I suppose it happens to everyone at some point in their lives, but honestly I had no clue it would happen to me today. As of May 14, I will officially join the illustrious ranks of the unemployed having been laid off from my job.
I know this is the perfect forum to bash my soon-to-be former employer, but it's hardly my style. Hell, I got dumped and didn't even dish about the guy in this forum.
What I will do is use the extolled power of the Internet to network my ass off. I doubt I'll actually post my resume on the blog, but I do hope to use my resources as wisely as humanly possible (hey, I wasn't a Girl Scout for nothing).
So if you know of job opportunities in the nonprofit, government or corporate sectors I am extremely organized, I write well, I have experience in fundraising, event planning and foundations. I am most interested in project management as where I really excel is in getting things done. In the future, I think I would make a fantastic Chief Operating Officer.
Please contact me offline at rmmissel@gmail.com.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Whose Soul Food is This?
Last night I had the opportunity to help bust a friend's Indian food cherry at an excellent vegetarian place in the Desi community capital of Iselin, New Jersey. The explanations another friend and I offered to our neophyte - pakora is (sort of like Indian tempura), a dosa (crepe-like Indian burrito with potatoes) and paneer (it's like tofu and cheese had a baby) - attracted the attention of other restaurant goers and even got some smiling nods of approval.
My sense of Indian restaurant street cred soundly in tact and a supremely delicious mango lassi dancing down my esophagus, I pondered what it was about Indian food that I loved so much. Many people revel in it for the heat, others for the vast array of spices and flavors and I'm sure nostalgia plays a significant role for subcontinent natives and their descendents. But I've begun to think that for me, Indian cuisine represents something else entirely - it's my soul food.
Sure, there's the simple beauty of fried chicken, cornbread, greens, macaroni and cheese and those other standards we in the United States have come to acquaint with soul food. But I keep kosher and Southern food wasn't exactly created with a pork-free or vegetarian diet in mind. Other global cuisines can get a little heavy-handed with the treif. Whereas jumbalaya, rodizo and coq au vin, arguably pivotal and central dishes of Cajun, Brazilian and French cooking immediately form obstacles, Indian food and meatless go together like idli and sambar.
Right away, Indian scores in the accessibility department. Then there's pricing. Aside from a very snooty place in my town that charges $7 for a dish of basmati rice, most Indian food comes with a small price tag and big portions. Case in point, last night's considerable feast cost only $20/person and there were ample leftovers.
Everything I've described about Indian food so far could also be said about Chinese and several other culinary traditions that include a sizable Buddhist population. Beyond price, flavorfulness and lots of vegetarian choices, I believe my connection to this cuisine goes a little deeper. First, I think it's the inherently rustic nature of Indian food. You know this is food that real people eat in their homes on a daily basis. Plus, it includes lots of carbs and those are always comforting.
Though I grew up in a mildly-spiced home, owing to my mother's gastrointestinal woes, I spent quite a bit of time in the kitchen of my best friend, whose family is South Indian (Telegu for those in the know) and I was something of the white person guinea pig at dinner time. My friend's mother would always insist on feeding me, even despite my protests of having just eaten at my own house. I still wouldn't know how to order all the dishes I enjoyed around the Myneni family table, but I loved nearly all of them. Maybe those years of high school left an indelible mark on my palate or at least singed a few taste buds into craving more.
My more scientifically-knowledgable readers can perhaps offer insight into why some people crave one flavor profile while others loath it. Until then, all I know is that chaat (a snack of fried dough covered with chickpeas, yogurt, tamarind sauce, small crispy noodles, onions, coriander and spices) gets my mouth watering even as I write the description and other people are probably looking for a bucket. This strange concoction served on the streets of Mumbai and Hyderabad makes much more sense to me than the offerings of New Brunswick's grease trucks or the disco fries that appear at many a diner.
What does it say about me to love Indian food the way I do and what might it say about another who feels the same connection with Jell-O? Does every soul have a soul food? What's yours?
My sense of Indian restaurant street cred soundly in tact and a supremely delicious mango lassi dancing down my esophagus, I pondered what it was about Indian food that I loved so much. Many people revel in it for the heat, others for the vast array of spices and flavors and I'm sure nostalgia plays a significant role for subcontinent natives and their descendents. But I've begun to think that for me, Indian cuisine represents something else entirely - it's my soul food.
Sure, there's the simple beauty of fried chicken, cornbread, greens, macaroni and cheese and those other standards we in the United States have come to acquaint with soul food. But I keep kosher and Southern food wasn't exactly created with a pork-free or vegetarian diet in mind. Other global cuisines can get a little heavy-handed with the treif. Whereas jumbalaya, rodizo and coq au vin, arguably pivotal and central dishes of Cajun, Brazilian and French cooking immediately form obstacles, Indian food and meatless go together like idli and sambar.
Right away, Indian scores in the accessibility department. Then there's pricing. Aside from a very snooty place in my town that charges $7 for a dish of basmati rice, most Indian food comes with a small price tag and big portions. Case in point, last night's considerable feast cost only $20/person and there were ample leftovers.
Everything I've described about Indian food so far could also be said about Chinese and several other culinary traditions that include a sizable Buddhist population. Beyond price, flavorfulness and lots of vegetarian choices, I believe my connection to this cuisine goes a little deeper. First, I think it's the inherently rustic nature of Indian food. You know this is food that real people eat in their homes on a daily basis. Plus, it includes lots of carbs and those are always comforting.
Though I grew up in a mildly-spiced home, owing to my mother's gastrointestinal woes, I spent quite a bit of time in the kitchen of my best friend, whose family is South Indian (Telegu for those in the know) and I was something of the white person guinea pig at dinner time. My friend's mother would always insist on feeding me, even despite my protests of having just eaten at my own house. I still wouldn't know how to order all the dishes I enjoyed around the Myneni family table, but I loved nearly all of them. Maybe those years of high school left an indelible mark on my palate or at least singed a few taste buds into craving more.
My more scientifically-knowledgable readers can perhaps offer insight into why some people crave one flavor profile while others loath it. Until then, all I know is that chaat (a snack of fried dough covered with chickpeas, yogurt, tamarind sauce, small crispy noodles, onions, coriander and spices) gets my mouth watering even as I write the description and other people are probably looking for a bucket. This strange concoction served on the streets of Mumbai and Hyderabad makes much more sense to me than the offerings of New Brunswick's grease trucks or the disco fries that appear at many a diner.
What does it say about me to love Indian food the way I do and what might it say about another who feels the same connection with Jell-O? Does every soul have a soul food? What's yours?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Pulitzers for Everyone!
OK, so not for everyone but one for my friend Ryan. You may remember him from a post I wrote a few months back when he won a Polk Award. Well now he's clearly outdone himself and scored a fucking Pulitzer.
When most of the news in the journalism world has been gloomier than a General Motors quarterly accounting report, it's indescribable to know my former editor and roommate Ryan Gabrielson is now a Pulitzer-prize winner for his outstanding work on Reasonable Doubt.
From the Pulitzer site:
Awarded to Ryan Gabrielson and Paul Giblin of the East Valley Tribune, Mesa, Ariz., for their adroit use of limited resources to reveal, in print and online, how a popular sheriff’s focus on immigration enforcement endangered investigation of violent crime and other aspects of public safety.
There's a ton of great press about it, but here's a piece from my local NPR Station (WNYC). You can listen or read.
The Takeaway story touches on it, but what's really fascinating and yet incredibly sad about the backstory is that the reporter who worked with Ryan on this piece was laid off from the East Valley Tribune in January. Massive newsroom liquidations have become incredibly common across the nation with the devaluation of quality journalism, and this piece from Heat City does a great job putting in into perspective.
While it seems like my own blogger prize and ultimate writer's validation is still a ways off, I will continue to bask in Ryan's reflective glow... and relish those excellently embarrassing photos that much more.
When most of the news in the journalism world has been gloomier than a General Motors quarterly accounting report, it's indescribable to know my former editor and roommate Ryan Gabrielson is now a Pulitzer-prize winner for his outstanding work on Reasonable Doubt.
From the Pulitzer site:
Awarded to Ryan Gabrielson and Paul Giblin of the East Valley Tribune, Mesa, Ariz., for their adroit use of limited resources to reveal, in print and online, how a popular sheriff’s focus on immigration enforcement endangered investigation of violent crime and other aspects of public safety.
There's a ton of great press about it, but here's a piece from my local NPR Station (WNYC). You can listen or read.
The Takeaway story touches on it, but what's really fascinating and yet incredibly sad about the backstory is that the reporter who worked with Ryan on this piece was laid off from the East Valley Tribune in January. Massive newsroom liquidations have become incredibly common across the nation with the devaluation of quality journalism, and this piece from Heat City does a great job putting in into perspective.
While it seems like my own blogger prize and ultimate writer's validation is still a ways off, I will continue to bask in Ryan's reflective glow... and relish those excellently embarrassing photos that much more.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Off the Derech Mormon
For those who didn't grow up in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area, your entire conception of the Valley of the Sun may be limited to images of saguaro cactus, mind-melting summertime temperatures and a few Kurt Warner stats. There are a few others who've spent enough time in the area to have sampled our excellent Mexican food and those who've experienced the best golf courses Scottsdale has to offer. Usually, that's about all people know.
But if you go past the touristy parts of town and get to where real people spend their daily lives, then you're likely to run into Mesa, the state's third-largest city that was founded by Mormon settlers in the 1870s. Today the city of 500,000 is home to several hundred wards, stake centers, seminaries and other markers of the faith. There are churches where all the proceedings take place in Spanish and others designated for singles (which is actually a fantastic idea I wish the Jews would co-opt).
What there isn't often is a place within the Mormon fold for people who grew up in the religious ranks but who don't feel the strictest interpretations are the best fit for them. In the Jewish world, we call people who grow up "Orthodox," or "frum," or "traditional," or "fundamentalist," as being "off the derech," literally "off the path," when they leave behind their sometimes secluded life for something more liberal.
Luckily, the Jewish observance spectrum is profoundly broad and diverse and many of these people find a place for themselves that feels comfortable. It may mean wearing a kippah instead of a black hat or pants instead of skirts. It may also mean eating different foods, working different jobs or working different days altogether. What matters most for the purposes of this discussion is that no matter what, they are always Jews. They may be Reform, Conservative, post-denominational or just plain Jewish, but they are still Jews.
Short disclaimer: I am by no means an expert in the Mormon faith so please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong here. However, it's been my understanding from several young people who have felt their religious, political and theological ideas fall outside the norms of the LDS Church - that there is often little or no place for dissention, new interpretation and ritual selectivity. Put in layman's (or Heidi Klum's) terms, you are either in or you're out.
While some people can reconcile Saturday night beers or Sunday afternoon coffee (alcohol and caffeine are strictly verboten and Sundays are circumscribed as family time in the Mormon religion), with being a member of the Church, others sadly cannot. And sometimes the issue at hand is much bigger than a choice of beverage. Rather, it's about being homosexual or (gasp!) a Democrat. For some this means isolation, confusion, strained relationships with families and/or friends and even addiction.
Of course, the Jewish community knows all too well that addictions to drugs and alcohol often afflict those navigating the challenges of leaving the Orthodox world, and I'm sure it can happen to very observant Muslims, Protestants and Catholics too. Where the rub comes in for Mormons is that often the Church seeks to distance these people from the rest of the flock. Those not found in good standing are barred from certain ceremonies and the inner sanctum of the Temple becomes off-limits even for special occasions like a family member's wedding.
During my trip home to Mesa last week, I had a chance to reconnect with some high school friends who grew up LDS and who now struggle to live as they want but still go to church when they choose. It hurt me to see these young men (they happened to all be male) chafing against the fundamentalism but still desperate to be a part of the faithful.
We pondered what would come first - a woman president or a more liberal branch of the Church? Would we live to see a form of Mormonism that embraced critical questioning, progressive politics, women's leadership and lenient rules about caffeine/alcohol/sex? We had no answers.
For whatever its worth to new Church President Thomas S. Monson or anyone else out there, I hope more faith traditions take on the challenge of modernity and find a way to harmonize today's realities with yesterday's beliefs. Though I don't think Mormonism would work for me, I know many, many people who have found a spiritual, behavioral and moral guidance in the Church and that's really all any of us can ask for from any religion.
But if you go past the touristy parts of town and get to where real people spend their daily lives, then you're likely to run into Mesa, the state's third-largest city that was founded by Mormon settlers in the 1870s. Today the city of 500,000 is home to several hundred wards, stake centers, seminaries and other markers of the faith. There are churches where all the proceedings take place in Spanish and others designated for singles (which is actually a fantastic idea I wish the Jews would co-opt).
What there isn't often is a place within the Mormon fold for people who grew up in the religious ranks but who don't feel the strictest interpretations are the best fit for them. In the Jewish world, we call people who grow up "Orthodox," or "frum," or "traditional," or "fundamentalist," as being "off the derech," literally "off the path," when they leave behind their sometimes secluded life for something more liberal.
Luckily, the Jewish observance spectrum is profoundly broad and diverse and many of these people find a place for themselves that feels comfortable. It may mean wearing a kippah instead of a black hat or pants instead of skirts. It may also mean eating different foods, working different jobs or working different days altogether. What matters most for the purposes of this discussion is that no matter what, they are always Jews. They may be Reform, Conservative, post-denominational or just plain Jewish, but they are still Jews.
Short disclaimer: I am by no means an expert in the Mormon faith so please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong here. However, it's been my understanding from several young people who have felt their religious, political and theological ideas fall outside the norms of the LDS Church - that there is often little or no place for dissention, new interpretation and ritual selectivity. Put in layman's (or Heidi Klum's) terms, you are either in or you're out.
While some people can reconcile Saturday night beers or Sunday afternoon coffee (alcohol and caffeine are strictly verboten and Sundays are circumscribed as family time in the Mormon religion), with being a member of the Church, others sadly cannot. And sometimes the issue at hand is much bigger than a choice of beverage. Rather, it's about being homosexual or (gasp!) a Democrat. For some this means isolation, confusion, strained relationships with families and/or friends and even addiction.
Of course, the Jewish community knows all too well that addictions to drugs and alcohol often afflict those navigating the challenges of leaving the Orthodox world, and I'm sure it can happen to very observant Muslims, Protestants and Catholics too. Where the rub comes in for Mormons is that often the Church seeks to distance these people from the rest of the flock. Those not found in good standing are barred from certain ceremonies and the inner sanctum of the Temple becomes off-limits even for special occasions like a family member's wedding.
During my trip home to Mesa last week, I had a chance to reconnect with some high school friends who grew up LDS and who now struggle to live as they want but still go to church when they choose. It hurt me to see these young men (they happened to all be male) chafing against the fundamentalism but still desperate to be a part of the faithful.
We pondered what would come first - a woman president or a more liberal branch of the Church? Would we live to see a form of Mormonism that embraced critical questioning, progressive politics, women's leadership and lenient rules about caffeine/alcohol/sex? We had no answers.
For whatever its worth to new Church President Thomas S. Monson or anyone else out there, I hope more faith traditions take on the challenge of modernity and find a way to harmonize today's realities with yesterday's beliefs. Though I don't think Mormonism would work for me, I know many, many people who have found a spiritual, behavioral and moral guidance in the Church and that's really all any of us can ask for from any religion.
We're up to 213, but who's counting?
I can't promise I will always manage to link the Haveil Havalim of others back to this blog, but it's worth a shot. And since I hosted just a week ago, I feel it's good karma.
So here you go, courtesy of The Real Shliach.
Also, if you know of other great blog carnivals out there, please let me know! Finding new and wonderful places to promote Shtetl Fabulous can only help me reach my goal of world domination... or something like that.
If the rest of my evening is relatively uneventful, I'll try to eke out one more post before the end of my furloughcation. If you don't see something, it's because I've managed to hurt myself again in some ridiculous yoga accident.
So here you go, courtesy of The Real Shliach.
Also, if you know of other great blog carnivals out there, please let me know! Finding new and wonderful places to promote Shtetl Fabulous can only help me reach my goal of world domination... or something like that.
If the rest of my evening is relatively uneventful, I'll try to eke out one more post before the end of my furloughcation. If you don't see something, it's because I've managed to hurt myself again in some ridiculous yoga accident.
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