UC APPLICATION. For the Love of Diet Coke

I would imagine the sun rose just like any other day ... given my near certainty that there has yet to be a day where the sun has not risen - but I digress. On this particular day my life would be changed in a significant way. For the world, it was a day that would begin to reduce the value of morning coffee. This is the day that would bring forth the invention of Diet Coke.

Unfortunately, I can’t really be more specific in the whens and whos of this most monumentous event. Because this day, like hundreds of others, is shrouded in a veil of corporate secrecy. Over the course of my research I found many websites of dedicated fans such as www.jonsullivan.com, but for all their D.C. knowledge and resources, they offer no names or dates. Coca-Cola Corporation has built no monuments, given no credit. There seem to be no names at all associated with this most awesome creation, and the faces have been lost to time.

The creator eludes me ... who was this individual, or was it a group? Is there a small plaque dedicated to them in the Coke’s Atlanta headquarters? Did they understand the addictive qualities and the joy it would bring the world? For a product that inspires this kind of loyalty and dedication, how can we have no name to the inventor that brought it to us?

Am I merely a case of highly successful marketing turned bad? Do I suffer from an addiction? The signs are there. A material percentage of my weekly wages are spent in support of my habit. Every desk and workspace seems destined to drown in the sea of empty cans that accumulate behind and underneath. I need a can as soon as I wake up, and with every meal from there. It is as much a characteristic as my height and eye color, the red and silver can clasped in my right hand is just part of who I am.
And then there are the more subtle symptoms of addiction, including skillful avoidance of questions regarding the state of my health and diet, as well as consciously disregarding stories of its carcinogenic nature and the possible long-term damage to my liver.

It is for this reason that I hope that I can be boxed up and shipped back to the beginning of a new age, a time just before the world would come to know sweet cold refreshment without the 150 calories of guilt (only the distant ache of irreparable liver damage). I would find the person or people whose work has given me such happiness, and simply say, “thanks”.

MISSISSIPPI. Xmas Twenty-Oh-Three.

Dear family, friends, and random strangers,

This year has been another exciting chapter in my life. I’m finishing up with Teach
f[o]r America and moving on from saving the children in Mi[ss]issippi to adventures in business school. I was accepted at W[h]arton just a few days ago, and am about 90% certain I will be returning to Philadelphia to start the two year MBA program there in September. When I was confronted by my abandonment of good works in order to be "the man" I really had to be honest and admit that "the man" paid much better.

"The children" (14-20 year olds) keep me constantly challenged and entertained, because apparently I work them too hard and purposely keep my room "hot as an oven"... "Ms B! Ms B! Ms B I’m ‘bout to fall out. Why you keep it so hot up in here?," they shout. "To torture you, and make you miserable and hinder your ability to learn," I tell them. "What’s ‘hinder’?" ... ahh sigh.

Upon returning to the Delta this August I was greeted with a roster of 30 children in "Keyboarding" with a room of 6 working computers ... when I brought this issue to the attention of the administration I was told that perhaps they could "share". So I have a new technique for keyboarding that requires oversexed, sweaty teenagers to sit one next to another and type using one hand at a time.

In reality it hasn’t been all bad this year. My computers did eventually get repaired (I finally had 18), and I made nice with a counselor who magically makes all my bad children "disappear" into other classes ... when asked where, I have to honestly say ... I don’t care.

Along those same lines, in the news there was recently a case where two teachers in Florida were arrested for duct taping their children to a wall. Those of us in T[F]A were applauding those teachers for their restraint and ingenuity and really cannot understand where they went wrong (judgmental parents I suppose). I now take out the duct tape and often tell my students that story in order to inspire them to "be all they can be".

As far as a social life I am still trying to figure out where I can buy one at a good price. The mulleted hair cuts and gun racks of the Mi[ss]issippi Delta men has done much to encourage me to seriously consider lesbianism. Hopefully, the men situation will pick up at business school, where at least if I’m not financially successful, he may be. Please feel free to send any friends, family, or males of any kind my way. I’m single with low expectations.

Much love to all in the New Year!

Lisa

LONDON. Hostel Life

This lovely hostel definitely comes alive at night. Last night I walked into a scene of about 20 people chatting and drinking in the main stairwell (a.k.a. "the lounge"). Two locals had followed closely behind me and were walking in to yell at the night manager for the guitar music that had apparently been coming from upstairs in the hostel and driving them nuts next door for hours on end over the last two weeks.

The manager said it wasn't from our place but as I rounded the fourth floor I realized it was coming from my neighbors room, and as I walked into my overcrowded hole I was greeted by Robbie "the Scotsman". In his boxers on the top bunk smiling at me while smoking a cigar in bed he yelled out, "hope you like guitar music" to which he immediately followed up with a shout of, "stop that fucking noise!"

Introducing himself as Robbie, the Scotsman part became evident with his following comments about the "bloodiest ugliest fucking city in the UK, perhaps the world" (and London resident for the past 5 years). He was fairly quickly cutoff by Englishman Kevin whose eyes peered out from beneath the baby blue blanket he'd been issued upon check-in. "You just believe that Scotland is superior in every way" ... turns out Kevin is an ESL teacher who is currently trapped in this "shady shithole" due to his financing difficulties. Brad, "with the very American name", failed to join in the conversation, I do believe out of a fear he might say something that would lead the islanders to throw something at him. Basically, although Kevin didn't believe London was a "complete shithole" I was still definitely mistaken when stated that London was a great city.

Later that evening I earned back any points I'd lost when my feminine wiles made me a success with my 5 male roommates, because the party that was had previously been down on the ground floor "lounge" moved up to our neck of the woods around 2am. I was soon irritated enough to stick my head out the door and plead for them to move it back down to someone else's backyard (let them deal with it). I was thanked by the Spaniards for the "beautiful smile" I used to make my request (little did he know I was merely squinting to see in the bright lights).

Apparently this compliment was partly in reference to Robbie's previous attempts to move the Spaniards by opening the door and shouting "shut the fuck up you stupid wankers" ... In fact as a prize for my loveliness it was requested that I immediately join them in order for them to get to know me better. I declined, given my distinct lack of clothes and sleep and promised to join them this evening instead.

Well I'm off to see ... "Home Again", a new musical. I'll let you know if the Spaniards take me out on the town this evening.

MISSISSIPPI. Why are they all singing?

Am I on an "American Idol" ? Why are all of my students suddenly auditioning to five or six different tunes, almost with out fail completely out of key ... and all as Mavis (our typing software) pushes them merrily through their lessons.

As I yell out orders like, "be quiet! we are not in the cafeteria" from the comfort of my padded chair at the front of the class I can't help but wonder ... why am I obsessed with making these kids do so much for a grade in Keyboarding?

It's an obsession that TFA has pushed upon us since the application process, the need to exceed every expectation. It is an obsession that TFA tattoos on our forehead as we leave our summer in Houston and it is an obsession that keeps me coming up with interesting things to do with my kids during their 2 and a half hour typing classes.

INDIA[NA] JANE

Hello all. Well, today was my first real outing by myself. Promit's parents are wonderful and I'm having a great time here with them. Promit called today and I informed him that I'm electing myself as his replacement. I could definitely get used to a chauffeur and housekeeper that does everything from make your bed to leaving cold water by your bedside after turning down the bed for the night.

The rest of my journey is pretty much finalized. We have been dealing with a travel agent here that is setting everything up, including about a million flights and hotels. There isn't much by way of tours according to her (given the strange time of year) so mostly it will be me, a 3 star hotel and a driver ... needless to say the dreams of $40 a day were soon dispelled.

I could probably argue, but I figure that they know better than I when it comes to what to expect ... and given the distinct LACK of any other foreigners in the country I think finding reliable sources of transport to get around the sights might indeed be tricky. Not to mention the fact that you very quickly become accustomed here to being treated like royalty ... "yes madam," doors opened for you. People running ahead to get the car door open... very nice. I didn't know I had it in me!

Anyway. Driving in Mumbai isn't as bad as I had been told. In fact even in my first real cab of the day there have been very few near misses. I think the problem seems to be is that everyone here understands the code of constant horn blowing that comes across as simply utter chaos to any outsider! It is deciferable if you really pay attention.

Anyway, onto my journey. I went to Elephanta island ... after paying for my "luxury" 1 hour boat ride I joined shuffle, and was shuffled right on to a third class ferry, (minus the promised guide) and full of Indian tourists who looked at me as if I must be mentally deranged to be on this boat. Noone spoke. They just stared.

upon arrival to the island. I was still under the impression this was indeed the "luxury" crowd, and chased the rest of the boat down, because I figured they held the secret to our illusive guide ... so when a guy came up and send "I guide you" .. I breathed a sigh of (temporary) relief knowing that all was well, and these ancient Buddhist carvings would soon be explained to me without further cash outflows ....

HOWEVER, soon it was very clear this gentlemen had it only in his MIND that he should guide me while in fact ... I had been gypped and there was actually no guide accompanied my "luxury" vessel (only to find after trying to board another 3rd class ferry for the return journey and being hurried off that I was on the wrong boat).

... Ooops

How were the caves you ask? Confusing. Lots of really long names of people related to Buddha and various other deities, killing, marriages ... Given I had no guide I did my best, and decided instead to go get some lunch. The one fun part about Elephanta was the fact that here in India I am very much the equivalent of a rock star. Everywhere I go people stare and say hello to me, not to mention that I had 3 different families pose to have their picture taken with me ... strange.

I love to think of myself appearing in family albums across the nation. I could be some sort of American Mascot for India. Promit seems to believe it is due to my height.

I also took my first cab ride. Uh. interesting. There were exhaust fumes poring through the glove compartment (funny how I don't remember that in most diagram of the exhaust systems in my cars). And black smoke poring out the back... but this little old man, God bless him, had that pedal down to the floor as we took off into Mumbai traffic horns blaring as we went from 0 to 30 in 5.4 minutes. Hell it was a 20 minute ride that came to a grand total of a buck twenty. How can I complain??

Time for bed for me. I have to be up early and finish off my last day here with some chores. ... I'll leave you with this parable from the Indian History Museum this afternoon...2 Brothers fighting for the key to happiness and success. Their parents (deities of some sort in this case) said "He who goes around the world 3 times shall be the recipient of this great key". Well one brother hopped onto the back of his eagle (or some local bird) and started off on his journey. While the other brother who only had a hippo (i.e. large local creature) knew he could not possibly beat his brother. So instead he walked around his parents three times and asked for the key. They said "you haven't done as we asked, why would we give you the key??". He returned some nonsense about his parents indeed being the center of the world and he could see no further. Well, what kind of parents would argue that? And he got the key. While his brother was out there slaving around traveling around the world 3 times and stopping at all the temples along the way to pray for guidance.

How did THEY interpret the moral? ... sometimes brains can overcome physical lacking, and you parents are important .... blah, blah.

How did I interpret the story? ... suck up to your parents successfully and you will find nothing but success.