intimidating

Tonight, a Saturday night, at 8:30 p.m. an employee of the school and a TV employee were here to reinstall the satellite dish that was removed during the roof debacle.  Why?  Because I asked them to.

This morning the man in charge of the roof project and I had a long chat.  He actually is not full of crap and he explained how things are progressing.  There's now a slope, and a drain pipe, but it's not finished and that's why there's still leaking, but it will stop.  And he won't have them tar and finish for another couple of days because we have exams.  Why?  Because I asked him. 

The other day in class, my teacher had a bit of a fit.  He was teaching us case endings and I asked, "Do people use these?  How?  To what extent?"  Mind you, Arabic is complicated, and our book doesn't cover any of this.  He kept hedging around and I kept asking, and he threw a fit.  "Do you want me to stop teaching you this?!"  "No, I want you to answer my simple question."  This is not the first time we've got head-to-head, and I do not back down.  My classmate - a 26-year-old Brit who always has impeccable manners - started to apologize for me, saying I can be quite intimidating. 

But this man has been teaching for 36 years, and I should not intimidate him.  She also was dismissive the other day when I went to talk to the housing coordinator about what needs to be done with the roof.  "What can you do about it?"  "I can make sure that things are handled properly, that's what I can do!"

Don't misunderstand me - my classmate is a gem.  She's a sweet, genuine person and I've become quite fond of her.  But despite her trying to teach the Indonesian to be more direct, she often flinches under directness.  As did I at her age.  As do most women. 

I am persistent and I am direct, and I do not suffer fools.  I am a force of personality that makes things happen.  Sometimes I have to grab things and drag them, but they happen.  Because why should I ride in the backseat and wait for somebody's decision to allow me what I'm entitled to? 

No, I don't feel entitled, but I am an active learner.  I push and challenge teachers.  And because of that, our learning experience has overall been very positive.  She said later that I kept asking him a question that he had answered, but he HADN'T answered it.  "He answered it in his style."  But that's just it: I don't ask him a question for his convenience, I ask because I want to know. 

And it's not just being in school - this is how I do life.

Maybe I too often act like we're in a courtroom and I'm cross-examining, but why is this a problem? 

Learning to not always be polite is a critical lesson for women to learn.  I learned to say "no" to men who wanted to do things to me that I didn't want.  I learned to say "no" to employers who wanted to exploit me.

When I was at my first day at work in Liberia, a colleague later told me he thought, "Good grief, who is this woman?  The new country director?"  And I was just introducing myself, and I AM self-assured, because why wouldn't I be?  The country director, however, was meek, so he always worried about me bulldozing him.  Hey, dude - get out of my way and I won't bulldoze you. 

Yesterday a group of us were out, and when we walked back some young men started harassing us.  We all ignored them and kept walking, and they got worse and worse, and then I noticed them following us.  I wrapped my bag in my left hand with the weight in the bottom to swing, and I clenched my right fist.  I was ready. Grab one of us.  I dare you.  And we turned on streets with many people and the cowards slinked off, and I was almost sorry.  I want to bring one of those fuckers down.  Actually, I'd probably bring down a few before I got taken down - I have a hefty weight advantage and some rage. 

I like my heft - I like the presence that I have. If I intimidate people, that's fine too. 

And I'm not going to apologize.  I am not mean, and demanding an education that I am paying for is not ill-mannered.  If he wants to tantrum and I have to call him out, that's his problem and not mine. 

Because more people respond like my housing coordinator, who makes things happen.  He knows I'll pester him until they do, so he just usually handles them right away.  And I am thankful, and we get along well. 

But this is hard.  I was raised to be polite, not to make a fuss.  Fuckthat.  Some things are worth fussing about.  And in my life, being intimidating is not a flaw.  It's good to be an intimidating landlord, lawyer, teacher.  It's good to give off a vibe that I shall not be messed with. And if I intimidate potential lovers (I do, all the time), that's ok too because I wouldn't want a man who would be too weak. 

So, no, I'm not going to be more polite - because that too often leads to passive aggressiveness and being taken advantage of. 

I'm not going to hush my self to make others not feel challenged. 

ostrich reality

I don't watch Scandal.  I watched one episode - I think the first - and was not pulled in.  Kerry Washington is one of those people I want to like, and I'm very glad she's around, but I feel no draw to her. 

But there are people I know who love it, as my Facebook indicates.  And this is an interesting article on NPR about it. 

But then I read the comments. 

Oh god.  Why do I read the comments??

Not surprisingly, there is a whole lot of white liberal "colorblindness" to be found there.  This whole discussion focuses around: if we stopped talking about racism, then we wouldn't have a problem with racism.

Really?  Is that how it works?

NO.  THAT IS NOT HOW THAT WORKS.

So, please shut up.  We live in a world with ugly racism.  Yes, I get tired of how race trumps everything in New Orleans to many of my friends, but it really does for them.  Me getting tired of it shows my privilege.  And other people saying we should stop talking about it because it is nonexistent to the point of not mattering - they are the worst of the privileged.  

Crossroads

Oh, this song.  Does it perfectly express my feelings right now?  Yes, yes it does.

The Indonesian and I just headed out for lunch and went to a cafe very near our residence.  Nobody of our gang has ever been there.  "They only serve drinks," said the former Australian diplomat.  No, dear,  They say "pizza" and "paninis" on the front windows. 

It was very posh.  Paintings of French people.  Rather bizarre, but really a nice treat.  The pizza was fine, and I had one of the best mochas of my life.  They didn't mean to do it, but it was awesome.  My favorite teacher came in, the server was good and not hovering, it was comfortable and posh and low-energy.

And then this song came on and I said, "Oh.My.  I must know who this is." 

Now I know.  Calvin Russell.  Yes. 

trajectory

I'm always pretty cautious with making life plans because things never turn out as I expect - and almost always, what happens is far better than I could have imagined.

That said, I think it's time for me to articulate the trajectory I'm on right now, to keep myself on track.  As things happen that change the trajectory, I'm down with that as long as I like where that will take me, too.

Right now, I'm job searching.  I'm sending out my CV to many people for many different things - mostly rule of law education since that's my niche, but also for training programming unrelated to legal, and for program management for international development programming.

Why the focus there?  Because the money can be really good, and because I'm good at it.  I make a positive difference, and the malaria hasn't beaten me yet.

So, I want a job that pays well, in a location that allows me to save most of the money.  At the same time, I continue to rent out my two apartments - once the debt associated with that is paid off (probably by end of this year), that mostly goes into the savings pot as well.

While searching, I'm trying to develop marketable skills.  Now some basic Arabic, but I realized it would take far too long to become actually fluent in Arabic - and the job I'd been tentatively offered in Libya has since evaporated, so no gig there for now.  If I do get a job in the Arabic-speaking world, I would cheerfully continue my studies of Arabic.  But I need a purpose for that, and I would probably focus on the dialect of the specific region.

Because of this realization about the challenges of Arabic, I've decided to move my studies up to France where I will work on my French.  The Foreign Service Institute says it should take about 22 weeks of very intensive quality courses to become fluent in French (as opposed to 88 weeks for Arabic).  I will never get that kind of quality program (I wouldn't be able to afford it, and I can't really focus on it single-mindedly), so it will take longer.  But, I have a headstart in French.  Pieces of learning from here and there will hopefully be congealed into a more articulate mass quickly.  I plan to be much more focused on it than I have been here with Arabic - much more like when I taught myself German almost 25 years ago.

I've signed up for two weeks, to ensure I like the program and the situation.  If not, I will consider other options.  I could go to a more expensive and better program outside Paris, I could return to New Orleans and take Skype and other French courses there, or I could go to Haiti, Cameroon, Benin, or another place to volunteer in French. 

I stay focused on the job search, because that is my key objective right now.

Once I have a job, I plan to save up enough money to buy another property in New Orleans.  If the contract ends at that time and I need a break, I would cheerfully return to New Orleans to buy and fix up another place - probably about six months for that process (gauging from last time).  Alternative, I could save up even more until there is a natural break in my work, or I could partner with my realtor (or somebody else) and let her handle all the details while I stay abroad. Then a sort of rinse-repeat cycle.  I would really like to have at least two more properties owned outright before I return permanently to New Orleans.  This gives me a financial and housing cushion that I am loathe to be without.  Ideally I would like to accumulate more, with a focus on neighborhood improvement and recognizing my long-term needs, but I do want to be in New Orleans.

That said, I don't want any old job in New Orleans.  I tried personal injury last year and it was soul-crushingly dull and ridiculous.  I worked long hours - for what?  To get laid off despite doing a very good job?  And while I liked my clients, their soft tissue injuries from minor collisions was #firstworldproblems on a daily basis.

No, I want to be actively involved in New Orleans in a more significant way.  Maybe that means starting my own organization, maybe it means working for one that's doing good now.  It definitely means taking all the skills I'm learning now through my international development work and applying them to a sticky situation that I take very seriously and personally. 

What I do know is that I won't be working no 80-hour weeks stuck in an office.  Hells nah.  Because I'll have my real estate business going, and I'll be getting a dog, and I'll be out and about with community events and fun and friends, and I'll be having foster kids and maybe adopting.

That life, that right there?  That I can imagine happily living out my days to.  I don't plan on retiring really - maybe cutting back work someday, but if I am doing what I love why would I want to stop?

So.  There's my 40 year plan.

And I am very ready for the next step. 

job search: guns and gerunds

I'm trying to stay focused on one application at a time and not get despondent over the fact that I don't have a job.  Despondence lurks, though. 

Today's search led me to this requirement:

Must be willing to carry a weapon (primarily a sidearm), for personal protection only, during performance of duties

This job is to manage an English-language instruction program.

I will apply.

This company also has jobs in Saudi Arabia, which has a requirement that one could get a Saudi driver's license and drive to and from work.  Know who that excludes?  EVERYBODY WITH A VAGINA.  Why not just say only men need apply?  Oh, right, because that's not legal.  What a workaround.  Sheesh.

In other news, I have my first final exam on Monday, an oral.  To say I am unprepared is laughably understated.  Of course studying is a bit of a challenge, as it is raining in one room I have access to and there is black mold in the other.  I sit in the common area now and just endured my schoolchum's one-hour Skype conversation in Swedish.  I was in bed until far too late, and I still endure the pounding on the roof.  Of course right now it's raining, so soon there will be more water in my room. 

Awesomeness prevails.

But of all the things aggravating me, it's that my villa-mates aren't doing their dishes that I'm most annoyed with.  WHY WOULD YOU NOT DO YOUR DISHES WHEN OTHER PEOPLE NEED TO USE THEM?

Of course this is not an age-based disrespect for others, but I'm also tired of being around people in their early 20's all the time.  They are lovely for many things, but big picture viewing is not among that.  They believe that they are experts in everything they ever took a university class in.  Or even high school.  It is amusing at first, but now it's moved to annoying.

Yes, I put on my grumpy pants this morning.  I will survive.  Next week at this time I will - inshallah - be in a lovely hotel in the South of France.

ooph

Could an ad shout any louder at me?

Um, yeah.  Honestly, that's one of my big concerns: *I* can be a lot to put up with.  I may be able to put up with a lot of imperfection from kids who aren't born of me, but they have to put up with a lot from me too.  and based on my years as a teacher and kid's attorney, sometimes we're a click.  Sometimes we just get each other.  And sometimes we don't.  And some kids would find me so much better than not having a family.  Yes, I have known that this is what I will do since I was about 7 years old - I just don't think I'm ready quite yet. 

Today I got to hold one of my favorite babies; my schoolchums' son just turned a year and his grandparents are in town and we cheered him on with yummy chocolate cake (which he DID NOT LIKE), and he does this so endearing thing when he's in my arms of leaning back to look at my face and smile at me and then put his cheek against mine.  Seriously, this kid is awesome.  And I got him these little books of colors and numbers and such, and he LOVED THEM.  He was so excited for me to read them to him he couldn't stop reading back to me. 

And OF COURSE he's an easy baby because that's just his nature and he has two full-time parents (both on sabbatical) who ADORE him and take care of his every need and more and he wasn't born drug-addicted and he has absolutely no attachment disorders due to neglect, and he has never been abused in any way.  This kid has all the advantages. 

And then there are other kids who get dealt a super shitty hand.  Like the 10-year-old who was just shot at a parade on Sunday; his father was killed last fall by his stepmother (whom his father was trying to kill); last year on the kid's birthday there was a hail of bullets and his 4-year-old cousin was killed.  He's living in poverty and violence that rivals a war zone.  And he has a mother whom I'm sure loves him very much, but if he didn't have her or a family member to take care of him, he'd really have nothing.  And I could be something better than that. 

Here's the other funny thing about all this: the grandmother of this bundle of adorableness I snuggled today - she's from New Orleans.  And we talked and she said, "Oh if you want a job in New Orleans, you just need connections.  I can hook you up with that." 

Wouldn't it be funny if I came to Fez to find a job in New Orleans?  And wouldn't it be funny if that was a job that let me stay there to have a life (a dog, some kids)?  The problem is with most law jobs, the hours are long.  It's not a permanent solution.  But it might be a good start.

Anyway, life is funny and and I NEVER know what's around that bend.

Moroccan water torture: trust no one

After another late light (when the hell did I become that person going to bed at 1 am?), I was awakened far too early.  At 4:12 a.m., water was dripping on me.

The roof leaked badly before I moved in, and last week they ripped off the layers to repair it.  They removed a layer of concrete, a layer of tile, and another layer of concrete.  All this by jackhammer.  It has been godawful, the noise and reverberations in the walls.  They left a thick layer of dirt (more than a foot deep) on top of a layer of concrete, planning to put more concrete and tar to actually waterproof.

Yesterday it started raining, as the weather forecast predicted and I had told people in the know, and I left class to tell the housing manager that the workers need to be sure to cover up the dirt or the water will seep through our ceilings.  "Yes, yes, I talked to them.  They have plastic sheeting."  "ARE THEY USING IT?  Having it there?  Using it?  Come on.  They need to not let the dirt get saturated."  "Sure, it's no problem."

First hint there's a problem?  Rain came harder in the evening and I saw the security guard rushing upstairs with a tarp. 

Sigh. 

So, this morning's dripping water wasn't a huge surprise of course.  Just quite unpleasant.  I moved my bed, grabbed a dry pillow, and slept it out.  There is of course a lot of water on my floor and I'm not sure where else it's leaking.  My neighbors said they have no leaks but heard drips - then I saw the major flooding right outside their bedroom, which explains that. 

The scary part?  My lightbulb now flashes when it's not turned on.  Oh good god, seriously?  YOU DIDN'T PROTECT THE ELECTRICAL SYSTEM FROM SITTING IN WATER? 

This is not a peculiarly Moroccan situation.  I've had this in any number of settings, because people have tunnel vision.  Great example of this: the geniuses who nailed the platforms for my air conditioning compressers DIRECTLY INTO MY FLAT ROOF.  No brackets, no strong connections with a minimum of holes.  Oh, no.  They couldn't think that far ahead to how it was a really, really bad idea (despite my roofing guy telling them!).  It took months to get that all fixed, before I could replace the ruined ceiling because I trusted the roof's water permeability.  I may have gotten my house fixed up really quickly compared to the rest of New Orleans, but this whole roof thing dragged on FOREVER.  And now as I'm thinking about it, I'm realizing that when I'm back I need to crawl up to the top of my roof and paint/stain those goddamn platforms.  They used weather resistant lumber, but it still makes sense for more protection to last a while. 


It could still happen.

Sigh.

Shower, homework, harass management, class, come home and finish job applications.

This is Thursday.  And I'm still a pain in the ass.