Lean on Me

On December 4th, I went to the Pet-a-Puppy event. It was really great to be able to meet some of the dogs and get to she them play with people. Service dogs are extremely important to people of all disabilities. although these dogs are being trained to help guide the seeing impaired, there are all types of service dogs, many who help people who disabilities can’t e seen from the outside. My father for example who is disabled has a service dog named Bella. She is his best friend and constant companion. My mom and I have her two sisters. Together they bring so much joy into our life. My dad uses Bella to stabilize him and brace himself when walking, to pick up things he can’t get to, and for many more things. She has a deep understanding of my dad and their friendship is quite remarkable. Without her I’m not sure how my dad would get around. She has provided an immeasurable service to my father and our family and we are just trying to give it back. I love this program Guiding Eyes because it allows students to help train and take care of these dogs who I know will one day make the same difference in someone else’s life.

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Re-imaging Yourself

Malcolm the main character in the movie Dope was unexpected in the best ways. He was geeky and cool. He had style and could appreciate music from the 90’s. His two best friends were not the stereotypical sidekicks but unique and fresh in their own ways. The entire movie was not what I had expected. I found myself relating to Malcolm in many ways but perhaps the biggest way was the ability he had to change how others saw him. High School sucked for me. I guess like Malcolm I didn’t really fit in. Unlike Malcolm however, I wasn’t able to find my group of friends until my senior year. For me the idea of college was so great because you could become anyone that you wanted. You could re-imagine yourself; you could change your style, get a new haircut, fix things about yourself that you didn’t like too much. College was this place where you would fit in and your hard work would pay off finally. Like Malcolm I came from an area that wasn’t great. I grew up in a low-income family and I had to fight for everything I got. I worked harder than anyone that I knew in school because like Malcolm college was my ticket out. One of my favorite lines in the movie was towards the end, was when Malcolm realized that he had to be willing to do anything to get where he wanted. Now, the movie portrayed, a very dramatic example. He did things that I’m not willing to follow but the message that you have to do things others won’t, work harder than others, and do things others don’t have to resonated with me. I loved this movie for the wit, humor, and unexpected characters that portrayed the struggles of the underdogs. Alan Turing once said “Sometimes it is the very people who no one imagines anything of that do the things that no one can imagine.” Dope represented the very heart of this sentiment.

Defending Against Yourself

Self defense is generally thought of as a way to prepare for the worst; a way for one to defend themselves against an attack. But what I learned last Friday was that self-defense is a way to empower yourself. I think people often, especially women, doubt their abilities. We forget to see how strong and powerful we are and overlook all that we are capable of. Society often tells us that we are weak, we need a man to defend us. But what was so powerful about this seminar was that we all  learned that we are capable of great things if we only believe that we can do it. Henry Ford once said “Whether you say you can or you can’t–you’re right.” We are the ones getting in the way of our own true strength.

Last Friday I did something that I never thought in a million years I could do. I broke a board with my knee. It seems so simple and yet it was incredibly rewarding and empowering. I just told myself to go for it, something that fear of embarrassment would of preventing me from doing just a year ago and yet it turned into a highlight of my college career. It meant that by stepping out and trying something new, I wan’t going to fail. Not as long as I believed in myself. Self-defense turned from defending your self to defending against yourself. Something I wished I had realized sooner.

Behind the Curtain

This past Thursday I had the opportunity to see the film The Hand That Feeds. I found the film to be extremely emotional and moving. It showed a glimpse into what it means to be illegal in the US but I think also it showed the power of unions. Although the main purpose of the film in my opinion was to show the struggles and challenges that undocumented people in the US have to go through to support their families, the message that moved me the most was the union aspect.

Seeing these people work extremely hard and get paid so little made me angry. My mother is a school teacher and my father used to be one as well. Two years ago, the teachers in my mother’s school district went on strike as the union fought for their rights. Things that were common sense such as hiring more teachers and smaller class sizes were lacking. The news headlines talked about the affect on the children that this would have and whether it was right of the teachers to be doing this. But what many people didn’t get to see was the affect it had on the teachers and their families. When my mother decided to join the strike, it wasn’t an easy decision. It meant going without pay which was the only means of support for my family, as my father had become disabled and could no longer work. She hurt for the cost it took on the children as well, but she knew that in the long run she was fighting for something that was important for them and their futures. But what made it harder was the lack of support that she received from my family when she told them her decision. I can vividly remember my mom coming to me and asking if I would support her in her decision, telling me how alone she felt, and how this was important to her, that she believed it to be right. I told her that I would go picket with her, take time off school, that I supported her always, and that I believed it to be the right thing as well. What made it even worse however, was that the union settled and we all felt like the teachers and students had been cheated. The school year was extended, teachers received only a minimal pay raise across the board, more staff was said to be added but the effects of that have yet to be felt. The class sizes are still hardly manageable and the burden it places on teachers and their families is immense.

My family isn’t undocumented and the challenges that we had to face fighting for rights and working with a union was hard. Additionally, our fight was short lived. This movie showed the challenges poignantly that undocumented workers and families have to go through. It reminded me of my own experiences and perhaps took a little bit of my hope for the future with it. Immigration reform and undocumented’s rights still have a long way to go.

The Price of Art

Last Saturday, I was able to discover and enjoy the art that is spread throughout Ithaca. A refreshing experience since most art is locked away with only those who have money holding a key. Art is an integral part of our culture, of any culture. Art can express someone’s hopes and dreams, their fears and worries; a piece of art can speak with words louder and clearer than any one person could do themselves. That’s why art being accessible to all is of the utmost importance. This idea of free public art however is not so easily accepted by all. Our idea of what art is must expand.

What I also learned on this tour was that artists who are willing to go to jail because they refuse to let their voice be drained out by those who have limited interpretations of what art is and where art should be and who should have access to art, are inspiring. They live and sacrifice for the idea that art should be available to all.

I wish that more towns could display the same amount of art that Ithaca does. It truly does transform a community into more than just it’s bricks and stones. Art helps to make Ithaca what it is. Art in Ithaca represents the voices of the people who live in Ithaca.

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Re-imagining an old hero

We are taught in history about the stories of legends. We construct in our minds what we think they were like. We in a way place them on a pedestal. Oddly enough as a result, it can be disappointing to learn something about them that we believe to be beneath them. However, I think what The Mountaintop taught me was that those legends that we look up to are all just humans. I guess when we imagined their lives, we didn’t actually imagine their lives. We imagined a figure, a hero. We didn’t picture them washing dishes, or complaining about their long day of work, we never really saw them as one of us. But in doing so, we lost some of the magic.

It was off putting at first I think to see Martin Luther Kind Jr. as someone who was tired of it all, who felt lost in many ways, who could smoke, drink, swear, and cheat on his wife. None of these things were from my childhood imagination. But as the play went on, I appreciated it more. It made what he did somewhat more magical in a way. Seeing him as a man and only a man who could then stand on the mountaintop and see the stories of history play before his eyes, it hit me of the impact that a person could make. He wasn’t some mystical being that was perfect or untouchable but rather an ordinary figure who had to deal with all the same emotions that we all have to deal with. He felt the same dilemmas that we all have to face.

The Mountaintop was so poignant because it provided us an insight into a legend but also into all legends of history. It was also powerful in the boundaries that it pushed. I loved that it made God a black, woman and an angel a prostitute who drank, swore, and didn’t care what any man thought of her. This play made me re-imagine not only the past and those who lived in it but also, how I see the present. The play was emotionally moving and didn’t allow any of society’s “rules” to govern the way it imagined the world, thereby allowing me to not let society’s “rules” govern the way I imagined the world.

Image over Substance: A Collapse of Values

When I first began to explore Cornell, I felt a sense of comfort. The juxtaposition of the underprivileged with the quirky, character riddled town transported me back to my own city. Although the culture of campus felt alien, the people foreign, the familiarity that the town provided, allowed me the chance to meld into life here in Ithaca. The people were genuine and layered; they had tales of struggles more akin to my own. Last Friday I was able to find a similar slice of home while still being reminded of the clash that was occurring.

For the first time I wandered over to the orchards and instantly felt cocooned by the remnants of my far flung home. The apples carried me back to Washington and the orchards reminded me of my family farm. However just as the transplanted of myself at Cornell jolted me so did a revelation revealed by our guide. The apples grown in the orchards were treated with pesticide. Although my friends found this to me expected I was taken aback. I had allowed the image that Cornell indirectly portrayed to shape my thoughts. The dairy produced at Cornell, the sense of liberalism, the fresh veggie and fruit punch cards, among other things had swayed me to believe that Cornell was more progressive and natural than the reality showed. The idea of the “perfect apple” began to appear and yet I saw it’s imperfections.

Later we were to learn that a small section of the orchard did contain organic apples. Our group trekked over to their small corner of the world and I felt more at peace. There was a nostalgia with these apples. They looked real, authentic, perhaps blemished and lacking the “perfection” but as they should be. Their value wasn’t in their appearance, or reputation but rather in their content, taste, feel. The bruises and fragility of their skin showed their character the same way the wrinkles in an old man’s face does. The proportion of these apples to the others made me feel sad.  Yet I felt hope when our guide explained that the past year they had brought in wild honey bees instead of farmed ones to pollinate the crops.  Perhaps going back to the simplicity of older times proved to have its own value, one that offered an alternate view where the colony collapse of our generation might be avoided. It seemed to me that the battered Ithaca apples might have an advantage to the “perfect” Cornell apples. After all the thing that is valued can take many forms, just like apples can.