Absenteeism

You know those resolutions you make at least once a day, every day? Take my resolution not to swear anymore, for example. I wake up in the morning and I tell myself seriously, “Ryan, you are not going to swear today.” And then I trip over one of Anthony’s flip-flops and yell FUCK! loud enough to scare the cat. So dies that resolution. And somehow it becomes F-bomb Friday all over again. (Yes, I called that F-bomb Friday – terminology we started at work when one Friday everyone was letting loose the four-lettered F-bomb for no particular reason. Now it just seems as though F-bomb Friday is every day.)

So, with all this talk of failed resolutions, my resolution to keep up this Blog is another victim of failed-resolutionism. Every morning I tell myself, “I will write more.” Especially after I peruse all my friends’ Blogs and note that they haven’t updated in at least 3 months. And then I remember the internet policy at work (we are allowed personal internet usage for only 9 minutes per hour for an 8-hour day, or 15% of your total work day), or get busy doing something else and…well, nothing. The end of the line is always nothing but an entry that sits on this page for days, weeks, months at a time.

And I know that you guys are sitting out there wondering what it is that I am doing that is so time-consuming that I don’t have the time to write a few lines. To clear that up, my present excitement is as follows:

1. I work 40 hours a week, M-F, 7AM-3:30PM.
2. I attend classes on Tuesday nights until 7:30PM (Public Policy Process), Thursday nights until 10PM (Refugees in Contemporary Society), Friday nights until 9PM, and Saturdays from 9AM-4PM (Public and Nonprofit Accounting and Finance, both Friday & Saturday).
3. I read and I write, so that when I attend one of my aforementioned classes I a) have something intelligent to say, or b) have a homework assignment to submit.
4. I occasionally slack off and watch America’s Next Top Model or Dancing with the Stars (without commercials) on DVR.
5. I also do the requisite dog-walking, selling-of-crappola-on-Craigslist, setting-up-of-the-condo, lunch-making, cleaning, eating, sleeping, yadda, yadda, yadda of daily life.

Now go ahead and try to hold back your enthusiasm for my exciting life.

To be more particular, last night my Refugees class had a field trip to attend a panel discussion on human rights abuses committed by North Korea. There was a Professor Kim there, who had grown up in North Korea. He is second only to the Dalai Lama in the cuteness factor. I seriously contemplated asking him to come home with me to sit in my living room and giggle. It would give the place such atmosphere.

On a more adult note, what is happening in North Korea is serious and nearly impossible to change. The panelists asked us to review the information on this site and become activists for the cause. I am not yet supporting this because I haven’t really reviewed the site, but I thought I would at least present the information for your inspection. The North Korean regime is incredibly insular so it is very difficult to get even basic information about the structure of the country. A large portion of what is known is derived from those refugees who are able to cross the borders. While many of us have seen Team America, that movie doesn’t even begin to touch on the megalomania and barbarism of Kim Jong Il.

On Teen-Sitting

For those of you who know me best: you didn't think it was possible, but for the past six days I've been watching someone else's kids. And not just any kids, but teenagers.

So I'm living out in Reston, VA, and doing my best not to beat my coworker's kids for not waking up on time for school or walking the dog before she pees all over the carpet. It's been a truly illuminating experience, filled with thoughts like, "If I had a fourteen-year-old kid, SHE wouldn't act like this." (Followed quickly by, "Because I'd beat her.")

I feel compelled to say that the girls aren't really bad kids. Just overindulged. Spoiled. Undisciplined. And full of the I-know-everything attitude that seems to describe every last teenager on earth.

I've come to understand that being a teenager is one of the few times in your life when you are fully convinced that everything IS ALL ABOUT ME. I mean, the sun actually rises just to please me. Isn't that a wonderful feeling?

Martha and I were talking about this on Sunday. She is the expert here, having taught high school Spanish for the past million years. And she and I both agree: we just don't get it. Like in those movies where the hormonal teenager starts screaming, "You just don't understand!" at her parents... Yeah, that's me. I don't.

And honestly, I don't want to. What an insufferable line of thinking teenagers have. The world is out to get them. Nobody cares what they think. No one understands what they're going through. Know what? They're right. Been there, done that, like to pretend it didn't happen. We all grow out of that stage and at some point realize: a) how selfish we were; b) that life isn't all that bad (it's worse); and c) your parents and teachers worked hard to take care of you and help you live to some ripe old bill-paying age.

So here's a story: the youngest girl is responsible for taking care of the dog - giving her medicine, walking her 4 times a day, feeding her... However, she refuses to go to bed at a decent time (sleeps around 1-2AM) and is an absolute monster to wake up at 6AM. So Tuesday she was really late. I had half driven them to school when she tells me that she didn't give the dog her seizure medicine that morning. And then she has the gaul to say, "I didn't have time. You didn't set up the crate for Miso (the dog)."

My god. I didn't take care of the responsibility for her. Whatever was I thinking???

(Breaking into old fart talk for a moment here) In my day, my mom would have slapped me silly. First, for failing to take care of the dog. And then again for trying to blame someone else for my failure. I think something about sarcasm might have been screamed at me while I was being slapped.

And while this sounds extreme, I appreciate the way my mom brought me up. We didn't get hit often, but when we did we definitely deserved it (and probably deserved it more often than we received it). And she made damn sure that I could take care of myself. I'm not afraid to get dirty, pitch in, and get the job done. Better yet, I don't blame other people for my shortcomings. It's called being an ADULT.

So yeah, I'm an adult now. It feels all kinds of warm and squishy on the inside when I say that. Adult. Adult. ADULT.

I am a homeowner

The deed is done. Anthony and I purchased a condo in the heart of Adams Morgan, U Street, and Dupont Circle. It comes with our newest most prized posession: a parking space. And it is GLORIOUS.

I have recently been told that I could not top Eric's email update with pictures, but I want you all to know that I have been running this site for a million-bazillion years and (gasp!) it contains pictures. Real, honest-to-goodness digital photos of my boring life.

And to prove that to you, here are some from the move:

This is our new office:















Isn't it pretty?

Oh, and here is Grace, busy hating us for crating her while the moving men walked in and out with all our things:




















Ah yes, and Anthony unpacking the kitchen, like the true-blue dork that he is (and I love him for this):




















Finally, the new home:
















Isn't it wonderful???

The life of Ryan

I keep looking at this sad, silly Blog of mine and think to myself, “Shouldn’t you update that right about now? Because you know that millions of your most dedicated readers are just salivating at the prospect of your innermost thoughts and feelings being published to the internet.”

And then I say, “Oooh, look at that shiny piece of tinfoil on the floor!”

But I digress.

Since Christmas, there has been a new year and a few weeks without the pain of grad school. The most exciting thing to happen is that Anthony and I are under contract to buy a condo here in DC. Nothing is written in stone yet, but all signs point to home ownership by Valentine’s Day.

For those of you who haven’t called or written in quite some time (please, don’t bother with the guilt; if I was really crying myself to sleep at night, I would have called you, I promise!), the condo we’re trying to buy is a two-bedroom, two-bathroom (plus parking!) extravaganza about a block away from where we live now. We have big plans for what we want to do with it, but for right now we’re focusing on just getting moved in.

We also recently got into quite the passive-aggressive pushing match with our slumlord because the City finally woke up and threatened him with fines if he didn’t address the heating issues in our building or the fire code violations (Martha, you will be so happy to know that you no longer need a key to exit our building – no getting locked in the vestibule ever again!). Our slumlord decided that it was our fault that he had to spend money to fix all of his violations so he is no longer speaking to us and also decided to raise our rent for the second time in less than six months (that is an almost 29% increase on our original rent – if only he were constrained by rental control laws!). Basically, he wants us to pay for the money he had to spend because he doesn’t take his responsibilities as a landlord seriously.

So now the biggest hiccup with our condo purchase is moving into the new place before the rent increase goes into effect. Because I stand on my principles, gosh darnit. (Which in this case equates to me not paying that man a single penny more than he deserves. And by “that man,” I mean “slumlord.” And by “a single penny more than he deserves,” I mean “he deserves absolutely nothing, but I am legally obligated to pay him for this piece of crap apartment until we can move out.”)

That means I get to harass my realtor every day until we move and then I will have to send him a very big thank-you. I’m thinking strippers, but his girlfriend might not be all that happy about it. Anthony and I will have to clunk heads together and think about this some more.

It also means that I am inventorying our stock, and trying to sell everything under the sun. In fact, this weekend, one of my big plans is to take pictures of all the larger items that we can sell and post them on Craigslist. These things – the age-old futon that Anthony has had since college and has seen more ass than most of us can claim; the too-small bed that can barely fit one of us, let alone a six-foot-four Aryan god, a taller-than-average Ryan, and a mere 45-pound love-puppy that seems to expand to unheard of volumes while sleeping; the microwave that Anthony refused to part with even though most apartments come with a pre-installed microwave and if not, a replacement can be bought for less than $100; a window a/c unit; two televisions, etc. – will be replaced by newer things. At least things that are new to us and of better quality.

Of course, all this selling and shopping and packing must happen while I am simultaneously working full-time, attending school full-time, and maintaining my sanity by preparing for the glory that is the Oscars.

This semester I have upped the ante by taking on three classes: Public Policy Process, Refugees in Contemporary Society, and Public Finance. I am basically determining my own breaking point. How many different but high-priority items can I juggle at once? It’s like challenging my sanity to a duel –sounds like a good, fun idea at the time until you really sit down and think about it.
And that, my friends, is life in the old-fart lane.

By the way…
Highly NOT recommended reading: J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-Earth; by Bradley Birzer. It’s a short read, but Birzer takes all the fun out of The Lord of the Rings by talking about the religious background of the characters and events. Like all things academic, the details can be exhausting. It would be a lot more fun to just simply read a biography of Tolkien.

I will, however, say that the book does offer some insight into Tolkien’s character and way of thinking about his masterpiece. So if you are a true Tolkien-ophile, the book may appeal to you. The prose isn’t overly intellectual so it is not too dry a read. For me, it’s just unnecessary to know the symbolism at work. The Lord of the Rings is much a part of my childhood and it is not because Tolkien attempted to reawaken me to the glory of god, but rather because it is a beautiful and powerful epic about good vs. evil. There are characters to love and lands you wish you could see.

Me? I could live without the religion.

Because Bad Movie Night hasn’t fulfilled your daily required intake of all things Chuck Norris

Chuck Norris’ Top Ten

Yoinked

I yoinked yet another pointless meme from Rob’s site because it fits in with my love of census surveys and cheap thrills.

Rules: Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following. They must be real places, names, things...nothing made up! If you can't think of anything, skip it. Try to use different answers if the person in front of you had the same 1st initial. You can’t use your name for the boy/girl name question.

My Name: Ryan
1. Famous Athlete: “Rowdy” Roddy Piper
2. 4 letter word: Risk
3. Street name: Roanoke River Road (one of the entrance streets for George Mason University, Fairfax, VA)
4. Color: Red
5. Animal: Rhinoceros
6. Vehicles: Ram (as in Dodge Ram)
7. Tropical Locations: Republica Domincana (an absolutely beautiful country, might I add)
8. College Majors: Russian
9. Dairy Products: Raw eggs
10. Things in a Souvenir Shop: Registers
11. Boy Name: Ringo
12. Girl Name: Rose
13. Movie Titles: Real Women Have Curves
14. Alcohol: Red label Johnny Walker
15. Occupations: Realtor or Rodeo Clown
16. Flowers: Roses
17. Celebrities: Ricky (or Rick, as he now likes to be called – it’s SO grown-up) Schroeder
18. Magazines: Runners Weekly
19. U.S. Cities or State: Rhode Island
20. Pro Sports Teams: Redskins
21. Something Found in a kitchen: Rice
22. Reason for Being Late: Red label Johnny Walker (see #14)
23. Something You Throw Away: Receipts
24. Things You Shout: Rah, rah, rah!
25. Cartoon Character: Rocky (and Bullwinkle)

Keeping Abreast

There are a lot of things that have happened since I last wrote, and hopefully I will get to that sooner or later, but in the meantime I am always running across articles that I think are important. Oddly enough, much of my world news lately comes from a conservative think tank, the American Enterprise Institute. And I'm certainly not a Republican.

But in any case, the issue of world health is much on my mind lately, so I wanted to go ahead and post this bit by Roger Bate:

Honesty is a Virtue
Efforts to improve global health are often crippled by a state of denial. Failure to consider unfashionable modes of disease transmission or use proven but politically unpopular methods in disease prevention and control is illogical, dishonest, and should be exposed.

There was a great deal of media coverage recently denouncing Moammar Gaddafi's regime for condemning to death five Bulgarian nurses and a Palestinian doctor. The Libyan government alleged that these health workers had deliberately infected children with HIV in a hospital in Benghazi. The media graphically detailed the personalities in the case and their tragic circumstances (the nurses were allegedly sexually abused and tortured by the prison guards). But certain crucial parts of the story were only briefly illuminated, such as the fact that the unfortunate Libyan children received the virus not through sexual transmission but through poor clinical and hygienic practices.

Such "iatrogenic infections" account for an unknown but possibly large proportion of HIV infections in the poorer parts of the world. A recent study in the British Journal of Obstetrics noted: "There is mounting evidence that rapid HIV transmission is fuelled by parenteral exposures in health care settings, especially medical injections but also including transfusion of untested blood and others. . . . The common belief that 90 percent of HIV transmission in Africa is driven by heterosexual exposure is no longer tenable." Some studies have shown that as many as 40 percent of African HIV infections are linked to unsafe injections. This means that donor-supported vaccination programs, and possibly even HIV treatment programs (through increased testing), have helped spread HIV.

Far from being highlighted as a logical target for advocacy and action, however, such issues are neglected. Western HIV prevention programs, meanwhile, revolve around promoting safe sexual practices. Depending on what generates the least controversy at home, donor organizations promote policies varying from abstinence to effective condom use. These programs are not pointless, but they are an example of how funding is skewed towards what people in the West want to deliver.

And in their bid to keep the aid flow lines open, at all times and at any cost, host governments in poor countries often simply adopt these policies without paying proper attention to revamping their dysfunctional and severely under-funded health systems--the same systems that too often force medical personnel to re-use needles and transfuse unscreened blood. For lack of safe needles and blood-screening equipment, in other words, health workers have no option but to resort to unsafe health practices in an attempt to save patients' lives. The real culprits are undoubtedly government leaders like Gaddafi who do not admit that their own clinics and outdated practices are to blame for these misfortunes. But almost as culpable are those in the West who know about a major cause of infection and do nothing about it.

There are myriad other examples of failure to adopt sound approaches to disease control. Consider the use of the pesticide DDT in malaria control: Until the WHO and USAID recently reversed their positions on it, DDT's use had been discouraged by Western agencies for over 20 years. Alternative methods of malaria control (such as the use of bed nets) can work, and it is simpler for donors to promote one tool. But the best way to help those dying from the disease is to aggressively use all the weapons in one's arsenal, and there is strong evidence that indoor spraying of DDT can control malaria admirably. Yet given the chemical's poor image, the advocacy community has been slow to support its use.

More foreign aid, both public and private, can help promote public health in poor countries. But that will happen only if care is taken to make sure the aid is directed at appropriate targets and used wisely. No one wants to help spread HIV or combat malaria ineffectively, but that is unfortunately where many aid efforts stand today. This is why, as Laurie Garrett suggests, any credible global health aid effort must involve measures aimed at strengthening local health-care capacity. And developing nations themselves must also do better--for example, by doing away with the large regressive tariffs they impose on the import of essential medicines and medical devices, trade barriers that end up keeping the medicines from reaching the poor.

Roger Bate is a resident fellow and Kathryn Boateng is a research assistant at AEI.

With my Peace Corps volunteer service looming ever closer on the horizon, I find that the issues Bate touches upon here, as well as the issues I am researching in class and on my own, are becoming increasingly important to me. It seems clear that US policy has a far reach, and what we do in our country can have tremendous effect - both for good or ill - on a large number of people around the world. Someday I hope to be at the forefront of creating and implementing policies that serve the people who need our assistance most.

Anyway, that is my rant for the morning.