Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Announcement
Antigone will be taking a break from blogging. She is currently home, where there isn't much to blog about. She will publish new entries after she leaves for India and Ecuador on January 4.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Antigone and Bartleby Go To School
I would like to apologize for not posting for a while. This week has been crazy because I am leaving the farm on Sunday and moving back in with my family. Despite the chaos, I still have plenty of entertaining stories that I would love to share with my readers. Here is one of them. (Note: this story has been moderately toned down in an effort to enhance the style of writing. The truth is even more insulting and bizarre.)
Last night my co-worker, Bartleby, and I drove 60 miles to Prestigious University to deliver a presentation about our organization to a hunger awareness club. We left at 4 pm in a mini van filled with colorful, handmade posters covered with definitions for “sustainability” and “agroecology.” True to my professional, corporate style, I had wanted to make a Powerpoint presentation. Bartleby would not let me. When I asked him why, he only said, “Fudge Powerpoint” (his words, verbatim). I tried to attain an explanation. “Powerpoint killed my dog,” would have sufficed. However, Bartleby repeated the same phrase. “Fudge Powerpoint. Fudge Powerpoint. Fudge Powerpoint.”
In the car, I asked Bartleby if we could listen to NPR. I knew better than to ask to listen to music (he gave it up this summer). Bartleby told me that it would be better for us to have a conversation. I complied by asking Bartleby about his family. He did not want to discuss his past. He would not talk about anything but our presentation, sustainability, and definitions for different theories of meditation, and sometimes would not talk at all.
We arrived at Prestigious University two hours later. My experience (also known as Antigone’s Realization That Professionalism Is A Dying Art) can be summarized as follows:
-The student leaders who organized the presentation told me that they had joined the hunger awareness club because they wanted an easy way to accrue community service hours, and that they knew almost nothing about my organization’s work.
-At 7 o’clock, the appointed time for the lecture, the student leaders explained that they had sent e-mails to thousands of people and passed out 80 flyers, but would not be able to provide an audience because their club’s theatre troupe had a dress rehearsal.
Student Leader: But it looks like you are really well prepared, so why don’t you just do it for the three of us?
Antigone: Bartleby and I drove 57 miles and would love to be able to tell more people about our work. It looks like there are a lot of people in the hallway. Why don’t you recruit some of them?
Five recruits later, we began our lecture.
After the presentation, Bartleby and I decided to grab a bite to eat. Bartleby decided to go the convenient store next door to find a vegan friendly option.
8:30: Bartleby leaves. Antigone orders.
8:40: Antigone receives food. She begins to eat, but is interrupted by a high school classmate. An extremely awkward interaction follows.
8:50: Antigone realizes that she is almost done with her food and remembers that Bartleby has a reputation for spending two hours in a grocery store, only to come out with two items.
9:00: Bartleby arrives with a bottle of orange juice and a box of nuts. He explains that he had to review juice companies’ respective human rights records, determine which juice was the most “local,” assess the sustainability of all available packaging, and analyze nutrition facts. He chose the OJ because, “It comes from Nantucket.”
Bartleby and I eventually left campus and discovered that the highway interchange on our directions did not work in reverse. I pointed to a map and asked Bartleby to find a route home. He, in turn, asked if he could skip chores the next morning to sleep in and meditate. He normally goes to bed at 8:30.
Using intuition and luck, I found my way back to the farm. As we drove along a dark, winding road, Bartleby turned to me and asked, “Antigone, do you know that song from Mulan that they sing before they attack the Huns? Can you sing it?” We sang Disney songs all the way home.
Last night my co-worker, Bartleby, and I drove 60 miles to Prestigious University to deliver a presentation about our organization to a hunger awareness club. We left at 4 pm in a mini van filled with colorful, handmade posters covered with definitions for “sustainability” and “agroecology.” True to my professional, corporate style, I had wanted to make a Powerpoint presentation. Bartleby would not let me. When I asked him why, he only said, “Fudge Powerpoint” (his words, verbatim). I tried to attain an explanation. “Powerpoint killed my dog,” would have sufficed. However, Bartleby repeated the same phrase. “Fudge Powerpoint. Fudge Powerpoint. Fudge Powerpoint.”
In the car, I asked Bartleby if we could listen to NPR. I knew better than to ask to listen to music (he gave it up this summer). Bartleby told me that it would be better for us to have a conversation. I complied by asking Bartleby about his family. He did not want to discuss his past. He would not talk about anything but our presentation, sustainability, and definitions for different theories of meditation, and sometimes would not talk at all.
We arrived at Prestigious University two hours later. My experience (also known as Antigone’s Realization That Professionalism Is A Dying Art) can be summarized as follows:
-The student leaders who organized the presentation told me that they had joined the hunger awareness club because they wanted an easy way to accrue community service hours, and that they knew almost nothing about my organization’s work.
-At 7 o’clock, the appointed time for the lecture, the student leaders explained that they had sent e-mails to thousands of people and passed out 80 flyers, but would not be able to provide an audience because their club’s theatre troupe had a dress rehearsal.
Student Leader: But it looks like you are really well prepared, so why don’t you just do it for the three of us?
Antigone: Bartleby and I drove 57 miles and would love to be able to tell more people about our work. It looks like there are a lot of people in the hallway. Why don’t you recruit some of them?
Five recruits later, we began our lecture.
After the presentation, Bartleby and I decided to grab a bite to eat. Bartleby decided to go the convenient store next door to find a vegan friendly option.
8:30: Bartleby leaves. Antigone orders.
8:40: Antigone receives food. She begins to eat, but is interrupted by a high school classmate. An extremely awkward interaction follows.
8:50: Antigone realizes that she is almost done with her food and remembers that Bartleby has a reputation for spending two hours in a grocery store, only to come out with two items.
9:00: Bartleby arrives with a bottle of orange juice and a box of nuts. He explains that he had to review juice companies’ respective human rights records, determine which juice was the most “local,” assess the sustainability of all available packaging, and analyze nutrition facts. He chose the OJ because, “It comes from Nantucket.”
Bartleby and I eventually left campus and discovered that the highway interchange on our directions did not work in reverse. I pointed to a map and asked Bartleby to find a route home. He, in turn, asked if he could skip chores the next morning to sleep in and meditate. He normally goes to bed at 8:30.
Using intuition and luck, I found my way back to the farm. As we drove along a dark, winding road, Bartleby turned to me and asked, “Antigone, do you know that song from Mulan that they sing before they attack the Huns? Can you sing it?” We sang Disney songs all the way home.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Antigone Bounces
An anecdote:
Today we went to a local field and played soccer. Half of the players were literally one foot taller than me (I have no idea how the farm finds so many 6'5" volunteers). I am a very aggressive soccer player. Thus, I spent most of the game running into and bouncing off of my housemates.
Today we went to a local field and played soccer. Half of the players were literally one foot taller than me (I have no idea how the farm finds so many 6'5" volunteers). I am a very aggressive soccer player. Thus, I spent most of the game running into and bouncing off of my housemates.
