Hi guys!
First of all, apologies to those who aren't taking our Qualitative Methods class on Wednesday...but I didn't have a group email address available, so I thought that this blog would be the easiest way to contact you guys.
I spoke to Prof.Bailey earlier today, and had suggested for us to meet earlier on Wednesday Dec 10th, at 3PM instead of 3.30PM to make sure that we all get to present on that day, so that neither of us would have to go back and present on Tuesday morning at like 8AM or something:)
Bailey is OK with it, so perhaps for those of us who can make it earlier, we could start the class early. For those who can't make it, you could just come at the usual time.
What do you guys think? Shall we go for it?
Take care and perhaps you could respond to me via email? slie@comm.umass.edu
Thanks beforehand!
Sunny
Monday, December 8, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
A cat
Leda asked me to share this photo of my cat Vuk with you all. As you can see, he takes after me. And yes, I am one of those people who think their pets are the most interesting thing in the world :Dd
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Communication as. . . identity
Here's a great video/song--some of the better theorizing on identity. . . .
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YO9FpWX57E
Thanks to those of you who have posted. Sunny, thanks for your stories!
Leda
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YO9FpWX57E
Thanks to those of you who have posted. Sunny, thanks for your stories!
Leda
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Communication as storytelling: macho macho man
Sunday afternoon, November 16th, 12.30PM, Amherst Coffee
Sitting across the folk band that was headlining the Sunday entertainment offering at Amherst coffee, I wandered and wondered around the room observing the patrons (wait a minute...is that a plastic banana one of the band members is using to hit her bongo?? It is! it's too yellow and...plastic-y to be a real one). You have the good looking, middle-upper class, contemplative sketcher, sketching away in his little black book interesting characters in the cafe, maybe even the plastic banana. Of course, he was donned in Burberry wear. He's missing a pipe and checkered hat. He could be Sherlock Holmes.
Sitting next to me in the long table are two college girls with their hippie accessories and hand-knitted hats. They were both knitting and exchanging tips on how to cross stitch the right away. Across from me a big tattooed-armed man sat with a cup of Jade Dragon Green Tea (pretentious at best, ethnocentric "let's call everything Chinese-related Jade, Dragon, and Green" at worst). He was looking down, his hands were busy. He was....knitting. Shock! Horror! Biker dude with eyebrow piercings and elaborate tattoo knitting??
He looked up (god please don't let it be because of my staring), walked towards me and...started conversing with the 2 college girls. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear that you were discussing about cross-stitching. I was wondering if you could take a look at what I did for this scarf I'm making. Do you think I should cross twice? I'm not sure because I don't wanna waste yarn y'know." The 3 immediately engaged in an exclusive conversation on their creations...with needles yarns in their laps. "I come here every Sunday to knit" says Harley (dude), "it's so great to see other people doing the same as well" He bid the girls goodbye and slowly made his way back to his little private universe of peace-knitting.
Gender is social-construction.
Sitting across the folk band that was headlining the Sunday entertainment offering at Amherst coffee, I wandered and wondered around the room observing the patrons (wait a minute...is that a plastic banana one of the band members is using to hit her bongo?? It is! it's too yellow and...plastic-y to be a real one). You have the good looking, middle-upper class, contemplative sketcher, sketching away in his little black book interesting characters in the cafe, maybe even the plastic banana. Of course, he was donned in Burberry wear. He's missing a pipe and checkered hat. He could be Sherlock Holmes.
Sitting next to me in the long table are two college girls with their hippie accessories and hand-knitted hats. They were both knitting and exchanging tips on how to cross stitch the right away. Across from me a big tattooed-armed man sat with a cup of Jade Dragon Green Tea (pretentious at best, ethnocentric "let's call everything Chinese-related Jade, Dragon, and Green" at worst). He was looking down, his hands were busy. He was....knitting. Shock! Horror! Biker dude with eyebrow piercings and elaborate tattoo knitting??
He looked up (god please don't let it be because of my staring), walked towards me and...started conversing with the 2 college girls. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear that you were discussing about cross-stitching. I was wondering if you could take a look at what I did for this scarf I'm making. Do you think I should cross twice? I'm not sure because I don't wanna waste yarn y'know." The 3 immediately engaged in an exclusive conversation on their creations...with needles yarns in their laps. "I come here every Sunday to knit" says Harley (dude), "it's so great to see other people doing the same as well" He bid the girls goodbye and slowly made his way back to his little private universe of peace-knitting.
Gender is social-construction.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Maxwell's pressed lenses during an Indonesian lunch event
Hi everyone!
I would like to share an interesting experience I had yesterday afternoon. I was invited to an Indonesian lunch event Apparently it's a monthly venue for Indonesians in the Pioneer Valley area to socialize and get together. During the few hours I was there, I experienced both gender and ethnic chasms that reminded me of aliens and Maxwell's pressed glasses.
When I arrived, I found some women doing last minute preparations for the meal. The men were asked to come at 12.30. It was 1PM. I assisted with the setting up and preparations. The organizer commented that it's the job of us women to cook and prepare, for the men to come and eat, and for the women again to clean up and make sure that everyone goes home with packed leftovers (it was a delivered in a joking manner, but nevertheless, that's what we did). When the men finally arrived, we proceeded to the buffet table (with the women insisting that the men go first, but at this point I didn't care so I just joined in on the line because I was hungry). Each of us then brought our plate to designated seating areas: again, the men sat on the living room couch, and then women stayed in the kitchen area. I drifted between the two areas, both as a conscious effort to bridge the chasm between the 2 apparently gendered spaces, as well as to have closer access to the food (yeah I wrote the first reason to justify why I'm posting this story on the blog in the first place:))
To add to what I now consider as uncomfortable and divisive gender roles was my ethnic Chinese background, which is a tender issue due to historical and institutionalized hostilities between us and the so-called "native" Indonesians. When I introduced myself to one of the gentlemen who came late and was ready to fill himself with a delicious home-made meal, he asked me where I'm from. Although the imaginary bubble in my head had these words in it: "Indonesia you idiot, why else would I be here??", my gracious (read: hypocritical:)) social-self answered politely that I'm from Jakarta.
Peters, in this week's reading, said something about how our attempts to communicate with the so-called non-humans; machines, animals, and aliens, functions to cover up the fact that we are alien to ourselves, that we seek to bridge the communication failure amongst one another through efforts to reach out to these other beings. Attending the lunch yesterday reminded me not only of our inability our to bridge ours self-created chasms of gender and ethnicity, but also of Maxwell's pressed lenses and how no matter how hard he tried to make the lenses meet, there's still a gap between them. In a setting where the rules of the game I'm supposed to be most familiar with, written in an unspoken language that I'm most familiar with, I felt the unbridgeable chasm, and went home feeling like a well-fed alien.
I would like to share an interesting experience I had yesterday afternoon. I was invited to an Indonesian lunch event Apparently it's a monthly venue for Indonesians in the Pioneer Valley area to socialize and get together. During the few hours I was there, I experienced both gender and ethnic chasms that reminded me of aliens and Maxwell's pressed glasses.
When I arrived, I found some women doing last minute preparations for the meal. The men were asked to come at 12.30. It was 1PM. I assisted with the setting up and preparations. The organizer commented that it's the job of us women to cook and prepare, for the men to come and eat, and for the women again to clean up and make sure that everyone goes home with packed leftovers (it was a delivered in a joking manner, but nevertheless, that's what we did). When the men finally arrived, we proceeded to the buffet table (with the women insisting that the men go first, but at this point I didn't care so I just joined in on the line because I was hungry). Each of us then brought our plate to designated seating areas: again, the men sat on the living room couch, and then women stayed in the kitchen area. I drifted between the two areas, both as a conscious effort to bridge the chasm between the 2 apparently gendered spaces, as well as to have closer access to the food (yeah I wrote the first reason to justify why I'm posting this story on the blog in the first place:))
To add to what I now consider as uncomfortable and divisive gender roles was my ethnic Chinese background, which is a tender issue due to historical and institutionalized hostilities between us and the so-called "native" Indonesians. When I introduced myself to one of the gentlemen who came late and was ready to fill himself with a delicious home-made meal, he asked me where I'm from. Although the imaginary bubble in my head had these words in it: "Indonesia you idiot, why else would I be here??", my gracious (read: hypocritical:)) social-self answered politely that I'm from Jakarta.
Peters, in this week's reading, said something about how our attempts to communicate with the so-called non-humans; machines, animals, and aliens, functions to cover up the fact that we are alien to ourselves, that we seek to bridge the communication failure amongst one another through efforts to reach out to these other beings. Attending the lunch yesterday reminded me not only of our inability our to bridge ours self-created chasms of gender and ethnicity, but also of Maxwell's pressed lenses and how no matter how hard he tried to make the lenses meet, there's still a gap between them. In a setting where the rules of the game I'm supposed to be most familiar with, written in an unspoken language that I'm most familiar with, I felt the unbridgeable chasm, and went home feeling like a well-fed alien.
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