Tick tock & Rahmbo

It has been a while since I last reported, and much has changed in that time, though, truthfully, much has also remained the same.  I am still me.  The earth still rotates on its axis, changing the seasons and making the sun appear to rise and fall in that cerulean abyss we call the sky. And people, well, people still ride the train to-and-fro.

What has changed is that the constraints under which I began this web log have concluded, as have my days as a scarce white face on a southbound Red Line train.  The ‘me’ I still am has now completed an undergraduate degree, rather successfully I might add (hey, a little revelry is in order considering how long it took me).  And that ‘me’ that I still am is now one of a throng of white faces lost in a shoal of daily travelers that patronize the Brown Line (perhaps a name change is in order?).  This reality is further compounded by the fact that I blend in far more now than when I wrote my first entry.  Suffice it to say it is easier to be inconspicuous when immersed in a homogeneous-looking crowd.  However, the jury is still out on whether or not that merits the proverbial bestowing of gilded wings to this Fly On da Wall…

Time frames merge into one another most days on the Brown Line.  I lose track of how long I’ve been reading, or how long I’ve been gazing out the window searching for something remotely less boring to watch. I almost lament that this line has provided less fodder for observation; though, while there seems to be fewer ostentatious characters to report on, there is no lack of obnoxicity (yes, I made that word up), even if it be of a slightly different variety.  In the not-that-distant past, my presence drew a measurable amount of stares on the “L”.  These days however, Mayor Rahm Emanuel seems to be more interesting to gawk at.  Far be it for me to be jealous of the attention he receives; I rather relish my anonymity and, preferring to remain incognito, am content to have all eyes are on him versus me.  Three sightings hardly constitutes him being a regular Brown Line rider, so his “celebrity” status still peaks enough interest compared to the other somewhat mundane 9-to-5ers crammed into that former locomotive, much like livestock on a semi headed to a rodeo. 

A peculiar force field, this thing we call time.  Many a person have ruminated on this most obscure element of nature.  Stereotypically we often speak about it in terms of pseudo-ownership: being on it (like one is on top of a table); running out of it (like one runs out of toilet paper); not having enough of it (like one doesn't have enough funds to buy Louboutins); wanting to save it or spend it (like one can store it up for retirement); give, take or share it (as though it were ever in our possession or under our control to manipulate).  It’s riveting how time can drag on, fly by or stand still, depending on your physical location and sapiens environment.  **On a totally different, yet equally riveting note, I find it amusing that sapiens is a Latin word meaning wise (to be), and/or rational.  This amuses me because the vast majority of the earth is, in my pretentious opinion, populated by profoundly unwise and irrational homo sapiens, and, though many of you might agree, to the vast majority of you this quasi-oxymoronic statement may appear highly unwise and supremely irrational in and of itself. The End.**

On average, Brown Liners (again, with the exception of Rahmbo) come across alternatively as a rather aloof and/or comatose bunch.  Sometimes I wonder if they are all under some spell (perhaps the tech trance, what with all their Pods, Pads, Crackberries, Kindlings, Pssts and the like).  Do they pause to evaluate the humanness of time, the intrinsic value of the life that stood in the very spot they now stand in, just moments, hours or day before them?  Do they think “this is the place Rahm Emanuel was just standing in” or “a homeless mother and child once sat in the seat I now occupy”?

Walking home yesterday afternoon I stood there, where, not a nychthemeron earlier, a middle-aged gentleman who was clearly battling something more than the average dosage of life’s complications, made a seemingly deliberate yet somewhat half-hearted attempt to end his life by traversing a bridge railing and dropping 20 feet into a very shallow riverbed.  This was juxtaposed in my mind with another equally vivid memory: not a week prior I sat in a friend’s vehicle just feet away from this spot, having an impromptu conversation about the transcendent beauty in learning from your life’s decisions.  Add to that the plethora of extemporaneously revelational, epiphanic, heart-to-heart conversations I’ve had inside the cars of nearly every person generous enough to have ever given me a ride home.

We like to entertain the notion that we can somehow become masters of the time and space around us and within which we live, without stopping to realize that time is actually a master of us; we live according to its constraints, its precepts and conditions.  If honored, time can be most benevolent.  Conversely, when abused, time can be a particularly insidious master.

What are we to do then with the time we are allotted?  Is it not a commodity we attempt to exploit, vigorously trying to bend it to our will, realizing only at the last minute, and probably to our detriment that…there is no spoon…?

Tick tock tick tock...

JFY 1st Monthly Volunteer Newsletter!

Check it out folks - Jobs For Youth has just pubilshed its first monthly Volunteer Newsletter!

http://myemail.constantcontact.com/JFY-Volunteer-Newsletter--March-2011.html?soid=1102667877481&aid=5pnQKW70IDI

Learn why this program is important to me by checking out my blog post "Give & Get" and also by clicking on the "JFY It's what's buzzin" tab at the top of my blog, which will also tell you how you can get involved yourself by either volunteering or donating tax-deductable dollars!

Give & Get

“If you have much, give of your wealth; if you have little, give of your heart.” – Arabian Proverb

“Philanthropy is commendable, but it must not cause the philanthropist to overlook the circumstances of economic injustice which make philanthropy necessary.” – Martin Luther King, Jr. Strength of Love

Hello again ye peoples! My apologies for the recent radio silence – it seems I was stricken by a serious case of senioritis last week.  Add that to a healthy dosage of final papers and presentations and you’ve got one tired Fly On Da Wall feeling rather swatted.  Nevertheless, let’s get down to business.

As some of you may know from poking around the other pages of this blog, I have been on a mission the past few weeks to both raise awareness and some money for a Chicago organization called Jobs For Youth (“JFY”).  While I’ve been unsuccessful in soliciting volunteers or generating any donations outside of my own thus far, I remained resolute in my goal to get involved on my own and so completed a volunteer session this past Monday.  After contacting the organization’s volunteer coordinator, a fellow classmate who informally introduced me to JFY, I filled out a simple 2-pg form and signed up to assist by conducting mock interviews for two JFY clients. 

During my lunch hour I popped over to the JFY office, acquired two job application/resume packets from the volunteer services coordinator and “interviewed” two amazing young ladies.  Considering I have never been on the interviewer’s side of the table before, I admittedly was very nervous.  I arrived early so I could get instructions and get settled so I could establish some level of comfort and poise but still started off feeling akin to a fish out of water.  I was given instructions to role play with the clients for about 20 minutes as though it were a real interview and then come out of character to debrief them, get their feedback and give them my own brief summary. 

At the end of the first interview I gave one piece of advice to the young woman that I had actually been implementing myself during the entire process with her – control your breathing in order to control your nerves!  It’s so simple when you think about it, and it makes a huge impact in your ability to display confidence.  Now, I’m not saying that if you control your breathing you won’t be nervous.  However, it gives you a better chance at getting oxygen to your brain that in turn helps you moderate your heart rate, which affects your breathing and speech patterns, enabling you to speak clearly, coherently, and respond in kind.  For a simple pointer I admit it does take a deliberate effort to implement, and some practice.

Both young women were so bright, engaged, friendly and full of potential.  After completing an evaluation form for each I left the building feeling really impressed and totally inspired.  Going through the process myself, getting involved and volunteering just a little of my time felt amazing beyond words.  Knowing that Jobs For Youth exists, that it provides such a valuable resource and service and enable these outstanding young men and women to acquire the necessary tools to open the doors of opportunity in their lives, is truly motivational. 

This experience has opened my eyes and my heart in a way that is tough to explain in words, which is why I chose the two quotes that opened this blog post.  Ultimately, it doesn’t matter how much or how little money you have – you always have the resources of personal time and energy to give to others.  Also, it doesn’t matter where you come from, what walk of life you travel, if we’re ever to live up to the implied standard of what it means to be the United States of America, each and every one of us needs to become more involved in the wellbeing of our fellow citizens of humanity.  We must all be social entrepreneurs, not out of guilt but out compassion and ultimately out of a sense of pride in the potential we all posses to be greater than our individual selves.  Barriers and inequalities that give rise to the need for organizations like Jobs For Youth can be permanently destroyed if we just band together and commit to making philanthropy, volunteerism, and helpfulness a way of life.

If you take anything away from this blog post, let it be this: that there’s nothing more fulfilling or gratifying than the feeling you get from giving to others without expectation.

Captive Audience

The 2011 Chicago Auto Show just ended this weekend and I’m a little sorry to say I never went to check it out.  I used to look forward to it yearly but now I’m more inclined to roll my eyes at the thought of ogling a giant showroom full of drool-worthy concept cars I can’t afford, even if they were actually available to the general public.  In fact, the only reason I even remembered the show was in town was because Dodge coughed up some pretty copper pennies to advertise on the Red Line.  Two train cars were wrapped in Dodge 2011 campaign branding: “We are Dodge and we are NEVER NEUTRAL.”  My first thought was, does that mean none of their cars have a ‘neutral’ gear? Well, that could be a problem…  My second thought was, hmmm, that’s interesting, Dodge is advertising on public transit. Just a smidge ironic…  I don’t know about all the other riders on the Red Line but I ride the train because buying a car is currently on my “to-don’t” list (Man, gas is $3.50/gallon!!!).  Or, just maybe, Dodge realized the Red Line runs parallel to the expressway where thousands of drivers commute to and from work every day…?

Anyway, seeing the wrap around ad just got me thinking about all types of advertising you see on trains and busses these days.  Some are your everyday run-of-the-mill ads like McDonald’s and Potbelly, just positioned in unique places, like the ceiling. Others get a little more creative, like a wrist watch advert on a bus hand strap, and a Real Southwest ad incorporating a QR (“Quick Response”) code that can be scanned by a smart phone after downloading the ScanLife App.  Clearly I would not be winning any trips to Tuscon, AZ from that!

One of my recent favorites is Absolut vodka – they completely transformed several bus stop shelters in Chicago to promote their new flavors: Twist, Bloody, and Lemon Drop. Double kudos on those wicked Victoria-esque chairs.  Wish they’d try that on the train too.  Come to think of it, I wish companies would integrate science and engineering into their creative advertising campaigns.  For example, PETA could promote education also if, as part of their “Go Naked” slogan, they sponsored a see-through “naked” rail car.  It could resemble those clear phones that were all the rage in the 90’s.  I’m sure there’s some kind of Plexiglass out there that would hold up and also allow riders to see the mechanical innards of the train, perhaps sparking public interest in learning more about mechanical engineering – kids would love it, no doubt.  Someone’s already made a race car prototype!

And if we’re talking about major brands jumping on the public transit market, why doesn’t Pepsi install vending machines on train cars.  Or better yet, how about Brawndo. After all, it is the thirst mutilator!   But, these are just my own semi-random reflections on the topic – what do you think? Got any favorite ads or creative concepts of your own?  Do tell!

No Pants, No Problem...err, sort of

What manhole did I fall into that I totally missed the memo on this one?  For that matter, where were all of YOU when this took place?  What a sight it would have been to behold first hand.  For those of you, like me, who were in the dark about this, let me clue you in.  A New York-based group named Improv Everywhere came into being in August 2001 with the sole purpose of creating and causing “scenes of chaos and joy in public places.”  These flash mobs and pseudo-flash mobs range in theme, from a hand bell choir spontaneously assisting a Salvation Army volunteer to a human mirror created on a subway train using pairs of identical twins dressed alike and sitting across from each other in the same car.  But what you may remember them most for is their Frozen Grand Central extravaganza (one I’ve enjoyed watching several times on YouTube).

Despite my marginal awareness of the group, what I completely missed the memo on was their now ten years and running No Pants Subway Ride experiment.  The movement has gone global yet I’ve been totally unawares until today and quite bummed (pun intended) that I missed the spectacle that took place in Chicago and some 50 other cities on January 9, 2011.



What makes the display all the more fascinating is that it takes place in the dead of winter!  A Chicagoan of some 12 odd years, I’m still not accustomed to winter weather.  In fact, I’m often rather cranky when the temps get below 60, let alone when they drop below 30.  So, for me, this whole concept of stripping down to ones skivvies in the middle of January inspires mad amounts of respect for those brave souls who took part, especially considering they’re doing it on public transit where you can never be certain what was just in the seat you’re now sitting in.  I’m definitely staying informed for next year’s event – though I probably won’t be participating (unless I come across some mighty warm, topnotch, alpaca wool, thigh-high leg warmers...)

What about you - Did you witness or participate in this year’s No Pants Subway Ride?  Would you consider it next year? What do you think of the whole idea?

Meet George Jetson!

Well, ok, it’s not exactly the future like in the Jetsons but that’s the first thing that popped into my head (including theme song and futuristic sound effects) when I read an article on msnbc.com about the Chicago Transit Authority rolling out some new test cars on the Red Line.  Supposedly the new rail cars boast a “smoother” ride (whatever that means) by way of an under car support system…I can’t erase the uproariously amusing image of monster truck shock absorbers underneath my seat or the thought of some Jetsons-like hovercraft engines suspending passengers midair while the train rattles down the tracks at 50mph from station to station.  Of all the trains I’ve ridden, the Red Line definitely takes the cake when it comes to a brutally bumpy ride – it’s not far from being at Six Flags on the Iron Wolf.  But I guess I have to just take their word for it until I experience the ride for myself.

Apparently some passengers who rode the new cars felt they were smaller and had less seating available than the current un-pimped-out cars.  To compensate though, upgrades like more poles and new handstraps for upright riders were worked into the new design.  I have to say though, that given the way I’ve seen people use handstraps on busses, I doubt they’d be very helpful on the train. They may end up even being dangerous.  I still have to giggle at people who don’t anchor themselves while gripping handstraps and then end up dangling from them, holding on for dear life, and to whatever dignity they had left…LOL…

But back to the point, other spiffy features include networked security cameras (about time!) and nifty door sensors to detect obstructions (curious to see if this will come in handy when crazy people hold the doors open for a friend who’s running behind them to catch the train, even though they heard the ding-dong indicating doors were closing and the conductor announced the train’s about to pull away).

I visited every car on my train today and didn’t observe any of the newbies, but I'll certainly be paying more attention to see if CTA can match the 'Smooth Operator' quality of the D.C. metrorail - now you could rock a baby to sleep on those trains.

Interesting side note: these new cars were first tested on the Yellow and Purple lines, both of which are patronized by more white passengers than Black or Latino ones.  Not sure what the logic is there but I’m in the mood to give CTA the benefit of the doubt that they chose those lines first because the overall ridership is a lot lower than most of the other lines, and therefore not as much of an inconvenience if it turned out to be bad design…..

Broadcasting Live from the Red Line!

I often feel left behind in this era of technology.  Hoards of fellow train riders carrying on like peacocks, displaying their colorful and nifty gizmos and gadgets; at times it can feel quite lonely to have nothing but a cell phone.  It made me wonder a bit, about how social interactions would change say, if more media outlets were embedded into the actual train.  Phone and internet service providers have already breached the subterranean barrier, enabling consumers to use their phones and laptops in the subway without interruption of service. And advertisers are ever clever in finding ways to follow you underground and all around on trains and busses.  But what about other media outlets?  A lot of times, I turn my television on to watch the morning news and get caught up in the latest breaking story just as I’m heading out the door to catch my train.  I admit I get a little vexed having to turn it off mid-story lest I risk missing my ride. So, what if we could pick up our news story on the train?  What about installing news feed tickers to keep us abreast of all things Chicago!

                          

Or, it’d be pretty spectacular to have a 40 inch HD flat screen embedded [to prevent vandalism] into the wall of a train car, streaming live local news, weather and sports broadcasts.  At first I thought it might be fun to have conductors themselves double as newscasters but, given the horrid quality of the trains PA system, that would likely drive folks to madness trying to decipher everything. But even something akin to the Channel One broadcasts shown in high school homerooms around the country could be fairly interesting.

Another idea could be to turn the head car into a soundproof broadcasting studio and have live radio hosts or news anchors do their morning rush hour routines from there while at night, after rush hour, local DJs could inhabit the booth and pump the latest jams into each car, taking requests from passengers via a special Twitter App for Chicago L train riders...I guess though that’s the whole reason peeps have smartphones, laptops, & iPods, so they can have access to more than just local news, and can be their own DJs.  But something about incorporating mass media into the mass transit experience still seems novel – especially to tech-tarded old fogies like me.

Though, if they’ve got TVs on trains in parts of Asia and in NYC, I guess I’ll be writing a letter to Da Next Mayor. Who wants to sign my petition!

Movin on up!

“No nation can enslave a race of people for hundreds of years, set them free bedraggled and penniless, pit them, without assistance in a hostile environment, against privileged victimizers, and then reasonably expect the gap between the heirs of two groups to narrow.  Lines, begun parallel and left alone, can never touch.”
-- Randall Robinson



Chicago's racial-ethnic composition (as of 2010)



 In a recent discussion with fellow students, a classmate of mine speculated on the fact that, for being a large and very ethnically diverse city, Chicago is still highly segregated along racial lines.  Sadly, this reality has long marred Chicago’s history and in many ways has crippled its progress into the future by holding certain groups hostage, socially and economically.  It shocks many to learn that a substantial portion of Chicago’s residents have lived their entire lives without ever having been downtown.

               

In a city of roughly 3 million, one third, or 1 million, residents are Black and yet in all its history, Chicago only boasts 4 Black-owned banks, and even fewer Black-owned businesses generating revenues of $1M or more.  There are too many contributing factors to discuss in one simple blog post, from Chicago’s history of practicing redlining and restrictive covenants, to its political turmoil plagued by ongoing racism and corruption.  As this Midwestern metropolis embarks on the rocky road towards electing a new mayor, reflections on Chicago’s racial and ethnic divides continue to cross my mind, most especially when I find myself on public transit.

It’s been a lifetime (24 years) since Chicago’s only elected African American mayor, the Honorable Harold L. Washington, successfully bridged social, economic and racial divides to bring Chicagoans together for the collective good.  Yet much remains to be seen from the pool of current candidates, who can bring about a sense of unity that is needed to overcome the deep wounds of a segregated and disjointed community.

Gentrification plays a title role in this quagmire as well, and nowhere is that more evident than on the L train.  I remember living on the NW side a decade ago and having to ride the Blue line from Logan Square to downtown.  Back then the platform was full of mainly brown faces mixed in with a handful of ethnic eastern European folks.  I’d sometimes get little old ladies, presumably feeling nervous in a sea of Latino bodies, coming up to me and asking me something in Polish, mistakenly thinking me a kinswoman. Over the years, I watched the make up of that platform change precipitously from a smattering of Artsy peoples – you know, the kind of 20-something Caucasian who wears earlobe spacers, majors in Fiber & Material Studies at the School of the Art Institute while moonlighting as a bicycle courier, and shares a 4^th floor vintage walk up with a Rastafarian and a Buddhist monk – to a surplus of Yuppie-9 to 5-investment banking types.

Not a decade’s passed since my own “back in the day” (let alone my parents’) when the only pale face the Logan Square Blue Line saw was mine.  Gentrification can take place anywhere, and at alarming rates.  It’s mesmerizing to see places like historic Cabrini Green virtually transform before your eyes from notoriously dangerous housing projects to condos and townhouses valued at half a million dollars.  Yet as places like Logan Square and Humboldt Park, once predominantly Latino, become increasingly gentrified, the far West and South sides of the city that are predominantly Black remain largely untouched and therefore extremely segregated.  One ride on my lovely Red Line and you’ll marvel at the stark contrasts seen from the train window.  As you travel further south of Downtown, the number of white faces drops to almost zero after Sox-35th, home of US Cellular Field (aka the Chicago White Sox’s Comiskey Park).

But what does this all translate to us on a literal level.  As Randall Robinson tells us in the quote at the beginning of this blog, simply put, we can’t expect a change to come without an outright action and effort on our part.  It took America hundreds of years to abolish slavery, at least from a legal standpoint, but the underlying racism and classism still thrive like parasites in every corner of our great nation, greatly impacting how we socialize on a day to day basis.  Given the centuries it took to create this disparity, who knows how long it will take to reverse and recuperate.  One thing’s for sure, whoever Chicago’s next mayor is will have to wrestle with this city’s elephant in the room and would do wise to take a few pages from Newark, NJ Mayor Cory Booker’s philosophy on responsibility and change through personal action and involvement.  Maybe then will Chicago see a few new train lines going through the vastly underserved West and Far South sides.

Do you see what I see?

Any of you play peek-a-boo with a little kid?  No one can really pin point why, without fail, it makes babies squeal with laughter for hours on end.  And even fewer people can argue convincingly who has more fun, the adult or the child.

One such cherub struck up a game of P.A.B. with me on the train tonight.  I caught him starting at me, with a curious little half-grin on his face, almost as if to say, “you game?”  When our eyes locked, and my lips turned up ever so slightly, he had his answer and jerked his face to the side, covering it with his pudgy little baby-fat hands.  We dueled for what seemed like minutes, but was probably a few seconds, before his mom thumped him over his adorable little head, flattening the crown of his mini afro.  He giggled.

Innocence is a beautiful thing; raw, untamed energy and unabashed self-centeredness.   Cuteness certainly merits plenty of attention when you’re tiny and teething.  However, if you ever try playing P.A.B. with another adult, you’re likely to get a contorted facial expression, much like the expression one gets after sniffing a putrid odor. 

We all spend copious amounts of time trying to get attention, yet when we do, when strangers unintentionally make eye contact, we suddenly get stage fright…Abort! Abort!  Why is it the social norm, the unwritten rule, to avoid eye contact with strangers?  In all my people watching I’ve found it rare for strangers to meet eyes and offer a friendly smile.  I tried it myself, with difficulty I might add, and the majority are unresponsive, if not noticeably uncomfortable.  On the even rarer occasion when I’ve found someone actually starring at me I’ve hastily averted my own eyes.

We humans do so much to get others’ attention, from the way we dress and talk to the way we move about, fraternize with others and posing for pictures.  But when we aren’t making deliberate, conscious efforts to attract attention, yet still get it, we don’t know how the heck to respond.

Next time you’re at an airport waiting for a flight, or on a bus or train, take a look around.  TRY to catch someone’s gaze.  Or even better, next time you’re in a crowded elevator, turn around so your back faces the door, say nothing but just look other passengers in the eye.

What do you see?  Why is it soooo….aaaaawk-waaaard!



Do you hear what I hear?

Tonight was a very rare night - I had a somewhat out of body experience.  Well, it was more like an out of mouth experience.  Now before your mind goes off in all kind of directions, indulge me as I recount this most hilarious encounter.

So I’m headed home on my lovely Red Line when several stops after I board, two young ladies alight the train.  I heard them coming before I saw them as they were engaged in what sounded like a heated venting session about a third party.  Tired from a long and busy day at work, I was initially really annoyed by the girls’ earsplitting prattle.  Since their volume was impeding my progress in doing just about everything else, I eventually started eavesdropping consciously, with both ears.  Here’s what happened next:

Jilted Girl to Vigilante BFF: He tolt me he was thru wit dat hoe a month ago! I can’t buhleave he got the nerve to show up wit her. He knew I was gone be there. Like, oh ma god girl, how he gone do dat!? Girl I was gone f--- her up! He is MY man!!!

Vigilante BFF to Jilted Girl: Oooooo girl…I KNOW he di-int! We gone git him girl.

At this point I was oddly intrigued by how sad it was to hear a young woman waste her precious breath (and time) on a man who clearly had no intention of making her a permanent fixture in his life…and I also felt the urge to pray fervently for a magical remote control to mute this debacle of a side show.  That prayer went unanswered, so I kept listening…

                Jilted Girl to BFF (shaking her head): and come to find out he got that b---- pregnant!!!

                BFF to Jiltee (suddenly inhales with eyes wide): OOOOOOO GIRL SHUT UP NO HE DI-INT!!!

The train pulled into my station, the doors opened, and just at that moment I succumbed to a most unusual and violent urge, opened my mouth and blurted out: Oh YES he did guuuurrrlll!!!  then bolted out the door as it closed.  I have to admit I cracked up pretty bad and in my haste barely made it up all the stairs without tripping.

I guess I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I was just so tired of rude passengers always forcing me to listing to their crazy music and their onerous conversations I no longer viewed it as rude to chime in.  I didn’t want to be part of their tragically lame discourse but I couldn’t really pull myself away it was so hilariously entertaining.

Word to the wise: if you talk loud enough for everyone to hear, expect a response from anyone.

Word to the wiser: take heed when you chime in, it could be dangerous!

In the words of Bon Qui Qui: Don’t interrupt. Rude!

Plugged In - Tuned Out

If someone had taken a poll in 2009, or even simply asked for a show of hands, of who owned an iPod, I would not be one of the masses counted.  Although I’m a Marketing major, I’m the epitome of a Laggard, at least when it comes to all things technology related. I really dislike the term Laggard, mostly because I think it makes me seem lazy…and because it rhymes, sort of, with the word braggart, which I am most certainly not the epitome of…

Anyway, my Laggard-ness in the realm of technophilia doesn’t mean I am a troglodyte incapable of deciphering gadgets. In fact, I really like gadgets!  I just always seem to spend my money elsewhere first, never quite mused enough with iPods or iPads or Kindles or Crackberries to consider transitioning into the Early Adopters species (or even the Early Majority for that matter).

Though I finally do own an iPod nano, I still can’t quite jump on the technology bandwagon and bring myself to buy anything else. I think I’m subconsciously fighting the techy vortex ***NO! NOOO! I DON’T WANNA DRINK THE KOOL-AID!!***.  The idea of being so plugged in that I’m actually tuned out of everything else around me is a bit frightening.  It’s ironic to think that plugging in to all these devices that are supposed to keep us connected actually unplugs us from the real world, but it’s true.  Just unplug yourself long enough to take a look around and you’ll see what I mean.

For example, I’ve lost count of how many people I’ve seen on the train, iPod earphones blasting, Crackberry in one hand, iPad in the other, oversized messenger bag slung behind them, stuffed with workout gear, Kindle and netbook.  They’re all so busy minding their business they have no idea that they’re spilling coffee on the guy sitting in front of them, they’ve blocked the aisle so other passengers are now having difficulty getting by and they are simultaneously infringing on the personal space of the rider in the seat behind them as their übertrendy bag swings back and forth while they attempt to steady themselves without griping a hand rail. 

These are the same folks that think you’re trying to rob them if you get frustrated enough to finally push their giant bag out of your face when you’ve had enough of their rudeness; the same folks who, because they’re too involved in their own off-beat rendition of Blue by Eiffel 65, don’t hear the conductor squawk about a mechanical malfunction causing a delay and they stamp their feet and curse profusely and start exhaling loudly about being late for their “really important life”.

Much about that whole picture makes my face twitch in aggravation and I think about it every time I consider buying a Nook or Crackberry.  I just can’t bring myself to plug in and tune out. 

Yeah…Courtesy – there’s no Ap for that!

Color Coded

I remember when, in 2006, the Chicago Transit Authority conducted a survey of sorts to pick a name for a new branch of the L they were putting into service.  Chicago school kids were solicited to submit recommendations for the new branch, and of the top three they submitted (silver, gold and pink), Pink was chosen by the CTA powers-that-be as the moniker for the new line.

Looking around Chicago at this time of year is overwhelmingly dismal, at least from a color perspective.  We’re surrounded by every possible shade of gray and black and white. People are bundled up beyond recognition in their black North Face puffers, gray wool peacoats, and brown fur coats. Boots and bags, hats and gloves and scarves, all marvelously monochromatic…it’s enough to insight temporary hypnosis.

I wonder what the significance is behind the color code system for the trains.  Do these colors represent our collective opinion of certain neighborhoods the trains bisect? Given the rainbow array currently used to represent the L network, are we subliminally (or intentionally, take your pick) giving a solidarity shout-out to the LGBT community at large? Naming a train the Black Line or the White Line is obviously potentially controversial, though, interestingly, the Brown Line seemed to be race-neutral or just ambiguous enough not to overtly offend anyone…

If I were the President of the CTA, I think I’d prefer to give the school kids several options to vote on.  I’d make it a learning experience by making a list of colors they’d never heard of so they’d have to look them up.  A-some-a-thing-a-like-dís: chartreuse, ochre, periwinkle, topaz, phlox, heliotrope, onyx, amaranth, lapis and even khaki!

I don’t know about you, but none of those colors were in MY Crayola box growing up.  We can hardly fault our youngins for not picking something with a bit more panache.  But I can guarantee you I’d walk a little taller if I were the kid responsible for naming a train line chartreuse!



Snowpocalypse



Today brought me the first snow day I’ve experienced since 1999.  It’s simultaneously exciting and eerie.  Chicago news reporters have been covering snowmageddon 2011 and her aftermath for over 24 hours now.  A myriad of cars and public busses remain parked, stranded and abandoned to be more accurate, on LSD (Lake Shore Drive – a main thoroughfare bypassing downtown Chicago and buttressing Lake Michigan for about 16 miles).  It almost resembled a scene from The Day After Tomorrow.

Since I wasn’t around to experience the blizzard of  ’67, I’ll let you decide which snowpocalypse was worse…

THEN...

NOW...

I was thankful not to have to go to work today, especially considering how much of a ghost town the downtown area had turned into and how potentially risky relying on public transit could be.  Richard Rodriguez, president of CTA (Chicago Transit Authority), gave an optimistic analysis of the state of the L train system today when he participated in a press conference with other representatives from da Mayor’s office, ComEd and the Chicago Fire Dept.  He mentioned that only the Yellow line had been shut down due to the fact that it’s “at grade,” or regular ground level and therefore difficult to keep the tracks clear of snow and ice.  Otherwise he said, that trains were still functioning with very minimal delays and that the CTA was still prepping to handle normal rush hour traffic come Thursday morning.  Well, kudos to him but I remain quite skeptical.

Personally, I think in situations like this, however rare they occur, alternative and creative methods of public transportation should be explored and considered.  For example, why not purchase a fleet of supped-up snowmobiles that can be equipped with sled carriages to accommodate a dozen passengers. Or, maybe construct a giant network of ski lifts atop the existing L train lines? Or, perhaps contract the city’s thousands of dog owners to transport folks using tons of dog sleds (mush!)? Or, how about horse-draw trolley cars, a modified version of this 1965 model?



Though, I’m not sure the Chicagoland area has enough Clydesdales and draft horses to handle hundreds of thousands of stereotypically impatience commuters. Hmmm…what are your thoughts on alternatives? How does your city handle inclement weather snafus?

Hey Mr. DJ, Pon De Replay!

Yesterday’s post still has me thinking musically.  I can't forget the lyrical genius of the Red Line rapper I ran into on Friday (and still miffed at the audio quality of my confounded phone…).  His rhymes were, if I may temporarily resort to my native Valley-girl, hella smooth!  He was really jammin’ out and I wasn’t the only one nodding my head.  Listening to him rap about his experiences in this city, you really got a certain vibe, a certain feeling about Chicago culture through public transportation.  The things you see and hear on the L train give you a brief, yet intimate glimpse into the people and things that make up this amazing city. 

Chicago's L train is composed of eight lines, all named for a color: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Brown and Pink.  This system of elevated and underground tracks spreads out through the entire city; like arteries, it pumps people, and life, into and out of the heart of this Midwestern metropolis.  Every station has its own unique thumbprint, and the riders themselves give each line its own unique identity.  So I thought, Eureka! Why don’t I create a playlist for the L train!  Besides, there are way too many people out there that force me to listen to their music by playing their iPod at inordinately loud levels so you can hear their earphones several seats away (y’all know who you are).  Though, I do remember one such person I couldn’t get mad at because they they were actually singing along…with exuberance, and hilaaaaariously off tune.

 So, here’s my lighthearted take on songs that remind me of each line.

Of course, I’ll start with the Red Line.  This line is the one that, to me, really encapsulates Chicago’s culture.  Spanning north to south it represents all manner of Chicagoans: Red and Yellow, Black and White, Republican and Democrat, Cubs fans and White Sox fans, Gay and Straight, Rich and Poor and everything in between.  You’ll find it all and more on the Red Line.

1. Red - northbound 2. Red - southbound 3. Orange - SW to Midway 4. Yellow - northbound 5. Green - westbound 6. Green - southbound 7. Blue - NW to O'Hare 8. Blue - southwest 9. Purple - northbound 10. Purple - southbound 11. Brown - northbound 12. Brown - southbound 13. Pink - eastbound 14. Pink - westbound

Drum Roll Please - talent search on the subway

I have never watched any more than about 15 minutes of American Idol.  For starters, I don’t have the time or patience to spend on what I think is a crime against the sacred art of music.  The notion that if I have an inkling of talent I have to travel a long way at my own expense, on the hope that I can defy astronomical odds to be selected to go on the show and display my amateur-grade skills and be judged by folk not necessarily equipped to pass judgment on me (and who may or may not have true talent themselves), is maddeningly oxymoronic.

Why does talent have to go to them? If American Idol really, I mean REALLY, wanted to “discover” talent, they would actually try going out and looking!  This method would certainly weed out all those poor souls with voices only their momma’s want to hear (even you diehard Idol fans know what I'm talking about).  Personally, I’d like to see American Idol hold a face off between these Chicago bucket drummers and the street drummers of Edinburgh, Scotland.  Have a look for yourself:

  VS 

Musical talent, both vocal and instrumental, is not as hard to discover as one would think.  At the risk of sounding very cliché, music is all around us, everywhere. (Oh, how very “August Rush” of me!)  In my own experience, especially riding the subway, I’ve encountered folk from all walks of life.  Modern day Billy Holiday’s and Tito Puente’s are sharing their sacred arts with us daily on street corners and subway platforms all over the city of Chicago.  I know they’re in your cities too, just waiting for Steven Tyler or J.Lo. to stroll by and listen for a few minutes.  Yes, like Idol auditions, there are those street performers who are making more noise than music, but the majority are really gifted individuals with stories much more inspiring than The Soloist.  

I had intended on posting a clip of a subway rapper I ran into the other day who was rappin' about my lovely Red Line but found out that my cell phone's audio-video capabilities are not as "totally awesome" as the salesman claimed they were...drat...maybe next time.  Until then, here's what some folks are saying about Chicago street performers.

PSA: Public **Safety** Announcement

As I rode the train home from class tonight, this bulletin above my seat caught my eye.  PSA’s of this format are not too common and usually get lost in a sea of advertisements on your daily commute.  Nevertheless it gave me pause to reflect…

I heard somewhere (in my ripe old age the source of this information, and it’s validity, eludes me) that in Japan at some point in time it used to be common practice for everyone to carry their samurai sword with them wherever they went, even unconcealed on airplanes and trains.  Now, I don’t live in Japan (bummer) and since I can’t carry a sword, or my favorite machete (yeah that’s right, I’m Puerto Rican, and? lol), out in the open in Chicago, especially not on a crowded train(for obvious reasons) I opt for a different variety of “social security”. [Step]Momma always told me: be prepared for anything! And since momma didn’t raise no fool, I heed her wisdom and make sure I’m always as ready as possible for the “just in cases” in life.  Anyone planning on targeting me can just say hello to my little friend[s]!

I’m not a fan of mace, or rape whistles, or guns (even wooden ones, Officer Gamble…) 

And I don’t think violence in any form is the right answer to any problem. But, where do you draw the line between following the rules and protecting yourself?  What is YOUR weapon of choice – do you use your words to talk yourself outta trouble? Swing it old school and put up your dukes? Or hold your ground in Faith and simply pray? (truthfully the best first option if you’re asking me)

By carrying a pocket knife I’m certainly not advocating violence or “proactive” self defense!  All jokes aside, I truly realize the importance of being aware of your surroundings (especially in light of the recent tragic event in Arizona) and one can never be too careful out there considering it only takes the blink of an eye to become a statistic.  Chicago’s crime rates (shootings, stabbings, rapes) are testament to the need for us all to be cognizant of what’s going on around us.

What are your thoughts? Have any of you found yourself in a situation where you’ve had to defend yourself, or maybe someone else? What was the outcome? How did it affect you?