Jen Mayer

Feral Houses

houses consumed by plants.

i think these photos are beautiful

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I am taking a study break… to write on this article, “Look Out, Are You About to Join the White Underclass?” This article interested me for a number of reasons. First, my social background is one of bridging two social classes. Second, I am a nerd of sociology and topics of social class within the United States highly interest me.

Sociologists usually look at general trends within a population rather than individuals to gather data. Yet this topic hits close to home for me. I was born to parents living and working on a farm. Although at times throughout my childhood and adolescents I could present as middle class, I was more working class than anything else. As I go older, this class difference played itself out when I began to differentiate myself in the world. Living 2 ½ hours north of NYC, it became quite clear what was acceptable by the upper middle class “weekenders” and what was not. I learned that the ability to pass as middle class guaranteed certain benefits which unfortunately being viewed as working class did not. The main benefits are 1) being accepted and 2) the ability to make money. Though debatable if there is a difference between working class and underclass, Bageant tells it like it is:

“Another way we define underclass is as “losers.” People who cannot talk, think, or act like middle class professional and managerial workers, people who cannot even be posers. There is absolutely no excuse for these people. We’ve got television 24/7 to show’em how to behave.”

Although his argument is too simplistic at times by separating subjects into dichotomies of “this” or “that,” I appreciate the way Bageant sympathizes with the white underclass. He understands the way (white) middle class society functions and views the underclass. Another quote I enjoyed:

“In the end, race, gender or sexual preference are just moving parts of the class machine, with middle class perceptions setting the standard. You can indeed be black or queer, but with the properly buffed patina of white middle class mojo you can make it to the top, or near to the top of the heap (in America, proximity to the top of our cultural garbage heap is everything.”

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Today  I got so anxious. Living in this place and time there is so much pressure to save the world. We’ve got wars, and failing whales, and global warming, and peak oil, and evil food empires and…..

Goodness, saving the world would be a wonderful thing. But it’s also an overwhelming concept to hold onto. One of my favorite bloggers, Ran Prieur posted the other day in response to an ongoing thread on his website’s discussion board. The board was conversing about permaculture and whether it is possible to save the world through the actions of permaculture. He writes:

I’m seeing what I call the Utopian Dictator Fallacy: that it is both right and possible for us to decide how everyone else is going to live. Combine this with historical narcissism, that we live at the most important moment of all history, and you get the arrogant (and stressful) idea that you and I can and should decide the whole future of the planet.

I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of days now and it has inspired me to look at my actions in a different way. In addition to looking at the role my actions play in the contribution to the future, I have challenged myself to look at how my actions contribute to what is happening right now. And I came up with a recipe to chill.

Recipe to Chill

1. Put some pure lavender essential oil on your hands
2. Poor a tall glass of raw milk
3. Recline into something supportive and soft
4. Breath lavender, drink milk
5. Meditate on the joy of the present
6. Repeat and continue with the rest of your day

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June: the sixth month. My birthday month. 26 years here.  Also marks my 6th year in practice as a massage therapist. So it’s a year of six.

I graduated three weeks ago from CU. Already I am feeling able to let go of that section of my life. Good-bye academia, I fell for you while I was there but now I am so excited to move forward. For the past four years I have been aspiring to learn the arts and skills of midwifery. There are many different avenues to pursue the training for midwifery in the United States, but for me earning a BA was part of this journey.

This summer I am taking two classes at the local community college. My friends and family think I am insane for not taking a break, but it feels so different to be taking these classes solely for the purupose to get into the midwifery program. I can totally geek out on science while being energized by becoming *that* much closer to starting my midwifery education. Plus my microbiology class is all of 12 students. A welcomed change from the 200+ science lecture halls at CU.

The garden is growing. Slowly the starts come up as we planted later than many here in the Front Range. Oh! And we have a new creative project going on: www.homesteadpretty.com, a collaboration with my neighbor Anthony.

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Garden growing season. my second favorite time of year, second only to the fall when we harvest so much food. this year i was quite ambitious with my seed order. Ordering over twenty varieties of vegetables, herbs and flowers. We planted a bed of potatoes, onions and carrots, all of which have yet to pop their first leaves. Yesterday I got some kale, chard, golden beets, arugula and cilantro in the ground. Thank you Alex friend for your seed sowing assistance. Life without college classes is quite enjoyable thus far. Though, this freedom is short lived, as I beging summer classes June 1. Dang.

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April is here. Hooray!

I grew up on an alfalfa sprout and vegetable farm in upstate NY. Every spring signaled for my father and I to spend a few weekends in the basement sowing seeds into plastic “6-pack” trays. We worked on a deteriorating work bench which was stained by oil, grease and silver paint from many generations of use. The basement felt humid in contrast to the dry dehydrated potting soil we mixed with water to nurture tiny seeds. We stacked these plastic flats covered with opaque coverings on top of one another to germinate. Eventually with time and water these trays would house small plant sprouts. We then transported these new plants from the basement across the lawn and driveway to our large greenhouse where they would continue to grow in the warm protected environment. Eventually these plants became large enough to transplant into my garden. I would tend to sunflowers, zinnias and various vegetables through the summer. But every year, it all begins now. In April!

What now?

Today I live in Colorado, and I am fortunate to have lots of space to construct a garden. This is my fourth summer at 101 Pearl (wow, really?). Every year the neighbors and I plant a vegetable garden in our front yard, and every year this garden has grown bigger and bigger. This year we have become very ambitious, as we begin to connect our various gardens together. I recently placed my seed order, which will be it’s own post. Pictures soon… I wonder how much FOOD we can GROW this year.

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Tomorrow I get to pick up my first week of raw milk. One luscious, creamy gallon a week. I’ll probably need some help consuming all that milk. Neighbors- look forward to milk!

photo: rex miller

If you have never tried raw milk, it is incredibly different than pasteurized and/or homogenized milk. The only way I can describe it is, raw milk tastes alive and fresh. You could compare the differences between pasteurized and unpasteurized orange juice. The food loses something in the heating process.

There are many health benefits for drinking raw milk. Link to rawmilk.org and The Campaign for Real Milk.

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Is it March that comes in like a lion and out like a lamb?

I hope so.

This weekend I am finishing a thesis project I have been working on for the last 2 years. It’s on Feminism and Childbirth. There are a few feminist critiques on childbirth, and midwifery is usually given as the remedy. So to expand on this body of knowledge I conducted semi-structured interviews with homebirth midwives in Colorado. My intention was to learn their professional needs, the needs of birthing women and their thoughts of feminism. I had the pleasure to spend about 20 hours chatting with homebirth midwives about their experiences, and learned more than I have over two years of library research.

Blackout

And while cruising the internets I stumbled upon this 2005 essay by Tim Boucher on the 2003 blackout in the Northeast. As I am intrigued by the possibilities of our society changing (read crash), this essay is a romantic look at what happens when the lights go out. I was in upstate NY during this blackout, working at a SOHO comes upstate mexican restaurant. I served my last table of the afternoon by candlelight and served them whatever could be prepared without electricity. That evening was spent star gazing with a friend into the newly darkened sky drinking whatever alcohol was at the house (not much) while wrapped in a down comforter on the roof. Even the cars on a busy country road were quiet. Needless to say, I was disappointed when the power came on the next day. The dream was gone.

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