No Nazis, No KKK, No Fascist USA

(recommending listening for this blog post found here)

Thursday night I found myself sitting in a musty, crowded room at a church completely outnumbered by elderly people. For every young adult my age, there had to have been at least ten older individuals. We were at a nonviolence and de-escalation training for an upcoming march against hate.

While it was refreshing to see so many older individuals involved in the act of hating nazis and white supremacy, it was also a bit concerning. Me and the three housemates of mine who also came to the training spent a lot of time listening to the same basic questions asked again, wincing when elders would move and groan in pain. Those around us on Thursday night were going to be marching with an inter-faith group and they were ready. We all learned some tactics to use in case we ran into some assholes and everyone participated in the practice.

They were going to march.

Marching for justice, no matter your age, is important. We learned that as we prepared and saw the cutest, smallest children with signs of hope and love and peace this morning wearing rainbow tutus.

Today we went to the march.

Instead of going with the inter-faith group, we went with one of our roommates’ work place. It was a group of lawyers, so we figured if anything, we had our backs covered. They probably knew our rights better than anyone else. So marching with them in Berkeley, we felt okay. We woke up bright and early and made coffee and boarded the bus, not entirely sure what to expect.

Everyone I had spoken with talked about how Berkeley has a history of violence. We’d been prepped at our training to deal with possible detainment and arrests, to potentially be swung at, to maybe even be hit with some tear gas. We were told to bring our IDs, to turn off our GPS on our phones, and to stick together. We were told to expect the worst.

It was absolutely not the worst.

When we arrived, there were two options for us to chose from. Keep heading straight, or turn right. We turned right.

We ended up near a group of speakers from a variety of platforms, talking about the importance of calling congressmen, of making policy changes, of supporting one another. There was a Holocaust survivor there and there was a lesbian couple there and there were so many different people I couldn’t even keep track of who was up on stage. They rallied us up in a good way.

And then we marched.

I’ve never been to a march before, or a protest. I didn’t even get to participate in the Women’s March because I was home and had no means of getting anywhere that had more people. My activism has mostly been online, retweeting things, supporting from afar, not making much of a difference. I’ve donated to a few things and made a couple of calls but nothing that I felt like was making a difference.

But I also know that some people feel marching doesn’t make much of a difference, so that kind of warred inside me throughout the day. It was great that the speakers talked about ways to actually make change, but so much of it feels like it’s outside of my hands. I do what I can.

Today, I could march.

I held up my sign and with my roommates we chanted along with everyone else and there was something so powerful about being there. To some it might sound like a cheap thrill but to be surrounded by people with the same ideals, the same mindset, shouting “our streets!” or “immigrants are welcome here!” or “no hate no fear!” is powerful. The air is alive with energy and humming with hope.

I have to say that I met some of the nicest people too. There was no violence there at all. Anyone I accidentally bumped into was immediately apologetic and kind and we just kept doing our thing, moving forward, following the band that played with their drums and saxophones.

Even just knowing that there are so many other people out there who care so much about… not letting Trump be a dick, or not letting nazis get away with their bullshit, or preventing the muslim ban and the border wall, it’s incredible. To be around people who care, who you know care because they showed up, it definitely changes things. Even if we didn’t do anything physical today, in that space, it at least reminded me that there’s no way we’re alone in this fight. And no fucking way are we backing down anytime soon.

(I spend a lot of time talking about faith and social justice with one of the guys I work with. He’s my mom’s age and I kind of like to think of him as my work dad. He teaches me a lot about how to actually function at my placement and can always make me laugh. The other day we were talking about God and the great debate regarding if God even exists.

To be honest, I’m still kind of up in the air about it, but something he said stuck with me.

“Whether or not there’s a God, it doesn’t matter. Because you’re here and you’re doing God’s work. You being here and doing nonprofit is changing lives for people. That’s powerful. That’s all that matters.”)

If the sources I’ve found online are correct, the inter-faith group (and all of those sweet, wonderful, open-minded old people) ended up just a street away from us. When we turned right, they must’ve stayed straight. We didn’t find out until we were on the bus going home that there had been Trump supporters in Berkeley today, that there had been alt-right assholes looking for a fight, that there had been arrests.

The difference just a few blocks can make in experience is astounding. While it was inspiring, it was emotionally draining as well to even be there. I can’t imagine how different things would have been for us.

Violence may have broken out in Berkeley, but I wasn’t there for it, and I can only hope and pray for those who were involved. I heard it wasn’t long lived anyway.

I hope that the inter-faith group kept singing the whole time.

♫ This little light of mine… ♫

--

Onto our favorite segment of my blog:

Jenn Tries New Food

Something exciting happened this week - I chopped onions! Ha ha, I can hear the laughter now, but listen. I’m 22 and literally have never chopped onions before, and never needed to. My housemates have been amazing in their support of not only helping me expand on my food, but teaching me how to cook as well.

My first meal of the year for everyone was grilled cheese with tomato soup. They helped me with the tomato soup, considering I’m basically a grilled cheese master, but that’s what the onions were for. It was thoroughly enjoyed.

Anyway, here we go.

• Enchiladas (or flautas??? They have been called both)
• Pretty okay! Not the biggest fan just because they were really hot spice wise.
• We had rice and corn to balance it out though so it was manageable for my sad tongue.
• After I ate this my one roommate said, “You know, I’m actually really proud of you! It can be really hard to try new food and you’ve literally tried everything so far!” so hey, props to me.
• Bacon wrapped dates
• Ohhhhhh my GOD
• SO GOOD HELP
• I’ve never had a date before? I knew they existed but they were just never a thing that I had actually come into contact with. I figured if it was wrapped in bacon it wouldn’t be too bad. And then it WASN’T too bad because it was SO GOOD instead.
• 10/10 would recommend to anyone who eats meat.
• Garbanzo Beans
• We sang the bean song maybe six times throughout this meal
• I have no real memory of this, I just know I ate them because I wrote them down. Again, beans are weird.
• Spanish Tortillas
• These are like, egg and potato and tortilla tortillas
• So good I ate so many? I even packed some for lunch the following day.
• It’s been like, a few days since we ate these and I’m literally fantasizing about them. It’s just egg and potato and tortilla and I want to eat them all the time. It was so fucking good. I need my roommate to teach me how to make these.
• LIKE I CANNOT EVEN STRESS TO YOU HOW GOOD THESE WERE.
• Oh my God I want some right now as I’m typing this. Help. Will I ever be happy again.
• Lentil Burgers (with carrots and onions and spices)
• To be honest, I’m not the biggest fan of lentils! But this was okay. It went into my body and stayed there so that’s really what’s important.
• Burgers kind of creep me out? It’s the layering of things. Whatever. So like, maybe it would have been better with ketchup or tomatoes or something but I figured maybe I should try eating a normal burger with those things before we move onto lentil burgers.

I’ll be cooking again this upcoming week and you’ll all be thrilled to know that I’m making french toast. Huzzah! Someone has to keep these people in check. They get all fancy with their meals. I was recruited to the Bay Area house solely to bring us back to the basics, I know it.

--

I’ve decided to create another new segment! This one will be titled:

Things That Aren’t Important Enough For Their Own Blog Post

This is where I’ll be adding some things I think are cool that have happened to me that might be smaller. Here we go!

• My one housemate and I went to this cool thrift shop on the edge of the lake that we live by called Out of the Closet where I bought so many clothes for only 33 dollars. I’ve decided, despite the rare occasions, I’m only going to be buying clothes from thrift shops this year.
  
• It was awhile ago, but THE ECLIPSE was so cool here. We didn’t have a lot of coverage, but we did have this giant window in my office where everyone, and I mean everyone, lined up to try on the solar eclipse goggles and look outside. It was so cool! It was also insanely distracting, because I’d been shadowing someone and was with a client, but finally I got my turn. We spent a lot of the day talking about aliens.
  
• Yesterday most of us went to watch a movie in the park in San Francisco. It probably wasn’t worth it. We spent a lot of money on transit to sit in a packed square of grass to sort-of watch La La Land. I got so bored during the movie that I Googled the ending. We did, however, drink a lot of wine and spend a lot of time laughing. There’s something soft about spending a summer night in a park with your friends.
  

Until next time, my friends! Take some time this week to stand up for something you believe in. You’ll feel better about the world, even if it’s just a little.

--

Don’t forget to donate to LVC so more rad people like me can gather across the world to protest white supremacy!

https://lutheranvolunteercorps.nationbuilder.com/2018_volunteer_campaign

A Light Is Waiting to Carry You Home

If you know me more than just the casual knowings of a person, there are a few things you could probably say about me with confidence. I’m a camp person, I never shut up about the place. I get annoyed when people ask me to choose between cats and dogs. I collect mugs, I drink a lot of coffee, I like to spend my time writing stories, etc. etc. etc.

Another Fan Favorite Fact about Jenn is: I’m a very picky eater.

It’s embarrassing.

I’ve been a picky eater since I was young, and when I say picky I mean it. I really like chicken nuggets and mac and cheese (actually, most things with cheese) and almost all the carbs ever. It’s like, seriously embarrassing. I’m 22! I should really be able to go to a restaurant and order something other than, well, the chicken strips.

One of the big things about this year with LVC is that I’m living in an intentional community. In an intentional community, you cook food for each other. And you eat the food that others cook. Around a dinner table. Together.

(Thus, no sneaking off and shoving my face full of pasta.)

No matter what, whenever I talk to my parents, they always ask me the same question. What are you eating there?! Because my pickiness, it’s that bad that it must be mentioned in every phone call. And when I tell them? Nothing but laughter.

I made sure to let my housemates know right away. But I also told them, and I meant it, that I wanted this year to be a year of food-growth for me. So maybe I won’t be 23 and still ordering chicken strips. (But also, chicken strips are so good, what the heck.) They’ve been wonderful thus far, not just like--staring at me as I lift a spoon to my lips and sample these new things. Which is great! Because like I said, it’s embarrassing that I am the way that I am.

Anyway, into our next segment I’ve titled--

Jenn Tries New Food

Rules to this segment.

1. Save your judgement for someone who cares.
2. Spoiler alert: that person is not me. I’m well aware that I’m a pretty big failure of a human when it comes to using my tastebuds.

Here’s a complete list of the new foods that I’ve tried since the beginning of this program, along with my honest thoughts about each:

• Salad
• SALAD IS JUST LEAVES I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE APPEAL
• But I’ve had a few different kinds (because apparently there’s infinite ways to eat leaves) and whatever, it’s pretty okay. I don’t see myself going to a restaurant and ordering LEAVES but maybe over time when I learn how to like, fancify it more and make it filling.
• Some things in the salad include like, peppers? Those were good. Carrots are orange and also pretty good. Cheese in salad? Well, we know I like cheese.
• Couscous
• I had to Google how to spell this.
• My roommate also made cinnamon rolls because she was worried I wouldn’t eat it. BUT I DID EAT IT. It was pretty good. It’s been like, a week now so I don’t remember the exact details of this? But I ate it and was filled. Which is like, the purpose of food.
• I think there was other stuff in it? Vegetables? Everyone here loves vegetables. Vegetables are okay.
• I’m sure there’s more to the like, makings of this, but I don’t know. I didn’t make it. Would definitely eat again though.
• Fried Rice
• But like, it wasn’t complete? Maybe we didn’t have soy sauce or something? I really do not remember. I need to start taking vivid notes of every meal that we eat so I can update the masses who clearly care so much.
• Also delicious. Rice is so good, that’s not a surprise. It’s the like, variety I was worried about. I’m a child I get it, blah blah blah.
• Had broccoli in it? I normally love broccoli but preferred the like, peas. Which is a shock to me, mostly.
• Again, would consume another time.
• Sweet Potato Chili
• My dad makes chili all the time at home and I’ve never eaten it because I’M A WUSS so I felt 1) really nervous to consume this food and 2) kind of bad for not consuming my dad’s chili before this chili.
• THIS WAS SO GOOD. I added so much cheddar cheese (again, cheese, y’all) and we had warm cornbread and just. Oh man.
• Beans are weird. Not what I expected? Why are they mushy like that?
• Would definitely eat again, preferably in the near future, seeing as I had seconds and was still ready for more.

I have yet to cook for the house, and they’re being patient with me again in the sense that I have very little experience with cooking things. A lot of them used cooking in their families as a bonding thing, and I just… can’t relate. My parents both cooked, I guess, but it wasn’t something we all did at the same time. When they split, I just sort of made mac and cheese all the time. It’s not that they never, like, offered to teach me? It just never came up.

I was an RA for three years so my meals were taken care of, I didn’t have to cook anything then either. And over the summer I was at camp where Chef Tim blessed us literally every day so it wasn’t something I needed to worry about.

But we’ll make do. We always do.

--

One of the things that really keeps LVC going is donations from wonderful humans like you, whoever you are who is reading this, who are invested in my story and my growth. The other day we had the Head Money Guy of LVC reach out to us so we can start reaching out to those we know for fundraising purposes.

So! If you think LVC is cool, which it is, and you think I’m cool, which is debatable, I hope you’ll consider donating to the cause. We do some good work and we do some hard work, and anything you have to offer would be greatly appreciated.

Here’s the link: https://lutheranvolunteercorps.nationbuilder.com/2018_volunteer_campaign

I’m gonna be dropping that guy down at the bottom of my blog posts from here on out, so if you can’t donate now but would like to donate later, that’s cool too. Or if you want to donate now and can’t later, also cool. Or if you’re living on a stipend, like me, or can’t donate due to various reasons I totally get that too. No pressure!

--

Most people grow up pretty much knowing how their life is going to play out.

If you grow up with a lot of money, living comfortably, doing whatever the hell you want, chances are your life will remain that way. Can’t relate, but I’m sure there’s someone out there with that experience. If you’re like me, you grow up not… poor, necessarily, but frugal enough to cut the cable bill when you know you can’t afford it. You stop looking at out of state schools because it’ll cost too much. You rarely ask your parents for things unless you absolutely need it. Even then, you typically always offer to pay them back even when they refuse. The idea of traveling anywhere is 99% out of the question, save for maybe a trip to Disney every five years or so.

But then you grow up.

You turn 22 and you say, “Fuck it, I’m joining a service corps.” And your parents say, “Oh yeah? What’ll you do in that service corps?” And you answer, “I’m going to fucking California.”

Not literally. I don’t think I ever actually said “I’m going to fucking California.” But you catch my drift.

That’s obviously not the only reason you join a service corps, though some might think so. You’ve had a few individuals who you admire and respect do the same thing, and you want to be like them. You also just got a degree in Family and Human Services so working for a non-profit is probably a great way to go.

Okay, enough second person POV, that’s getting weird.

I joined LVC because some of the coolest people I know did LVC and they loved it. And I’m a Lutheran. And I wanted to do a year of service. And I got to go to California.

To be fair, I also applied for places in Washington (both Seattle and Tacoma) and the Twin Cities, but California called to me and I answered. My thought process was somewhere along the lines of: if I’m going to be doing a year of service, might as well go somewhere new you’ll probably never get to go again.

This past weekend, I saw the Pacific Ocean.

I had reached a point in my life where things were very stagnant, and it made me afraid. I was afraid I would never leave the East Coast, that I’d never get out of my small town where you can’t even go to Target without seeing someone you know. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to take any major steps toward something bigger, something greater. I was afraid I would fall into a routine and stick with it instead of doing something new.

And then suddenly, I was standing on the edge of the biggest cliff I’ve ever climbed, staring out into the vast greatness of the Pacific Ocean. There are really, truly no words to describe it. I can’t possibly figure out how to word it for you, whoever you are that’s reading this, to understand how I felt. Unstoppable isn’t strong enough. Invincible isn’t strong enough. Miraculous isn’t strong enough. There just aren’t words.

The sun wasn’t even shining, fucking overcast Californian skies, and I had never felt brighter.

We had been stupid tourists at that point, assuming the weather in Oakland would be the same in San Francisco, so I didn’t even have a jacket. I stood with my arms outstretched on the top of this hill, gazing west and west and west, and the wind cut straight to my core. Goosebumps crawled over my arms and the wind threatened to topple me and still I stood, overwhelmed and breathless and bright.

I will never, ever, feel that way again.

 

I’m just sitting here, days later, trying to figure out what I can say to get you, again, whoever you are reading this, to really understand what it was like standing there, but I just can’t. There really truly are no words. I don’t think I’ve smiled that much in years. I’m smiling just thinking about it.

There is something so magical about standing on the edge of the world with no one there to stop you. It sizzles in the air and climbs into your heart and it doesn’t even matter that the Golden Gate Bridge is literally right there, because the ocean is telling you that you have finally, finally made it.

It feels a little bit like coming home.

Don't Write Yourself Off Yet

I like to think that I’m good at most things.

That’s a conceited thought, but whatever. I’m a pretty decent writer, both creatively and for papers. Even though I don’t actively play any sports, my hand-eye coordination isn’t too bad. I’m incredibly adaptable and, though I might complain, can take whatever it is that the world throws my way and work through it.

I am not good, however, at public transportation.

(Not yet, anyway.)

My first day of work was yesterday and while it was literally so good, actually getting there was a bit of a problem. To be fair, I’m not entirely sure why Carly let me be the one to figure out transportation as I’ve never lived in a city in my entire life (and she went to school in DC!), but at least it was an adventure. Those first day of work jitters had nothing on the “holy shit we are so fucking lost in Oakland” jitters, am I right? It made walking into that office a piece of warm, vanilla cake.

These are the following steps you must take to be late to your first day:

1. Get on the wrong bus.

To be fair, we were waiting at the correct bus stop, Google Maps just totally hates me and told me to get onto the bus, but okay. I turned to Carly approximately one minute after we boarded and said something along the lines of, “We’re going to opposite direction of where we’re supposed to.”

No worries though! The bus took us to a BART station (Bay Area Rapid Transit) which is what we needed to get onto to actually take us into San Francisco for work. Not the right BART station, or the BART station we were familiar with, but a BART station nonetheless. All of the BART stations can take you wherever, or something, and yes! This one looks right.

2. Get on the wrong train.

The way that the BART system works is a train can either take you toward the city of San Francisco, or away from it. Thus, the Berkley train can take you toward Berkley, or away from Berkley.

As I climbed onto the BART, relieved we’d made it after our bus debacle, I pulled up Google Maps to watch my location get farther and farther and farther away from the direction I was supposed to be going. AKA, we were going toward Berkley, away from San Francisco, and we were running out of time. The true panic that settled inside of my stomach as my blinking GPS dot went away and away and away is comparable to the sound of thunder during a cook-out dinner at camp. This was when I turned to Carly and said something like, “I think we’re on the wrong train.”

Good news! If you get off the train going the wrong way, the only other train you can get on is the train going the right way! So that's what we did. We got off on the next possible stop, crossed the station, and got onto the train that said SAN FRANCISCO in big red flashing letter. Which should've been obvious the first time. But. I digress.

3. Spill coffee all over yourself. (Optional)

In the Switching of the Trains, I closed up my handy dandy Mar-Lu-Ridge travel mug and stashed it in my bag, ready to make a quick transfer. And please, we all know how much I love MLR. I love MLR that my bones ache from missing it. That my lungs are still full of mountain air no matter how hard the city smog presses in. And yet.

MLR travel mugs really aren’t the best travel mugs.

I’d been sitting for seconds (seconds!) when I felt the spill, and oh boy. Oh boy. I pulled away my bag to reveal The Stain. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. A small splash of coffee. But then I pulled my bag away more and when I say that it looked as though I peed myself, I mean that the coffee had leaked from my trusty (traitorous) blue MLR travel mug, right through my bag, all over my crotch. Dark wet stains. On my crotch.

(Last night as I was telling someone this story my roommate Danielle walked in and said, “Again? How many people have you told this story to!” To which I responded, “Just a few.” And then she said, “Liar. Even my mom knows!”)

It was really okay though, because at least we were on the correct train. I very easily could’ve let the fact that it looked like I wet myself make me upset (and honestly, I thought about it. Anger and sadness and the general brown feeling of Overwhelmed can creep in in an instant) but I powered on and made jokes and laughed. Of course this would happen to me. I made the best of it, the stains were gone by lunch, and life went on.

To be fair, we were ten minutes late, but it was okay! It was really, really okay. It could’ve been way worse and no one in the office seemed to mind.

(Side note: I know I'm saying it was okay a lot. Once one of my professors told me that people only say that a million times when it's not true. But I was to insist that it was, and remains to be okay.)

We had our introductions and our brief overview of how things are run and then me and Carly, my trusted travel companion (who somehow did not hate me after the literal shit storm of a morning that we had), went our separate ways. While we work in the same building, we're not doing the same job. She went to the legal side of the room, and I stayed with the rental assistance.

Over the course of the year I’ll be working at EDC with RADCo and it took me roughly an hour into the day to recognize that I could very easily fall in love with this work (and might already be). I spent most of the day shadowing, being passed from person to person, hearing the same information over and over again, but it was great. It was so great.

The briefest of summaries: What we do is we help people who can’t pay off their previous rent. We get them on a system and we make sure they don’t get evicted and the way that an individual’s face lights up when we say hey, we got it covered is just. Oh man. Oh man.

This couple who I’d never met before was shaking my hands and thanking me so much when I hadn’t even been the one to work everything out--the guy I was shadowing did! To be fair, that guy’s pretty cool and made me feel like I had a hand in how things played out anyway, but like! !! !!!

So, yeah, wow. I’m serious. The energy the office gives off, the spirit of everyone working there, the general feeling of We Know That The World Sucks And We’re Going To Do Everything In Our Power To Make Sure It Sucks A Little Less is just wow.

And like, I know I’m using a lot of italics, but seriously! When you know, you know. And I’m so fucking lucky, y’all.

It was totally okay that immediately after a day full of affirmations and omens that I was in the right place doing the right thing, I got lost on public transportation again.

Carly wasn’t with me this time but I was totally, 100% confident that I could find my way home. And I did! I made it home. (Like, almost two hours after I left work? But I made it!) I got on the right BART this time (false confidence ruins you) but I got off on the wrong stop. Only one stop early! But then I went to wait for this bus that literally never arrived. It didn’t come!

There’re a lot of bus detours and bus issues happening at the moment, so I’m blaming that, but I thought I was prepared! So I just started walking. I needed to find another bus.

The 12 pulled up and internally I was like, “I think this will take me home” but I wasn’t sure, and I’d already fucked up on transportation so much that day that I needed to be sure. So I let the 12 drive away, only to discover moments later that the 12 was what I needed to board. And the 12. Is on. A detour.

(The next one normally would arrive in 10 minutes. Because of transit troubles, the next 12 arrived in 36 minutes.)

My response was, “Fuck no.” I started walking. 36 minutes is a long time to wait! I wanted to be home! But then I realized my phone was at 5%, 4%, 3%, 2%, and finally 1%, and I would rather wait for a bus that would take an absurdly long time to reach me then get more lost in the city of Oakland.

I have literally never been as lost in my adult life as I was yesterday evening.

(Side note #2: I recognize that I'm cussing a lot but no one in California has a filter so I'm just trying to give you all the true experience.)

But again, it’s okay, and again, I mean it when I say that. The 12 finally arrived and whisked me home, and my phone didn’t even die! A true first day of work miracle.

Today was much easier. I just needed to ride public transit once to actually understand where I am and what I’m doing, and wah-lah! All of the pieces fall into place.

We got on the correct bus that took us to the correct BART station before being promptly whisked away to the city of San Francisco. I did have to stand on the train for a while, but at least we made it on time.

Work was just as phenomenal as it was yesterday. I’m still doing a lot of shadowing but the people are so full of life and so great and in every interaction I have, I learn so much.

Today, though, there was a new supervisor who hadn’t been in yesterday, and I think she failed to realize I was there the day before, and this time the repetition of everything wasn’t as helpful. I’d been anxious to shadow again, I learned the most watching things get done rather than talking about it, but I didn’t want to interrupt her. She’s one of those people who radiates authority.

So I was stuck in-between, learning and ready to learn, not quite where I wanted to be but somewhere in the middle.

It feels like stuck in the middle of a lot of things here, actually. Really owning the title of “in-betweener” that I’ve dubbed myself. All my life I’ve been the camp girl and now I’m not, as there’s another girl in my house who’s earned that title. And from there I’ve been the Harry Potter girl, and again I’m not, as another takes that as well. I’m stuck feeling like these vital pieces of who I am are smaller to everyone else than they are to me.

(Not that camp and Harry Potter are the only things that make me who I am, but like, come on. They’re pretty important.)

In the middle of learning about my new organization. In the middle of learning about living in a community. In the middle of learning about fucking public transportation. Always in the middle.

But like I said, I tend to think I’m pretty good at most things. It just takes some time.

Today the 12 bus was waiting the second we got off the BART, ready to head home, and we caught it with a minute to spare.