The Republica Update/Intervention by Text

The word intervention has become much more prevalent in the American vocabulary thanks to shows like A&E’s  appropriately-titled ‘Intervention,’ which takes the docu-drama approach to one’s battle with addiction, and ‘How I Met Your Mother’ which had an entire episode centered on interventions, like when your friends have to reason with you to stop wearing red cowboy boots, as you can so not pull them. This is what loved ones are for, to keep you in check. To let you know when you’ve gone too far.
Traditionally, interventions are for people with an addiction, usually alcohol or drugs with the occasional gambling problem thrown in there for good measure. Said intervention gives the people who are nearest and dearest to you the opportunity to confront you, detailing your missteps on the path to self destruction and how it is not only affecting your life, but their’s as well (insert guilt here). (Read More)

september 2011

fire trucks revisited

uptown collective

september 2011

flowers are nice

september 2011

3000 miles in 72 hours: part III

august/september 2011

orgullo

uptown collective

 

august 2011

dusk

uptown collective

august 2011

The Republica Update/I Am White

 

I am white.

It is painful for me to admit, but it is time I came clean. I was raised, for the most part, in white suburbia along with friends who came from homes with similar economic situations and ancestry with similar cocktails of European blood.

The reason I make note of this is that, despite the fact that I grew up in an analogous environment, fraught with middle class ignorance and small town aspirations, my parents somehow aided in my ability to break free of my pedestrian upbringing and be open to new experiences and new people. No small feat for a girl who could name the black kids she went to school with.

Most everyone I know has experienced some sort of discrimination. Many believe that being a white kid from the suburbs makes you immune to such scrutiny, but it most certainly does not. In college my co-workers paid no mind to the fact that I too was sweating my ass off and taking all of the double shifts I could handle because they were under the assumption that my daddy paid for everything. An assumption made all the more humorous when you actually know the man that (with my mother) gave me life. At first I was offended, and then became indifferent. (Read More)

august 2011