I recently read an article about Congress. Here’s the depressing part:
"Of the 449 bills that became law in the 110th Congress, 144 of them — 32 percent — did nothing more than rename a federal building. In comparison, the 109th Congress passed 121 ceremonial bills, about 25 percent of the 483 bills that became law. The 104th Congress — the first time in 40 years that Republicans held a majority in the House — passed 337 bills, and only 35 were ceremonial naming bills, or just over 10 percent. No Congress since 1975 has introduced fewer pieces of legislation than the 7,991 bills and resolutions offered in the 104th Congress."
Okay, so that’s pretty ridiculous. At least they can agree on names of buildings. It’s not exactly health care or education reform. The article also had information about individual Congressmen and women’s bill statistics.
"Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Texas) introduced 67 bills during the 110th Congress, including a bill “to prevent the president from encroaching upon the Congressional prerogative to make laws” by eliminating signing statements that allow the White House to interpret legislative intent. Rep. Ron Paul (R-Texas) introduced 70 bills, including a bill “to end membership of the United States in the United Nations.” Neither bill became law or even received a vote in committee.
Rep. Carolyn Maloney (D-N.Y.) introduced 88 bills, more than any other Member of the House in the 110th Congress though some bills were introduced several times as different versions. On Jan. 29, Maloney introduced seven bills to limit tariffs on individual chemicals, none of which became law. Two bills that Maloney sponsored have become laws since January 2007, but several others were incorporated into other legislation that became law.
"In the Senate, each Member tends to sponsor more bills, befitting their larger constituencies. In the 110th Congress, Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-N.Y.) introduced more legislation than anyone else — 163 bills — despite spending much of the session campaigning for the Democratic presidential nomination."
Sorry that was a long quote. But it gave me an idea, and as Rule 34 of the Internet states, “If you can imagine it, it exists online.” Rule 35 is, “If it does not exist, you are obligated to create it.” So here’s my idea. Fantasy Congress. Each fantasy player would select a team of Congress people, both senators and members of the House of Representatives. The stats would be about bills introduced, with more points if the bill gets out of committee, or is openly debated, and even more if it passes into law. Points off if the President vetoes it. Points off if it is rejected or voted down. Should points still be awarded if the bill is a new version of another bill, or is that a reduction, or nothing? What about if it is one of the bills that merely renames buildings? Someone with better programming knowledge needs to make this happen. In addition to being yet another fantasy league for people to obsess over, it'd be a great way to evaluate Congress. Information like this seems to me an important way to influence voting. It's not what they say, it's what they do in office. If all they're doing in office is renaming buildings, then it seems to me that different people need to be given the chance to make something happen, regardless of whether they're Democrat, Republican, or a third party.
These are the things I think of in my spare time. Maybe I should be reading, or studying for the GRE, or planning a club, writing a grant. But no, I think about Fantasy Congress.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Christmas Holiday Addendum
Four events stood out amidst the trip, which I feel are worth sharing. One was seeing my extended family for dinner. A large portion of my father’s side of the family visited one evening, shortly after Christmas. A dinner of brisket, macaroni and cheese, and a delicious salad. Yeah, food’s important, too. In addition to all the people, four family dogs came, bringing the house total up to five. What a circus! Anyway, it was wonderful to see them all so close to Christmas, to catch up on their lives and share parts of mine, and of course, share Christmas gifts. I gave my cousin a bottle of homemade zogal (a type of berry) vodka. I must admit to enjoying a moment of pleasure at sharing Azerbaijani drinking traditions with him and then seeing his grimace after swallowing the first shot.
The second event that was memorable was sharing Christmas with my host brother, studying in Ohio for his master’s degree. The first morning I was there I drove (first time in 15 months!) out to White Marsh to pick him up. I could write a whole entry about how nice it was to drive again, to be in control of my own speed and direction, but I’m getting distracted. So, later that day, echoing an event almost a year ago, I took Seymur as I went to get a haircut. For my first haircut in Azerbaijan (I somehow made it through all of PST without one), Seymur escorted me. It was a lot of fun to return the favor, taking him to my hair place, which he found amusing because it is a “qadin salonu” or “women’s salon.” The shampoo beforehand is totally worth it. I suppose more importantly, I enjoyed sharing our Christmas traditions with him, after he has shared his family’s traditions for several holidays, particularly Novruz. It won’t be the same without him this year.
Third, though not in importance, I traveled with my girlfriend, her mother and boyfriend, to New York’s Hudson Valley Mohonk Mountain House. Started by Quakers almost 150 years ago, Mohonk is now a huge retreat in the mountains that looks like it belongs in the Alps. Each room was different, but all with amazing views of the valley on one side and the lake on the other. The building itself was really several smushed together, each with slightly different architecture and feel. The grounds sprawled out along the top of the hill, with trails going off in every direction. The first evening, fog rolled in, locking us in, evoking certain upbeat comedies such as The Shining. But when morning came, the wind had blown the fog off revealing the truly impressive views.
Even though it was windy (and I mean Windy), we went hiking through the woods, though we did pass on the ice-skating. Ice + wind = Nate falls on his butt. The place was what we’d call here “qesheng,’ meaning pretty, beautiful, fancy. Dinners were jean-less and dress shirt and jacketed. When there’s snow on the ground, there’s snowshoeing and cross-country skiing, and there’s a whole spa complex. Caroline and I tried out the pool, and I will be honest, it was cold and I didn’t want to get in, but a certain someone pulled me in against my will. What? I don’t like cold pools, especially indoor ones.
Finally, the last night. The Ravens vs. Bengals. First Caroline and her dog, Nora, and then a whole gaggle of my best friends from back home. Some brought chips, with which we made nachos, another pizza (thank you Kathryn and David). Others just brought themselves, and that was enough. As the dogs chased each other, we talked, cheered, and the Ravens won. It was above all else, completely natural for me to be there. I was home, comfortable and warm.
Thank you to all the people—both family, friends, and other—who took time out of their holiday season to see me and make me feel like I had never left. It made me feel truly blessed to have friends and relatives with whom I can pick up again after over a year as if it had been just yesterday. You are all home to me.
The second event that was memorable was sharing Christmas with my host brother, studying in Ohio for his master’s degree. The first morning I was there I drove (first time in 15 months!) out to White Marsh to pick him up. I could write a whole entry about how nice it was to drive again, to be in control of my own speed and direction, but I’m getting distracted. So, later that day, echoing an event almost a year ago, I took Seymur as I went to get a haircut. For my first haircut in Azerbaijan (I somehow made it through all of PST without one), Seymur escorted me. It was a lot of fun to return the favor, taking him to my hair place, which he found amusing because it is a “qadin salonu” or “women’s salon.” The shampoo beforehand is totally worth it. I suppose more importantly, I enjoyed sharing our Christmas traditions with him, after he has shared his family’s traditions for several holidays, particularly Novruz. It won’t be the same without him this year.
Third, though not in importance, I traveled with my girlfriend, her mother and boyfriend, to New York’s Hudson Valley Mohonk Mountain House. Started by Quakers almost 150 years ago, Mohonk is now a huge retreat in the mountains that looks like it belongs in the Alps. Each room was different, but all with amazing views of the valley on one side and the lake on the other. The building itself was really several smushed together, each with slightly different architecture and feel. The grounds sprawled out along the top of the hill, with trails going off in every direction. The first evening, fog rolled in, locking us in, evoking certain upbeat comedies such as The Shining. But when morning came, the wind had blown the fog off revealing the truly impressive views.
Even though it was windy (and I mean Windy), we went hiking through the woods, though we did pass on the ice-skating. Ice + wind = Nate falls on his butt. The place was what we’d call here “qesheng,’ meaning pretty, beautiful, fancy. Dinners were jean-less and dress shirt and jacketed. When there’s snow on the ground, there’s snowshoeing and cross-country skiing, and there’s a whole spa complex. Caroline and I tried out the pool, and I will be honest, it was cold and I didn’t want to get in, but a certain someone pulled me in against my will. What? I don’t like cold pools, especially indoor ones.
Finally, the last night. The Ravens vs. Bengals. First Caroline and her dog, Nora, and then a whole gaggle of my best friends from back home. Some brought chips, with which we made nachos, another pizza (thank you Kathryn and David). Others just brought themselves, and that was enough. As the dogs chased each other, we talked, cheered, and the Ravens won. It was above all else, completely natural for me to be there. I was home, comfortable and warm.
Thank you to all the people—both family, friends, and other—who took time out of their holiday season to see me and make me feel like I had never left. It made me feel truly blessed to have friends and relatives with whom I can pick up again after over a year as if it had been just yesterday. You are all home to me.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Where the Heart Is
There’s nothing like an eight-hour layover in Istanbul to drive one to reflection. Three flights to Baku have left since I arrived. Why I wasn’t booked on any of them is a little beyond me.
A divisive issue amongst PCVs is going home mid-service. Most volunteers leave the country, but not all go back to the United States. Many worry that going will make it too difficult to come back. Others want to take advantage of countries nearby that they wouldn’t otherwise visit. To some, going home is a sign of a lesser commitment to the Peace Corps work. When I left for Peace Corps, I did not intend to return home before the end of my service, but as time went on, the idea became more and more attractive. When was not a difficult question to answer once I had decided I liked the idea, and if I had not gone home at this time, I doubt I would have at all. The answer was Christmas. As much fun as last year was, it wasn’t Christmas.
Packing became more complicated when my host parents asked me to carry some things to their son, currently studying as part of the MUSKIE program in Ohio. And so I became a pack mule. They loaded me up with jams, chocolates, homemade vodka, honey, and other items that they felt he was most in need of and missed most. Their son had decided he would spend Christmas morning with my family, and then go down to Washington, DC, to spend the rest of the week with a former PCV, their first hostee.
As soon as I had wrapped up my school’s theater assembly, I set to packing. Intending to insure that everything made it in one piece, my host mother decided she would help. At first frustrating, I later became glad she did, because together we were better able to weigh the bags to make sure they stayed under the limits. I left the next day for Baku; worried that there might be weather (every time I’ve traveled so far this season, weather has proven difficult) I had decided to go a day early. I was also able to wrap up some last minute Christmas shopping.
Flights to and from Baku seem to be deliberately timed to be most inconvenient to those of us without personal transportation, and my flight was scheduled for 5:30am, meaning I needed to be at the airport around 3:30am. Our housing coordinator had organized a taxi to pick me up, but the driver decided he could not make it, which caused several desperate moments while I stood outside the PC office, until the housing coordinator himself showed up, to take me. Words cannot begin to explain how thankful I am to him for that kindness.
Finally through security, it came time to check my baggage. One line was shorter than the others, with what looked like just one party in front of me. Choosing this turned out to be a mistake. The party was a huge Brazilian family with small children, child seats, strollers, and about a million bags. The man working the counter seemed in no hurry to get them checked in, typing slower and slower with every passing minute. This went on for an hour. My check in took about three minutes.
The flights themselves were nondescript, but customs on the American side proved almost as taxing as the Azeri side had been. As it turns out, vodka must have a label on it; the next time I bring homemade vodka, it will be taken. To be fair, as the vodkas were in reused bottles, I think I may have gotten through with them anyway.
Stepping out of the customs/baggage claim area and being greeted by cheers from those I love filled me with the exact warmth that I hoped it would. Apparently, they had decided, after waiting for so long, that they would take the next guy that came through the gates. Glad it was me.
I had had this obviously deranged idea that there would be plenty of time to relax and rest, to walk our dog, to watch TV and enjoy high-speed wireless Internet. To go see movies and eat tons of food. This proved to be completely ridiculous. I did get to eat. A lot. I had Mexican, burgers, brisket, macaroni and cheese, bleu cheese dressing on salad, buffalo wings, steak, fresh fish, gold bar brownies, doughnuts, really just about everything that was on my list.
But I was constantly going from one place to another, seeing someone or spending time with someone else. It was hectic, tiring and absolutely perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, as I’m realizing now that there is quite a list of groceries I wanted to pick up before coming that I forgot because I was forced to cram in all my shopping on the last day.
Now I’m back in Azerbaijan. I arrived several days ago around 4:30 am, and managed to get back to the Peace Corps office via London-style tax, which actually had a meter(!). I promptly passed out on the sofa until around 8am when a couple new PCVs were rummaging around on their way back to their sites. A few hours later, when I woke up again, I got a taxi to the bus station and then headed back to Ismayilli. I woke up part way through the ride to discover the country covered in white.
It’s been warm the last few days, and the snow is quickly melting. Readjustment has been relatively easy. Having a puppy helps a lot with that. It’s worst at night, just before bed. There’s something very comforting in sleeping in one’s own bed, and without long underwear. I know I have less time to go than I have completed, that I’ve come further than I have left to walk. Just knowing that doesn’t always make it easier when the winter’s closing in and it’s getting to be time to hunker down for the season. For that reason, I will be happy to be starting up clubs again next week. I’ll be beginning a couple new clubs now that theater has finished. My main idea right now is a broad Creativity club, encompassing arts and crafts, poetry, and other similar activities. Not sure what the other club will be. Environment? Cooking? Health? I’ve got a few options. A couple kids asked me if I would be doing English clubs again, so I might just have to fall back on that old chestnut. As much fun as I have doing non-English conversation clubs, they are a big draw, and something people here often ask for and find important. So of course, I have to find the balance between doing what I want and fulfilling the needs and wants of my community and organization. But the latter is a story for another day.
A divisive issue amongst PCVs is going home mid-service. Most volunteers leave the country, but not all go back to the United States. Many worry that going will make it too difficult to come back. Others want to take advantage of countries nearby that they wouldn’t otherwise visit. To some, going home is a sign of a lesser commitment to the Peace Corps work. When I left for Peace Corps, I did not intend to return home before the end of my service, but as time went on, the idea became more and more attractive. When was not a difficult question to answer once I had decided I liked the idea, and if I had not gone home at this time, I doubt I would have at all. The answer was Christmas. As much fun as last year was, it wasn’t Christmas.
Packing became more complicated when my host parents asked me to carry some things to their son, currently studying as part of the MUSKIE program in Ohio. And so I became a pack mule. They loaded me up with jams, chocolates, homemade vodka, honey, and other items that they felt he was most in need of and missed most. Their son had decided he would spend Christmas morning with my family, and then go down to Washington, DC, to spend the rest of the week with a former PCV, their first hostee.
As soon as I had wrapped up my school’s theater assembly, I set to packing. Intending to insure that everything made it in one piece, my host mother decided she would help. At first frustrating, I later became glad she did, because together we were better able to weigh the bags to make sure they stayed under the limits. I left the next day for Baku; worried that there might be weather (every time I’ve traveled so far this season, weather has proven difficult) I had decided to go a day early. I was also able to wrap up some last minute Christmas shopping.
Flights to and from Baku seem to be deliberately timed to be most inconvenient to those of us without personal transportation, and my flight was scheduled for 5:30am, meaning I needed to be at the airport around 3:30am. Our housing coordinator had organized a taxi to pick me up, but the driver decided he could not make it, which caused several desperate moments while I stood outside the PC office, until the housing coordinator himself showed up, to take me. Words cannot begin to explain how thankful I am to him for that kindness.
Finally through security, it came time to check my baggage. One line was shorter than the others, with what looked like just one party in front of me. Choosing this turned out to be a mistake. The party was a huge Brazilian family with small children, child seats, strollers, and about a million bags. The man working the counter seemed in no hurry to get them checked in, typing slower and slower with every passing minute. This went on for an hour. My check in took about three minutes.
The flights themselves were nondescript, but customs on the American side proved almost as taxing as the Azeri side had been. As it turns out, vodka must have a label on it; the next time I bring homemade vodka, it will be taken. To be fair, as the vodkas were in reused bottles, I think I may have gotten through with them anyway.
Stepping out of the customs/baggage claim area and being greeted by cheers from those I love filled me with the exact warmth that I hoped it would. Apparently, they had decided, after waiting for so long, that they would take the next guy that came through the gates. Glad it was me.
I had had this obviously deranged idea that there would be plenty of time to relax and rest, to walk our dog, to watch TV and enjoy high-speed wireless Internet. To go see movies and eat tons of food. This proved to be completely ridiculous. I did get to eat. A lot. I had Mexican, burgers, brisket, macaroni and cheese, bleu cheese dressing on salad, buffalo wings, steak, fresh fish, gold bar brownies, doughnuts, really just about everything that was on my list.
But I was constantly going from one place to another, seeing someone or spending time with someone else. It was hectic, tiring and absolutely perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, as I’m realizing now that there is quite a list of groceries I wanted to pick up before coming that I forgot because I was forced to cram in all my shopping on the last day.
Now I’m back in Azerbaijan. I arrived several days ago around 4:30 am, and managed to get back to the Peace Corps office via London-style tax, which actually had a meter(!). I promptly passed out on the sofa until around 8am when a couple new PCVs were rummaging around on their way back to their sites. A few hours later, when I woke up again, I got a taxi to the bus station and then headed back to Ismayilli. I woke up part way through the ride to discover the country covered in white.
It’s been warm the last few days, and the snow is quickly melting. Readjustment has been relatively easy. Having a puppy helps a lot with that. It’s worst at night, just before bed. There’s something very comforting in sleeping in one’s own bed, and without long underwear. I know I have less time to go than I have completed, that I’ve come further than I have left to walk. Just knowing that doesn’t always make it easier when the winter’s closing in and it’s getting to be time to hunker down for the season. For that reason, I will be happy to be starting up clubs again next week. I’ll be beginning a couple new clubs now that theater has finished. My main idea right now is a broad Creativity club, encompassing arts and crafts, poetry, and other similar activities. Not sure what the other club will be. Environment? Cooking? Health? I’ve got a few options. A couple kids asked me if I would be doing English clubs again, so I might just have to fall back on that old chestnut. As much fun as I have doing non-English conversation clubs, they are a big draw, and something people here often ask for and find important. So of course, I have to find the balance between doing what I want and fulfilling the needs and wants of my community and organization. But the latter is a story for another day.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
A Play's the Thing
This update’s a little late, but I’ve been a little busy the last few weeks.
This fall, I decided I wanted to branch out a little from the English clubs I had mostly stuck to the first semester I was at the school. So, I put up flyers for theater clubs, one in the morning for the younger students who attend school in the afternoon, and one in the afternoon for the older kids. As with anything here, attendance varied, until we got closer to the assembly I decided to hold as a culmination of the students’ work.
With each group, I led a brainstorming session to decide on a story, and then planned setting, characters, plot, and some dialogue. Then, based on what we’d discussed, I wrote up the plays in English. The younger kids chose a folk tale called Tuk-Tuk Xanim, about an ant that is lonely and goes in search of a friend. With a little rewriting to emphasize the lesson of friends helping each other, the play was all set to go. The older kids chose an original story about vampires and werewolves, and a group of people at a school. This one took a little more molding and forming.
We faced some difficulties with rehearsals as the assembly room was often in use by others for everything from meetings to chess lessons. But rehearse we did, and as the day for the assembly grew closer, students seemed to come out of the woodwork with interest to take part. Suddenly, the shepherd had a whole flock of sheep as I attempted to find parts for the kids. Eventually, a line had to be drawn and I regrettably had to turn away some kids. One boy decided he wanted to be Santa Claus, or as he is called here, Shaxta Baba, and before I could turn him away, he showed up with a costume, gifts to present to the director and teachers which he had purchased with his own money and money he had collected from other students, and masks for the cats in the Tuk-Tuk Xanim play. Sure, he may have bought his way in, but his enthusiasm was pretty darn contagious.
The assembly day came, and I had to rush to the passport office to get my new local ID card before buying last minute supplies for the production. When at last a meeting for the parents of graduating seniors ended, we flooded into the room to decorate it for the assembly. Suddenly, there were balloons and garlands, and kids trying on their masks and practicing their lines, while others tried desperately to sneak in to watch or peak through the door. It was madness, but it was a wonderful, seasonal madness in which I couldn’t help but find myself reveling. The head of the local Education Ministry joined the school directors and teachers, and kids streamed in to fill the rest of the seats.
First up were the younger kids with Tuk-Tuk Xanim, which just about went as perfectly as I could hope. Next, a couple teachers read a dialogue they’d written with very minimal help from me about their home rayon (Ismayilli, of course). A third teacher backed out at the last minute, so his parts were scrapped. He had gotten stage fright because he didn’t think his pronunciation was good enough. He is learning, but it’s slow going as he must still write everything first as it is written and then phonetically, so he knows how to pronounce each word. Third, the older kids performed their play. It was a bit looser as they had had fewer days to practice. So much of their time is taken up with tutoring sessions to prepare them for university exams. Some days three would show up, and the next day, three different students would come. In retrospect, perhaps I rushed them a bit, but I had hoped they would put in effort at home to memorize the lines and places. The last part of the assembly was a rendition of “Jingle Bells,” while Santa and Qar Qiz (Snow Girl) came to the front of the room and gave out presents. The students were a little shaky on the verses, but when they came to the chorus, they brought the house down. Of course, no assembly is complete without a few speeches, so the school director and Education head gave their holiday greetings, thanks to myself and to the students, and words of wisdom (I presume, I didn’t follow everything). I was then ushered, along with my sitemate, who had recently returned from her medical leave, into the director’s office for tea, and the director was very kind with his compliments. And really, who doesn’t like tea and compliments?
This fall, I decided I wanted to branch out a little from the English clubs I had mostly stuck to the first semester I was at the school. So, I put up flyers for theater clubs, one in the morning for the younger students who attend school in the afternoon, and one in the afternoon for the older kids. As with anything here, attendance varied, until we got closer to the assembly I decided to hold as a culmination of the students’ work.
With each group, I led a brainstorming session to decide on a story, and then planned setting, characters, plot, and some dialogue. Then, based on what we’d discussed, I wrote up the plays in English. The younger kids chose a folk tale called Tuk-Tuk Xanim, about an ant that is lonely and goes in search of a friend. With a little rewriting to emphasize the lesson of friends helping each other, the play was all set to go. The older kids chose an original story about vampires and werewolves, and a group of people at a school. This one took a little more molding and forming.
We faced some difficulties with rehearsals as the assembly room was often in use by others for everything from meetings to chess lessons. But rehearse we did, and as the day for the assembly grew closer, students seemed to come out of the woodwork with interest to take part. Suddenly, the shepherd had a whole flock of sheep as I attempted to find parts for the kids. Eventually, a line had to be drawn and I regrettably had to turn away some kids. One boy decided he wanted to be Santa Claus, or as he is called here, Shaxta Baba, and before I could turn him away, he showed up with a costume, gifts to present to the director and teachers which he had purchased with his own money and money he had collected from other students, and masks for the cats in the Tuk-Tuk Xanim play. Sure, he may have bought his way in, but his enthusiasm was pretty darn contagious.
The assembly day came, and I had to rush to the passport office to get my new local ID card before buying last minute supplies for the production. When at last a meeting for the parents of graduating seniors ended, we flooded into the room to decorate it for the assembly. Suddenly, there were balloons and garlands, and kids trying on their masks and practicing their lines, while others tried desperately to sneak in to watch or peak through the door. It was madness, but it was a wonderful, seasonal madness in which I couldn’t help but find myself reveling. The head of the local Education Ministry joined the school directors and teachers, and kids streamed in to fill the rest of the seats.
First up were the younger kids with Tuk-Tuk Xanim, which just about went as perfectly as I could hope. Next, a couple teachers read a dialogue they’d written with very minimal help from me about their home rayon (Ismayilli, of course). A third teacher backed out at the last minute, so his parts were scrapped. He had gotten stage fright because he didn’t think his pronunciation was good enough. He is learning, but it’s slow going as he must still write everything first as it is written and then phonetically, so he knows how to pronounce each word. Third, the older kids performed their play. It was a bit looser as they had had fewer days to practice. So much of their time is taken up with tutoring sessions to prepare them for university exams. Some days three would show up, and the next day, three different students would come. In retrospect, perhaps I rushed them a bit, but I had hoped they would put in effort at home to memorize the lines and places. The last part of the assembly was a rendition of “Jingle Bells,” while Santa and Qar Qiz (Snow Girl) came to the front of the room and gave out presents. The students were a little shaky on the verses, but when they came to the chorus, they brought the house down. Of course, no assembly is complete without a few speeches, so the school director and Education head gave their holiday greetings, thanks to myself and to the students, and words of wisdom (I presume, I didn’t follow everything). I was then ushered, along with my sitemate, who had recently returned from her medical leave, into the director’s office for tea, and the director was very kind with his compliments. And really, who doesn’t like tea and compliments?
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