Thank goodness I'm Jewish...

...Because otherwise listening to The Vaseline's "Jesus Doesn't Want Me for a Sunbeam" while pulling the night shift in the chapel would seem pretty blasphemous.

Concert for Congo

When I was a wee, wide-eyed freshman at Ithaca, the school's chapter of Amnesty International had their first benefit concert. A Jamnesty, if you will. We managed to book the lounge above the Lost Dog Cafe (rest in piece, Lost Dog), and in that tight space managed to fit WAY over the legal limit of people for music, booze, and an awesome raffle. I won twenty-five dollars to the local guitar shop!

That night Amnesty raised over a thousand dollars for a school in Zimbabwe, although Kendra got drunk and told everyone we made ten thousand dollars. Kind of wonderful.

I just remember that line of people fighting to get in, crowding the entire stairwell and wrapping around the corner. It was such an amazing thing to see so many people show up for an event that I got to help plan. Sure, I was the president of my youth group in high school. But this was the first time I actually felt like a leader. And it was when I learned that it's possible to make things like human rights and social justice upbeat and fun. I know I can definitely be a debbie downer with the subject.

Well, I'm a senior now, and we haven't had a Jamnesty since my freshman year. The organization kind of fell by the wayside, then I studied abroad, then we changed over from Amnesty to IC Human Rights. It's been quite the journey.

But the e-board really knocked it out of the park and IC Human Rights is having a huge concert tonight at Oasis. We've managed to carry the theme of womens rights in the Democratic Republic of the Congo through the whole semester, and tonight it's culminating in this amazing show. I am so excited. I've been pushing for another concert for years and it's finally here! AND, all the proceeds from the door and bake sale are going to the City of Joy!

This is going to be my last IC Human Rights event. It's been a wild ride. This club has become such a part of me...I don't really remember life without it. IC Human Rights and Amnesty International have really been the guiding forces in my life these past four years. These clubs, and the people in them and the topics we've tackled together, have shown me that I want to make the fight for human rights the focus of my life, rather than just a passing hobby.

But it's time to pass the IC Human Rights baton. Whoever becomes the next president is probably going to have to pry my fingers off it.

Be Our "Guest"

Hey all,

Here's the link to an article I recently wrote for Buzzsaw. It's about guest worker programs in the United States, which allow people from other countries come here for a specific amount of time to work.

While this seems like a great idea, you know, giving people the opportunity to make it in America and all that jazz, the program has been poorly executed and has resulted in numerous human rights violations.

Last month, Senators Chuck Schumer (D-N.Y.) and Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.) unveiled a new, bi-partisan plan for immigration reform. Unfortunately, it doesn't make any improvements to the guest worker program. It actually expands it! In their proposal they make it sound like the United States doesn't have a guest worker program. But in reality, it's more like they're covering up the failure of the one we already have.

Anyway, enjoy the article. It's a bundle of happiness and joy.

Chile

So this post is long, long overdue. Chile's earthquake was almost a month ago.

Then again, they've felt over 300 aftershocks since then, and they're still happening.

When the earthquake in Haiti happened, it was absolutely horrifying. But because I have never been to Haiti, there remained a kind of distance between me and what was happening. I never walked the streets of Port au Prince myself. There was very little chance that I knew any of those people buried under the rubble. It was a nightmare, but it wasn't...personal.

But Chile...I was in Santiago and Valparaiso less than a year ago. I keep looking at my blog posts from spring break...and it's a rough experience. I just keep trying to match up my memories with the idea of hospitals being moved into parking lots because none of the buildings are stable anymore.

I've always planned to go back to Chile someday, for an extended trip. And I know that I still will. But it's strange to think that the country will be different. Oh, I always knew that it would change, countries are always changing. But I figured it would be because of urbanization and politics. Not a natural disaster. It's a disconcerting thought.

One of the places in Santiago that I visited was this beautiful park, Cerro Santa Lucía. Here are some pictures I took last April-May.






And here's a video of Cerro Santa Lucía now. The music is kind of bizarre and the handheld is annoying, but it gives a decent idea.

My mind just keeps going to the night that I hung out with the guys that ran my hostel in Valparaiso. I happened to have been there on one of their birthdays, Pablo's, and we all drank together and went dancing in an underground club.

What happened to that club? What happened to the hostel? What happened to Pablo?

Hopefully everyone is okay. Valparaiso wasn't hit as bad as places like Santiago, Talca and Constitución. But I still wonder. And I'm afraid.

Being observant

This is just a piece I had to write for my narrative journalism workshop a little while ago, to learn how to write without interpreting what we're seeing. We had to sit in a busy place for a few hours,to "become aware of our surroundings. Allow the place and it's inhabitants to pervade your consciousness..." Then we had to write about it all in a way that was showing, not telling the audience.

So here it is. It was really relaxing to write, actually.

Friday 29th January, 1:30pm, Hilton Garden Inn Reception Desk

Beige walls, beige floor. Dishwater blonde hair in a ponytail and a cream sweater behind a beige desk.

Brrring! Brrring! Brrring! “Thank you calling downtown Ithaca Hilton Garden Inn. This is Melissa, how may I help you?’

Black suitcase rolling across big beige and little green tiles. Klah-klunk klah-klunk klah-klunk klah-klunk.

Automatic doors open. Winter air. The sound of traffic driving through slush interrupts recordings of pianos and saxophones. Splash. Splash.

Brown sweatshirt, black baseball cap. Jeans and a short brown beard. “Hi, I have reservations for Curtis? Yes. And it’s for two nights.”

“I have your room ready. I just need your credit card. Have you been here before?”

Heater rumbles. Rrrrr. Rrrrr. Rrrrr. Thunk. Silence.

Brown and cream fisherman’s sweater. Hair swept into a messy ponytail, with lots of little hairs falling out from the rubber band.

“I’ll go look at our license plate.” Wet sneakers leave marks on the cream and green tiles and navy blue carpets.

Brrring! Brrring! Brrring! Brrring! “Good afternoon, thanks for calling downtown Ithaca Hilton Garden Inn. This is Melissa, how may I help you?”

Black and white pictures of old Ithaca reflect a glare from within brown wooden frames. Maps, construction sites, flora and fauna.

Black leggings, black North Face and hot pink slippers walk by. “I gotta go to court.” Cell phone chatter fades into the distance.

Rapid clicking. “Okay, you’re all set arriving on the eighth until the tenth of February. Do you want me to read you the confirmation number? Okay, you’re all set then.”

Whur. Whur. Splash splash splash splash. Unintelligible voices filter from outside.

More footprints on the navy carpet, leading from doors to desk. “Is it possible to get change for a twenty?”

“Sure! Do you want all fives?”
“Yeah yeah. Definitely.”

Blue windbreaker with black shoulders. Black slacks. Closely shaven head and a goatee. Leaning into the phone and typing with both hands.

“Let me go and transfer you back to Kelly.”

A short beep when the elevator arrives. A long beep when the elevator departs.

Tapping. Hot pink slippers walk across the floor again. Arms full of Cornell-brand luggage and a cell phone still tucked under her chin.

“Our parking isn’t validated. Thank you for making my life difficult, I really appreciate that.”

Clicking. Light comes through the windows. Beige floor turns gold. Stacked Hilton points package pamphlets cast a glare. Bright white and blue. Go tropical.

“Is that validated for us?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”

Hot pink slippers turn around. Short beep. Long beep.

“Whenever she’s here…” Big sigh.

Constant beeping. A door is unlocked. Fluorescent lights shudder on and cast shadows over piles of luggage.

“I don’t know which bags are mine, there are two red bags left.”

“Yup, that’s all.”

Klah-klunk klah-klunk klah-klunk klah-klunk. Whur. Whur. Splash splash splash. Honk. Splash.

“Take a deep breath before you go outside. This is upstate.”

A wonderfully perfect walk home

This is all so cheesy, but this is how the night just kind of felt and worked itself out.

When I got out of work, there was this really thick, strange fog just covering everything. I'd been in the office since 6pm, and the skies were clear when I arrived. I wasn't expecting the change in weather at all.

There was rain, but was more of a drizzle and it was mixed with snowflakes.

For all the complaining I've been doing about the cold and the winter (I think maybe all the complaining everyone on the east coast has been doing about the cold and the winter), it was beautiful outside. The fog diffused the glow of the street lights and public safety call boxes, making the snow shine with a blue and gold haze. All the cars and signs were cast in a dark shadow, but the buildings themselves seemed to be glowing from the inside out.

I put my ipod on shuffle as I was leaving the office, and "Drops of Jupiter" by Train came on. The fog was so thick, and there really weren't very many people out. I was able to indulge in some middle school nostalgia and sing off-key about traveling through the galaxies and sharing soy lattes without anyone on campus recognizing me (I hope). I was able to throw in a few dance moves in an empty parking lot as well. It was really tempting to swing around a lamp post (actually meandered towards a few), but didn't give in that far. This isn't "Singing in the Rain."

Today wasn't particularly special. In fact, it had some downright shitty moments. Bad memories from recent events kept popping up in my head, and I ended up just keeping myself as busy as possible to keep from having a total, cry-in-the-corner meltdown.

But for a few minutes, on this walk home, my life was a music video. And everything was okay.

Pussies Unite!

The Vagina Monologues performance was last week, and it was AWESOME. Even more awesome was the fact that I remembered all my lines, didn't trip/pass out/vomit on stage. Go me!

All-in-all, through ticket sales and merch sales (and by merchandise, I mean chocolate vagina lollipops), IC Players and IC Feminists raised over $2,400 dollars. 90 percent of the proceeds are going to the local womens advocacy center, while the other ten percent are going to the V-Day Movement to help women in the DRC.

I had so much fun doing the show. It was amazing to be able to act in a play for the first time since high school, and have actual lines. And to play an adult. Not a sick child or Scrooge's corpse (they built the bed too small for anyone else. So my big role in "A Christmas Carol" was to lie under a black sheet for 20 minutes and breathe as little as possible).

But I digress. The show was amazing, and IC Human Rights was there to table for women's rights in Congo. We had fliers with facts, lists of things people can do to help end the violence, and a letter to Hillary Clinton people could sign. We got over 80 signatures! Not too shabby.

The members of IC Human Rights are so amazing. We got asked to table at the show pretty suddenly, and even though the civil war in Congo wasn't originally on the semester's agenda, the members really studied up and took to the challenge with open arms.

We're now planning a teach-in, a bake sale (Cookies for Congo!), and a benefit concert to help the V-Day Movement build a City of Joy in eastern Congo. The City of Joy will help female victims of sexual assault heal both mentally and physically, and train them to become independent leaders. It's a pretty amazing project and I hope it's successful.

An ex-marine came up to one of the ICHR e-board members during tabling. He said he had been to Congo, and it was a mess. But that our letter to Hillary Clinton won't do shit to help the situation. He might be right. There are so many reasons why the United Nations and the United States have failed to act. Cultural, economic, etc. But we have to put at least a little hope in the American Dream, that our elected leaders would stand up for the things we, the citizens, believe in and respectfully represent us abroad. Sure, Hillary Clinton might read our letter and wipe her ass with it. I don't know. But at least IC Human Rights and the signers of the letter tried through legitimate channels to make a change in the world.

And letter writing campaigns have been proven to work. Go ask Amnesty International.

We know the likelihood of our letter ending the civil war in Congo. That's why ICHR is doing other things as well, like raise money for the City of Joy. We're not putting all our fragile human rights eggs in one basket.