[Setting: Third and fourth floors of the law school library. The fourth floor consists of a large loft area with an open staircase to the third floor. Student #1 is working on the fourth floor; Student #2 is working on the third floor; both are wearing headphones.]
S2: *singing*
S1: [listening to hockey game online, hears a noise over the hockey game.] Huh? What the heck is that?
[S1 removes headphones and realizes it is someone singing. S1 puts headphones back on and turns up the volume of the hockey game.]
[20 minutes elapse. The hockey game has ended.]
S2: *still singing*
S1: [hears noises as the hockey game ends] Really? You're kidding.
[5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *still singing*
[S1 walks to fourth floor railing, and can see S2 at the table below.]
S1: Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *waves arm* Hey! Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *whistles loudly* Excuse me!
S2: *still singing*
S1: *slaps wooden railing with palm of hand, whistles*
S2: *still singing, but louder*
[S1, bewildered, decides it is not worth the effort and returns to library carrel. 5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *talking on cell phone in Russian*
[5 minutes elapse.]
S2: *still talking on cell phone in Russian*
[Frustrated, S1 walks down the stairs to the third floor and towards S2's table. Meanwhile, S2 finishes her phone conversation.]
S1: Excuse me, would you mind being a little quieter?
S2: *stares at S1, at first blankly and then with mild hostility*
S1: With the cell phone, and the singing. Could you please keep it down?
S2: Singing?
S1: Yes, singing.
S2: *stares blankly*
S1: The singing. A few minutes ago, before you got on the phone. Your singing.
S2: My singing?
S1: Yes. You were singing.
S2: I was singing?
S1: Yes. You were singing.
S2: I was?
S1: Yes, you were. Singing.
S2: *stares blankly*
[5-10 seconds elapse. S1 returns to the fourth floor.]
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
"Gentrification"
I will admit first and foremost that I live in Hollywood, which I characterize as seedy, yet safe. Seedy in that it features a sizable population of down and out folks including homeless people, folks with substance abuse problems, folks who have come here to "make it" but currently have next to nothing, and others who are generally just trying to fly under the radar of society in a way that can really only be done in seedy places with "hotels" that rent rooms by the week on a cash basis. But safe, because since it is cheap, it also features a fair number of working-class immigrant families, and also because Los Angeles is heavily invested in keeping its #1 tourist attraction safe for the out of town buck, so there are cops all over the place.
So when I started looking for an apartment here, I knew I wasn't going to be living in the lap of luxury, which was completely fine with me--I'm generally uncomfortable in unfamiliar laps, especially luxurious ones. As a law student going to school at UCLA with a significant other working in downtown and living in Orange County, Hollywood was perfect: cheap but not dangerous, easy public transit commute to UCLA, and easy public transit commute to downtown and Union Station (and hence Orange Country via commuter rail). I was hoping for a decent place with a minimum of sketchy people, no bugs, no foul odors, and doors that lock.
Happily, I was quickly quite successful. My roommate and I found our current place in a small building. It's a small two bedroom (AND two bath...unexpected bonus), there's a cute little courtyard with lots of plants and a pool (which is almost never open, but at least it's nice to look at); the apartment had been completely redone since the previous tenants with new fake-wood floors & fresh paint; it didn't smell; and the building, with a mix of studios and 1 & 2 bedroom places, was a mix of mostly working class Latino families--some of whom had been there many years, a few solo older folks, a few younger white couples, and one unit occupied by someone who I think just uses it as their weekend affair pad (read: really fancy car only shows up on weekends once or twice a month); and the big coup for Hollywood: TWO PARKING SPOTS.
For the most part, I have liked it here. The apartment has been exactly what I've hoped for--cheap, utility apartment where I've been able to get comfy, easy transport around town.
But...
About a month or so after I moved in, things got weird. The apartment manager changed, and instead of the younger, tattooed couple managing the place, we got this awkward, skinny, older white guy. At the same time we all got letters announcing that there was to be no more hanging towels on the balcony railing to dry, no more bikes kept in common areas outside of apartments, typical attempted-gentrification-type stuff. Can't have this place looking low-class now, can we.
Then a few months in, said weird apartment manager approached me in the laundry room one day. He asked if I would be willing to testify against my neighbors, a Latino family with 3 kids, to get them evicted on account of noise. Keep in mind, I had not once complained about noise from this family. Yes, they generate some noise, but THEY ARE A FAMILY. And the building isn't exactly soundproof, so I can hardly blame them if their typical family noise travels into my apartment. Not only had I never complained about the noise, but it had never crossed my mind to do so. They never bothered me.
Being do-gooder law students, my roommate and I talked to them, and we heard the story we were afraid of. Most of the Latino families in the building were being harassed, bugged about things they had never been talked to about before in years. And one by one, we started to notice turnover, and a higher number of white residents and fewer Latino tenants.
We were bummed to realize that we ourselves were part of a wave of gentrification which was hitting the building.
In a society where people automatically view a high concentration of non-white people as a sign of poverty and lower class, naturally a high population of white people must be a sign of safety, higher class, and a more desirable place to live, right?
So let's see what this gentrification has gotten us.
Many of the young white folks that have served as part of this wave are young kids trying to get into "The Industry"...those people I mentioned before who are trying to make it but currently have next to nothing. I don't have anything against them for that. What I do have against them is that they play music all the damn time (both listening to it and playing it); they stand in common areas talking on their cell phones or to one another ridiculously loudly; they loudly bring equipment in and out of the building at all hours of the day; they have more late night get togethers; they smoke a variety of things in common areas of the building and leave their cigarette butts scattered about; they prop the secure outside doors open so they don't need keys; there is a markedly higher number of strange people I don't recognize coming and going through the building; while I haven't seen any critters, I just received notice that they are coming through to do a pest control spray, because one of the units now has bugs.
In general, it's just a less pleasant place to live. And Mr. Manager, the guy who was so concerned about the noise from the family next door (who thankfully is still there)? I asked him the other day about some of these issues. He said he was too busy to be "policing" everyone all the time, and I would just have to deal with it myself.
Yes. Gentrification. White is better, of course.
And certainly, we are in a post racial America.
So when I started looking for an apartment here, I knew I wasn't going to be living in the lap of luxury, which was completely fine with me--I'm generally uncomfortable in unfamiliar laps, especially luxurious ones. As a law student going to school at UCLA with a significant other working in downtown and living in Orange County, Hollywood was perfect: cheap but not dangerous, easy public transit commute to UCLA, and easy public transit commute to downtown and Union Station (and hence Orange Country via commuter rail). I was hoping for a decent place with a minimum of sketchy people, no bugs, no foul odors, and doors that lock.
Happily, I was quickly quite successful. My roommate and I found our current place in a small building. It's a small two bedroom (AND two bath...unexpected bonus), there's a cute little courtyard with lots of plants and a pool (which is almost never open, but at least it's nice to look at); the apartment had been completely redone since the previous tenants with new fake-wood floors & fresh paint; it didn't smell; and the building, with a mix of studios and 1 & 2 bedroom places, was a mix of mostly working class Latino families--some of whom had been there many years, a few solo older folks, a few younger white couples, and one unit occupied by someone who I think just uses it as their weekend affair pad (read: really fancy car only shows up on weekends once or twice a month); and the big coup for Hollywood: TWO PARKING SPOTS.
For the most part, I have liked it here. The apartment has been exactly what I've hoped for--cheap, utility apartment where I've been able to get comfy, easy transport around town.
But...
About a month or so after I moved in, things got weird. The apartment manager changed, and instead of the younger, tattooed couple managing the place, we got this awkward, skinny, older white guy. At the same time we all got letters announcing that there was to be no more hanging towels on the balcony railing to dry, no more bikes kept in common areas outside of apartments, typical attempted-gentrification-type stuff. Can't have this place looking low-class now, can we.
Then a few months in, said weird apartment manager approached me in the laundry room one day. He asked if I would be willing to testify against my neighbors, a Latino family with 3 kids, to get them evicted on account of noise. Keep in mind, I had not once complained about noise from this family. Yes, they generate some noise, but THEY ARE A FAMILY. And the building isn't exactly soundproof, so I can hardly blame them if their typical family noise travels into my apartment. Not only had I never complained about the noise, but it had never crossed my mind to do so. They never bothered me.
Being do-gooder law students, my roommate and I talked to them, and we heard the story we were afraid of. Most of the Latino families in the building were being harassed, bugged about things they had never been talked to about before in years. And one by one, we started to notice turnover, and a higher number of white residents and fewer Latino tenants.
We were bummed to realize that we ourselves were part of a wave of gentrification which was hitting the building.
In a society where people automatically view a high concentration of non-white people as a sign of poverty and lower class, naturally a high population of white people must be a sign of safety, higher class, and a more desirable place to live, right?
So let's see what this gentrification has gotten us.
Many of the young white folks that have served as part of this wave are young kids trying to get into "The Industry"...those people I mentioned before who are trying to make it but currently have next to nothing. I don't have anything against them for that. What I do have against them is that they play music all the damn time (both listening to it and playing it); they stand in common areas talking on their cell phones or to one another ridiculously loudly; they loudly bring equipment in and out of the building at all hours of the day; they have more late night get togethers; they smoke a variety of things in common areas of the building and leave their cigarette butts scattered about; they prop the secure outside doors open so they don't need keys; there is a markedly higher number of strange people I don't recognize coming and going through the building; while I haven't seen any critters, I just received notice that they are coming through to do a pest control spray, because one of the units now has bugs.
In general, it's just a less pleasant place to live. And Mr. Manager, the guy who was so concerned about the noise from the family next door (who thankfully is still there)? I asked him the other day about some of these issues. He said he was too busy to be "policing" everyone all the time, and I would just have to deal with it myself.
Yes. Gentrification. White is better, of course.
And certainly, we are in a post racial America.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Bring Steak!
I've entered bring steak...known as spring break to grown up people and people whose brains have not been deteriorated by law school. This of course means that I can work on work without having to worry about pesky classes. It also means I get to do laundry...seven loads of it, to be exact. And clean up a bit. And sleep. Mmmm....sleep...
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Advice
If you are working with a team of people, especially if you have asked them to work with you on a project that will end up requiring much more of their time than they anticipated lending to you, be respectful of their time, and follow through on your responsibilities to them. Otherwise, people end up having days like I have had so far today.
[Quick backstory:
I am helping organize a rather large event at my school, a 3-day symposium with most of the top names in the academic field it relates to, with over300 400 550 registered participants (which keeps going up because they did not put a deadline or cap on registration), about 100 volunteers, and about 200 presenters. My primary job is Cat Herding...aka Volunteer Coordination. This means that it's my job to keep tabs on what volunteers are supposed to be where, where more volunteers are needed, and to relate to volunteers what/where/when/how they are supposed to do things. This is all based on instructions, needs, requests, etc. given to me by people managing the various different aspects of the symposium. Today is Wednesday. The symposium starts tomorrow.]
Back to my day thus far:
After being up late last night working, I dragged myself to campus for an 8:00 symposium breakfast meeting and a later--unrelated--lunch meeting. Both of these meetings ended up being canceled without my knowing until I showed up to empty rooms both times. This meant that I came to campus about 10 hours before I needed to be here, with no food (because food was supposed to be at both meetings). Only one of the 11 other organizers has sent me the instructions for their volunteers in the various areas. I have not heard a peep regarding a job I intensely want for the summer, despite being told to check in with them if I had not heard anything by yesterday. (Which I did. Yesterday.) Nobody has replied to numerous questions and concerns I have sent out about this and other aspects of the symposium, despite one of them explicitly asking if we could meet this afternoon. In about 5 hours, I am training anywhere from 10 to 100 volunteers, except I don't really have anything to train them on.
And a bird dribbled poop on my head. And it's only 2:00.
[Quick backstory:
I am helping organize a rather large event at my school, a 3-day symposium with most of the top names in the academic field it relates to, with over
Back to my day thus far:
After being up late last night working, I dragged myself to campus for an 8:00 symposium breakfast meeting and a later--unrelated--lunch meeting. Both of these meetings ended up being canceled without my knowing until I showed up to empty rooms both times. This meant that I came to campus about 10 hours before I needed to be here, with no food (because food was supposed to be at both meetings). Only one of the 11 other organizers has sent me the instructions for their volunteers in the various areas. I have not heard a peep regarding a job I intensely want for the summer, despite being told to check in with them if I had not heard anything by yesterday. (Which I did. Yesterday.) Nobody has replied to numerous questions and concerns I have sent out about this and other aspects of the symposium, despite one of them explicitly asking if we could meet this afternoon. In about 5 hours, I am training anywhere from 10 to 100 volunteers, except I don't really have anything to train them on.
And a bird dribbled poop on my head. And it's only 2:00.
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