Take a Stand Against Super PACs

Super PACs make me so mad.

Regardless of party affiliation, I think that everyone can agree that Super PACs are seriously undermining our democracy. Allowing individuals and corporations to make unlimited and undisclosed contributions is a sure way to buy politicians and thwart the democratic process.

Please watch this excellent two-minute NYTimes Cast that gives a very clear and succinct explanation of how Super PACs work.

For a more light-hearted and entertaining explanation, watch this clip from The Colbert Report that shows Colbert transferring control of his Super PAC over to Jon Stewart, whom he can not "coordinate with." It gives me chills of horror when he concludes with: "And God bless Citizens United!"

Here are three simple ways you can take action:

1. Sign this petition started by the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee to reverse the Citizen's United Decision.

2. Sign this petition to President Obama started by the League of Women Voters to put appoint new commissioners to the FEC.

I am a long-time member of the League of Women Voters, a non-partisan group that seeks to promote democracy by educating and registering voters and suppporting voting rights. They argue that one way to keep money out of politics is to improve the Federal Election Commission: "The FEC is supposed to be the government agency that enforces campaign finance laws, but it isn’t working and hasn’t for a long time. Of the six commissioners at the agency, three of them simply refuse to enforce the law, and five of the six are serving despite the fact that their terms expired some time ago."

3. Find ways to get involved with your local community through the organization Move to Amend whose stated mission is to "get the money out of politics." They recently called for protests at federal courthouses all across the US on the second anniversary of the Citizens United decision.  

First World Problems

The title of this blog comes from a hilarious website by the same name that chronicles the inane and ridiculous things "privileged citizens of a developed nation complain about".

SEWAGE EXPLOSION

When I walked through the front door last Friday night, I heard Becca yell from the bathroom,
"JEN!! Did you shower at the gym? Cause if you didn't, you're gonna want to!"
"Oh crap," I said.
"Crap is right!" she responded.

I walked into the bathroom to find Becca up on the ledge of the tub, straddling a bathtub full of sewage. While she was showering, brown water spurted up from the drain and filled the tub with multi-colored floaties.  Between laughing sobs, she was still able to rinse the conditioner out of her hair.

In the mean time, the toilet had also filled up with back-washed sewage. Our landlord sent over his plumber the next morning, but not before I had already left for the day, which meant that I may have had to use some of my camping skills in the yard when I woke up.

Featured here is a picture of our cleaned, scoured, and bleached bathroom, post sewage explosion. Funny that this is the second time I have posted a picture of a bathroom on my blog.

ELECTRICITY: FAIL 

Our electricity went out Sunday afternoon with the first onset of snow. Unsure of how long it would last, my roommates, Becca and Marissa, and I conglomerated all our available light sources: bike lights, flashlights from 72-hour kits, head lamps, candles and matches. Becca used our gas-burning stove to make us delicious soup, then we layered up, turned off our phones to preserve battery power, and took naps. When we woke up, light and heat were back on. The outage lasted for about four hours, but we were raring to go for much longer.

SNOWPOCALYPSE 2012

Three out of my four winters in Seattle have involved a major snow storm, and each year, it is called The Snowpocalypse. Snowpocalypse 2012 has been decidedly less dramatic than Snowpocalypse 2011 because last year it hit during rush hour. I was one of the many who got caught in the snow coming home from work and had to park my car at the top of a hill a few miles from my house. I was just wearing some little ballet flats, but fortunately I had an old pair of Doc Martens in the DI bag in my trunk. Those babies saved my feet all the way home, and I still haven't donated them yet.

There was car carnage up and down the Seattle streets last year, and my parked car did not escape unscathed: someone foolishly tried to go up the hill and slid back into it. But they did leave a note and paid for the damage.

This year, our biggest trauma came at 4:30 in the morning when a horrible, horrible noise woke us all up. My first thought was that Becca's bunk bed had collapsed and that she was dead in a pile of cheap Ikea metal. We went outside to investigate and found that our neighbor's tree had fallen over and slid down our roof. Miraculously, it did not cause any damage ... that we know of. (See top photo.)

Our local postman, however, did not fare as well in his encounter with a tree. Don't worry: he popped out of his car and delivered the rest of the mail by foot.

Today is my third snow day in a row; I worked a total of 4 hours this week - on Tuesday - when they told us to come in late and leave early. I am proud to say that I have gotten dressed and out of the house every day - walking miles to meet friends for lunch or dinner, walking over to the gym for some lap swimming, and mingling with the sledders on the hill in front of our house. I have also cleaned out my sock drawer, shredded a bunch of old papers, put away the Christmas decorations and cleaned out the inside of the microwave. I will never complain about a Snowpocalypse.

Christmas Rainbows

Christmas 2011 featured two unique rainbow creations:

1. My brothers Steven and Jeffrey made this fantastic piece of rainbow art for me by gluing crayons along the top of foam board and then melting them with a blow drier. The white space is the outline of a picture of our family (see above) that they had photo-copied and taped down to the board during the melting process. Isn't it beautiful? And rad?! I feel cooler when I look at it. Who knew my bros were such creative little artists. My other brother, Ryan, and my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, Swantje, discovered the idea from pinterest and passed on their inspiration from their Hawaii home. I took down a different poster in my room in order to give it a well-deserved prominent spot on the wall. Such an original, personal, thoughtful gift!

2. Weeks before Christmas, I decided that this was going to be the year that I tried my hand at Rainbow Jello. I don't even like jello - the fake flavor and the gelatinous texture gross me out - but I had this creation once when I was 16, and the experience seared my little heart. Making it by myself seemed like both a challenge and a tribute to my Mormon roots. Plus, it is just so pretty - in a fake-processed-food-sort-of-way. An old family friend shared with me her recipe which consisted of taking six boxes of different colored jello, and splitting them in two. I left one part plain and added plain yogurt to the second part, so there were 12 total layers: a bright layer and a creamy layer of each color. Allowing each individual layer to set took all day. The end result both delighted and amused me.

It's good even when it's bad

I went to a girls JV high school basketball game yesterday.
The basketball was horrible.
When the girls weren't in a melee in the middle of the court, they were mostly just standing around.
Most of the passes were lobs.
Most of the free throws were air balls.
Dribbling was universally shoulder high.
One girl got mad and dramatically stomped off the court.

I loved it so much.

First of all, I just love the sport of basketball: it is good and true.
I remember walking into a college basketball game for the first time after my mission, and the smells and the sounds - like rubber soles squeaking on hardwood floors - made me well up.
I think this love is partly genetic (my dad played a year of college ball), partly because I spent time growing up in Indiana where basketball is like religion, and partly because I've seen the movie Hoosiers too many times.
Plus March Madness happens every year right around my birthday - there were actually Sweet 16 games on my 16th birthday.

Secondly, watching these girls brought back all sorts of memories of my fun and failed basketball career.
My dad always said that if we could dribble on the uneven stones in our backyard in France, we could dribble anywhere.
Then we moved to Indiana for my Sophomore year, and I was a bench-warmer for the 10th grade team.
I'll never forget the game that I finally got in, and then promptly missed three jump shots from the low block in a row - with my varsity-playing-crush looking on.
Then we moved to St. Louis where I transitioned to church ball, and became a rising star in the stake.
This was mostly due to my elbowing skills, which seemed to really entertain the Young Men.
I was heart-broken when we barely lost the stake championship game.
Many years later when I taught school in Harlem, I helped start a 6th and 7th grade girls team. It was a blast even though we lost every game. 

Generally, people tend to love what they are good at, but my love for watching and participating in basketball transcends any lack of skill - the sport is just that compelling. So last night I stayed and watched the JV boys, the Varsity girls and the Varsity boys. Six hours of bball. A great night.

Occupy Seattle

A few weeks ago, I participated in Occupy Seattle. 

Here is an audio clip from the General Assembly, a collection of my favorite pictures from the evening, and some of my favorite quotes about the movement in general.

Even though I was not hard core enough to brave the rain and cold to sleep out with the protestors, I am thrilled about this movement and was proud to be a part of it for a day.

 

While I love the man, I do not think that he is immune to corporate interest.

Notice the sign on the bottom right that reads "Bank of Screw America." I am impressed by how many people have left national banks in favor of local credit unions.

This is my favorite. It says: "I'll believe that corporations are people when Texas executes one." 

I previously expressed my disgust with the Citizens United decision here.

Of course there was live music.

One of the tents had "Feminist Camp" written on it.

I got to help fold blankets for people who were camping out.

Nancy Pelosi: People say, "Oh they don't have a message." They don't need a message. They're making a statement.

Al Gore referred to the Occupy Wall Street movement as "the primal scream of democracy." 

Nichola Kristof: "Inequality is ... a cancer on our national well-being." 

Paul Krugman: "The way to understand all of this is to realize that it’s part of a broader syndrome, in which wealthy Americans who benefit hugely from a system rigged in their favor react with hysteria to anyone who points out just how rigged the system is."*

*I fully acknowledge that I have been a beneficiary of this system.

I Mourn Thee, Summer

Click on this picture to see a video that encapsulates The Great Spirit Of Summer.

I am resisting Fall.
I turned my head when I walked past the mound of pumpkins at the grocery store.
I am still wearing sandals even though my toes are cold.
I went swimming in a cold Lake Washington on September 24 out of spite.
I refuse to participate in conversations that involve Halloween, Thanksgiving or Christmas.

I just really love summer.
I like peaches and berries, 10pm sunsets, BBQs, weddings, hiking, swimming, boating, sweating, 4th of July, laying in grass, family reunions, mowing the lawn, farmer's markets, sunscreen, outdoor concerts, CAMPING.
Cardigans and pumpkin muffins - no matter how cozy or delicious - really can not compete with that.

Summer 2011 was particularly summery. I backpacked in the Sierras, white-water-rafted on the Kern River, tubed on Lake Washington, paddle-boarded on Lake Union, ran a half marathon, biked from Seattle to Portland, hiked Mt. Timp, and made a blackberry pie from blackberries I picked.

I know that when my dad reads this post he is going to tell me to move to San Diego where I can experience summer weather all year long.
But summer isn't just about the weather - it's a state of being.
It's feeling uninhibited and unencumbered. Busy and relaxed at the same time.
It's light. 

Ultimately fall is just a portal to winter, and death.
I guess I need to go buy myself some new cardigans.
And find a really killer recipe for pumpkin muffins.

Caroline Kennedy is My New Best Friend

This is kind of old news, but still worth noting: on April 12, 2011, I became friends with Caroline Kennedy.

Setting: 100 people in small room at a Barnes and Noble in Seattle
Context: Book signing of her newest poetry anthology She Walks in Beauty

When I went up to get my book signed, our conversation went something like this:
Me: "I used to be a NYC public school teacher and I want to thank you for all you do for public schools."
CK: "Did you try to get as far away from there as possible?"
Me: "Not exactly, but when I was there, I did poetry slams with my students in the Bronx, like you talked about, through a group called DreamYard."
CK: "Really?! I work with DreamYard! What school were you at?"
Me: "PS 32."
CK: "I've been there! What is your name? Do you know [so-and-so]?"
Me: "I'm Jen Nuckols, but I don't know her. She must have come after I left."
CK: "Did you know there was a peom about PS 32 in the book?"
Me: "Really? I had no idea! That's awesome."

I sit down in the front row of chairs, snap some pictures of her, and look for the poem. I find it, but it is actually about a middle school, not the elementary school I taught at.

After a few minutes, she looks down at me between autographs and says, "Did you find it?!"
Me: "Yes, it's great! Thank you so much for telling me about it." 

We're bonded now. I feel like we're kindred spirits. Besties. I want to call her up and go out to lunch together and discuss public education, poetry and being a woman.

My favorite detail about her that night was that she was wearing fluorescent-orange-and-pink Nikes with her pant suit and silk scarf. At the end of her remarks, she explained that she had forgotten to pack her dress shoes, and her running shoes were all that she had with her. I love that she didn't just go out and buy herself another pair.

She also said that she regrets that her mother, Jackie O, is primarily remembered for her fashion and style, because what she actually valued were words and literature. She would ask her children to memorize poems for her as gifts; she kept a book of all the poems her children had "given" her. Caroline memorized her first poem - it was 3 lines long - at the age of 3.

Caroline said that because poetry is bite-size, it "works" in our fast-paced society. She said that she has watched how memorizing and reading and writing poetry has built confidence in the lives of the students she has worked with in the Bronx. I can attest to that too. And finally, she argued that poetry is the simplest way to express human emotion - and the expressing and sharing of human emotion helps us to live better lives.

I wanted to stand up and shout "Amen!" numerous times as she spoke. We get each other. I am grateful for her and for all the other strong, articulate, intelligent, motivated women in my life who inspire me by contributing so much beauty and goodness to the world.

Lost Access

My passport expired June 17, 2011.

I didn't realize it until I wanted to take a friend to Canada a few weeks ago and decided to check my worn little blue book.

When I was confronted with the reality of expiration, I felt both guilty and panicky. 

Guilty because it seems like a betrayal to both myself and my country. This is not who I am! I left the country at least once every year from 2005-2010. One of the best days of my life was when I had to get extra pages inserted into my passport because all the others were full of sundry stamps and visas. How did I let this happen? Holding a valid passport is a way of saying to the rest of the world: "I am interested in you." Now, I am failing to do that.

I also felt panicky because suddenly I realized that I am trapped. Grounded. Stuck. My liberty has been compromised. I do not currently have any international trips planned, but even if I did, I couldn't go. I have lost the peace of mind of knowing that I could flee the country at the drop of a hat. No more four-day weekends to Costa Rica. No more spontaneous dance parties in Vancouver. 

But now I am scared to send off my passport for fear that I won't get it back. What if they randomly decide to keep it? What if it gets lost in the mail? I think I am going to color photocopy the best pages before I send it off - just in case.

When I do get my new passport - one with an embedded chip, I should celebrate my renewed sense of identity and freedom with a trip. Who wants to come? Where should we go?

A lot of time to think

Last Saturday, I rode my bike 204 miles from my house in Seattle to Portland, Oregon. I rode with 5 other friends in the official annual "STP." We started at 4:45 a.m. and crossed the finish line at 8:45pm - where we lifted our bikes over our heads for this picture.

My friend Julie picked us up at the finish line, and she asked if we every got bored during the 16 hours. What did you think about during all that time? She asked.

This is my response: (Things in italics are yelled out loud.)

I gotta stay close to that wheel. Stay on the wheel! Oh no, I'm losing them. Catch up! Catch up!
I should drink, but I don't want to take my hand off the handlebar right now.
Don't hit me, car.
Can I really go another 180 miles?!
Tracks!
Oh crap, I think I'm already getting sunburned.
Dang, we just hit 25 mph. The pull of this pack is thrilling.
Hungry. Hungry. Gotta fish those shot blocks out of my jersey without losing speed.
On your left!
That is some nasty roadkill.
Only 25 miles until the famed banana bread rest stop.
Pothole!
Let's get onto the end of that line. Oh, I really want to join them.
Umm, I can't feel my fingers.
Wow so many people with flats.
Do you have everything you need? 
Dear butt: I apologize.
Crud, another hill.
Weird that I have the chills and am getting a little dizzy.
Water. Drink.
Turning!
Keep pedaling. Push it. Push it.
How many miles until the next rest stop again?
I hate hamburgers, but they sure sound good right now.
Car back!
Shake out the hands.
Oh hill, you got nothing on me. Don't down shift yet. Don't down shift. Ok, now!
Laying in this grass is the best sensation of my life.
Jen, if you can't handle this, how are you going to handle labor?!?!
Slowing! Turning!
Gross, a bug just ricochet-ed off my sunglasses.
Only 10 more miles til next rest stop. I got this. I GOT THIS!
Stay on that wheel. Stay on that wheel.
Passing!
Why do people do this?!
Oh crap, the light is turning yellow. I hope we all make it through.
This glorious: Mounts St. Helens, Adams and Hood all in one view.
Another hill?! Shut up.
I can't believe we have already gone 170 miles. This is ridiculous. And awesome.
Tracks!
That dude's calves are amazing.
It's the eye of the tiger it's the thrill of the fight. Rising up to the challenge of our rivals.
Portland city limits. Yahoo! Wait, there are still 10 more miles to go? Seriously?
I need more sport beans.
We made it! We made it. Oh my gosh, we made it.

Thirty, I Welcome You!

I turned 30 about 3 months ago, and I had the most amazing birthday party - birthday weekend - ever. It was epic! Magical! There was paragliding, cycling, fine dining, Rothko, LA Philharmonic with Dudamel, red velvet cake, family and friends from out of town, a movie about my life with home video highlights created by Dad, and a book of tributes gathered and artistically assembled by Mom. (Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who contributed! Your kind and generous and creative words meant so much to me.)

I was overcome by the amount of love bestowed upon me throughout the weekend. The amount of planning and work from my parents, the thoughtful gifts and the personal tributes moved me deeply. Because this new decade was ushered in with so much love and ritual and celebration, it has been impossible for me to feel any regret or fear about being in my thirties. I feel only gratitude for the family and friends who blessed my first three decades and who have lovingly launched me into the next.

Turning thirty was unforgettable, and being 30 has been wonderful too - mostly because I can use it as an excuse to justify just about anything. For example:

I am going to run my first half marathon because I am 30! (Saturday, June 25 - still nursing some shin splints. Wish me luck!)
I am going to stop wearing old T-shirts to bed and get some matching pajamas because I am 30!
I don't have to watch cartoons for an institute activity on a Friday night because I am 30!
I am going to frame some original art to hang on my wall because I am 30!
I am going to go wild at the Fremont Solstice Parade because I am 30! 


In reality, I would probably be doing these things regardless of my age, but it is fun to have a ready for excuse for things that I do or do not want to do.

So overall, consider this a hearty endorsement for both turning and being 30.