This book was a comprehensive and thoughtfully composed overview of recent Middle East events and history. I picked it up to help me gain a better understanding of all that is happening in the Middle East, and as far as this goal is concerned, the book did a great job. From the budding efforts of a mother agitating for fair elections in Egypt to the blunders of American foreign policy in Iraq, this book touches upon the political theaters in several major Middle Eastern countries (Syria, Lebanon, Iran…) all in a way that is easy to follow yet not overly simplistic.

The complexity of the region’s entrenched issues is still mind boggling but Wright manages to explain much of it with clarity and balance. She supports her observations and analyses with 30 years of interviewing people from all levels of involvement with Middle East politics: activists, thinkers, leaders in and out of power and both peaceful and violent, military personnel, American and UN officials, and everyday people. As a result, this book is hardly just a dispassionate description of current events and historical background (like the news sometimes); it becomes a compelling narrative that begs the reader to actually care about about what is happening there. I was continually drawn into the humanness of the struggles there, which helps form memorable impressions for me and bolster understanding from a micro and not just a macro point of view.

This book is ultimately as much about the struggles to solve the problems of despotic regimes, religious sectarian strife and power imbalance as it is about these problems themselves. Wright’s descriptions of homegrown, grassroots efforts to cultivate democracy are inspiring and galvanizing, and her accounts of brave activists’ struggles against violent intimidation tactics and government corruption heartbreaking. Ultimately (and in spite of the last chapter on the American occupancy of Iraq being depressing as heck), the book imparts a sense of hope and positivity: the Middle East may be beset by political challenges like never before, but the contrary to some strains of popular belief, the Middle East is not a region populated by willfully hostile ideological miscreants with no regard for human life; rather, it is full of people like us, trying to get by, and trying to influence it in what small ways they can. Even if that were the only message I took away from this entire book, I would call it a worthwhile read.

There are a few things in China that I could never quite get used to:

1. No understanding of how to stand in line and wait one’s turn
2. Lack of the concept of a personal bubble
3. No privacy when using public bathrooms
4. Spitting
5. Arguing as a publicly condoned form of communication
6. The way traffic works (which is to say, precariously and entirely dependent on twitch reflexes)
7. General lack of regard for others’ well-being (unless they are a potential source of money)

Delicious food and uber-friendly relatives (who try to give us even more gifts of delicious food) aside, bad public manners has been a constant theme of our trip to China. Being Chinese-born but American-raised with “Western” standards for acceptable public behavior in tow, I spent my fair share of time getting annoyed at it all. Once, sad to say, to the point of getting into an argument with someone for cutting in line. Yang and I also spent an embarrassingly considerable amount of time at the Expo conspiring to get back at people for misbehaving (none of the solutions, which ranged from bitch-slapping to cussing them out in English, seemed quite right… though they would have been pretty cathartic).

Despite that it annoys me to no end, bad manners doesn’t seem to be much of a problem here. People here are inured to it. They actually get kind of annoyed in return when I protest, for instance, someone squeezing in front of me to use the bathroom stall for which I waited 10 minutes. It’s like there is some mutually acknowledged unsaid agreement that if we all be equally rude to each other, there are no hard feelings, and by speaking out I am upsetting the established social order. And everyone knows that, in China, one just doesn’t upset the established social order, ever.

The fact of the matter is, as my mom and grandmother took turns explaining to me, China is still largely a poor agrarian country. Though the face it shows to the world is that of a modern, wealthy country with gleaming cars, cities of gravity-defying architecture, and Westernized attitudes and lifestyles, something like half of the Chinese people are still living as farmers with a subsistence income. Even the city people who’ve “leveled up” in society are only 1 or 2 generations away from living life in a farming village, where people sometimes have to fight tooth and nail for basic life necessities like the right to a water source. It’s no wonder that most of China still does not get the concept of “waiting one’s turn” or “letting someone else go first.” Moreover, living conditions in a rural Chinese village are still fairly rough, sometimes bordering on, uh, foul. (Jia’s stories of cheerfully riding home on top of a truckload of manure spring to mind.) There isn’t money to build walls with hinged doors around toilets, and nobody really cares if you spit (a.k.a. add your share of organic matter) off to the side of a corn field.

The rapid growth of China’s economy is for reals. (I saw it with my own eyes!) In a mere 20 years’ span, it went from a manufacturer of bad toys to having a major hand in global monetary flows.  But 20 years doesn’t really give people time to develop a new set of social mores to fit the BMWs and 5-story deluxe shopping centers. Urban China looks like a post-industrial country on the surface, and that gives people (me included) expectations that it should behave like one. But it’s still got the heart of a battle-scarred farmer used to struggle and hardship. Maybe these things will change eventually, or maybe they won’t. But that’s my home country for ya.

A week or so ago, Elliot Earls (a design practitioner and educator that I respect very much) wrote this prickly article condemning US art schools’ culture of underachievement. He blames Art School Confidential for promoting slackerism, and fires a colorful barrage of verbal abuse at those art school graduates who don’t work hard and put soul, heart, and bliss into their work.

The underlying idea resonates with my worldview to some extent. I can see why he thinks the art school world is filled with superficial money-chasers who don’t want to put any sweat or love into it, or entitled brats who are just there for a prepaid good time. I agree that it’s pitiful that we have so many treating their education, and all the rich resources it offers, with a consumptive, “show me” attitude. I’ve had those same exact cynical thoughts through my 4 years at SMFA, because I’ve seen it happen over and over.

And, in many ways, if I had more guts and a smoother way with words, I would have written a very similar post. I have a sizable bellyful of contempt for the slackers, moochers, and willful losers of our world. I subscribe to the hard-work-soaked-in-sweat-blood-tears ethos, to the occasional concern of those caring friends around me.

But somewhere over the course of reading that article, I realized why I couldn’t have ever written it. It basically comes down to this: I’ve met people.

I am lucky to have friends with a ton of different backgrounds and life experiences. My friends were once C students and Academic Decathlon superstars. They are riders of the mainstream and those who swim against it. Entitled majorities and embattled minorities. “High octane” personalities and easygoing ones. Et cetera.

Knowing all these people means I have seen them up close. And when you know anyone up close, you do not dismiss them with single word such as “slacker” or “achiever.”

I think I can safely say everyone I know, me included, is some combination of the two. We are all high achievers. We are all slackers.

But Earls’ article, at the onset, even in the title, has abrasively carved out two distinct camps into which all art students can be divided. The Bag of Meat and the Sentient Being. Speaking of false dichotomies.

I don’t care if being abrasive is his goal, which it probably is. But in any case, intent to abrade is no excuse for disregard of subtlety. Earls’ article is, in this respect, totally unfair and utterly impractical.  To even try to label a single individual as a slacker, moocher, or willful loser, vs. a shining beacon of achievement, is a problematic, if not impossible task. Yet Earls has just tried to label an entire generation as such. It is easy to condemn trends because they blend together and obscure details. But trends are not people; trends do not have priorities, difficulties, and feelings. Trends do not have health issues to courageously battle or familial problems to gingerly negotiate.

Furthermore, Earls’ article is more of a flailing, angry generalized rant than a constructive critique of anything in particular. In hindsight, I’m not really sure what his target was. The movies? Art students? Institutions? Everything in between? It really felt like his goal was to offend people into action. Polemicism as a pin-prick to the ass to get people achieving more, slacking less? Sorry, it feels good and righteous to write these things, and the orgy of “Ayes” coming from the choir must be downright orgasmic, but it doesn’t work. Making people defensive and angry is a lab-tested good way to preclude positive change.

Sure, I will always have this underlying belief that we could be harder, better, faster, stronger as a culture, society, and species. But at the same time, I think we really can do without the foaming rants. When it comes to the very personal issue of achievement, let’s be softer(-hearted) and slower (to judge).

Mother’s Day tomorrow. I’m home for the weekend. Our new house is shiny and clean, a freshly minted condominium community by Ryan Homes. There is one problem: there is no recycling.

Well, that’s technically not true. There’s recycling, but it’s not immediately obvious how to do it. You have to call the main office. Find out if trash pickup is done by the town. If so, you have to go to a local “convenience center.” Pick up a yellow bin. Put it out by the dumpster weekly. Hope it doesn’t get run over by the garbage truck, etc. My mom can’t be bothered. And I can’t convince her otherwise.

So I resign myself to tossing my (rinsed out) yogurt cup, my soda can, my orange juice carton, the 30 thin little plastic shopping bags you put vegetables in, the junk mail, etc. etc. (I actually experience a little clench of physical agony in my gut when doing this.) In the trash it all goes! In less than 24 hours time, the newly taken out trash is duly replenished.

Obviously, I feel like I have failed to live up to my principles. In my capacity as a closet activist, I’ve always believed that personal influence speaks stronger than picket signs. So I try to make everyone around me recycle. It isn’t much, but it’s the easiest, most immediately obvious way of doing something enviro-good, and most people can handle that.

So far I’ve been lucky; my friends and housemates have tolerated my exhortations to recycle and reuse extremely well. I’ve even convinced Jia, who absolutely hates washing Ziploc bags, to wash and use them repeatedly. Sometimes. But it’s progress.

With my mom, it’s just totally not possible. Short of starting a familial civil war, it’s just not gonna happen. But it seems wrong, because she’s family. And family should be the most susceptible to influence of all, right?

In the end, it’s probably not going to be worth it. But it’s frustrating to think that my housemates and I have gotten so good at reducing our waste (we take out the trash like once every 3 weeks… I know, gross. But it isn’t even full), and then here is someone I actually know, someone with whom I share genes, not recycling! The horror! I’m being totally sincere, by the way. And she uses all those little plastic bags to buy apples and oranges at the supermarket! I feel like my proverbial carbon has been offest. In the wrong direction.

I am comforted somewhat by the fact that recycling isn’t a perfect process, and actually might increase your carbon footprint. It’s a lot of heavy manufacturing to rework those papers and plastics into something usable again. And recycling paper actually generates buckets of toxic sludge from the de-inking and bleaching process. Cradle to cradle is a long way off…

Sigh, what can one little person do, other than keep washing those yogurt cups.