Thoughts on...When boom towns go bust

What happens when the American dream becomes the American nightmare? Gary, Indiana, that's what.

Today I had the opportunity to travel up to Gary to meet with some local leaders and take a tour of the area. For my MPA degree, we are required to take a capstone course that is a chance to put our skills to work on a practical project. In this particular capstone, our challenge is to make policy suggestions in an attempt to increase ties between IU (and especially IUB) in order to improve K-12 education in Northwest Indiana. Our professor thought it would be good for us to get some on-the-ground experience dealing with the area, thus the motivation for our trip today.

To say that there are vast differences between IUB and Gary is an understatement. A side-by-side comparison boggles the mind: how can it be that these two places exist within the same state, let alone the same country? I have been in third world countries before and literally, that is the closest thing that I have to compare to. Except that I honestly have to say that Mexico is much cleaner. The best summary of the area came not through any words, but an interesting circumstance: as we were driving down one of the main city streets, a garbage truck pulled out in front of us and a whole dumpster fell off the back of the truck. Literally, a whole dumpster.

The sad part is that it wasn't always this way. In fact, that is probably the most haunting part. This was a thriving community at one point, driven by the hand of big industry. All through downtown there is evidence of what was-run down facades of old concert halls where the Jackson 5 and Marvin Gaye used to perform. Businesses that once thrived are now covered by a shroud of metal grate and fiberboard. I closed my eyes and saw ladies in cinched-waist dresses fresh from hair appointments. Men with skinny ties in cars that got 8 miles to the gallon. People smile and wave and laugh and pray and work. There was a lot of work in those days.

I open my eyes and see the shadows of what was. The burnt-out ends of the means that were never enough. The need and the opportunity are enormous. And I am forced to remind myself that, after all, this is America. Never say never, perpetual optimist, upstart America. So forgiving as to be forgetful. So bold as to be rude. So prosperous that it took a Great Depression for us to convince ourselves that poverty among ordinary Americans is not always a character flaw. So idealistic that once we realized poverty existed, we waged a war on it, as if It were something we could bomb or smother out of existence. For many in Gary, the American dream lies smoldering in a twisted heap of rusted steel. And who knows how much soldering it will take to put it back together again.

Thoughts on...Comfort Food

I have reached the rather unscientific conclusion that I should be in hibernation this time of the year. My metabolic rate has slowed, without a doubt due to my overconsumption of refined carbohydrates, and it seems I have more of a motivation to watch the dead grass grow than make it to the gym. Lately the comfort foods call to me at the store-Jif peanut butter smiles down upon me; it was all I could do to wrangle the velveeta mac' 'n cheese from my cart. I bought a bag of Blow-Pops only to eat all of them over the course of a day and a half. That's over 1,000 calories of straight sugar, for the lay label readers in the audience. Furthermore, my normally pleasant mood seems to have been replaced by chronic grumpiness/negativity. I attribute this to my ridiculous attachment to sugar as well.

All of these indicators suggest but one possible conclusion-hibernation is my best possible option. It would be fantastic to think that my mission for the rest of this week should be to eat as much as possible, and then take a nice long nap. I could snuggle in with the teddy bears that I'm supposed to have outgrown, let the world pass me by, and be completely content with it.

And once again as this blog seems to serve as my own personal psychologist's couch, I think I have put two and two together. Perhaps I am just seeking comfort in general-a return to a simpler time. After all, it is only February and I have already pulled an all-nighter to finish a paper. This should not be happening this early. I expect this sort of emergency situation come April, but not in Febraury. This is when I am sleeping and eating and procrastinating so I have the energy to take naps instead of sleep come April. This is also a potential cause of my grumpiness.

Let us not forget that February and Frustration both start with F and in my book, that is enough to indicate causality. The fact that I am so close and still oh so far away from well...seemingly everything I can possibly think of, is maddening. Truely, it's enough to make this girl want to bury herself in Apple Jacks with no solution but to eat her way out.

Clouds piss me off. Demolishing the abandoned house behind my apartment at 6:30 am does too. (Honestly people, it's probably been vacant for the last 30 years, can you really not wait another hour to make toothpicks out of it?) I have no words for the morons who burst into my class to look for the binders they left there while I am in the middle of my lecture on libertad vs. tirania and my corresponding transparency collection of famous despots. If this happens again my typically pacifist nature will be seriously compromised and I may have to take drastic measures, such as, say, strangulation by iPod headphone cord.***

Wow, such anger. Where is this coming from? Perhaps I should hibernate rather than find out.


***Note to government censor: The previous post is not to be constrewed as a threat of violence, whether physical, metaphysical, mental, emotional or subconsious. The author is a wimpy white girl who is more likely to make you a peanut butter sandwich than box you. Graduate students under extreme stress (monetary, academic, familial, relational) need space to vent. Wiretap at your own risk.