Say It Ain't So . . .

Painting from the Minneapolis Institute of Art's collection.
If you know the painting's name, please let me know.

Wisconsin is in danger of being surpassed by California as the nation's largest producer of cheese. Don't believe me? Check out the New York Times. Surely they'd never print anything that was false.

Let this be a rallying cry in my homeland . . . a shot heard around the cows if you will. Drop your biotech jobs, your manufacturing, your science and technology. My people for far too long we have been lulled into a dreamlike state with false hopes and flat-out lies about progress, advancement, and the all around betterment of the world.

Our state motto, "Forward!" has lead us astray. I see it all too well now. The Evil One has mislead us . . . twisting our words, ideas, and aspirations in such a way that we are now danger of losing our heritage, our history, even our very souls.

"BACKWARD!" my people . . . "BACKWARD!" Back to the warm vats of churning milk. Back to carefully crafted microbes. Back to the curds and the whey.

If we band together we can protect our status as America's Dairyland from being Terminated by Schwarzenegger and his brood of overly-tanned, leathery-skinned vipers from the Golden State.

Golden State? Harumph. More like the Golden Idol of Baal. Why must those evil ones torment us? We must don our Packers Jerseys of Righteousness and Cheeseheads of Truth to slay the serpent that is rising in the West . . .

Or we could just eat some brats, drink some Miller, and kick back. We're from Wisconsin after all. We already know we are the best.


Thought of the day:
“Cheese really is part of our identity. . .Cheese is the perfect illustration of the Wisconsin personality — casual, fun people who like to make fun of things, including ourselves.” -Terese Allen, former president of the Culinary History Enthusiasts of Wisconsin.

Home Sweet Home (Part Deux)

Doesn't it look warm and inviting? Doesn't it make you want to visit? *

I'm finally starting to feel settled in, thanks to the folks back in the 'Sha and the always trustworthy UPS. What can Brown do for you? A lot.

Now all I need is a job. Not too thrilled with the student job offerings right now (although I did have a very cool James-Bond-esque experience interviewing at the Rare Book & Manuscript Library . . . waiting for the woman I was interviewing with and all of a sudden this giant bronze wall slides open to reveal a hidden door and elevator. I got to hold the button to slide the secret wall/door shut. Sadly there were no sharks with or without frickin' laser beams). But I digress . . .

Back to moaning and groaning. I'm apparently plagued with the need to find a job that is "meaningful." You can counter with "You worked at Starbucks buddy," but somehow I found that more life-giving than shelving books, etc.

I'm actually hoping to find a youth or social justice oriented position in a local congregation or faith-based non-profit on a really part-time basis as school still needs to be the main thing. Kind of unlikely, but stranger things have happened. If anybody knows anobody in the aforementioned areas with connections within 45 minutes of New Haven, could ya hook a brother up? Otherwise prayers/well-wishes/pats on the back/ whatever your preferred method of encouragement or support is would be appreciated.

Aside from that glitch, life is going well. Meeting new people, awesome classes, and all around good, good, good . . . good vibrations (to quote the eternal Beach Boys) are keeping me going. Speaking of which I should sign-off. Big ol' Div school wide party, ahem . . . get together . . . tonight. Off to the Yale Repertory Theater tomorrow night. Oh yeah, and some reading too.

*Yes, that is Jeopardy on the TV. I watch Jeopardy. How else do you think I have all of that pop culture trivia stuck in my head? Do you know the question for the answer displayed on my TV? I sure don't. Let me know if you figure it out, you just might get a prize.

See That Rock?

I CONQUERED IT!

ALL 359 FEET OF IT IS MINE, owned by me and my trek (bicycle that is) this very afternoon.

EAST ROCK, SCHMEAST ROCK; i hereby dub it "Petro's Petros"

while the "angel of peace" is on leave from the memorial atop my rock I 'd like to suggest that the new haven city fathers place a giant golden statue of me up there for all the world to see. why? because i pretty much rule.

i need to go pass out now.

What's the Motto?

Up until about a month ago, Connecticut was just a large void in my mental map of the world . . . a vast no-mans land,. I pictured it being flat, empty, and devoid of life . . . kind of like a never-ending Nebraska. After some recent exploring, I'm learning that there is more to this little state than the nothing I assumed it to be.

Sunday afternoon the weather was gorgeous. Sick and tired of sitting on my butt reading I decided to load my bike into the box-on-wheels to check out a local bike trail. I headed a few miles up Whitney Avenue to Hamden and jumped on the Farmington Canal Trail. It is a pretty awesome paved trail that, when completed, will stretch all the way from New Haven Sound to the Massachusetts border. The section I did was about 10 miles long from Hamden up to Cheshire (20 miles round trip I guess) and followed the path of an old canal/railroad bed. The trail was paved, families were biking, rollerblading, and walking all along it. The sunlight was filtering through the arched canopy of old trees growing overhead. While the trail was fairly level it passed through hills, valleys, and skirted Sleeping Giant Mountain. There were weathered houses, stone bridges, and an old lock and dam.

It was a pleasant. It was refreshing. It was, in its own way, kinda-sorta-beautiful.

This trip got me thinking that perhaps Connecticut should adopt a new phrase or motto for itself. The official title, "Constitution State," is confusing and/or a lie. The unofficial "Nutmeg State" is flat out lame. In their place I'd like to humbly propose that the state tries on this new phrase for size:

CONNECTICUT: KINDA-SORTA-BEAUTIFUL

Pretty catchy, eh?

Wewe unatoka wapi?

this question, perhaps more than any other, has been the most difficult one to answer. it seems as though everywhere i go here, people are asking me, "wewe unatoka wapi?"*

i'm disturbed because, although i was born in Waukesha, WI (the kickinest place on the planet), my standard response has been "Minnesota."

i'm not intentionally turning my back on my homecountry. i'm proud to hail from america's dairyland. i bleed beer and cheese. (hmm, in writing that phrase is less poetic than it sounded in my head) i drink soda, not pop. i get my cash from tyme machines and my water from bubblers. i insist upon duck-duck-goose, not that other abomination.

and yet, when pressed, i identify myself as hailing from Minnesota. what gives?!?! did they slip something in their radon-free water from their 10,000 lakes? did i eat one too many hotdishes? was 8-years in that foreign land too long?

perhaps it comes from staking out my independent life in Sven-n-Ole's backyard. perhaps this Minnesotan-ization is temporary . . . just a phase i'm going through. i'll always be from wisconsin. i can't change that. but will i identify myself elsewhere in the future?

good lord . . . if i stay in connecticut long enough will i consider myself a nutmegger?!?! what would happen then?

i think i've maybe gone on long enough . . .
does any of this even matter? not really.
was it a good way to put off some homework? you bet'cha!

*in all honesty i exaggerate a bit here. it is only the people in my swahili class that ask me "wewe unatoka wapi?" regularly. everyone else sticks with the english, "where are you from?"

Echoes of Africa

Down the Rabbit Hole

registration opens up tomorrow, classes kick in on Wednesday, it is going to be a whole new world.

Alice in Wonderland Sculpture in Central Park

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?"
"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," said the Cat.
"I don't much care where --" said Alice.
"Then it doesn't much matter which way you go," said the Cat.
"--- so long as I get somewhere," Alice added as an explanation.
"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if only you walk long enough."

Life Goes On

as orientation was wrapping up last week, I hopped a train to THE city. from new haven (apparently a play on the phrase 'new heaven' which is something the city's founders were attempting to create here, in the first master-planned city in the new world) it is only a 1.5 hour train ride into manhattan. being the pseudo-transit geek that i am, i was in awe stepping from the train platform into the main hall at grand central station

the initial excuse to head to nyc was to catch the Yankees playing the Minnesota Twins. despite ernesto announcing his pending arrival with wind and rain it was a good time. Dawn (of SOTV fame) scored cheap tickets & in this case, being way up high was a good thing as the partial roof kept us dry while the lower levels got soaked. i'm glad i'm not a huge twins fan as the yankees schooled them with ball after ball flying over the outfield wall. adding to that excitement was our own jovial-slightly-drunk-super-fan keeping our whole section on its toes.

while ernesto didn't foul up the game, he hit manhattan like a madman on saturday. how is it that everytime i visit manhattan, bad weather strikes? it'll be all bright and happy and sunny and then as soon as my feet hit the soil the sky blackens and the wind picks up. i don't get it! generally i'm a pretty upbeat guy (perhaps icy at times), so why is 'sturm und drang' the meterological leitmotif that accompanies my entry into the city?

actually, the rest of the weekend wasn't a complete washout. the rickshaw dumpling bar alone more than made up for the mess outside. for a meager amount of money (always important for a poor grad student) one can get loaded up with a ton of delicious dumplings. the restaurant has a funky-chipotle-esque vibe inside but foodwise switches out the oh-so-tasty-gut-busting-burrito-bombs for amazingly flavorful chinese dumplings. it is quick, easy, and full of flavor. the best part was desert . . . "chocolate soup dumplings" . . . little pieces of doughy goodness filled with liquid chocolate. mmmmm, chocolate.

ernesto did scare Meryl Streep away from Brecht's "Mother Courage" in Central Park. taking it all in stride, we got tickets for a phenomenal production of Sondheim's "Sweeney Todd." as one might expect in a show about "the demon barber of fleet street," this was a far cry from the traditional, happy-slappy broadway show. it reminded more of the Jeune Lune in minneapolis or even "Shockheaded Peter." the production stripped the story down to its basic elements and in its minimalistic way created an intimate, dark, yet strangely beautiful show. then again, who wouldn't enjoy hearing Patti LuPone (aka Corky's mom) sing about chopping people up & baking them into mince meat pies . . . three times through the grinder.

today the storm broke and i was able to explore central park for much of the afternoon. with the sun finally shining, i guess i can see why millions of people call this place home. it is quite the amazing place, full of insane craziness & yet civilized enough to have quiet places to get away from it all.

for better or worse, nyc is no new haven. it isn't a place i'd necessarily call home, but it is one that i'll be happy to visit again.