WTF FDR?

As much as I don't want to say it, Michael Moore taught me something last night. Not that I don't agree with Moore's politics, it's just his tactics have worn so thin over the past two decades that I just can't get behind him the way I used to. He's got this psuedo-compassion that's totally not believable. And it looks like he's had a stroke, too. No?

This is what he taught me though. In January of 1944, FDR proposed a Second Bill of Rights, outlining the new basic rights that should be allotted to each citizen, an "economic bill of rights" that would guarantee citizens some tangible measure of their quality of life reflecting the modern economy America was building at the time. In essence, these rights outlined the means toward the end that was the "pursuit of happiness." FDR proposed the following:

• The right to a useful and remunerative job in the industries or shops or farms or mines of the nation;

• The right to earn enough to provide adequate food and clothing and recreation;

• The right of every farmer to raise and sell his products at a return which will give him and his family a decent living;

• The right of every businessman, large and small, to trade in an atmosphere of freedom from unfair competition and domination by monopolies at home or abroad;

• The right of every family to a decent home;

• The right to adequate medical care and the opportunity to achieve and enjoy good health;

• The right to adequate protection from the economic fears of old age, sickness, accident, and unemployment;

• The right to a good education.

Guess I should have learned this while getting that good education--and I did get a good education--but somehow I missed it. This struck a chord with me, as I'm sure Moore was hoping. I was thrown in the the "What the fuck?-This is brilliant!-Why didn't this go anywhere?-This would have solved all our problems!" tailspin that I'm sure Moore was trying to create, while creepily salivating and wringing his chubby hands. And despite his puppetry, I'm still there--WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS IDEA?

I dreamed that Obama would be a domestic policy president, that he would return the focus of our government to our own problems, the needs of our infrastructure, our social policies and departments, our suffering people and the needs of those who were given no bootstraps with which they've been told their whole lives they should use to pull themselves up. 17 months into Obama's presidency, I no longer hold much hope for the return of a strong domestic policy and the reemergence of programs that rebounded our economy, our infrastructure and our morale after the Great Depression. The Great Recession will not end with a similar fate, unfortunately.

I do think, however, that I will send the president an email every single day with these 8 inalienable rights, just to remind him that someone's already lit the fire. All he has to do is take and carry the horn and light the way.

New Beginnings

The question is -- when you start something new, do you get rid of what was there before? Generally, I answer 'yes.' In the instances of say, breaking up with a boyfriend or stopping smoking, I've learned that hatred is a tool you can use to your advantage. Hate something, make it your enemy and it tends to be easier to not be around it, sleep with it, smoke it anymore. But, in this case, the case of starting this blog off in a new direction, I decided to keep these old, sad posts. I could make up a reason for it, like it's necessary for context or it's important to know what the original idea was. But really, I don't want to delete any of my writing and I'm too lazy to move it elsewhere. So that's it. It stays.

What's new is an idea I've been kicking around for a while. It's not fully fleshed out so I will not try to put forth some kind of thesis here, but it has to do with my life and a particular position I think a lot folks my age find themselves in. A lot of it is vitriol for baby boomers. A lot of it is dismay about younger generations. A lot of it will be about being in the middle--the middle of the years of my life, the middle of the wealth spectrum of this country, the middle of what seems like the demise of a country. Probably not in the middle of the political spectrum, but you get the idea.

Also, expect pictures of food, cats, music postings and promotion of artists I admire.

And now, a song I love called Fisherman's Blues and a satellite picture of the BP oil spill.

Bloomsday

It's been awhile. I had decided to put this thing to rest--both as a symbolic gesture of moving beyond all the frustrations and annoyances of my "new life" and because things started to get a bit better. And I got some fucking perspective. Moves are hard, jobs suck, there is no place that promise all I thought Austin could deliver. I grew up a little bit more...duh, I always forget that has to happen. So, here I am writing again. I'm thinking that perhaps this might serve as a source of catharsis and to document some more of those interesting growing pains moments that (I'm learning!) will never stop. This is life, I guess.

Bloomsday was June 16th. It's a day that celebrates the novel Ulysses and in Dublin, there are parades and walks around town that mirror the route that Leopold Bloom takes the book. I forgot about it until today. Ulysses is, of course, hailed as a masterpiece of modern fiction and really is worth all the work (especially with a little help from a companion reader called The Bloomsday Book).

Somehow I remember the ninth chapter this way: Leopold goes the hospital to check on a woman who is in labor and the language of the chapter progresses in nine stages from some of the earliest forms of English to the modern-day version of the novel. It's incredibly difficult to read. It is the gestation and birth of the language of the novel. For some reason, I'm thinking quite a bit about it today--wishing I could have my own Bloomsday, to walk this new city and think about how life is played out in these small intergers, day by day, full of enough hassle to blur the larger picture. I haven't been able to look at the larger picture for a while, but I'm thinking I might be able to see it better...at least for today.

It turns out I'm completely wrong. Leopold goes to the National Library in the ninth chapter and reads from Hamlet. It's chapter eight when Leopold is imagining the birth of a child by a former girlfriend. And again, I have to re-adjust the view. If only I could get rid of expectations and just be for a while...

Cowboy Up...

Fresh off of a generally enjoyable Thanksgiving holiday, it just doesn't seem right to keep spending so much time and energy and creativity toward my dislike of my present surroundings. I just spent the last two days or so thinking of what I was thankful for in my life and to go back to just rattling off all my little annoyances and whiny complaints just seems juvenile. And, even worse, counterproductive.

'Cause that's my new thing: productivity. Meaning, how can I get as much done as possible in the time I have here. See I remembered that there are certain things that will always change your perspective--one is being drunk. Aha! But after years of mistakes and a sneaky digestive problem I've learned that this is ultimately counter-productive. So that's out. What is useful in changing your perspective is being so damn busy that you can't even really look around to see what the hell's going on. This is productivity objective #1. The rub: keeping really busy when you're broke can be challenging. But just think of it as fun!

Go organize all those recipes I've been hauling around for years now! Roast another chicken and make another pot of stock! Walk around the block one more time! Finish this book and start the one underneath it! Drive that way--I don't know where that goes!

Productivity objective #2 is (we're hoping) a natural consequence of #1--maybe I'll have something interesting to say in the off chance I find an interesting conversation. All this exercise, book-reading, cooking and eating should make me a better, more well-rounded (hopefully not literally) person right? Yes, I'm thinking that I'll insulate my world with things I find pleasurable, not measure it against the outside world for a change, and when or if I do pop my head out of my hidy-hole, I might be able to add something to it. Or, I can just stay in the hole. That works as well.

But alas, because of the world we live in today with this "paying for things" arrangement that late-capitalism has wrought upon us, I can't stay in the hidy-hole. I got work to do. (Mindless, soul-numbing, sparse and sad work, but I'm not discussing that here.) So it's the interface of the hidy-hole and the big outside world that is the area of most discomfort. It's the damn people again! (See post #2 for further ruminations.)

But this time, I'm confronting the problem with a plan. I'm cowboying up (to borrow a ridiculous phrase from an even more retarded movie, but one that fits this place). Meaning, I'm getting over it...and myself. I'm going on with the life I had before and I'm ignoring, to the best of my ability, the things outside that seem to be asinine, counter-intuitive, annoying and just plain fucking horrible. I'm going all Stuart Smiley...'cause it's what I've got left. And I guess I'm trying to take some inspiration from a local icon, the hard-hearted, tough-as-nails, quiet, introspective, stand-offish cowboy. I'll be so innately from here that this place can't reject me...or the other way around. Or whatever.
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That said, I'd like to exorcise some remaining demons. As positivity and productivity are taking main stage, I have to bump off some nagging qualities I've been obsessing over first. I've made a top ten likable things (sort of) for Austin. Now here's my least favorite things:

1. The fucking traffic. People said this to me before we moved--"The traffic in Austin is worse than Dallas. It's worse than anywhere!" It is as bad as the worst thing that was said about it. It's worse than that. And it's not just congestion--which makes you feel like a moron for moving to a city thinking that it was going to be paradise when others warned you against it because that city was never planning on accommodating dumbasses like you that just kept coming anyway--it's that there seems to be an overall disregard for common sense, common courtesy and common decency on Austin's roads. Every day in the car is a struggle against the ugliest facets of humanity. I'm not exaggerating.

2. The fucking music scene. I'm not going to dwell--I've talked about it before.

3. The fucking house prices. Again, not going into it.

4. The fucking attitudes. I have talked about this a little bit, but it's a strange phenomenon and it's difficult to explain to people without sounding like it's actually my problem and it's not real. Now I know I have a problem with folks and I acknowledge it openly to almost everyone I meet, but there's enough pervasive snobbery and coldness (the-cooler-than-being-cool kind) in Austin to turn anyone away. The rest of the country talks about it--I don't know why anyone within the city limits doesn't. But it's definitely here and it definitely makes me want to scream almost daily--This is not the center of the fucking universe! It's not LA. It's not New York. Hell, it's not even Chicago! Let's all just admit it and move on! For fuck's sake.

5. The fucking use of "Austin" as an adjective. This should be 4b. because it's a symptom of a larger disease but boy this town likes to use its own name to describe stuff. "A true Austin experience." "Very Austin." "More Austin than you can shake a stick at." I made that one up, but you see where I'm going. How retarded is it to say "Oh, that pasture is very Ames"? Or "that parking lot is very Boise"? Or "it doesn't get more Detroit than that burning car"? The last one works actually.

6. The fucking students. The University of Texas at Austin is the largest state school in the US. It has an enrollment of around 50,000 students. I'll say that again. It has enrollment of around 50,000 students--that's almost 50,000 18-22 year olds in a roughly 5 mile radius. Doesn't that make you want to puke? I'll also add that these students by and large are from the top 10% of Texas high schools. Now you may be thinking of Amarillo or El Paso, but it' more like Highland Park in Dallas and private schools in Houston. That means somewhere in the vicinity of 40,000 grossly spoiled teenagers in enormous SUVs. (see reason #1 again.)

7. The fucking rich people. Ok, I'll admit that in the past two years I've been fighting increasingly strong class warfare urges. I'm not sure why--it probably has to do with the last US administration's tax policies, my liberal arts degree and subsequent sad-sack salaries, and the above-mentioned spoiled rich kid environment. What matters is that I now know I am horribly uncomfortable around the extraordinarily wealthy--and there's a lot more of them down here. Makes me think of molotov cocktails...

8. Hmmm...well I actually thought of something I like. I know it's all out of order, but it's my list. I can fuck it up any way I want right? There's great cable here--probably not specific to Austin, but Time Warner is definitely preferable to Cox. The Ovation channel to be specific. I really love it.

9. My fucking work. I can't talk about it and I won't talk about it, but just know--it eats away at me and kills a little bit of my soul every day.

10. The fucking hype. And I guess that's what this is all about in first place.

Focus on the positive

I wanted to make a list of 10 things I really like about living here:

1. The birds will sometimes, usually at dusk, congregate in large numbers in trees and all sqwak at the same time. It makes Austin feel tropical--without that feeling of sweat rolling down your jeans.
2. Tacos. They are everywhere. And they're really really good.
3. I like the way the river looks. Buzzing across one of the bridges at night and seeing the reflection of the downtown lights on the river gives me an excited feeling. (See post #2 to get the real scoop though.)
4. The south side of town. It has a different feel, it's shabbier, it's skankier, it's so expensive that no one shabby or skanky will ever be able to afford a house there.
5. There are many eating establishments that I really enjoy here. Outdoor seating, laid back atmosphere, good food, sometimes it's cheap. And there's a great variety--anything you could think of you can get here.
6. Fresh Plus. There's a grocery store that is my idea of heaven. Small but varied, almost empty but friendly, clean and inviting. Not devastatingly expensive. All I want to do on the weekends is go to the grocery store.
7. uhm...this is getting harder...I was going to say I like my little house. But that's not Austin-specific; it's me-specific.
8. Nothing's coming.
9. I'm really trying too...and this is depressing.
10.

So, I got to 6. Maybe in 3 more months I'll find twice as much stuff that will sustain me here. Maybe not. I'm trying to keep my eyes open though.

Nothing but sweat inside my hand...

I feel there are enormous forces at work in my blogging...meaning, the more I write, the more the topics I write about begin to take on more complexity and take more thought-space in my brain. So much so, that if I were so inclined, I'd go back and rewrite almost all of what's already been written. But that's cheating (sort of), but I say it now because it makes this writing (to me at least) active and interactive, not set in stone or static. (This is a long way of saying, I might end up being wrong about some stuff.)

But before that day comes, if it comes at all, I'll address the third "golden promise" I feel was first set forth in the lure that brought me to the capital of Texas. This was the promise of a low cost of living in comparison to other medium to large US cities. With the way things are now--always, it seems, on the brink of total collapse--I really don't want to bitch about not having any money. It's bratty and inconsiderate to whine about not being able to eat Ethiopian more or go see some band that probably's going to make me hate music anyway (see post #1). I make enough money to live. I buy food thriftily, I don't buy clothes or music or other forms of entertainment (save beer, there must always be beer). I can pay rent, I can pay for my car, its insurance, my bills. Just barely, I can pay for these things.

So I understand it's not Austin's fault if I don't live the high life right now. But I still have a bone to pick and it's with the damn house prices in this town.

According to The Real Estate Center website, published by the Mays Business School at Texas A&M University, the average price of a home in Austin in January of 1990 was $89,700. The average price of a home in Austin in September of 2008 is $240,800. Yep, that's 260% increase over 18 years. But how does that compare with national averages? The National Associate of REALTORS (r) lists the national average price of a home as $234,700 and in the South that average price is $207,600 (listing for September 2008). You can read this paper, published by Brookings Papers, if you can make it through (I admit, I skipped ahead to the charts) to see a more in-depth analysis of the rise and fall (bubbles and stickiness as they put it) in the housing market in the US since 1975 and how that roller coaster affects all of us. Most importantly, check out the chart on page 42, where you can see the rise in house prices from 1975 at$52,000 to the peak of $390,000 in 2007.

I give this information to give you a glimpse that I understand I do not live in a vacuum. I know there is a large, intricately complex and almost impossible to understand crisis going on outside of my little unhappy world. I know people are losing their homes, losing credit, and losing jobs so I dare not try to fit this little complaint into the larger context. I don't even fully understand all the information I just wrote down in the above paragraph, but it seems to me that Austin is right there in the middle of this national trend. It's no San Fransisco (house prices-wise and otherwise) and it's certainly no rural town in Arkansas (where friends of mine are buying houses for $80,000 and less). It's snuggly there in between the two extremes.

Yet the salary averages are not. From AboutAustin.com, the most recent data available is from 2005 when the median household income was $67,300, which the website (arrogantly) puts in this nonsensical context:

"Thinking of moving but you're looking at a paycut if you do? A dollar in Austin goes further than a dollar in Boston. If you make $65,000 in Austin, you would need approximately the following annual income in these other US cities:

1. San Antonio: $56,314
2. Phoenix: $58,465
3. Salt Lake City: $63,182
4. Austin: $65,000
5. Houston: $65,651
6. Denver: $65,730
7. Ft. Worth: $66,246
8. Dallas: $70,566
9. Boston: $93,488
10. Los Angeles: $96,183"

Need the income to buy what exactly is not made clear. But remember, this is 2005's numbers. A basic search of the average salary for Austin in 2008 comes up with $50,000.

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Ok, that's the numbers. Here's what life is like: there's no way that my husband and I, with jobs in our fields and for established businesses and organizations, will make enough money within the three-year trial period I'm making up to see if this experiment would work, to ever be able to afford a house in the neighborhoods we're interested in living in. Yes, I understand I just said "in the neighborhoods we're interested in living in." And yes, I understand there are other places to live. And that's the big BUT in this whole scenario.

But, those aren't the places we moved here to live in. Those aren't the places that were advertised as affordable, as attainable and those aren't the places I had in mind when I decided to move here. Yet another wave comes over me, a memory of how we spent all our savings, how we left a house that we enjoyed living in, in a neighborhood we loved, being able to save money or spend it if we had an occasion...Austin has, I feel, jipped me of what it said it was going to be. But the worst part is that I jiipped myself out of what was really a pretty terrific way of living.

It looks good, but why does it feel so bad?

After that first post, I let go a huge sigh of relief. I had some things I needed to say about this town! And I'd said them, or at least like 10% of them. And that makes me feel better. It makes me reflect on my griping and moaning and through that somehow, I'm able to see more positive aspects of Austin than I was able to see before. But I'm not done bitching yet.

To continue on through the list of golden promises set forth by this city and its inhabitants (the ones I've met mind you), I'd like to next discuss the "things to do" promise. As I said before, pre-move Austin seemed a veritable Pleasure Island...but a Pleasure Island for weirdos, like me. (If you don't remember Pleasure Island, go watch your Disney movies). Record conventions, drag shows, mustache contests, slip-n-slide parties, sock hops, Eastern European disco parties, you name it, it happened here. And by the way, I'm not making up anything on that list; that's all stuff that's actually happened here. So in that way, the city's delivered. It's true! There's wildly ridiculous stuff to do here almost every week, if not every weekend. That's what I was looking for! Why am I not happy then?! Why am I yelling all these questions?!

The closest to an answer that I've come up with yet is that same ole' nemesis that has haunted me all my days. That fucking problem that lies just outside my door, every day of my life, confronting me, testing me, bringing me to the brink of total self-destruction. That's right: it's other people.

I'm a misanthrope, just like everybody else. And I'm not going to try to make the case that I hate people more than most, or more than you. Shit, you're reading a blog which means you must not like actual interaction with other folks. But really, it's not that I don't like people, I just wish people were different than how they are. I wish they were nicer, were more interesting, had better taste in things, had something new or witty or inappropriate to say. On the whole, interactions with people are Boring. But I realize that there are times when this is expected, even dare I say, preferred. Take an office job for instance. Sure it's fun to work with someone who's always saying something that weirds everybody out (I almost always want to immediately ask them to go to lunch so we can discuss it), but my dislike for people being the way it is, I'd rather just have 1-2 second acknowledgments of others' existence and move on. Having good interaction with co-workers can highlight just how shitty and boring the rest of your day is and that sucks. So I say, keep it short, keep it boring, I'll wait for the copier in silence thank you and discuss your ugly shoes with my husband when I get home.

But, crazy parties are a different story. I expect nothing but witty banter, clever quips, genuinely funny stories and so on. There's nothing worse than having a boring conversation at a truly interesting party. I always feel like I'm being held against my will, like I'm missing the most interesting conversation that's going on just right over there and I have...............to..........get out............right...................now!

(This makes me a bad listener by the way. Notice that I'm not really into having a conversation per se, just being entertained. Hey, it may be shitty. At least I'm being honest about it.)

So finally, to Austin, to the reason for this whole thing. In my (limited in time but varied in theme) experience of going out in this town, to those crazy parties and get-togethers that must have been thought up by creative and talented people, I've been bored out of my mind. It's like the folks that thought up the party didn't actually go to the party. And there's a discouraging and gross lack of enthusiasm. For god's sake, if you go through the trouble of getting this whole thing together, you rent the venue and you get dressed up, JESUS! Can it kill you to act like you want to be there? Or you're excited about it?

Beyond that (which I ultimately think is just a product of being young and still believing in this thing called "cool") I haven't encountered a great conversation at one of these things yet. No talk of music, no talk of movies, no talk of politics (certainly not politics, how uncool.) Now to be fair, I have met a small group of dudes that have great conversations and have great taste in all the things that matter. It's very promising. The only hiccup--they like to have "Dude's nights" and guess who's not invited to those?

So I guess this is what I'm saying--the nightlife here in Austin looks great, but it feels like shit. I was at this thing a few nights ago at the Zilker Park Club House; it has an incredible view. You can see the entire city's skyline, from campus to downtown to the river and Zilker Park. It was beautiful. It looked like an exciting and bustling city; it looked like it was full of promise and youth; it looked as if it were there waiting for someone to just come experience it. And as I was looking at it, I couldn't shake what I really knew about the city--that all those crazy antics it loves to brag out, that weirdness it has tried to preserve and tout to the rest of the country, that it may all be just some good ideas that got ruined by their originators. And in their pursuit of weirdness, forgot somewhere along the way how to be actual people, with actual interests and view points and opinions worth sharing.

I'm gonna keep trying to find some interesting people to talk to, but if they're wearing a Keep Austin Wierd t-shirt, I know to just keeping on walking.