I sit here in my room and ask myself: "what the heck is my problem?" I had a fight with someone - a friend - tonight, which eneded in my storming away from his car and up the stairs to my apartment complex. I could hear the "Ugh..." coming from behind is rolled up window as I stomped up the stairs I was angy but instantly sorry as well.
I have a guilt complex. Growing up, I was told so many times by a few certain people how rude I was or how mean I was or how [insert negative description here] I was, I started apologizing all the time for things. One my now good friends - ex boyfriend - tells me that I have a tendency to be a doormat. I try so hard to overcompensate for those times growing up that still linger with me that I am overly patient and kind with people when I shouldn't be. I can hear the voices in my head: "you are a hateful and ungrateful child". I don't think that those words have had an impact on my career choice - that is entirely seperate and I have thoughtly concluded that. But, I do think it effects many of my interactions with people.
Whenever I have a disagreement with someone, I feel incredibly guilty. I'm always afraid that the whole thing is my fault, or that I have no reason to be angry. And even when I clearly have a reason to be angry, I cannot be. I couldn't bear, I don't think, for a friend to think badly of me...so I rush to say I'm sorry. When that person doesn't answer their phone I, unlike a normal person, will call 5 or 6 times and finally leave a voicemail only to be worried all evening about how angry they may be with me.
The only thing I think I did badly tonight was stomp off like a four year old, and say "If you don't want to watch the movie just don't come!" Bascially, I have revoked an invitaiton to a friend that would normally be free-standing. A disagreement arising from some comments they made in the presence of our other friends about how they didn't want to watch the Human Trafficking show which premiers this Monday with a couple of others at my house ends with me saying "Fine, you think oppression is funny and you don't want to watch it, don't come." To which my friend replied "But I do want to see it." To which I reply "No you don't, so don't come." Not cool.
But should it really end there? Should my attempts to apologize for being out of line erase the fundamental source of the argument: PROSTITUTION AND OPRESSION ARE NOT FUNNY. They simply are not. And making jokes about it, the show, or me in relation to wanting to see it is not acceptable. I have to find the balance between not being rude to my friends and making sure that apologizing for my behavior DOESN'T change the way I feel about what transpired.
I'm so exhausted. After my afternoon classes were over today, I took a "nap" and didn't wake up until 7:20. It took me a few minutes of wandering around my apartment and for my roomate to mention something to me for me to realize I was late for work. I didn't get dinner so I ordered pizza when I got home. At around 10:30 I called it in. We waited until - well untill now - to realize that it wasn't coming. I'm tired. Jerks. I would've gone to sleep like HOURS ago if I knew it wasn't coming. I guess of course, that's assuming I could sleep...darn guilt complex. But, this blog is the only outlet I need for that...other than prayer. It's almost like I write these entries to God. I know He "reads" them u know? So I think of it as prayer journal...but it's REAL. As real as the Psalms...
I think I could never be a philosopher. I spend way too much time on introspection I think. What would I do if given the opportunity to do it all day long every day? I would most certainly go mad. And to whom would I apologize for that?
Goodnight Lord and thank you for your love and grace. Thank you.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Practical Applications
Perhaps the most disturbing thing about having morals is the realization that they impact real people.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from the Dean's office which talked about the fact that because I was a "student of color" they would love to have my opinion on Pepperdine Law School. I was immediately put-off, and all my sensiblilities about race/ethnic relations were offended. I had a series of discussions with my father, and even posted on this blog about how I felt [I think...although that may not be true.]
Here's one of the e-mails I sent to my father about it.
From: Elizabeth.Alvarez@pepperdine.edu
Subject: Re: I'm so Upset
Date: September 30, 2005 10:41:24 AM PDT
To: abela@hiline.net
You are right dad, I never did live as you did. But I do know so many stories from both you and other members of the family. I understand the need to have the points of view from others. But I do have a question: doesn't it strike you as odd that there are many anglos who were abused and mistreated because of their socio-economic status, but Liberation Theology overlooks them?
I suppose it doesn't really offend me but rather creates a sort of Cognitive Dissonance within me because I just don't know what to say. Truth to be told, I have had MANY experiences that have had a substantial effect on me. There have been multiple occasions when my ethnicity has caused people to discriminate against me. Of course they are not of the same magnitude as the experiences you have had, but I still hesitate to respond to this email
My feelin in its most base form is "Does it matter?" I mean, as long as a I do my work, I've done all I could ever be expected to do I suppose. And I guess I sort of feel threatened by the common assumption that no matter what I do, no matter how intelligent I am, there could always be something to hold me back: society. And this is something that I have little or no control over. It just sort of upsets me u know?
Perhaps I should send them an email saying I couldn't really help them? Or maybe I should send an email to Kenneth Star or Dean Gash or Dean Saxer? I could explain to them why I'm not sure I could help them. On the the reverse side, I think that my socially conservative upbringing would be interesting to them: it might be interesting for them to know that just because I'm a first generation american on your side doesn't mean I think a certain way. It perpetuates in my mind the secret fear I have: that I really AM different, and could never be the same.
But now, now I have an even LARGER sense of cognitive dissonance. Last night while Adam and I were talking as we were cleaning up after supper, I learned that besides just being hispanic, he is the first person in his family to go to College. He has six brothers and sisters, and his mom is pregnant right now. So, soon there will be eight of them and he is the driving force behind getting his family educated. His parents worked hard to give him things but since he transfered here, they don't [can't] help him.
He says he studies so much because for him, "This is do or die. I don't have anywhere else to go. I am so thankful for the money I get because I'm hispanic, because I need it." The words I heard implied there were "Because of my family..."
Who feels like a jerk now?
Maybe I didn't live as my father did but reality shows me that plently Hispanics do. Perhaps they didn't cross the border themselves or live in abject poverty, but they face the hispanic adage: Why are you going to school? Stay here, do what we do, and be happy. Perhaps I don't mind as much as I thought I did...I need real faces of real people for more of my moral conundrums.
I realize now, that my earlier "conviction" on this issue has nothing to do with real conviction - it has to do with pride. I am so determined to make sure that everyone knows that I can do it myself. That is why these things offend me; not because it errodes the moral fiber of America, but because it errodes my pride. If I really wanted to give this over to God, then I would quit caring about what people thought of me. Fundamentally - what does it matter if I go through my whole life having people think less of me because they have this pre-conditioned notion that I had some kind of extra help. Who cares???? If that's what it costs me - a little bit of pride, to bring up an entire ethnic group out of the projects...that's a small price to pay. I need to quit thinking that everything I do I do for myself. My intelligence is God given, as is everything else. Yes I have to work at it to use it, but I shouldn't boast in anything but in Christ.
Growing daily though His grace.
A few weeks ago, I got an email from the Dean's office which talked about the fact that because I was a "student of color" they would love to have my opinion on Pepperdine Law School. I was immediately put-off, and all my sensiblilities about race/ethnic relations were offended. I had a series of discussions with my father, and even posted on this blog about how I felt [I think...although that may not be true.]
Here's one of the e-mails I sent to my father about it.
From: Elizabeth.Alvarez@pepperdine.edu
Subject: Re: I'm so Upset
Date: September 30, 2005 10:41:24 AM PDT
To: abela@hiline.net
You are right dad, I never did live as you did. But I do know so many stories from both you and other members of the family. I understand the need to have the points of view from others. But I do have a question: doesn't it strike you as odd that there are many anglos who were abused and mistreated because of their socio-economic status, but Liberation Theology overlooks them?
I suppose it doesn't really offend me but rather creates a sort of Cognitive Dissonance within me because I just don't know what to say. Truth to be told, I have had MANY experiences that have had a substantial effect on me. There have been multiple occasions when my ethnicity has caused people to discriminate against me. Of course they are not of the same magnitude as the experiences you have had, but I still hesitate to respond to this email
My feelin in its most base form is "Does it matter?" I mean, as long as a I do my work, I've done all I could ever be expected to do I suppose. And I guess I sort of feel threatened by the common assumption that no matter what I do, no matter how intelligent I am, there could always be something to hold me back: society. And this is something that I have little or no control over. It just sort of upsets me u know?
Perhaps I should send them an email saying I couldn't really help them? Or maybe I should send an email to Kenneth Star or Dean Gash or Dean Saxer? I could explain to them why I'm not sure I could help them. On the the reverse side, I think that my socially conservative upbringing would be interesting to them: it might be interesting for them to know that just because I'm a first generation american on your side doesn't mean I think a certain way. It perpetuates in my mind the secret fear I have: that I really AM different, and could never be the same.
But now, now I have an even LARGER sense of cognitive dissonance. Last night while Adam and I were talking as we were cleaning up after supper, I learned that besides just being hispanic, he is the first person in his family to go to College. He has six brothers and sisters, and his mom is pregnant right now. So, soon there will be eight of them and he is the driving force behind getting his family educated. His parents worked hard to give him things but since he transfered here, they don't [can't] help him.
He says he studies so much because for him, "This is do or die. I don't have anywhere else to go. I am so thankful for the money I get because I'm hispanic, because I need it." The words I heard implied there were "Because of my family..."
Who feels like a jerk now?
Maybe I didn't live as my father did but reality shows me that plently Hispanics do. Perhaps they didn't cross the border themselves or live in abject poverty, but they face the hispanic adage: Why are you going to school? Stay here, do what we do, and be happy. Perhaps I don't mind as much as I thought I did...I need real faces of real people for more of my moral conundrums.
I realize now, that my earlier "conviction" on this issue has nothing to do with real conviction - it has to do with pride. I am so determined to make sure that everyone knows that I can do it myself. That is why these things offend me; not because it errodes the moral fiber of America, but because it errodes my pride. If I really wanted to give this over to God, then I would quit caring about what people thought of me. Fundamentally - what does it matter if I go through my whole life having people think less of me because they have this pre-conditioned notion that I had some kind of extra help. Who cares???? If that's what it costs me - a little bit of pride, to bring up an entire ethnic group out of the projects...that's a small price to pay. I need to quit thinking that everything I do I do for myself. My intelligence is God given, as is everything else. Yes I have to work at it to use it, but I shouldn't boast in anything but in Christ.
Growing daily though His grace.
Food
Yesterday morning I took a pie to the Dean's Office. Today I got this email from the Dean of Students, Jim Gash:
From: Jim.Gash@pepperdine.edu
Subject: Pie
Date: October 19, 2005 9:59:41 AM PDT
To: Elizabeth.Alvarez@pepperdine.edu
Lizz,
Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness and baking skills. My family
(and Katrina) loved it -- it was a special dessert last night after
dinner. If the whole law school thing doesn't work out, then you can
always fall back on your baking skills.
Jim
That makes me happy y'all. Apple pie was meant to be eaten by families.
And so is southern food.
Yesterda after the Contracts midterm, I went to the market to pick up meat for supper. Dave, Brendan, Jay, and myself continued our game of risk last night at 6:00 and Brendan was the first one out. I made my huge move out of Australia, sacrificing my army in South America to Dave [who has North America], and took over Asia [thank - you very much]. Plus, while playing risk, I made supper. I made fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread [from scratch too], and green beans. It was sooo good. At about 8:30 we quit playing risk and my kids [Debaters] Brendan [different Brendan], John, and Adam came over for supper. Jay stayed with us to eat. The other Brendan and Chelsea went out, and Dave went to Duke's. Supper was great...I'm tellin' ya'll...food makes a difference in people's lives. Mostly, high caloric consumption food...
From: Jim.Gash@pepperdine.edu
Subject: Pie
Date: October 19, 2005 9:59:41 AM PDT
To: Elizabeth.Alvarez@pepperdine.edu
Lizz,
Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness and baking skills. My family
(and Katrina) loved it -- it was a special dessert last night after
dinner. If the whole law school thing doesn't work out, then you can
always fall back on your baking skills.
Jim
That makes me happy y'all. Apple pie was meant to be eaten by families.
And so is southern food.
Yesterda after the Contracts midterm, I went to the market to pick up meat for supper. Dave, Brendan, Jay, and myself continued our game of risk last night at 6:00 and Brendan was the first one out. I made my huge move out of Australia, sacrificing my army in South America to Dave [who has North America], and took over Asia [thank - you very much]. Plus, while playing risk, I made supper. I made fried pork chops, mashed potatoes, gravy, cornbread [from scratch too], and green beans. It was sooo good. At about 8:30 we quit playing risk and my kids [Debaters] Brendan [different Brendan], John, and Adam came over for supper. Jay stayed with us to eat. The other Brendan and Chelsea went out, and Dave went to Duke's. Supper was great...I'm tellin' ya'll...food makes a difference in people's lives. Mostly, high caloric consumption food...
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Security Blankets
I remember this one time [at band camp...no just kidding...I can't even play the guitar with any decency...] whilst I was working on a project for my Western European politics class, I read a book about the cycle of poverty in Great Britian. One section, was focused on the problem of immigration. It talked about how oddly enough, the British underclass wasn't made up of a majority of immigrants [in this case, Indians]. Rather, a majority of the British underclass was white. Interestingly enough though, there were still odd things about the Indian community that the author deemed worthy of talking about.
Most specifically, the author noted that the Indian immigrant community is Britian often tended to cling to more traditional Indian customs even moreso than their compatriots in India. Why would such a thing be true asked the author. The reason, as he brilliantly asserted, was due to what I will term the Security Blanket Effect. Whilst in a different country, the Indian immigrant feels a deeper sense of disconnect from his own culture than he did at "home". When in India, no one questions his heritage or connection to his homeland. So, if he chooses to skip out on some traditions, no one will mind so much. But in Britian, he feels as if his culture is constatly being affronted. So, he clings even more tightly to what could qualify him undoubtedly as Indian. These traditions he might have otherwise abondoned are now his security blanket in a far away land.
As I study far from home, I sometimes wonder if I could make it here in the "west" for 5 whole years. I wonder if I could live not in the South not in the Bible Belt and not with my family and survive. I feel myself ignoring the compulsion to quit saying ya'll. I refuse to stop sayin' "sir" and "ma'am" and still belive that "to sup'" [eat supper] is a verb.
A friend from Tennessee remarked the other day on the way home from Church that he listens to country music more since he came here. And he finds he'll defend accents to the death if need be, even though his might not be as strong as that of our brothers and sisters in Arkansaws.
I wonder what I'm using? Maybe nothing, maybe it's my use of the words "tarnation" and "jack-rabbit stupid" more than often that give away the fact that I am homesick. I don't know. I'm not sure I need a security blanket. In any event, I'd rather have a plane ticket.
Most specifically, the author noted that the Indian immigrant community is Britian often tended to cling to more traditional Indian customs even moreso than their compatriots in India. Why would such a thing be true asked the author. The reason, as he brilliantly asserted, was due to what I will term the Security Blanket Effect. Whilst in a different country, the Indian immigrant feels a deeper sense of disconnect from his own culture than he did at "home". When in India, no one questions his heritage or connection to his homeland. So, if he chooses to skip out on some traditions, no one will mind so much. But in Britian, he feels as if his culture is constatly being affronted. So, he clings even more tightly to what could qualify him undoubtedly as Indian. These traditions he might have otherwise abondoned are now his security blanket in a far away land.
As I study far from home, I sometimes wonder if I could make it here in the "west" for 5 whole years. I wonder if I could live not in the South not in the Bible Belt and not with my family and survive. I feel myself ignoring the compulsion to quit saying ya'll. I refuse to stop sayin' "sir" and "ma'am" and still belive that "to sup'" [eat supper] is a verb.
A friend from Tennessee remarked the other day on the way home from Church that he listens to country music more since he came here. And he finds he'll defend accents to the death if need be, even though his might not be as strong as that of our brothers and sisters in Arkansaws.
I wonder what I'm using? Maybe nothing, maybe it's my use of the words "tarnation" and "jack-rabbit stupid" more than often that give away the fact that I am homesick. I don't know. I'm not sure I need a security blanket. In any event, I'd rather have a plane ticket.
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