THE SAGA OF MY SELF-ESTEEM

When I was in 5th grade, I was really arrogant. Or maybe it was well-adjusted. My parents might have an opinion on which it was. But anyway, I though I could do just about anything. I played tackle football with the boys on the playground after school, I wrote a partial novel about a girl and this horse she found in an old abandoned house, I did charcoal drawings (mostly of horses), I played George the dragon in the school play (though I was a bit offended at playing a male character, it really was the best part), I sang in church with my mom and sister, I rode horses. I was a miracle preteen! I had no fear! And no doubts that I was as talented as anyone on the planet! It was great.

In high school, I ran track, I had boyfriends and a wide range of friends. I still sang a bit now and then, worked on a dude ranch with my friend Joie, drove wrecklessly and made good grades. Still pretty hot stuff, though I definitely experienced more down days, and of course the uncertainty as to whether my pink cargo pants looked hot with that yellow checked shirt with the collar up.

In college, I got a bit of a rude awakening. I still thought my drawing was pretty good, even though I didn’t care much about it anymore, and I got cast in a play within my first month at school. But calculus and chemistry were really hard and I made my first Cs, including one in the relatively easy Spanish class because I spent all my time trying to understand calculus. I started to wonder if maybe I wasn’t such a genius after all.

The doubting trend and increased trepidation about new experiences followed me into adulthood. I had moved—alone—to Texas for an internship and then again—alone again—to Seattle to do theatre. So, some courage there. Then I did theatre and had office day jobs and took few risks. When buildergrrl introduced me to climbing, I felt like I was conquering the world again—but mostly because I had the courage to try something new after so long without doing so. That and getting really strong and feeling capable.

More recently—within the last six years—I took up Appalachian old-time fiddle. Flying Fish, a serious violinist at one time, came with me to judge tone and quality, and helped me choose an instrument. He also gave me some starting exercises to do to. I took lessons, did okay, but always felt like an incredibly slow learner and never got to the point of being able to jam with other folks. I broke my left hand and quit for several months, then never got back to the lessons. I still practice very occasionally, and consider starting again more seriously. The problem is, I think I’ve got no talent for music. I’ve always been able to carry a tune, I can harmonize if I can see the notes to give me some clues, and I can hear and find a note on the fiddle. But I don’t pick up new tunes quickly, I don’t recognize song structure when hearing a tune, I just don’t seem to get it.

When I was in Cardiff, I saw a BBC show about how music works. This particular episode was about rhythm. I’d never had anyone explain it to me. That pushing the tempo in this way makes it swing, that lagging a little makes it latin, and that piling up tempos is something you’ll notice in Cuban or African music. (I’m not remembering it correctly, perhaps, but the a-ha moment still happened for me.)

Unfortunately, I never saw another episode of this music show, but it did make me wonder if maybe music would make more sense to me, even come more intuitively, if I had the framework of music theory to put it in. So, when I’ve got some time on my hands, maybe I’ll give that a shot and take a class. Hey, it worked for lobbying – someone told me how you do it, they gave me the necessary background information, and suddenly it made sense and was no longer intimidating.

End of Ramble. Thanks for listening.

CALL ME MASTER

I got my diploma in the mail a couple of days ago. I'm now a Master of Science, in addition to my previous distinction as a Master Composter/Soil Builder. Here's what my diploma says:

Ardystir drwy hyn fod

Appalachia

wedi derbyn radd o
Arhtro mewn Gwyddoniaeth
mewn Cynaladwyedd, Cynllunio a Pholisi Amgylcheddol
Rhagoriaeth

It also says it in English, but that's no fun. I think I might rename my blog Cynaladwyedd, which means sustainability.

BTW, Rhagoriaeth means Distinction. I just wanted to brag a little there.

HOLLER AT 'EM DOWN THESE HALLOWED HALLS

I think I have some mental block that makes it difficult for me to fully conceptualize certain things unless I can experience them directly. If it’s abstract, I have no way in. For my entire life I’ve been hearing phrases like ‘appropriations committee,’ ‘discretionary spending,’ ‘marker bill’ and ‘lobbying,’ without really taking the time to think about how it all works in reality and on the ground. I know it affects me, but I guess I’ve mostly felt like it’s a huge machine that grinds along in it’s predetermined partisan way and that voting is really the only thing that makes a difference, and even then I’m just one voice and if my district is full of people who disagree with me about fundamental things, then too bad. I may be unusual in this ignorance and disengagement of the political process, but I suspect not. And it’s too bad, because direct involvement is easy, and it’s the biggest thing we can do to exercise our rights and have some say in what happens in our country. I recently went to Washington DC and exercised my right to have my say, and now I have a much clearer picture of how it all works (or at least parts of it). Not even because I saw it first hand, but because if I was going to go there, I needed to learn the process and for the first time I had a framework for the information, so it stuck.

I’ve been considering policy advocacy, or lobbying, as a possible career path, so I’ve been thinking about what it means, how it’s done and where it fits into the scheme of saving the world. And I’m determining that it’s a seriously important piece of the pie and that most do-gooder organizations and individuals don’t spend enough (or any) time and energy on it. I did some lobbying last week, as part of a small team (3 or 4 people, depending on the meeting). We were asking for some specific items to be included or changed in the 2007 Farm Bill—things that will support small to medium-sized farms and food producers, provide better access to and education about healthy, fresh food, and support more local food economies. I had spent the couple of days before (and the last couple of years, I guess) learning about the issues and the systems involved, and the Community Food Security Coalition had prepared the information on what asks would be productive and sufficient to make a meaningful change. So I went in knowing what I wanted my Senators and representative to do, and why. We waltzed right into the halls of power (there was a metal detector, but no ID check or sign in or anything) and to the offices of our members of Congress (one of us had called ahead to get appointments with each office) and had discussions with staffers with our requests and the evidence backing them up. Anyone can do this. And it’s incredibly empowering. The buildings really are grand, and being in the spaces where the policy work of the entire country is decided was inspiring.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know there’s tons of pork (in the form of peanuts, tropical fish and dairy subsidies in the war funding bill, for instance). I know favors are done and money is earmarked and the big businesses will always have more money and more people in there working to influence policy. But I also know that if you have your ducks in a row, your facts researched and clearly articulated, and some well-written arguments to leave behind for your representatives to learn from, your voice can be heard. In the case of one Washington representative (from a rural area, not mine), his legislative director even treated us as partners of a sort, asking us to provide him with evidence to back up some things he (and we) supports, and to keep him updated on developments on the ground. The Farm Bill is hugely contested, it includes most of the food and farm policy in the US, and the money has to be divided among long-standing bad ideas like excessive subsidies for commodity crops grown by big agri-business, necessary safety net entitlement programs like Food Stamps (no longer stamps, and no longer called that), and support for innovation and improvement of our food system and access to it for those often excluded. The fight is a year-long struggle, with small-scale marker bills (preliminary bills with fewer issues to attempt to get support for an issue that will then be put into the larger bill) and coalition-building, ending in an authorization that may only be partially funded. But if without advocacy by and for those outside the big business lobby groups, there’s no chance for improvement. You better believe that industry is making sure its voice is heard. I’m now a true believer in making sure mine is too.