Immigrants as Frankenstein

The Frankenstein's edition I have, edited by J. Paul Hunter, is divided into three volumes and every volume into several chapters. In the chapter III of the second volume, Victor Frankenstein acknowledges how the monster learned about nature, light, fire, food, etc. From the text:

"Several changes of day and night passed, and the orb of the night had greatly lessened when I began to distinguish my sensations from each other. I gradually saw plainly the clear stream that supplied me with drink, and the trees that shaded me with foliage. I was delighted when I first discovered that a pleasant sound which often saluted my ears, proceeded from the throats of the little animals who had often intercepted the light from my eyes. I began also to observe, with greater accuracy, the forms that surrounded me, and to perceive the boundaries of the radiant roof of light which canopied me. Sometimes I tried to imitate the pleasant songs of the birds, but was unable. Sometimes I wished to express my sensations in my own mode, but the uncouth and inarticulate sounds which broke from me frightened me into silence again."

In bold are the expressions that have value for me. If I look at it with my immigrant eyes, I read in it that we, the immigrants, are like Shelley's monster. We need to learn on our own how to behave in our new country. When, at the beginning of our stay in our adopted land, we try to talk, our words may apparently making no sense. Not only we need to learn a foreign language, but what to eat, how to cook, how to walk... and we may call a bird a "animal with wings" because we don't know the word "bird" yet. The list is endless. Everything is new to us: the people, the texts, the politics, the food, the roads... Only after the initial confusion vanishes, we can distinguish our sensation from each other, we can see (clearly) the stream that supplies us with water....

The whole process of learning is slow and painful. At the end, we may be different from what we were originally. In this process we may lose forever a part of our "self" .

Sir Elton: “Vote for Hillary Clinton!”

A few days ago, Elton John played, in New York, a fundraiser concert for Clinton’s campaign. The article I stumbled onto it is funny and true. The author is a clever writer too. It is a great article first because it points up that even non-citizens can comment on American politic (especially if they raise money for political campaigns!), and give advices on who should be the next president; second, even though Sir Elton spends most time in America, he still sees America with a stranger’s eyes. Now, Elton John is not much the matter here, but he may be an example of how foreigners, who don’t actually live in the US, can have a wrong pick on American society, culture, and thus on its politic.

John stated that Americans are misogynist. (Of course, Hillary didn't comment on the statement, and this is what she said). They are not! It is not that Hillary Clinton shouldn’t govern America because she is a woman, but rather she shouldn’t be the next president because she seems able to transform politic in soap opera. Then again, assuming that she will be the new president, the US will may have three leaders in one because her husband and her daughter seems to play an important role in her political life.

Americans should vote Clinton if they want to live a “fairy tale”.


YOU DO NOT VOTE FOR CLINTON SAGA!

Update: I just found out on The New York Times that "Mr. John, a foreign national, cannot under federal law make any contribution to a federal, state or local election campaign." Check on the blog post. Does Hillary know any federal law at all? Where the 2.5 million dollar raised will go now?

This is another article from The Huffington Post

Stay Teen: an Innocent Video for a Big Idea

This is an ad from the national campaign. It is beautiful in its semplicity. Teen pregnancy is a concern for families and society. The national compaign strives to make teens stay teen. Ckeck out their web site, and enjoy the video.

Online Pregnancy Test

During my first months stay in America, I noticed that everywhere I went there were children. I thought it was positive fact, but I didn’t imagine that many of those children were the result from a high-school or first-year- college error or weakness.

At the time, I enjoyed seeing those kids around. They signified, I believed, that America was a young nation, and that it would always been a young nation due to its human force’s recycling. I didn’t know anything about “teen pregnancy” until I realized that many of those children were born from children. Until then, I never knew anyone who actually had a baby when he or she was still a teen. Then I heard about twelve-year-old women who got pregnant… what? Twelve years old? I thought my narrator was kidding, I didn’t believe her. I thought she wanted only to shock me. With the time, I understood she wasn’t kidding at all and that teen pregnancy is a real thing.

Browsing the Net, I found this web site. It seems to help potential pregnant girls understanding if they are expectant or not. It is called “on-line pregnancy test”, and, of course, it is not a real test, but it may help with counting the days, etc. “If you are 13 year old or younger, click here,” the main page says. I hit it. A new screen asked for a name and an email address, so that someone could stay in touch with the person who clicked the link.

Women don’t get pregnant only thinking about sex/love, they actually do need to have sex/love – well, it is not always the case because of the scientific progress in matter of fecundity but, authentically, women need to have sex in order to get pregnant. Now, what sex may be for a 12 or 13 years old woman (I consider her a woman, at least physically, if she longs for sex)? Why do kids need to have sex? Why do need to rush their first time? They should wait for the right time – in this case “right time” is not a fallacy –not only because it is important to find the right person (at least for the first time!), but because one need a certain maturity to practice sex.

Sex may be OK (it is OK! and always take precaution), but wait a few more years. For god’s sake, teens, you have all the time in the world!

Cell Phones/Seclusion

Cell phones are annoying. I dislike them and I use them only when necessary. Today, people seem cannot life without at least two or three technological devices. Among them, I bet, one may include his or her cell phone. I see people sending SMSs while they are “listening” to teachers who do their best to deliver a lecture from decent to great. I see people checking their email, taking picture, downloading songs and ringtones on their phones.

One may discourage a face-to-face conversation trying to stay in touch with the external world through cell phones. This may be how: many times I tried to talk to people I knew, but, what a coincidence!, they took their phones right at the moment I was opening my mouth. I never tried to speak to them again!

Look what happen to a student who answered the phone while a professor was lecturing!

My Experience at McDonald: when "Fast" Became Clear in my Mind

I never ate hamburgers prior to arrive in America. Now I don’t eat them very often, but sometimes I do. A couple years ago, I sought a job at McDonald's. They gave me a job as assistant manager. The salary wasn’t bad, and the store was close to my house. I accepted the job as if it was a “regular” job; only later, I realized that I was going to fulfill duties that clashed with my beliefs.

During the time I was at McDonald's, I found out a few things about myself and about the corporation. I understood that I am not a pushy person, and thus I am unable to tell people what to do and how to do a certain thing. I believe in advises, but suggestions weren’t what McDonald was looking for its employees. The company needed someone who could walk over the tired bodies of its minimum-wage employees. My job could have been decent if only my supervisors allowed me to act according to my ideals that, instead, seemed to be a big issue for them. That my thought was a problem for them came out when they decided to activate what, from then on, I called “human drive-thru.” They planned it like this: during peak time (about 11 am until 2 pm), McDonald's wanted two drive-thru lines. One was the “classic” drive-thru customers were already accustomed to, for the other one, an employee, in order to take as many orders as possible, had to wait for the consumers on the parking lot under the burning Florida’s sun.

McDonald's wanted another drive-thru line to increase the production, make more hamburgers in a certain time range. Only then I understood how important Time was for McDonald’s. Only then I understood why its food is “fast food.” If customers had to wait more than one and a half minute, the food wasn’t “fast food” anymore!

The term “fast” became one of my major concerns because the sandwich-makers (most of them underpaid Spanish women) had to run a doubled quantity of food within the same time frame they used working with only one drive-thru line. McDonald's planned two drive-thru, but the number of workers behind the counter didn’t increase.

Every served customer was a goal for the store, but it wasn’t for me. I didn’t care about time, but about those employees who sweated and puffed over the food incited by a fat-ass general manager. All the managers were excited at serving two customers every three minutes or less, but I wasn’t.

Although I believe that customers are always right and they should be served as fast as possible, at McDonald's, this model worsened. I just wanted to scream “Stop it! Stop those freaking drive thru lines and give water to these poor women!” But I didn’t say anything. I was sure the managers could not understand me. They all were concentrated on money and time. All mangers incited workers to improve the production.

At that point, in order to continue working at McDonald's, I had to change what I was and the way I was raised. Could a hamburger be worth much? I left McDonald's. I didn’t want to treat “my employees” like slaves only because I had to please a few hundred customers per day. My decision no to work for McDonald's maybe didn’t change the harsh working condition of those employees, but I, an immigrant, didn’t consent a mammoth American corporation to trap me in its web.

Dead End: a Redundancy

Yesterday, after about twenty miles that I was riding my bike, I literally found myself in the wild. Until that moment, I didn’t realize that in Florida the sign DEAD END advises a driver that a road ends in the middle of nowhere and it doesn’t connect to any other street.

DEAD END seems a redundancy because “end” implies some death. Of course, it doesn’t imply “death” all the time, because, for instance, the end of a movie doesn’t infer the death of that movie. However, in the road’s case, the pick may be different: a road that ends is also dead because it doesn’t meet any other roads. DEAD ROAD would be enough to give the sense of the road that is not going to connect to anything.

In Italy, they use only a sign to indicate a DEAD END. To miss that may be a trouble, or perhaps one may find this (check it out!)! Lo, I found only palmetto trees and fire ants!

Look up also this DEAD ROAD. That's just hilarious. It links to what I say about "end' and "death"!

Nonna Pizza: a Story of Immigration

Nonna Pizza is a 1,000-square-feet restaurant located off Pine Island Road in Cape Coral. Its kitchen, oven, and refrigerators take up most of the space leaving a dining area of five tables. Here, diners may enjoy the view of the Italian gulf that a local artist painted on the wall. The entire enterprise took more than a couple months to complete. Pictures from Italy decorate the other wall of the restaurant. Some are photos of Rome but most of them were shot in Cerisano, a tiny place of 3,000 people located in the heart of southern Italy, where Nonna Pizza’s owners comes from. For these people, Nonna Pizza proved that the America dream still exists and that everybody can achieve it if only he or she will to work hard. As many other families, also Nonna Pizza’s owners come from a poor background. Money was always a problem for them. They didn’t have enough to get by while they were in Italy.

These are the immigrants to whom I am trying to give a face in this blog. These are my people and their struggle is my struggle. I found their faces everywhere, among my books, among my words, language, poems. These are the immigrants Dufresne, I believe, was talking about in his interview. These people may learn a word of two just to be able to survive in America. These people never pretend to go to school and to become doctors; they look only for food, a job.

A JOB can be a “big word,” the most important word for them. It can be the ticket that releases them from their misery. To drive a $2,000 car may be enough for them because in their country they did not have any car. To buy two t-shirts at Wal-Mart may be enough for them because in their country they didn’t have money to buy new clothes; to own a house built in the 70s, infested here and there with some “roches”, may be ok because in their country they couldn’t buy a house…

They don’t pretend much. They only need a chance.