Living Physically and Mentally in Boston

Today has been amazing. My mind is bursting with ideas for this post. I realize that my last post sounded somewhat defeatist and I was ready to come back to California. The financial strains were weighing heavily on me, and the fact that I had two jobs but no place to live was almost too much to handle. But now that I have a roof over my head and my financial aid has been reevaluated I am in a much better position to think analytically and make the most of my education. I came to Boston for a reason. I got here early enough so that  I could handle the struggles of finding work and a place to live before school started, and that paid off, though I'm finding it difficult to eat at the moment, but in a few months, I should be okay. I owe this attitude today to a friend of mine who warned me not to live physically in Boston but mentally in Arcata because such a mentality would be severely detrimental to the productivity of my pursuit of history. After I heard her say that, I realized that I was indeed leaving much of myself in Arcata, anticipating the day I could go back to California rather than enjoying the days I have here in Boston, the city of my dreams. Taking her advice to heart, I spent most of that evening studying. I hit the math book and didn't stop until all my problems were done. When I finished, I read as much of the required readings for the next day as I could until I realized that I would only get about 3 hours of sleep before having to wake up to go to school. But this didn't discourage me. I have been sacrificing my studies in order to try and get enough sleep, but I realized that this was flawed logic. The only time I should be worried about getting enough sleep is on the weekends when I work late at the Pub and have plenty of time afterwards to do homework.

So I stayed up late to do my homework. And it felt good.

For the first time this semester I felt accomplished in my studies. I didn't feel like there was no way I could keep up with my studies and still make the money I needed to live while getting enough sleep. I realized rather casually that I just needed to cut back on sleep. Homework is more important. How many college students can say that they got a full eight hours of sleep every night the entire time they were in school? I dare you to give me even one. Staying up late and sleeping little are a necessary part of a college student's life, especially one who is putting himself through school. I felt good about myself. I woke up reciting passages from the book I read three hours before. My subconscious mind was working and I was learning even in my dreams and I loved this feeling. Sleep is nothing compared to the feeling of accomplishment that comes with actually completing as much homework as possible.

So I went to school tired but vitalized at the same time. I would stop living mentally in Arcata and focus my life and energies here in Boston. I'm here to learn about history and cultures and humanity and I'm not leaving until I do. Today was the perfect first day for my new mindset. It started off with some interesting history, I learned a little bit about math, then more history and the transition of humans from hunter-gatherers to sedentary agricultural communities and the importance of the command of fire to the survival of a tribe. One of the books I read last night is called Growing Up in the People's Republic and it's written my one of my college professors. It's a conversation between her and a colleague about their experiences growing up in the Generation of Mao's Communist China. Except for the fact that I had to sleep, I couldn't put the book down. It was captivating and helped me understand a lot about the mindsets of people of the time, as well as some unknown links between how a family conducts their home life and the development of independent thought. In my class we discussed this book a lot and next Tuesday we get to meet the author in person and have a class discussion with her about the book. I gained so much insight into why Chinese think and act the way they do and I would recommend this book to anyone. This course was the first of my really stimulating discussions today, but not my last.

Every Tuesday and Thursday evening I have a Native American Women Studies course in which the professor never uses the chalk board. It is a lecture/discussion only class with some videos and we have to take notes ourselves. Today very few notes were taken as the entire class room was involved deeply in the discussion at hand that covered many topics from the importance of ethnic studies as a lense through which to study history to the impact film has on enforcing and breaking stereotypes and influencing the thoughts and actions of the culture. My professor even said that in the ten years she's been teaching at UMass Boston, this was the best class session she's ever had. We were so engrossed in the conversation that we ran out of time too soon, but we did get to see one video that I have posted below: the first Native American to ever appear on a major TV entertainment show.

After class, I had a long discussion about a variety of topics with two of my class mates that was one of the best conversations I've had since arriving in Boston over two months ago. It helped me look at the world in a new light and I've realized some more things about life that I want to share, especially with my friends that are or want to be teachers. I am more determined than ever to teach and being at UMass Boston is giving me so much insight into the problems of the education system and ways in which it actually can be fixed on a classroom level by teachers willing to do so. I'm so stoked about life and teaching and learning that I can't wait to do homework!

Life Lessons Learned In Boston

I know that I just wrote recently, but I'm at an impasse that has provoked considerable thought during the last few days. I'm definitely soul searching as I wander the streets of this magnificent city trying to figure out what to do. Planning a course of action is made harder by the fact that I don't get off work until 3pm, and most things close at either 4 our 5pm, making it nearly impossible to get things done in an orderly fashion. It's disconcerting to know that there is the possibility that my education at UMass Boston will be over before it has had a chance to get off the ground. I need a place. That is priority one. But UMass Boston requires $1500 from me in about 8 days. If I didn't eat for two weeks and saved every penny that I had in an effort to meet this goal, I still wouldn't make it. I attempted to go to the Burser's Office today in an effort to find out what can be done about the fee and how I can pay it without getting charged. That proved a waste of energy as they closed at 4, the same time I got off the bust in front of the school. As I sat out in the lawn reflecting on this frustrating occurrence I realized that it was reasons such as this that had me fleeing so quickly from Humboldt County in the first place. Though not financial issues, the problems I had in Humboldt County had more to do with the individuals in charge. I was misinformed. I was made to run around in circles to try and find someone who knew something. Many times I was met with polite faces, but ignorant people. It was their  fault for not knowing how to do their jobs, and I was just a victim, but it was human error, and as humans, we all err.

You can't run away from your problems. The same problems will take on new shapes and follow you wherever you go. Running doesn't do any good. You have to take a stand, and face them head on, preferably on familiar ground. I realize now that I ran from Humboldt because I was tired, and I needed to see something new. I just had to get out for a while. I needed a vacation for vacation's sake. No band trips, no school. Just a trip for me. If I had known that, I would have asked for some friends to come along. But I didn't know that. Instead, I thought that my problems with school were because of the mistakes I made in California. I believed, honestly, but falsely, as it turns out, that those problems would stay in California when I came to Boston.

I have come to learn that those problems are at every school in every State in this Union. It doesn't matter if I'm going to school in Boston, Massachusetts or Arcata, California, I will meet with the same brand of incompetence, rudeness, erroneous administrating at both institutions. The difference is that I will pay twice as much to do it out of state. Boston is amazing. I will say it in every blog that I write because it needs to be known that I love this city more than anywhere I've ever been. But the people make the place. And Bostonians are some of the rudest people I've met. The most polite and helpful person I've met in the administration is from California. I had to see this place, and live here and work here and be more than a tourist here to truly understand all of this. I needed this experience because the school system is not designed to help students succeed as most schools would have you believe. And it is not confined to the States themselves, as some would think. It is a nationwide issue that takes educated people to figure out a way to fix it. People who have been through it. Who have seen it. Who have experienced the injustice of it. I've had people tell me that there's no future in academia, that there's no money to it. Bullshit. We can be the change we want to see in the world. By getting our degrees, and going into the administration, where the money is going, and donating portions of our too big to use ourselves paychecks, we can make a change. I will make that change. I will be that change.

I'm coming home guys. I don't know when. It could be in five days, five weeks, or five months. But I'm coming home to finish what I started and show the State of California that it's not going to chase me off because of it's bullshit. Then someday I'm coming back to Massachusetts and showing it that it's not going to fuck me over anymore. I will get my degree, and I will figure out how to fix our lopsided education, one state at a time.



Ahem. 

I realize now that I should wait until I calm down and proofread before publishing future blogs. After reading this one, I realize that it takes away and blemishes the image that I was running toward a dream and replaces it with one where I'm running from problems. That wasn't entirely my intent. Boston is my dream. I love this city, and I want to live near it someday. But it's expensive. I can't afford to go to school here, or live here right now. By getting an education, I'll be able to go to grad school, get a better paying job and will be able to afford to live in Boston without worrying about where I'm going to get $1500 in eight days. I am not giving up on this dream. Far from it. In my desperation and depression, I prattled on about running away. My point was more along the lines of problems being everywhere and the only way to get away from them is to deal with them. I do believe our education needs fixing. And all these problems I'm facing are preparing me for the challenges ahead. That last part of what I wrote before this addendum is true and from the heart. But I wasn't running from problems. I was running to a dream. A dream that I know I am unable to sustain financially. Unless something changes soon, I will be returning in January to take Math and stop trying to be the individual and be part of the mass so I can be individual when it matters. I hope now everything is clear. I'm not giving up my dream, I just can't afford it right now. I will be able to afford it by going back to California and paying 1/3 of the tuition I'd pay here, worrying only about poor advising and financial aid not giving me enough, but not turning me upside down and shaking out my pockets, either.

Reality Sinks In, But the Dream Doesn't Die

Well, my friends, I have come to a very important, but not discouraging, realization. I have been in Boston for over a month. I have a job, I have classes. I have made a friend, though I am still homeless. I have experienced Boston in a more intimate way that would not have been possible by a mere tourist trip. I have lived here, I have worked here, I will attend school here. I am rich in experience and covered in glory and a wealth of knowledge of one of the most historical cities this country has to offer.

But I'm poor as fuck.

I thought that by being 25 and financially independent, and being out of state (and thereby having a higher need, meaning more money) that I would be able to survive in Boston without much of a problem.

I was wrong.

The housing market is gruesome. The rent is 400-600 on the low end, and it only gets higher. Utilities can get up to $100 or more during the winter, and the wealthy extort the poor, even those they consider their friends. What about financial aid? Doesn't that give you plenty of dough since you're independent? Well.....no. Even though I'm getting $33000 in financial aid, that is split into two semesters, $5000 of that is work study, which I have to earn over time on a paycheck by paycheck basis.

I was able to quickly find a work study job, and not just any work study job. I work at the Brookline Public Library. Do you know who's from Brookline? And went to this library? These guys:

That's right. I work at the library that JFK and Conan O'Brian had their first library cards at. It's pretty awesome. But as awesome as my job is, and as many hours as I'm working, I've still had to max out my loans and grants, and pay $1,469 out of my work on top of it. And somehow find first and last month's rent for an apartment. And then pay for heat in the cold Massachusetts winter. And then do it all again every semester until I owe my soul and that of my first born child to the State of Massachusetts.

Don't get me wrong. I love this place, and I made the right decision. If I had made the prudent choice and stayed in California, I would have regretted not coming and hated California more, and always wondered what it would have been like if I just packed my bags and left. This is a grand experience and a greater adventure. I don't regret this for a moment. I've learned a lot about life, money, education, people, community, and culture, and I still have 4 and a half months to go. Boston is my favorite city, but the people make the place, and it's missing my favorite people.

It's not over though. I will still be getting an awesome education here, even if it is only for a semester. If I can make it longer you better believe I'll stay. But if not....if I have to return to California to pay a reasonable fee for a reasonable, but not as awesome, education, then I will do so, and I will have the unforgettable experience of having lived in one of America's greatest cities, and studied history in one of the best places for it. I love Boston. I love it more than any place I've ever been. But I'm not willing to sell my soul for it. Instead, I will earn my degree, go to grad school, and someday apply for jobs in the Commonwealth. Get paid to live here rather than pay to live here. So I hope you guys don't think ill of me for accepting the reality of my situation. But I have a proposal for you. I will live up my time here as best as I can. I'll get to know the best restaurants, museums, pubs, taverns, wenches, parks, and activities, and then next summer, I'm coming back. I hope some of you will come with me and let me share with you my favorite city in the way that I know it. Would you rather see it in a group of tourists, or would you rather see it with a friend who's spent 6 months here? Let me know who wants to come with me, because the only thing missing from this city is someone to share it with.

I'll see you guys again soon. Sooner than any of us thought, but I hope you don't hold that against me. I'd rather be able to save money and come stay in a hotel with you guys than stay here and sleep in a park. I got the taste I wanted, and I'll have months more of it. And one day I'll come back, better prepared, and more stable. And hopefully some of you will come with me.

Quarter Century Turning Point

The year is 2012 and today I'm twenty-five years old. Twenty five never seemed that old to me before, until it was pointed out that I'm a quarter of a century old. That's still not bad and I bet that in another quarter century I'd be glad to be back here on this day. It's been a full and rewarding 25 years, though. Sure I'm still in college, unmarried, and childless when many of my friends have their degrees, are married or engaged, and  a few have begun raising a family of their own. But over the last quarter century I have seen much of the United States, fallen in love with history and music, traveled the whole length of the American West Coast numerous times,  and lived life to the fullest of my abilities. I have experienced amazing adventures, and tragic loss. And it has all brought me to where I am at the dawn of this new quarter.

Here I sit in the public library in Brookline Massachusetts, where for the next two and a half years I will be dedicating my existence to the astute and noble study of history. Before the decade of my roaring twenties is out I will have my bachelors degree and an acceptance into a graduate school of study. I will find the woman with whom I wish to begin a family and settle into that life whilst working to provide for that family and enriching myself through education. I do not in the least bit regret my roaring twenties, but the sun has set on the first quarter century, (and hopefully, I'm only a quarter of the way through my lifespan), and with the dawn of this new quarter brings a more responsible, rounded individual with goals and aspirations and the tenacity and wherewithal to achieve them in swift and efficient timing. Now, I'm off to buy a hat and some Boston clam chowder for my birthday gift and feast.

Bi-Weekly Reflection

I begin writing this entry sitting on the second level of the Student Center at Umass Boston peering out the window and watching aircraft begin their descents into Logan Airport. They fly so low that I can easily make out the airline logo painted on their dorsal tail wings and notice that a number of them are from JetBlue Airlines - the very airline I used to land. I remember sitting next to the window as we began our descent and peering out to see what I could see of my new home. I remember what it felt like for my heart to start pounding as I realized that my new school - the entire purpose of moving to Massachusetts - was right below my feet. I did not actually lay eyes on UMass Boston until a few hours later, but I knew the peninsula is sat on as it passed beneath my feet. I have returned to this campus almost every day since landing two weeks ago, and when I'm not here, I am either working at my new job at the Brookline Public Library, or exploring my new surroundings. I have had many adventures here and the fact that I found employment in a mere six days after landing is nothing short of a miracle. It is not enough, though, and I must find a second job soon if I am to be able to stand firmly on the ground of independence. I have begun making contacts and my network is in the early stages of formation and I pray that it will not be long before I achieve my goal and have my own room and my own set of bills. Though I am discouraged from time to time, I realize that I have accomplished much in a mere two weeks and it has not been time enough for most people to find their first job, let alone working on a second. I remind myself that I am already ahead in the game and am working closely with the Office of Career Services to continue to gain ground on the job market until I am able to achieve the independence I long for. I must continue to be diligent and not begin to slack simply because I have achieved a bi-weekly pay check. Hopefully before the semester begins, definitely before it is out, I will accomplish my short term goals and be well on the way to completing my long term. Pray for me and wish me luck.

This is my awesome place of work

I've been on the top deck of this frigate 

walked the Freedom Trail, though I have not gone in all the museums yet

my only failure so far: 295 steps to the top of this obelisk, I could only make 190 before turning back. Before I graduate I will make it to the top 

Boston Common. I hang out here all the time now. It's really nice to have a park that isn't the Arcata Plaza

These pictures are all from the internet. I would love to post some of my own, but I don't own a camera or have a way to get my phone pictures onto the internet as my SD card is a microSD and doesn't fit into my computer.

Layover Update

With the exception of a music video at the end, this post will be sadly lacking pictures as I am not in possession of a camera with which to document my trip. So if that bothers you, stop reading now, or enjoy John Denver at the end.

I'm waiting outside gate 20 of John F Kennedy International Airport Terminal 5. It's 73 degrees at 7 am, and I'm just a few hours away from my arrival into Boston. The flight was amazing, though I didn't sleep as much as I should have. The seats each had screens in the back so each person could watch their own channel instead of viewing a common in flight feature. Despite a few bouts of turbulence I finally fell asleep over Minnesota to awake somewhere over Pennsylvania to witness my first east coast sunrise....at 30,000 feat. It was gorgeous and all fear left me in favor of a sense of belonging and the knowledge that I was doing right by myself. After we landed I made my way to gate 20 to await my final flight to Boston. Here I sit writing this blog and biding my time until I board. So without further adieu I'll post that video I promised and continue waiting for my plane.

Welcome to Canada....Eh?

On 1 July 2012, I finally left California. I cannot describe the myriad of feelings I experienced upon that act. Excitement, reluctance, fear, pain, happiness, relief....all that and more was taking turns tugging at my heart and mind. But as the minutes passed and the distance grew greater I mostly just felt like I was going on vacation. Yet there was no denying that my adventure was finally upon me, and it was only just beginning. For nearly thirteen hours my Dad and I shared stories and talked and had real and actual conversations that we never had when I was growing up. He talked to me a little bit about how he met his current wife while I shared with him some of my (watered down) experiences with the Marching Lumberjacks and the chain of events that led to my decision to go to Boston. Those thirteen or so hours represented the most time the two of us had spent alone in a long time. Probably my entire life. I found out things about my father that I would never have known without that time together and began to meet him as a human being and not just as the guy I never saw. At about 9:30 pm we crossed the Canadian border at Sumas, WA into Abbotsford, BC.

Closest I'd ever been to Canada before

I half expected to see this when I crossed the border

The sum of my previous experience with our neighbors to the  north

I honestly didn't know what to expect. My experience with Canada had been Dudley Do Right, Canadian Bacon, and playing "America Fuck Yeah" underneath the Blaine Peace Arch. Needless to say, I kind of expected to see a Moose being chased by a Mounty in the first five minutes. This did not, in fact, happen and I was amazed at how similar Abbotsford is to Arcata, but also how different it is to America. Though we arrived at night, I was still able to note a few differences, such as kilometers instead of miles, the fact that my Dad's speedometer had Km/h on the outside ring and mph on the inside. At first, I didn't think this would be a huge deal. I figured if you had the numbers on the signs and the numbers on the speedometer you just go by them and it's not a problem. But then I saw a sign that said "Vancouver 50" and my instinctual thought was "An hour drive to Vancouver? I thought he was closer than that." It wasn't until we got to my dad's place that I realized that it was 50 kilometers, not miles, and that it was only about a 20 minute drive.

That night I was in for another difference that I didn't expect, in the form of Canadian news. We arrived on Canada Day, which is Canada's Independence Day, and the news was rife with coverage of events from that  day's celebration. I had always gotten a sense of Canadian National pride but never witnessed it first hand until that night. Canadian flags were everywhere, citizens were dressed in the red and white of the Maple Leaf standard, there were musical reenactments of the War of 1812 and there was an overall feeling of patriotism that is vacant in many American celebrations. But what was most surprising is how much about what was happening in the US is covered by Canadian news. They covered power outages in the Washington DC area and murders and political things. The average Canadian citizen knows more about what's happening in the United States than the average US citizen knows about whats going on anywhere, especially our own country. But all these experiences were a mere taste of what was to come the next day, and I was ill prepared for what was to come.

The next day my dad and I woke early as we had to go and help his step daughter move into her new apartment. This was no big deal to me since, as a college student, I was used to moving heavy furniture and large couches into small spaces. The weather was akin to Arcata in late September. Overcast, with light showers, but cold or heavy enough to need a jacket. I had moved friends in worse weather and was not concerned in the slightest. The move itself was, for the most part, relatively uneventful though I did meet some new people as was surprised to find myself easily talking and opening up and was strangely comfortable with these new people. It might be that they were extremely polite and brought me out into the conversation, or it may be that a lot of my shyness in certain situations has melted away over the years. Whatever it was, I was very comfortable and outgoing through the entire experience and everything I saw or did was exciting to me. The only part I was really nervous about was the city of Vancouver. I hate driving in U.S cities like San Francisco and Los Angeles, and I expected Vancouver to be just as bad.

I was wrong.

Vancouver is the most relaxed, polite, pleasant metropolis I've ever laid eyes on. The entire time I was there I witnessed only two drivers attempt to cut people off and hurry to get wherever they were going. People walked or biked everywhere and heeded the right-of-way rather than take it for themselves. There was no stress in this city and I never once felt my heart rate increase, nor did I experience the strong desire to grab at the dashboard. It is definitely a city I could get used to. I only hope that my adventures in Boston will be as pleasant. After eight hours of moving and socializing, it was time to drive out near the University of Simon-Fraser to meet my Dad's stepson, his two kids, and his fiance.

Though in the morning I had some anxiety about meeting new people, by this point it was all behind me and I was ready to meet the stepson and grand kids my dad talk of so often. On the way there I was again caught off guard by the metric system when I saw "Seattle 216" and had to remind myself again of kilometers in this strange not-so-foreign land. When we arrived at Darryl and Molly's my dad knocked at the door and after a few moments we were met with a tiny face poking out of the window. As the boy saw us his face lit up with the recognition of my dad as well as with a touch of what seemed to me to be excitement at the prospect of meeting a new person. Young Jacob struggled with the lock as many four or five year old boys are wont to do. But soon he figured it out and was eager to show us all the many directions he was able to jump. When we finally waded past this tiny bouncing ball of dimples and teeth we managed to make it up the stairs to meet the rest of the family. As I met Darryl and Molly, the oldest child - Gabriel - came down the stairs and immediately asked me to go upstairs with him to play. Before I could answer, Darryl explained that they had just met me and asked the child to give them time to get acquainted first. Given a few more minutes I probably would have agreed because when I turned to face the living room I was impressed with their collection of toys strewn about the floor. A giant AT-AT stood in the corner and an X-Wing fighter appeared to have crash landed at its feet. Not far away was the wreckage of the coolest C-130 Hercules gunship I've ever seen, though it looked to me as if it's last mission had not turned out so well for it, though I have no doubt it's objectives were accomplished. As I surveyed and envied this impressive display of carnage, a sweet aroma met my nostrils. It appeared that our timing was such that I was able to eat my first truly unique Canadian delicacy.

A taste from Heaven

A butter tart is a lot like one of those mini pecan pies you can buy at the grocery store, but there are no nuts on top, and it's not nearly as sweet. The ones we had were just out of the oven and so moist that I actually had a desire to eat slow, just so I could make the tiny pie last longer and savor the flavor as much as I could. After we had enjoyed our butter tarts and coffee, Gabriel again came down to ask me to go upstairs with him. This time to help him build a Millennium Falcon out of legos. This was the hardest choice I've had to make in a while. I always loved legos and the Millennium Falcon was always the set I coveted the most. I almost chugged my coffee to join him but again his father insisted that they wished to get to know me better and he could spend time with me this weekend. After talking a little bit more, it came time to leave. I almost didn't want to go, as I was enjoying good company and coffee and having a great time with my new nephews, but alas my stomach was growling and it was time to return home with my dad to eat our dinner and leave the growing kids to theirs.

Overall, my first full day in Canada was a lot of fun and a great success. I got to know my father in ways that I didn't think existed, I got to meet a whole new extended family that I like more than I thought I would, and I've been able to try new things and have new experiences. I look forward to the next week and hope to be able to share much with my readers as I do.