Doctor Groove....and I digress...

Well, I had a wonderful visit to my friend's place in Chicago this weekend. This morning as I rode the L from Ean and John's to Midway airport, I accidentally messed up one of my transfers. It was bitter cold there all weekend, and this morning was no exception. I hate this cold. It's that dry and angry cold that crystalizes the snots in your nose and makes your nostrils stick together. After waiting in the breezy bitter air on an outdoor platform, crowding under the heaters whose presence was just barely noticable, I watched two trains that were going the opposite direction come and go, and FINALLY jumped on the first one I saw on my side of the tracks...only to realize a second later that it was not the train I was waiting for. I had to ride to the next stop, where I knew I would have to get out and stand in the cold again, only to wait for a train to take me back to the other stop to get out and wait in the cold again. It also was a LONG ride to the next (wrong) stop. I was really happy with myself. My toes formed into a block of ice while waiting at this stop on the wrong line (no heater here) and I finally got back on going towards where I needed to get on the correct train. When I entered the train, there was an african american man standing at the door talking to the rest of the people in the car who all happened to be african american as well. They were all facing himand listening intently to every word. Were they just passengers on the L train like myself? Was he their tour gude? Was he a panhandler? Was he a pan handler? I seriously had no idea. Myself and another white lady, who made the same mistake I had, just walked into something, but we weren't quite sure what yet. He was speaking about Oprah, and how he hadn't originally cared for her because she used to seem to throw her money at problems and he wanted to see powerful african american people getting more involved with the problems they hoped to see changed, not just donating their money. He was speaking about what an excellent role model she is now with her donations for her school in Africa, and wished that more wealthy african americans were doing some of the same with their money and fame. As I looked around the train, it seemed that nearly everyone in that car was watching him and listening. It wasn't what I am used to in New York. You might see a few faces enjoying the music someone is playing for them, and the rest are usually doing their best to ignore it. There is a reason for this, of course. We have a lot of smelly crazies on our trains, and several who are less than talented musically. But even when there is someone a little more pleasant than most, none have ever had this affect. Every face was on him and what he was saying made sense. He told us he was going to recite a piece I will hardly do it justice here. It was rhythmic and poetic piece that empowered black men to take a stand. He told them to stop making excuses and allowing other people's excuses to be their own. He told them to be good fathers and good people and to stop thinking about jail as a hobby. Everyone on the train seemed to be listening, but when he finished, I wasn't sure what would happen. I have never seen a "subway performer/speaker" have this kind of effect on an entire car full of people. He offered the piece he had just recited, printed out for $1. He told us of his website. He explained of the work he does around the city for the community. Instantly people were pulling out scraps of paper to write his website down (http://docgroove.com/ ) , including the other white lady who had gotten on with me. At least half of the nearly full car grabbed some money to give him and accepted his printed out poetry.

I was completely struck by this experience. I am still not entirely sure what to make of it. I spent all morning wondering what was it that made his message so clear and presentable? Of course he was an intelligent and well-spoken man, but that can't be all. Are the panhandlers a lot less crazy in Chicago? Was it his audience? I don't feel like his message is anything all that new, but it is definitely something his audience could identify with and felt was very relevant. What if the car was full with people of every ethnicity? Would he have continued? Would it have had the same effect? Who knows what these people did after they went about their day?

I just can't help but think about all the things I wish I could say to a car full of people on the subway. There seems to be so much in this world that needs to be shouted at us, but most of the time people ignore these types of displays. Maybe it just so happened that everyone on that car felt exactly as he did, even if they didn't go around preaching it to people, so they respected someone who did and did it so well. But aren't there enough people feeling the same way right now to produce similar results?

This is what has been getting to me lately. People seem to be more and more aware of so many injustices happening around our country and beyond, but I am not feeling much unity and action about any of it.

What is getting to me even more lately than other people is what I'M not doing. My attention is being pulled in several directions and all of them feel so important to me. I want to find my own way to make something a little better in one or all of these areas, but no lightbulbs are appearing above my head. I am just getting more and more frustrated and antsy to make a difference, but I can't figure out how.

I feel like knowledge is something a lot of people are lacking about all of these situations and that if I can make more people aware of them, more people would feel similar. With all our digital television channels and all of the ways we can be connected to everything outside our own little worlds, it's incredible how much we don't know. We don't really want to know.

Our country is just SO self-absorbed. We have these myspace accounts where we can post 300 photos of ourselves or our family and friends, and log on every day to see if anyone commented on them. I feel like I am 11 years old putting together a scrapbook to show my friends when they sleep over at my house, only it is online and everyone who feels like it can find it and comment on it. Of course I enjoy it too, but it is just a huge distraction. It seems so easy to use it as a means to express who WE are as individuals, over and over and over again. We fill out surveys. We have blogs. You are obviously reading mine right now. Some people blog about their work or their social life, or what they are eating for lunch. People post very intimate details of their lives and then get angry when someone writes a rude comment about it. We don't have to put this stuff out there for everyone to see. I'm all for expressing ourselves but when does that ever end? That used to be something you encouraged your children and teenagers to do (hopefully) so that they would grow up to be brilliant and confident in the hope that it might help them to make the world a better place. Now it feels as though we are just in it to make a better (__insert name of networking website here__) profile.

Few people in the generation before ours are doing much to protect our world for us, and they didn't have all of the same distractions. What will our children and grandchildren have of their world but a time capsule of all of what made each of us "us"? How can we get the attention of a nation who can't stop pimping their profile? (by-the-way, check out my pictures from Chicago on my blog!)

To anyone who will listen...

On my way through the subway station this morning where I usually see Midget Michael Jackson Man flailing his tiny manparts (that didn't sound right), I saw a lady shouting out something about God. It was strange, because she was standing there with her purse on her shoulder and her jacket on, and looked as if she was just passing through when she suddenly felt that she just HAD to preach. So she did. No one was stopping to listen, but she kept shoutin'. I have a lot of things I feel like shouting at New Yorkers, but I have yet to do so. Why is that? Am I insane or is she? I assure you that what I have to shout out people need to hear a lot more than they need to hear that God created the universe, and that gay people are evil. I need to tell people to stop being so fucking rude around here. I want to scream at people who just throw their trash on the ground right next to a trash can. I want to have people actually attempt to move out of MY way sometime instead of barreling through me on the street. If you fucking knock my freshly purchased iced coffee out of my hand because rather than turning your upper body just a smidge, you prefer, instead, to ram it into the hand that is holding the coffee...maybe you could look back and apologize as you keep walking...since I now have to go buy another one. I love NYC and I don't think it is just here that people are so rude. I was raised to say please and thank you, and I'm sorry. I say it when I haven't done anything that warrants it. I have some strange syndrome where I automatically default to polite. Most of the time I am proud of that, and happy with the way I was raised...but more and more lately I'm just irked with myself and wish I didn't automatically move out of other people's way or hold the doors when they refuse to acknowledge it or say "thank you, have a great day!" to the people I just handed my money to at Dunkin Donuts who can't even make eye contact with me. Then I get a little sad to realize that being here with people like that changes me a little bit and I find myself making a conscious effort to stand my ground on the sidewalks instead of shifting for everyone else. This makes me sad since I don't need to change or adapt to this rude world...it should be the other way around, but it isn't. Anyway, kudos to this random woman for getting things off her chest to anyone who will listen. She's got balls. But I'd rather see Midget Michael Jackson Man.

Re: I Remember Christmas

I remember Christmas growing up. I remember the excitement as the end of school drew near. I remember baking cookies, holiday parties in elementary school classrooms and buying silly little erasers at "Santa Shop" for all my cousin's presents. I remember walking home from the busstop, smelling the chimneys in my neighborhood, each step getting closer to my Christmas vacation. When I arrived, the fake fireplace was plugged in, and though I knew it wasn't real, it felt toastier somehow! I remember going to bed the night before Christmas, overtaken with the giddiness of the surprises I would wake to find. I might even strain my ears to try to catch sounds of the big guy sneaking around with our presents down there. My brother and I would creep out of our beds at some ungodly hour. We would sneak past my mother's room and down the stairs, being careful to avoid the top one that squeaked. I know we wanted to see the treasures that Santa had brought us while we slept, but I also remember not wanting to see them all right away. I couldn't wait to look through the darkness, still on the staircase, squinting my eyes to make out the shapes of the piles of goodies sitting at the foot of the fireplace. Which pile was mine? Which was my brothers? I would be filled with shear excitement, my heart leaping at the possibilties that lay in the shadows. I would sneak down for a glimpse, and then return upstairs to ponder what awaited me. Mom would hear our restlessness and make us wait as she got up and went down before us to see the looks on our faces. I recall certain Christmas mornings as if they all happened the same year, though I know that is not right. I remember my first cabbage patch doll, the pink stirrup pants I wanted so desperately, and a girl Snoopy doll that Santa had set up inside the door to the fridge on my little kitchen/stove playset. After the mystery of what toys had made up the shadows in that early morning light, I would then become anxious to go to my Grandma's and see all my cousins and aunts and uncles. I would select my favorite present and off we would go. Once there, we would eat, laugh, and play. My cousins and I would put on little pagents to show to the parents (would you guess I was always the shy one?). We didn't all get to see eachother all the time, so this was a special day. It was one of the rare times we were all together, sharing our excitement and love. ..>

I remember how things changed as we got older, as well they should. The pagents had long since come to an end. Since graduating from college and since losing my Grandma, so much has changed on Christmas for me. My relationships with my cousins, while important, have been overshadowed by an amazing and unique circle of friends. I still do my best to see my mother and brother over the holidays, but I rarely get to see all my cousins and their parents. One thing that I always try to do is give a quick call to my closest friends, perhaps hear their voice for a second and wish them well.

I remember this Christmas. Before noon, I received about 6 text messages that said "Merry Christmas". I won't explain how many of them were from that same amazing group of friends. Let me just say that it scares me a little. I definitely don't always send out Christmas cards, and have been known to mass email a greeting or two, but I am nervous for these new methods of reaching out and touching someone.

I enjoy the internet and use it probably too much sometimes. I have gotten to know some people better because of the internet, and know some people nearly well without ever having met them. I can express myself via email/IM/or blog in ways I might not have been able to come right out and say face to to face or on the phone. I'm sure I don't need to tell you the wonders of the internet. What scares me is that some people use it as a substitution for genuine contact.

I have never been a huge fan of text messaging, first because I don't have unlimited texts, and have to pay per message sent/received after a small amount. I use it from time to time, and it definitely can be handy, but when minutes are free and both parties could hear eachother's voices, I just don't understand texting. Obviously I am one of the few that feel that way.
..>

The problem is that so much can be misunderstood on instant messages, texts, or emails. Without hearing the proper inflection, without knowing the sense of humor of the person I am talking to, and them not knowing mine can sometimes cause problems. Confusion tends to arise on a regular basis even when you know eachother REALLY well. Does this mean we shouldn't use this technology? Not at all! I just don't think we should rely on them to have real conversations about important things that should be discussed in a way that both parties can fully appreciate what the other has to say. It shouldn't all be one way...and then the other...and then back again. We tend to feel good that we can get our points across without being interrupted using these methods. Sure, that can be beneficial, but it can't be the end all be all. I have heard of people ending relationships, working, and otherwise, over email. This has actually happened to me, though it isn't how I would have liked for things to happen. I have listened to friends explain their main source of communication with a new potential significant other being through texts. I have been concerned about the future of our connections if things continue along these lines. Regardless of the text messages I received that were, no doubt, a function of selecting all contacts in their phonebooks and clicking "send", I called everyone as I had originally intended. I had to leave a few voicemails, but that doesn't bother me.

I don't have the same things to look forward to on Christmas as I did when I was younger. So much has changed. I continue to look forward to having a moment to speak to my closest friends and wish them well, even if it is to their voicemail. While there can be no substitute for face to face relationships, I hope we can all communicate in as personal ways as possible with eachother rather than all of the new methods that make it so easy to "make the effort" in just a few clicks on a keypad, especially on important holidays!