March 2010 Archives

Besides having two research papers, a TV screenplay, a full-page color comic, a screenprinted front cover, and three articles to work on or complete this week, I must also find time to enjoy the beautiful weather. Or, you know, vice-versa. I like to make it hard for myself.

The past week's been pretty eventful. Last Saturday, some Garg staffers and I met with Matt Tobey, a Michigan-based blogger for Comedy Central's website I was introduced to by Stephen Levinson, a Gargalum. He was a really nice guy and really willing to share his experiences in writing for the web, both for pay and for personal edification. I think some staffers who aren't planning on careers in media were pleasantly surprised about the variety of places they could get recreational writing published. For me, most of it seemed pretty straightforward, perhaps because I've been obsessing over my job opportunities for more than a year now.

On Thursday, we got out of Screenwriting early to see a screening of Roger & Me, followed by a Q&A with Michael Moore, to commemorate its 20th anniversary. The film, which I haven't seen for eight years or so, has really taken on a new, more poignant tone in the light of what's happened to Michigan's economy in the last decade. As Moore pointed out afterwards, to people in Flint, the film would hearken back to "the good old days," when there were still 30,000 GM jobs in the city. Now there are about 5,000. Also poignant (or maybe karmically just) is the fact that the oblivious white-collar GM employees in the film are probably now coping with being laid off, too.

Moore himself was enormously entertaining and thought-provoking. The things he talked about and the way he talked about them were pretty much exactly what one would expect from his films. He railed about healthcare reform, corporate greed, blind conservatism, etc. while interjecting his vitriol with very cynical humor. It's unfortunate that he feels pretty universally pessimistic about the country's future, though, especially when speaking to a group of college students eager to make their mark on the world.

I personally have to believe that the country can change and improve. Certainly it always has, at least. I wouldn't expect politicians to stop being corrupt, stupid, and selfish, but the nation as a whole must continue on a trajectory of becoming more informed, more equal, more aware.

Anyway, it was a very valuable experience. And by the way, here's one thing I DIDN'T agree with him about.

So now I'm going to go back to working. Wish me luck. 

I wanted French to be my second language when we were picking them in seventh grade, but the class was full, so I ended up in German, my second choice. I wonder how different I would be if I'd switched into French at any of the points after that when I could have, in high school or when I was picking my RC language. Maybe not a lot, but at least I might be able to appreciate aspects of these films (accent diversity, acting subtleties) that I can't right now. I also probably would have been able to visit France by now, and maybe do one of those awesome French film study abroad programs. I wouldn't be as apprehensive about traveling there and dealing with the language barrier. Also, knowing French is just awesomely cool by itself. Ah well. Woulda coulda shoulda.

Ich soll stolzer auf mein Deutsch sein, und es öfter benutzen. Ich bin hella rusty geworden. After all, I'll need it when I go on that big Europe trip with liebe Mutter. HINT HINT.

As Max and I drove towards the Fox Theatre two weeks ago to see A Prairie Home Companion, along with hundreds of other suburban, white, upper-middle class yuppies, we got to talking about Detroit. This is not an uncommon topic of conversation in southeast Michigan, or even on the national stage. The New York Times, for instance, loves to print articles about Detroit. 

Detroit has been on hard times since white flight, the 1967 riot, and before. These days, it's little more than a sad, windowless shell of its former self. The auto companies that allowed for the city's meteoric rise, that laid the foundations for its beautiful art deco buildings and its well-off, home-owning population are now struggling to stay afloat. All this is pretty much common knowledge.

Max and I were both raised in the suburbs, an area that exists because of Detroit, but largely does its best to ignore the city. Detroit, for us suburbanites, was a place to go a few times a year to see concerts, art, or museums. It was a place you made sure to lock the car doors before driving through. You shook your head at the blocks of burned-out buildings, the neglected historic sites, the demolished or forgotten monoliths of a more prosperous time. 

For most of our lives, it's basically been assumed that we would move out of the area when we reached adulthood. Michigan as a whole has been suffering for so much longer than the rest of the nation that it's hard to take other states' budget crises seriously. There aren't many jobs here for someone looking to make something of himself, to start a promising career.

As we drove through the disused, grimy streets and gazed up at the remains of the once-beautiful Michigan Central Station, though, we both expressed a desire to stay. Despite never having lived in the city, both of us wanted desperately to help in the effort to rebuild and restore it, to reform it. We both talked about working for non-profits, helping to raze abandoned buildings, establishing urban farming projects, restoring some of the city's architectural gems, starting small businesses, and encouraging a stronger, safer, residential downtown area.

It's hard to say why exactly I have this urge. As I mentioned before, Detroit has not played a major role in my life so far. I don't spend much time there, and I'm not that familiar with most of the city. Maybe it's something about the nature of suburbanization that creates an implicit emotional link with the central city. My childhood community existed because of Detroit, the fact that I ended up as the person I am is because of Detroit. 

Perhaps part of it is envy. I go to New York, Chicago, or San Francisco and see vibrant, exciting, living cities. Detroit is, for the most part, dead and hollowed out. But at one point it wasn't. And it still could be. It could be a place that encourages small business, creative professions, community, and environmental consciousness. You could fill all that empty space with whatever you wanted.

I know well enough the challenges it faces. It needs a major industry to replace the automakers. It needs massive amounts of demolition. It needs an influx of higher-income residents. It needs good housing. It needs better public safety and better public schools. It needs especially to stop electing horrible, corrupt leadership. It has a long way to go. But I can't think of many things more worthwhile and potentially rewarding than trying to push it along.

On Sunday I departed for DC, with Max a couple hours behind me, with only my wits and an iPhone precariously propped up on my dashboard for navigation. I got to shamelessly indulge in my favorite parts of road trips, like Ohio Turnpike rest stops and scenic overlooks in the Appalachians. I made pretty good time and the traffic wasn't too horrendous, and I arrived at Max's swinging bachelor pad in short order. 

While he was at work for Monday and Tuesday, I wandered DC, Alexandria, the Pentagon area, and the surrounding parts. I paid a visit to Great Falls National Park, which I was recently informed I have been to before, although I refuse to remember it. Anyway, it was fun to wander the paths alone, appreciate all the natural beauty, and take a lot of photos. It's kind of still off-season, ugly, and chilly there, so all the touristy stuff was pretty empty.

The next day, I accidentally drove into DC and used that as an excuse to go see the Jefferson Memorial, which was a semi-religious experience of democratic fervor, and the lesser-known, awesome George Mason Memorial.

That night Max and I met up with Keith and we had some pretty good Mexican food. They also forced me to drink MORE MARGARITA THAN I HAD PLANNED ON. Only two people were injured in the consequent drunken rampage.

Then I drove home. A good time was had by all.