hula's in San Diego.
He's officially been upgraded, and made Favorite Person of the Day because of today. While Jen had to make a trip to Connecticut after class, Suzie and I kept tradition alive and headed into Park Bar. As we sat down, the bartender started by placing ice waters in front of us, so thoughtful as we were all sweaty from dance class! Knowing our favorite Bloody Maria drinks, he starts to make them, sets them in front of us, and doesn't stop there. He had been trading drink shots for hummus and chips from the Sabra Hummus sample vehicle just outside, and gives us dishes of hummus and pita chips, and it still doesn't stop there. Emerging from the back, he tosses us each a Fiber One nutrition bar to "replace our nutrients lost from ballet", and then sets a stack of gossip and fashion magazines in front of us.
At one point you think, he's good at knowing how to get his tips. At this point you just think, good Lord, you are my favorite person of the day!
Aside from having fun ourselves and getting to know each other, we now know the bartender pretty well! Being the only people in there 4p when we arrive, he's talkative and great fun. A few weeks in, and he's officially my favorite bartender, on par with Eddie back at Hula's in San Diego.
He's officially been upgraded, and made Favorite Person of the Day because of today. While Jen had to make a trip to Connecticut after class, Suzie and I kept tradition alive and headed into Park Bar. As we sat down, the bartender started by placing ice waters in front of us, so thoughtful as we were all sweaty from dance class! Knowing our favorite Bloody Maria drinks, he starts to make them, sets them in front of us, and doesn't stop there. He had been trading drink shots for hummus and chips from the Sabra Hummus sample vehicle just outside, and gives us dishes of hummus and pita chips, and it still doesn't stop there. Emerging from the back, he tosses us each a Fiber One nutrition bar to "replace our nutrients lost from ballet", and then sets a stack of gossip and fashion magazines in front of us.
At one point you think, he's good at knowing how to get his tips. At this point you just think, good Lord, you are my favorite person of the day!
Saturday, September 10, 2011
September 10: The Baptist Pastor of Harlem
I live next door to a quaint little baptist church in Harlem. The people I see coming and going to the church are very sweet, friendly, and amiable people.
One thing I've never noticed, is that apparently their services are on Saturday mornings. I was under the impression that the Christian sect that views Saturday as the Sabbath was the Seventh-Day Adventists, this would be the first Baptist church I heard of doing this. Nevertheless, and I awoke lazily on Saturday morning, I could faintly hear the voice of a pastor singing into a microphone, Hallelujah, hallelujah...
I did some Zumba workouts, made some coffee, had some breakfast, went in my room to sit down to 1984... and he was still going! Hallelujah, hallelujah...
That is some real stuff, I tell you. Tireless and still sounding good. Preach it, brother.
One thing I've never noticed, is that apparently their services are on Saturday mornings. I was under the impression that the Christian sect that views Saturday as the Sabbath was the Seventh-Day Adventists, this would be the first Baptist church I heard of doing this. Nevertheless, and I awoke lazily on Saturday morning, I could faintly hear the voice of a pastor singing into a microphone, Hallelujah, hallelujah...
I did some Zumba workouts, made some coffee, had some breakfast, went in my room to sit down to 1984... and he was still going! Hallelujah, hallelujah...
That is some real stuff, I tell you. Tireless and still sounding good. Preach it, brother.
Friday, September 9, 2011
September 9: The Threatening First-Year
Two students walk in together and approach the desk and want to know everything about waiving out of the Professional Development class. Everytime I start to mention a qualification needed: "Four years full-time work" I am cut off by their simultaneous "Yes" impatiently not wanting to hear any more, and tapping their feet, waiting to bolt. The PD waiver forms are snatched from my hands as soon as I am holding them up, and they are out the door.
In an almost unbelievable turn of events, they come back in after no more than 15 minutes have passed. Begrudgingly they each say they will just take the course, and start pulling out $20 bills to buy the books. As I am writing out a receipt for the boy he is talking to me.
"Yeah, I'm just going to take it. It better be good."
It was said without a laugh, and told to me. I may have paused in writing the receipt, but I didn't look up. I didn't chuckle or throw him a smile to diffuse what he had just said. What the hell does that even mean? It better be good-- or what? What's his definition of good? If we don't meet it, do we owe him something? And what do I, here at the front desk, know about the class and what the hell do I owe him?
Man I hope that class was good enough for him. Must've been, he's the classic example of someone who needs professional development.
In an almost unbelievable turn of events, they come back in after no more than 15 minutes have passed. Begrudgingly they each say they will just take the course, and start pulling out $20 bills to buy the books. As I am writing out a receipt for the boy he is talking to me.
"Yeah, I'm just going to take it. It better be good."
It was said without a laugh, and told to me. I may have paused in writing the receipt, but I didn't look up. I didn't chuckle or throw him a smile to diffuse what he had just said. What the hell does that even mean? It better be good-- or what? What's his definition of good? If we don't meet it, do we owe him something? And what do I, here at the front desk, know about the class and what the hell do I owe him?
Man I hope that class was good enough for him. Must've been, he's the classic example of someone who needs professional development.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
September 8: Little Miss Paid Internship
It was one of those days where the sound of the door opening makes your hair stand on end. With a constant stream of students all coming to buy books, I never even put the receipt book away, knowing that it would just need to be pulled out 10 second later.
When Little Miss Paid Internship came in, already something was different. Other students came in cautiously, closed the doors behind them, and nervously looked around before approaching the desk. She, on the other hand, sauntered in very confidently in her suede boots and with a bit of an air of entitlement, and addressed me from half way across the room. She wanted to know if we had statistics of student positions, namely their salaries. Knowing a colleague who worked on this, I deferred to his assistance.
Though the information was all on the website, he was happy to print out the hard copies, and handing them to her, she seemed disappointed. She wanted statistics on the internships, not jobs. Mr Colleague explained we don't really track those, but again, on the website you can see past internships and if they were paid.
"Yeah-- but they don't say how much."
That was enough for me to declare her officially my Favorite Person of the Day. I am a model example of someone who was not raised with much of anything in the way of resources or monetary security, and I have 25 years experience of supporting myself and needing money, etc. But I learned early on that unfortunately, the definition of an internship in this country means little to absolutely no payment. Good for her for holding out for the big bucks though. I'd love to follow up with her and see what she found.
When Little Miss Paid Internship came in, already something was different. Other students came in cautiously, closed the doors behind them, and nervously looked around before approaching the desk. She, on the other hand, sauntered in very confidently in her suede boots and with a bit of an air of entitlement, and addressed me from half way across the room. She wanted to know if we had statistics of student positions, namely their salaries. Knowing a colleague who worked on this, I deferred to his assistance.
"Yeah-- but they don't say how much."
That was enough for me to declare her officially my Favorite Person of the Day. I am a model example of someone who was not raised with much of anything in the way of resources or monetary security, and I have 25 years experience of supporting myself and needing money, etc. But I learned early on that unfortunately, the definition of an internship in this country means little to absolutely no payment. Good for her for holding out for the big bucks though. I'd love to follow up with her and see what she found.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Welcome To Favorite People of the Day!
I am a person, who is not a people-person, and yet continues to find myself in situations where I need to be a people-person, and as this person, you people get to reap the benefits of my daily routine.
As a general disclaimer, when I bitch about people superficially, I mean it lightheartedly... as in, let's just laugh about the way it came off. I know that there is good and bad in everyone. I know that friends in the past who may have turned on me are a good friend to someone else. I know that the boys that broke my heart might be a great boyfriend to some other girl, all in the same way that I've hurt some friends but been exceptionally loyal to others, or broke some boys' hearts while been a devoted girlfriend to others. I don't think that people are all bad, or evil, or rude. On the contrary, life is hard, and we are all fighting a hard battle.
And with that aside, none of that necessarily means that we have to overlook when someone is acting like a douchenozzle. I live in New York City, a fabulous crossroad of the world, which gives me endless opportunities to come face to face with endless characters daily... why not document it? Instead of harboring angst or anger, I will take my reactions and turn them into something to laugh about.
At the heart of all of this, it's a way to remember one of my favorite quotes (and something I literally repeated to myself DOZENS of times while substitute teaching middle school kids in San Diego):
"We are all the least lovable when we are the most in need of love"
As a general disclaimer, when I bitch about people superficially, I mean it lightheartedly... as in, let's just laugh about the way it came off. I know that there is good and bad in everyone. I know that friends in the past who may have turned on me are a good friend to someone else. I know that the boys that broke my heart might be a great boyfriend to some other girl, all in the same way that I've hurt some friends but been exceptionally loyal to others, or broke some boys' hearts while been a devoted girlfriend to others. I don't think that people are all bad, or evil, or rude. On the contrary, life is hard, and we are all fighting a hard battle.
And with that aside, none of that necessarily means that we have to overlook when someone is acting like a douchenozzle. I live in New York City, a fabulous crossroad of the world, which gives me endless opportunities to come face to face with endless characters daily... why not document it? Instead of harboring angst or anger, I will take my reactions and turn them into something to laugh about.
At the heart of all of this, it's a way to remember one of my favorite quotes (and something I literally repeated to myself DOZENS of times while substitute teaching middle school kids in San Diego):
"We are all the least lovable when we are the most in need of love"
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