For no less than six years, J.D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey roosted atop my “to read” list. At first I chided myself for lacking the will to complete the work, but then I began to take solace knowing the precocious Glass children were readily accessible whenever I needed respite from adolescent and collegiate life. With each abortive, albeit enjoyable attempt, the paperback more strongly resembled a talisman (or a security blanket); accompanying me on every flight, resting on countless nightstands, and spending months on end securely holstered within arm’s reach on my desk. The LOST fans among you might find more than a few parallels with Desmond’s concerted delay on reading Our Mutual Friend. Don’t forget though, I started this charade years before Desmond first washed up on the shore. Also, I didn’t wait my whole life because of some ridiculous obsession with Salinger (in fact, I’d never read anything of his before aside from a few New Yorker articles).

The watershed moment finally arrived a little over a week ago, when I finally read the entire book while in transit from Austin to Berkeley. If you’ve ever read Salinger you know why I was able to try and try again with these stories– each reading renders more minute details, more esoteric references, and more lucidity in the decidedly verbose sentences. As you can tell, I am a fan of that last aspect.

Yes, my insistence on keeping Franny and Zooey nearby falls somewhere between idiosyncratic and downright strange, but the availability of that and so many other books plays a large role in keeping me intellectually grounded and stimulated. I find relief knowing a wealth of reading for pleasure waits beyond the countless monographs I pore over for class. Just as they did on that flight to Berkeley, my usual slew of blogs, news, and online articles will someday fail to adequately distract me. On that day a new book will rekindle my imagination and bring me to peace. Until I can make the time to fully delve into my never-ending reading list, this system of picking the right moments to thoroughly engross myself in each work, and enjoying the buildup to each one of them will have to suffice. After all, restraint breeds appreciation.

This semester I’m taking my first course in Public Policy, Professor Robert Reich’s “Wealth and Poverty.” Although it charts as an upper division course, his lectures draw broadly from Economics, Political Science, History, and Philosophy as much as– if not more than– Policy, appropriate for the massive 500-person lectures. Prof. Reich engages the material enough that numbers, material, and themes which I am already intimately familiar with remain salient. Moreover, new concepts capture my fascination for days on end.

(Basically this long rate-my-professor entry partially explains why it’s taken me days to write on a stale subject. That and a cold)

Anyway, last week Reich discussed issues of inequality, fairness, and their relation to what he defined as America’s Social Contract. He cited decades of polling data to draw up five basic tenets:

1)No one who works full time should be poor.
2)Everyone should have an equal chance to make it, based on hard work and talent.
3)Everyone should have an opportunity to make the most of themselves through education.
4)No special privileges ought to be allotted according to wealth and class.
5)Individuals should take responsibility for themselves and their families, but deserve help if they need it through no fault of their own.

Certainly, the 4th point has deep roots in American identity. While quelled in England, “country” republican ideology flourished in Colonial America, breeding an antipathy towards aristocratic privilege. Of course, this may not have always been our destiny; if the crown had found it prudent to establish an American nobility (such as in Barbados), then maybe early leaders would not have brusquely tried to pass the Titles of Nobility Amendment.

Historical tangent aside, what fascinated me about those five tenets was how they were qualified at clear moments. The matter of poverty gained credence while Labor movements rose and Social Darwinism fell from fashion, but I venture to guess that it did not find consensus acceptance until the great depression. Conversely, Social Darwinism solidified the “American Dream,” a (patently false at every moment in history) notion that the most fit, able, and hardy will work their way up the ladder. The longstanding commitment to education has taken forms ranging from California’s Master Plan, to the ongoing debates over vouchers and Head Start programs. The topic of individual responsibility also has antecedents in the 19th century, but finds its parameters tested during recessions and deficits; consider the negative connotations behind “welfare” and “food stamps” casualties of those debates.

This social contract is without a doubt malleable; bounds of personal responsibility and definitions of what constitutes a “fair shake” fluctuate more drastically in America than any other country I can think of. Professor Reich attributes this to cultural factors, particularly how we approach conflict. To illustrate this, he cites Albert Hirschman’s treatise, Exit, Voice, and Loyalty, which posits that firms, organizations, individuals, and states approach challenges in one of the three methods mentioned in the title.

Exit- a tendency to escape or sever responsibility and ties. Reich and others see America as a nation build on Exit strategy, down to our demographics (the much-trumpeted immigrant waves exited problems in their homelands). Don’t like the taxes or schools in an area? Move. In my view, even the Constitution leaves room for Exit: Don’t like the legislation on the table? Filibuster, blame, and refuse compromise.

Voice- direct confrontation. Like Berkeley. Or Europe and its penchant for striking. My cursory scan of America’s greatest successes and failures shows that they this path: Bryan, Debs, McCarthy, Parks, King, Carter, Reagan, and most recently Obama. Whether Barack manages to shift the paradigm will largely depend on conditions. Republican leaders can’t and won’t stare down the President forever: voters will decide in 2012 (not this year) which side folds first.

Loyalty- this connotates loyalty in the most negative sense of the word- resigned defeat. Hirschman argues that homogeneous states fall into either Loyalty or Voice traditions shortly after establishment. Even the idea that nations breed some sort of culture of defeat or poverty makes me uneasy (Apparently it makes others upset too- just ask David Brooks and Paul Shirley, who found the topic unfashionable right now).

And it’s 3:30am. I’ll stop there rather than judge whether I’ve actually done any more than rehash a lecture.

Secondly, this third attempt at blogging will be more earnest. Between the daily going-ons in my life and those in the world around me, things are pretty tumultuous–  and those who know me should by now recognize my quickness to offer unsolicited observation and opinion. By approaching this blog as an oddly open and private forum for my own whims, I expect to write with more regularity (yes, I’ve said this before).  In short,  consider “Generally Tow” a dump for the thoughts and issues that would otherwise keep me up at night. This is good on many levels:

-More Sleep, less NCAA 09 until 5:30am

-More advice on approaching my impending unemployment, less moping.

(plus, with Calvin and Joe out of commission, someone’s gotta step their game up)

Anyway, I overslept the Cal/Oregon State basketball game Saturday morning. Free tickets wasted, it wasn’t a complete loss- I had the most bizarre and possibly significant dream in a long, long while. Rarely can I remember my dreams, and even more rarely are there any friends of mine in my dreams. With italics to emphasize the oddness of it all, behold:

Career Assessment completed, I entered my place of employment (hey, that’s why it’s a dream). Apparently my job was in part of a large, bauhaus style complex. My seat was in a high-ceilinged auditorium-gymnasium, where employees fretted away at their work- each desk identical, each desk facing the same way (a white collar tobacco factory).One row in front of my own, I noticed I had a friend, Shaswato, here. If his real-life career can indicate anything, I’d found my way into consulting; a bizarro firm where employees are worked like lowell girls.

A manual under my desk will be my complete training– nobody has time to give me tips. My dreamself decides now is as good of a time as ever to take a bathroom break. Easier said than done. Only after traversing paths, opening wrong doors, and following other employees who might as well have been the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland do I find a restroom.  On my way back to the big room I run into another friend of mine- JP. Except he’s not JP. He has the same face, but his body is that of a cartoonish dog. Don’t ask me what we talked about, I have no idea.

I finally find the big room, but everybody is filing out as fast as possible for lunch break. Nearly everyone is dresses in Indianapolis Colts gear- and one of them chides me for being a Patriots fan (I’m not). Apparently they played that day in my dream

That’s how I knew it was fake- there’s no way the Pats and Colts can meet for the AFC championship

Speaking of evolving tastes (how’s that for a forced transition?), it’s time to attempt a patently impossible feat: finding my definitive personal playlist. A Black Friday sequestered from the city life + three cups of coffee make now as good of a time as any to file through my loved tracks. My criteria are simple, if a song can stir a reaction from me simply from playing it in my head, it stays. Given that I’m likely to be sick of some songs 7-8 years after first falling in love with them, I’ll be more swift to cut newer favorites. In the end, the final 20-25 songs should represent the full spectrum of my music tastes: long-time favorites, guilty pleasures, pump-up songs, and study aids.

No, I don’t expect anyone to read this- but it’s a worthy project to do yourself when you’re down for some procrastination, I highly recommend it.

Semifinalists (survived the first cuts)

Andrew Bird – Dark Matter

Andrew Bird – Tables and Chairs

Arcade Fire – Rebellion (Lies)

The Band- Acadian Driftwood

Beck – The Golden Age

Billy Bragg & Wilco- Remember the Mountain Bed

Billy Bragg & Wilco- California Stars

Black Star – Definition

Blitzen Trapper – Furr

Bon Iver – Blood Bank

Bon Iver – Skinny Love

Bruce Springsteen – Thunder Road

Bruce Springsteen – Jungleland

Buddy Holly – Everyday

Cake- Short Skirt, Long Jacket

Cat Power- I Found A Reason

Coldplay – Sparks

Common – Drivin’ Me Wild

Counting Crows – Perfect Blue Buildings

Daft Punk – Digital Love

Dave Matthews & Tim Reynolds – Say Goodbye

De La Soul – Fallin’

Death Cab for Cutie – Pictures in an Exhibition

Elis Regina & Antônio Carlos Jobim – Águas De Março

Elliott Smith – Say Yes

Elliott Smith – St. Ides Heaven

Explosions in the Sky – Your Hand In Mine

The Game- Hate it or Love it

Gregory Alan Isakov- Black Hills

Jim James- Goin’ to Acapulco (w/Calexico)

Kanye West- Heard ‘Em Say

The Knife- Got 2 Let U

Led Zeppelin- What is and What Should Never Be

The Mountain Goats- Pigs that Ran Straightaway into the Water, Triumph of

The Mountain Goats- No Children

The Mountain Goats- Isaiah 45:23

The Mountain Goats – Philippians 3:20-21

The Mountain Goats- International Small Arms Traffic Blues

The Mountain Goats- Southwood Plantation Road

The Mountain Goats- This Year

Nas- Life’s a B***h

The National- Apartment Story

The National- All the Wine

Of Montreal- Vegan in Furs

Okkervil River- Bruce Wayne Campbell Interviewed on the Roof of the Chelsea Hotel 1979

Old 97’s- King of All the World

Old 97’s- St. Ignatius

Old 97’s- Designs on You

Old 97′s- Rollerskate Skinny

Otis Redding- Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

Otis Redding- Try a Little Tenderness

Pedro the Lion- Promise

Radiohead- Black Star

Ryan Adams- Answering Bell

Smashing Pumpkins- 1979

Spoon- Black Like Me

Sufjan Stevens- Mistress

Sufjan Stevens- Chicago

Sufjan Stevens- Casimir Pulaski Day

Talib Kweli- Ghetto Show

Talking Heads- Once in a Lifetime

Whiskeytown- 16 Days

Whiskeytown- I Don’t Care What you Think About Me

Wilco- Heavy Metal Drummer

Wilco- I Am Trying to Break Your Heart

–Well represented with seven songs, the Mountain Goats easily could have had a dozen make it through. I applied the same litmus test I did for John Darnielle in the next round of cuts, putting recent favorites (for the most part), by the wayside. Here is the final 25:

Andrew Bird- Tables and Chairs

Arcade Fire – Rebellion (Lies)

Billy Bragg & Wilco- California Stars

Black Star – Definition

Bon Iver – Blood Bank

Bruce Springsteen – Thunder Road

Buddy Holly – Everyday

Cake- Short Skirt, Long Jacket

De La Soul – Fallin’

Elis Regina & Antônio Carlos Jobim – Águas De Março

Elliott Smith – Say Yes

Explosions in the Sky – Your Hand In Mine

The Mountain Goats- Pigs that Ran Straightaway into the Water, Triumph of

The Mountain Goats- Southwood Plantation Road

Nas- Life’s a B***h

The National- Apartment Story

The National- All the Wine

Old 97’s- Designs on You

Otis Redding- Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

Pedro the Lion- Promise

Ryan Adams- Answering Bell

Sufjan Stevens- Chicago

Whiskeytown- 16 Days

Wilco- Heavy Metal Drummer

Some songs on there (Cake, Old 97′s) represent my early ventures into alternative/indie radio, but for the most part it’s still heavily biased towards my college years. That’s my case and I’m sticking with it! (Until I find new obsessions, of course)

I spent Friday and Saturday effectively on the sideline- an auxiliary witness to quintessential  Berkeley moments- the Big Game and the Big Hooplah Protest.

As for the strike, police brutality seem to be the buzzwords around campus today after Friday’s events. My views on the strike and its effectiveness completely mirror Calvin’s, and I don’t feel like explicating them here when there’s already a well-articulated defense of my views among the internets.

What happened Friday was not brutality. Just as nonviolence is far from nonaggression, action against a nonviolent protest does not suddenly and unequivocally designate it as police brutality. Granted, I was not out there for the moments of most direct confrontation, but the rules of engagement seemed pretty simple- 1) Mind the barricade and barrier 2) Those who do not will be subdued.

It’s a terrible shame our students were injured, but as far as I can ascertain police struck back only against those who either provoked them, crossed the line, or actively resisted against its establishment (feel free to correct me here, more info keeps coming up). Each of those actions breaks the tenets of nonviolent confrontation. Even when browsing through facebook pictures of these supposed atrocities I stumble across cryptic captions such as:

“they were putting the barricades up initially to prevent us from rioting if they arrested the protesters inside the building…we were prepared to stop them if they tried taking the protesters to jail…”

Perhaps it was written hastily while the pictures were posted, but this caption belies any sort of nonviolence. Breaking the police barriers would have absolutely justified measures to subdue the crowd- it’s not nonviolent at that point, nor is it passive resistance, it’s an active and direct challenge to the police. I don’t what to be construed as implying that the protesters had it coming to them; defiance and resistance are one thing, but taking those measures beyond barricaded lines is an entirely different level of engagement, one where aggressive police reaction can be expected. I’m confident the internal review will result in suspensions where necessary (baton jabbing), if that somehow classifies me as a fascist, so be it.

As for the Big Game, I still feel completely comfortable with forgoing season tickets this year, even after a game like that. I’ve had my fill with standing in a student section filled to the brim with misinformed and clueless fans, even a game like that would have left me pissed off at somebody for believing themselves the next coming of Barry Switzer.  In fact, I only regret not having a chance to rain a shower of boos on Tiger Woods. My own idiosyncratic demands withstanding, I found the best BigGameDay experience possible: a bar in the city with an assortment of ticketless-yet-devoted Cal fans and a dash of Stanford support for good measure.

I’ll leave Cal with the Axe and as a firsthand witness to a headline-grabbing protest- not even Mario Savio can hold such distinction.

If anyone here spoke to me during my last 2-3 nights in Lisbon, they knew what I was up against- a research paper with inadequate sources (predictable, since Portuguese libraries shouldn’t have many english sources) and the desire to actually enjoy my time in Lisbon for more than one time.

Luckily, thanks to an extension I was able to go out for a bit my last night. Granted, we didn’t leave the hostel until 3am, when all the bars were closed and the streets were barren- but at least we were out. After an hour and  a half of roaming the streets with the most motley assortment of travel study students as possibile, we returned to pack for our 5, 7, or 9:30am shuttles to the airport. Luckily I was in the 7:30 group, giving me time to nap for about an hour or so once I finished my frantic packing.

[An aside about my packing. I did pretty well considering the circumstances. Two all nighters in a row with nary a couple micro-naps to replenish myself in between, plus an evening's worth of merriment and writing absolutley zapped my brain- I was mentally, physically, and psychologically drained. Sure, I somehow managed to lose a pair of jeans, a pink polo, a pair of shorts, and a towel at various points during these 7 weeks, but I devised  great system of wine storage for the flight: bubble wrap and my dirty clothes bag.]

From the airport,  I took Aer Lingus to Dublin and JFK. Let me tell you, Aer Lingus is an Irish of an airline as it sounds. My pilot’s name was Mick Mulligan, spoke celtic/whatever ancient language the Irish revere, and the flight attendants all worse green on green on green uniforms. But at least the cabin had personalized tv’s with the new Star Trek movie and Lady Gaga to keep me entertained (that’s how tired I was, I actually wanted to listen to Lady Gaga during a transatlantic flight).

After a day’s worth of traveling- half of which was spent asleep or in some sort of weary daze closely approximating sleep- I made it to New York. All of that bruhaha surrounding customs was unwarranted- despite declaring items well in excess of my duty-free limit, they did neither charged me tariffs nor searched my luggage. (Maybe Aer Lingus gave me the luck of the irish? After all, the airline didn’t charge me $50 for my 2nd bag. It really must have been my day)

Since my day of travel I’ve mostly taken it pretty easy, or not. Aaron and I went to check out the house I spent my infancy, and also took a few pictures at a park which may be the site of my earliest memories. Or not,  it’s so hard to tell whether or not you remember something or just convinced yourself after seeing a few photos. We also invaded hipstercentral, USA (Williamsburg, Brooklyn) for a night on the town. Berkeley’s hipster crowd really has nothing on Brooklyn’s- Williamsburg boasts bars specially tailored to their tastes, such as ironically fun 80′s arcade games. Despite being completely out of our element we had a great time: the drink selections were vast, the arcade games cheap, and the 2nd bar we went to gave us a complimentary pizza with purchase, a win/win/win situation.

On the metro trip back I realized how strong jet lag can hit you: one good night’s sleep isn’t nearly enough, I need a 13-14 hour hibernation session once I get back to Lubbock in order to really be sorted out. The danger there will be getting used to sleeping until 3pm, as always happens in Lubbock. Portugal made me a bit of a morning person, I want to keep it that way.

(ed. note: This post was written during a two-day internet blackout this past weekend. Enjoy)

I’m really not as bad at this blogging thing as my infrequent posts make it out. Well, maybe. Either way, busy-ness, business, and an inconvenient internet outage have kept me silent at one of the absolute worst times. Since this is my blog, I’m going to vent a bit.

1)      10-12 page research paper due on the 6^th. As you can imagine, the English sources in U.Porto’s library were scarce (even on such a pivotal topic as colonialism) and I had to make do and make copies. Turns out, these scarce sources are largely inadequate. Unfortunately, we’re only allowed two internet sources, so I need to make the best of them.

2)      I have a subletter currently living for free. Lovely. With no internet, I can’t nag him to see when he plans to move out and nag him further on the rent check. Here’s a recommendation: don’t conduct real estate across the Atlantic, especially when you’re in a dubiously “developed” country.

3)      With my New York trip approaching, I need to let Aaron know my flight details. Unfortunately I don’t even know my flight details without the internet.

(fyi: I’m writing this on Microsoft Word on Sunday, in anticipation that the internet will work by Monday afternoon).

In a way, this venting prefaces my entry very well: where I begin to explain what I’ve been up to these past 5-6 weeks, and why my contact with the outside world has been few and far between. Let’s begin with literature class. (Consider this the first entry in my “Excuses” series. Something tells me it won’t be limited edition).

Throughout our stay in the Azores and Porto (excluding an interim week when we made our way through the Portuguese backcountry) our mornings were occupied with language and literature classes. For a guy with a horribly weak active vocabulary, literature homework proved a task and a half. Three hours of lecture in the morning, three hours of culture activities in the afternoon, three to four hours of homework each night- that’s why I hardly ever posted on here.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the material. Although it was at a breakneck pace, I fell in love with Fernando Pessoa’s poetry. Explaining why he’s awesome will take up too much space, and I’m sure it’d be more entertaining if I did so over the phone; let’s just say he was quite the interesting person(s), and leave it at that.

On a related note, as much as my reading and listening skills have improved, my speaking wavers unless I’ve had a drink or two– solely for courage, of course. Nevertheless, I’ll still have lapses in translation, as attested by the following episode with a Pessoa poem, “Tabacaria.”

A familiar site for those who frequent my facebook, Its first four lines read:

Não sou nada.
Nunca serei nada.
Não posso querer ser nada.
À parte isso, tenho em mim todos os sonhos do mundo.

My original translation placed the lines as “I am not nothing. I will never be nothing. I can not wish to be nothing. Apart from this, I have in me all of the dreams of the world.” Seemingly wholeheartedly uplifting, I was going through a phase where I wanted those lines tattooed onto my forearm in Portuguese. Despite others pointing out the differing translation on wikipedia, I was completely assured of my correct translation. Then I remembered the rules on double negatives in Portuguese. Hardly tattoo material (unless I suddenly enter an intense identity crisis), it actually reads “I am nothing. I will never be anything. I cannot wish to be anything. Apart from this, I have in me all of the dreams of the world.”

Meh =/

By the way, Pessoa only technically wrote this poem. It is really the handiwork of Alvaro de Campos. BUT De Campos was physically Fernando Pessoa, as were Alberto Caeiro, Ricardo Reis, Alexander Search, and Fernando Pessoa-himself. I told you he was an interesting guy!

One final note before I return to my 10 page essay: I failed to mention in the food entry my most embarrassing dietary lapse in Portugal- soft drinks. Without fail, I’ve drank more cokes these past seven weeks than the previous three years combined, save for the mini-binge I went on during finals last fall.

I was right about the chicken and fish, but didn’t expect salads to be such a scarce commodity. Apparently the Portuguese are all about their starch. Every meal (and I do mean every meal) comes with rice and potatoes, or at the very least french fries. Most side salads are only a bit of shoddy lettuce- and if you know anything about me you know that shoddy lettuce and I don’t mix.

While repetitive, I can dig the starch- especialmente porque frango churrasco e bacalhao sao optimo.  The real problems began once I started running out of lactaid. Let’s use bullet points to illustrate my lactose intolerant woes»

-Ice cream stands are everywhere, and feature the delicious (albeit unfortunately named) Magnum bar

-For all of the cafes where we’ve taken pit stops, not one of them feature soymilk. I know soymilk exists in Portugal, I bought some at the supermarket– on a side note, never buy Strawberry Soymilk, it’s disgusting and nothing like strawberry nesquick.

-Every sandwich has cheese. This is already enough of an issue since 90% of sandwiches are ham and cheese.

Nevertheless, all of this is water under the bridge now that I discovered the joys of Portuguese vending machines. Let me tell you, the Japanese have nothing on Portugal. Want a nice hot espesso? That’ll be .35 euro, sir. Less sugar? Nao e uma problema. You want a sandwich? We’ve got those too. After some sugared toast and a couple espressos, I’m all ready to start my day. In fact, I retract any and all badmouthing of espresso- I see why Europeans love it so much. Gratned, I miss my large starbucks coffees and french presses, but I don’t miss the hand/tongue/lip/face burns that came with the territory as I whisked my drinks off to class every morning. Too bad coffee shops haven’t realized the profit potential from cheap espresso.

Anyway, this is really the end of my communication blackout. I may be getting super busy in the next few days with my free weekend and research paper bearing down on me, but as I’ve done before I’ll find all sorts of ways to procrastinate and you’d better believe this blog will be near the top. In the meantime, somebody should skype with me! =[

Today we visited the Cálem wine cellar in Porto, one of the many cellars where the Port wines grown upstream in the Duoro river sit before bottling. Since the climate in the Douro region can be volatile, most wineries keep their casks in Porto, despite the risk of flooding. Although this was not the first winery we visited (actually, the third), my amateur wine tasting skills told me I ought to stock up on a few bottles for myself, family, and friends. After all, few people get a chance to buy authentic Port wine, much less White Port. 23 Euros later, my gift-grabbing (at least the wine portion) is nearly complete.

Here’s where the potential showdown with customs begins: travelers over 21 can only bring back two bottles of alcohol without paying tariffs, and I currently have five- three bottles of White Port, a White table wine from a museum trip this past weekend, and a bottle of Moscatel from Setúbal. Drinking the Moscatel and table wine are certain possibilities, as I can probably find better alternatives in stores, albeit at much higher prices than the winery. Whatever happens to those, I’ll definitely have more than two bottles when I return to the states, and I fully plan to not declare them. I didn’t declare my fig newtons and goldfish in the Azores and got away wit it; with that under my belt, smuggling a few souveniers here and there amongst my bags shouldn’t be a problem. My goods don’t have a chance of chirping, I should be okay.

While we’re on the subject of gifts, you can rest easy knowing that I’m assembling a formidable bounty. If anybody has a specific request, just let me know. Who knows, I might actually get it if I like you =O

More to come later, such as: my obsession with European coffee machines and vending machines in general, salad withdrawals, cooking fiascos, and longer stories with a play-by-play of the trip thus far.

With so much time missed, my plan for this blog moving forward is to give a bit of reflection on my trip thus far, plus a story of something our group did way back in the day (as in two weeks ago). The second part of this is to make a post right now, even if it’s just a skimpy oveview. That way I’ll feel more obliged to update.