p.s. arnold for governor... of my ASS (thank you, Katha Pollitt)!
- posted by clare @ 13:35

 
ahhh... maine.

on the careers in maine page of MaineToday.com, you might notice four little pictures representing places/types of employment for mainers. the farthest picture on the right is, most likely, that of a man holding a lobster (alternatively, it might be a woman holding what looks like a half-woven basket; hit "refresh" until you see the man with the lobster. in my little un-scientific experiment, the man with the lobster appeared 7 out of 10 times when the page was refreshed. he's more frequent than the woman with the basket, anyway.). i'm not exactly sure why, but something about the image of that smiley man holding what appears to be a very large bug (which is, of course, what lobsters are) strikes a chord in me... or maybe it's a bone... my funny bone, to be exact. ha!

ok, ok. i know that's not very funny... but i like the picture.

i don't know if i would call myself a Mainer. or "mainah," as the case may be. i don't have the accent. i've only lived here for just over five years, five and a half if you count the few months i spent goo-ing and poo-ing as an infant. my family isn't "from" here--my connections to this state don't go back generations. but what is a Mainer, anyway?

every dictionary i've searched defines a Mainer as "a resident of Maine," but the term encompasses meanings far beyond simply a person who lives within the lines arbitrarily drawn by a group of white men (i'm guessing, here. i could very well be wrong--and i'd love it if someone could *prove* me wrong) via the Missouri Compromise back in 1820. my sense is that many folks here would define a Mainer as a person whose family has lived in the state for at least five generations. in my experience, folks who tend to use this term use it passionately and with great pride, as though defending the state from the various forces that threaten to alter it--for the worse--forever.

being "from away," as it were, i have an outsider's perspective on what it means to be a Mainer. to understand what it might mean, though, requires a little bit of explaining about the current state of Maine.

Maine is both supported and plagued by out-of-state tourism. the stereotype of the typical tourist, which is not completely inaccurate, is a white, wealthy family, generally from Massachusetts, who proceeds to abuse Maine residents and environments, gawk at the tourist sites, drive poorly, and spend too little money. alternatively, such individuals might decide to purchase a waterfront home in the state, indirectly driving up property tax rates. these folks "from away" are often considered with much ambivalence, as they both contribute to Maine's economy and destroy what is perceived to be Maine's native culture, land, and, to some extent, economy.

of course, it bears mentioning that others "from away" include: refugees from Cambodia, Somalia, and other far "away" places, tourists who don't fit the above stereotype, and folks who move here and stay for other reasons (like me).

the concept of a "Mainer" as it's understood within the state is something often joked about among educated intellectuals and fiercely defended by folks of European descent. a "Mainer," from beyond the state, is often described as a kind of hick, a poor farmer clinging to old and outmoded lifestyles. from the inside, however, a "Mainer" is a person of character and substance; one whose livelihood, land, and identity is threatened and ultimately must be defended. indeed, there is much to decry about the ways in which non-Mainers treat the people and the land.

but the understandings of what it means a Mainer i've come to understand are far from all-inclusive or fair. at least in my experience, the term "Mainer" has not included folks with tribal roots--Native Americans who trace their lineage deeper into history than the European Americans who've dubbed themselves "Mainers." furthermore, many folks who call themselves "Mainers" are more abusive of the land and of others than folks who've only lived here for a few years.

if it were up to me, i'd like to appropriate the term "Mainer" specifically for folks who make a conscious effort to understand Maine's history (social, cultural, economic, and political), engage with and contribute to their local community, and conserve and preserve their local environment. there's much more to being a Mainer than i've described or can fully understand. it's a way of reclaiming power, but it's also a way of limiting who counts and who doesn't. there are issues of class, race, ethnicity, gender, and sexuality all tied up in it.
- posted by clare @ 11:18

 
my sister, the blog-connected wonder.

at the moment, i am mourning the loss of Edward Said.
- posted by clare @ 14:11

 
being sick is like having god [or what/whomever] drill a big ol' hole in your nicely organized daily routine, leaving you to pick up the pieces after the fact. in other words, this is my first day at work this week, given my recent illness, which has occupied the past 2 days of my existence. that's 2 days without pay. the fact that that bothers me more than me actually being sick says something... but i'm not sure what...

in other news, mel & i drove our way on up to the 27th annual Common Ground Fair, a gathering of Maine-oriented organic farmers, activists, and every possible combination thereof. the criteria for vendors and booth people are quite strict--for example, no main products are allowed in the fair that aren't grown organically in Maine (which leaves out coffee and chocolate), although ingredients of foods are allowed to be a certain percentage non-maine; but they must be certified organic. i, for one, think it's cool. it's always a very positive, energizing, and, best of all, yummy experience and well worth the hour or so it takes to drive there from our home.

this year, we were fortunate to catch a show by Dave Mallett, Maine folkie extraordinaire and writer of the famous "Garden Song" (you know, "inch by inch, row by row... gonna make this garden grow..." yeah, you know it.). which was fun, but not as fun as sampling the sweet, ripe, organic TOMATOES!!! woo hoo! and the pickles were nice, too. we purchased a jar of dill pickles from a stand that bore a rainbow-striped... apple? some kind of fruit. yum, yum. best pickles i've had in a long time. and the tomatoes... they had SOME tomatoes. they had large ones the size of grapefruit and itsy-bitsy ones the size of peas; yellow ones and orange ones and black ones (it's true!); some winning blue ribbons, some only winning yellow ones; some for sale, for eating later; some for sale, for eating now; and some just for show. we also tried apple butter on tortilla chips (who knew?), and i downed a little bottle of cinnamon-y apple cider in the car on the way home. my mouth said "w00t!"



i wish i could go back, but i know that, upon arriving back in little Unity, i would find the fairgrounds empty, the vendors gone, the tomatoes flown to a happier, squishier place. i guess that's the way it goes, though.

speaking of squishy, i'm recalling this TV show... that played during my later youth... it was called "Mr. Bumpy's something-or-other" and starred and green claymation monster named, of all things, "Mr. Bumpy." Mr. Bumpy's sidekick was--as i recall--a purplish monster named "Squishy." or "Mr. Squishy." no, i think it was just "Squishy." not "Ms. Squishy," either. hm.

Mr. Bumpy consumed large quantities of dirty socks and sang a variety of songs apropos to his monster-ly life, often accompanied by Squishy and/or some amount of dancing.

i wonder why it went off the air...

HR PUFNSTUF! AHA! THAT'S THE NAME OF THAT FREAKY SHOW! from Sid & Marty Krofft. it was a little before my time, from what i understand from darren. ooh, here's another Krofft website. it's enough to give a kid nightmares, though. well, i guess it's no worse than, ohhh... reality. gives me the willies, though.
- posted by clare @ 16:19

 
huh... speaking of elite institutions, class, and economic justice, check out what's happening at Yale.
- posted by clare @ 12:46

 
i.
loathe.
filing.

if i never see another file again... i'll be ecstatic. i reserve a particular hatred of files that are large and thick and, worst of all, completely disorganized.

i hate the oaktag cuts that sprout on my cuticles. i hate the embarrassing yanking and shoving i perform at the amusement of passing secretaries (and they are still known as secretaries in these parts) and attorneys, mailroom staff and maintenance folk. because, of course, the files are located either in major walkways or in someone's office.

the thing that irks me most about filing, though, is my invisibility. i get the impression that folks here now understand that my role as a filing person (or a "floater," according to local terminology) places me at the very bottom rung of a ladder whose steps are assumed to be too far apart for my little legs. ha! when i first arrived, folks were asking me if i was a new attorney. i guess i pulled off the upper-class, camp bo-bo thang fairly well. perhaps i still do. but, now that i've been placed firmly within the "service" camp, attorneys no longer stop and chat with me.

i guess i shouldn't complain, right? i mean, they're paying me an ungodly rate to freakin' FILE. it's perhaps not the best use of my skillz, but they're getting work done and i'm getting paid. so who cares?

still, i can't help but feel a little disenfranchised. part of it stems from a sense of respect and decency to which i feel everyone--from the lowest-paid housekeeper to the highest-paid partner in this firm--should be (and feel) entitled.

this place reminds me far too much of Metropolis. and by "this place" i mean my current place of employment, this part of Portland, and this country.

ah well. i should be relieved to be so well employed. so many aren't--employed or employed in jobs that pay a living wage. i should feel lucky to have graduated from such an elite institution. i should feel blessed to have had such a supportive and awesome family. but does that mean i should shut up about injustices?

hells.
no.

and what i see here is a level of disrespect, of distinctly gendered hierarchies literally centuries old, of racism and sexism and heterosexism that offends me.

and i'll be writing more about it.
- posted by clare @ 09:58

 
...and there are the awkward pauses when folks are waiting for the elevator to arrive. and the awkward moments when folks are waiting inside the elevators for the doors to close and whisk them up, down, or (if their imaginations are particularly active) sideways and around and around, like Charlie's glass elevator.

really, it's the pauses that occur from within the elevators that are the awkwardest. after all, folks are facing me, the scary receptionist, from within the elevator. they usually try to duck out of view and hide on the side of the elevator, or they pretend they're doing something else (lest i catch them at an un-busy moment!) like looking at their watch or flipping through their papers.

of course, i'm guilty of similar actions. what do you say to someone in the moment--a second or three, at most--when they're waiting for some other action to take place; when they're expecting to be transported to a different floor? i usually look down at the papers on my desk myself or return to what i'm doing on the computer (in this case, blogging). but i have to fight back the urge to shout a random observation into their little box as the door closes. "Ooh, i hope that's not the one with the broken cable!" "Watch out for the elevator gremlins!" "Hey, wait! You forgot your shadow!" or "Don't forget to tip the elevator operator!"

But with all of the awkwardness that happens in a place so stiffly formal as this, it's amazing folks haven't been driven to drink, at the very least, during office hours. no, it's not that bad, and folks are, as a rule, very polite (because until you've met someone and know their station--in the building and in "life"--they might, just might, be someone tremendously important, despite their cheap cotton shirts and fifteen-dollar dockers and unattractive shoes.). but there are certain implicit (and sometimes explicit) rules here that are begging to be broken. it's the sociologist in me, and i'm trying to keep her down a bit. she's threatening to mess with the system, although she hasn't quite formulated a plan just yet...
- posted by clare @ 12:38

 
i can tell by the way the attorneys here say "hi" and avert their eyes (at best) or look down as they're walking by my desk that they don't really believe i'm a person. i feel like i'm back at my good ol' alma mater. and i haven't seen a person of color since i started here last wednesday... and it's not just because it's maine.

talk about elite (ist) institutions; this place takes not only the proverbial cake but the whole freakin' bakery, too!

i'm one of them, though, in the sense that i graduated from camp bo-bo--the fun part of that fact is that there are *many* alums who actually work here as attorneys (some recent grads as paralegals), and i enjoy responding to questions like "so, where'd you graduate from?" heh. "i graduated from Bowdoin College" [thought process: what is she doing temping, then? is the job market *that* bad--when a graduate of such a fancy-schmancy institution is forced to work toward the bottom of the ladder. gasp!]

why should i be feeling degraded? on the one hand, i should be happy to have a job--a fairly high-paying temp job at that. and i don't believe i should have a sense of entitlement. just because i have a degree from a place like camp bo-bo doesn't mean that i'm entitled to a high-paying, high-ranking job upon graduation--contrary to popular belief. on the other hand, i worked pretty damn hard at that place and would like to think that i have a fairly good shot not necessarily at a high-ranking and -paying job but at least at one that i feel is worthwhile and sortof enjoy. it would be nice. and it's a wee bit discouraging to discover that you're working on "projects" for someone who graduated in the class beneath yours.

but, like i said, i should be happy to have a job at all. i can pay my bills. and, although i don't have health insurance at the moment, i'd like to think that i have a job prospect or two that would allow me to obtain insurance at some point...

but enough about me.

it's a fabulously wonderful day outside, and, in a few minutes, i get to be IN it. and i'm surrounded by the finery of the reception area in the largest law firm north of boston.

wowee.
- posted by clare @ 12:46