The following is the final part of an opinion paper I wrote for my expository writing class.
I suppose I should clarify the meaning of “differing.” I derive my definition from Edward Said’s Orientalism, somewhat. In this book, he argues European elites would record history and often omit the merits of other cultures considered nonwhite. At the same time, they would downplay the atrocities European nations have caused in other countries. Ultimately, it comes down to creating conscious but superficial differences between races to keep propagating false ideas of supremacy and entitlement. Differing has had incredibly damaging effects on America. Arizona will continue to “differ” people by asking them for legal documentation solely based on their appearance, the way they dress, or maybe even the restaurants they frequent. This law sends out the message that if you are different, you deserve to be harassed for papers and if you just so happened to forget your drivers license, you are going to jail. Yes, for being different. For not resembling an American citizen.
I believe Arizona has failed to understand there is no quintessential American citizen. There never has been. Most Americans do not derive from America, unless you happen to Native American. For those who can trace their lineage to the days of colonialism, I think it is important to realize that their ancestors were in fact here illegally. They chased out the real Americans off the land. Had a law like Arizona’s been around in the late 17th century, there would be no modern day America. So, the real question I would like to pose is: How is Arizona going to enforce this inane law without being incredibly discriminatory? The answer is that it is not possible. Americans will again tap into the dark legacy of shunning those that come from different backgrounds and force them to assimilate into whatever “American”culture really is. The fact of the matter is this will not happen. It never has. This new law is no more than a poor excuse to go on a witch hunt.
Differing has never solved anything for this country. It has been the cause of countless social problems and misunderstandings. If this law does indeed go into effect in June, it will force people to continue differing, to point out what is “wrong” in others based on their superficial differences. Illegal immigration is a problem, without a doubt. But having law enforcement identify them on a hunch because of the way they look is ludicrous. There has to be alternatives to counteract illegal immigration. Until then, let people celebrate their culture without fear of being singled out for it.
So there you have it, some historical perspectives on discrimination in the United States and how it compares to the stupid Arizona illegal immigration law. I am not sure how effective this essay is so if you just so happened to read it all, let me know in the comments! Or in person! Don't sugarcoat it either; I want to know the honest truth.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Differing, Part II.
The following is the second part an opinion paper I wrote for my expository writing class. I'll post the last part in the next few days.
African-Americans have not been the only group to suffer the government’s--and the general public’s--incompetency. Immigrants of the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century encountered problems of their own. When immigrants from southern and eastern Europe and especially Ireland, they were promised a land that would not discriminate, a land that can make all their dreams come true. Sadly, this was not the case for many of them. It is no secret that urban life in the 1800s and early 1900s was appalling: lack of plumbing and a proper sanitation department meant filthy conditions, inadequate tenement housing made for unimaginable cramped quarters, and very low wages meant staying in these conditions. All in all, many immigrants had a pretty dismal life in urban areas, especially in New York City. To add insult to injury, these immigrants were largely resented by “Americans” who were also toiling and struggling to survive. Store owners in cities like New York and Boston would post “Irish need not apply” to their store fronts. Italian immigrants were thought of as “unclean” people. These groups lived in among the worst neighborhoods, such as the infamous Five Points in Lower Manhattan.
Essentially, there was a vicious cycle occurring in urban areas: immigrants that were considered inherently “nonwhite” and therefore savage and violent, would only get hired at places with minimal wages. Because of their low wages, they lived in abysmal places. Because they lived in abysmal places, poor quality of life was rampant which contributed to drunkenness and violence. Because of the drunkenness and violence that emerged from immigrant neighborhoods, it would continue to fuel the stereotype that these ethnic groups were savage and violent. What occurred to the Irish and the Italian immigrants of the 19th century could have been prevented. It was the narrow mindset of Americans as identifying these groups as stupid and useless that led to the demographics of the urban slums. In other words, this was discrimination at its absolute worst.
I would like to believe American society has come a long way since Reconstruction and the immigration waves of the 1800s. I was under the impression activists made great strides with the Civil Rights Movement, the Brown vs. Board of Education decision, and the final dismantling of Jim Crow laws. I truly wanted to believe we were moving towards a post-racial society, where race was not an indication of one’s “value” or “worth.” This law in Arizona says otherwise. It says that “differing” is alive and well, that it has to be the “American” way, or the high way.
Part III soon!
African-Americans have not been the only group to suffer the government’s--and the general public’s--incompetency. Immigrants of the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century encountered problems of their own. When immigrants from southern and eastern Europe and especially Ireland, they were promised a land that would not discriminate, a land that can make all their dreams come true. Sadly, this was not the case for many of them. It is no secret that urban life in the 1800s and early 1900s was appalling: lack of plumbing and a proper sanitation department meant filthy conditions, inadequate tenement housing made for unimaginable cramped quarters, and very low wages meant staying in these conditions. All in all, many immigrants had a pretty dismal life in urban areas, especially in New York City. To add insult to injury, these immigrants were largely resented by “Americans” who were also toiling and struggling to survive. Store owners in cities like New York and Boston would post “Irish need not apply” to their store fronts. Italian immigrants were thought of as “unclean” people. These groups lived in among the worst neighborhoods, such as the infamous Five Points in Lower Manhattan.
Essentially, there was a vicious cycle occurring in urban areas: immigrants that were considered inherently “nonwhite” and therefore savage and violent, would only get hired at places with minimal wages. Because of their low wages, they lived in abysmal places. Because they lived in abysmal places, poor quality of life was rampant which contributed to drunkenness and violence. Because of the drunkenness and violence that emerged from immigrant neighborhoods, it would continue to fuel the stereotype that these ethnic groups were savage and violent. What occurred to the Irish and the Italian immigrants of the 19th century could have been prevented. It was the narrow mindset of Americans as identifying these groups as stupid and useless that led to the demographics of the urban slums. In other words, this was discrimination at its absolute worst.
I would like to believe American society has come a long way since Reconstruction and the immigration waves of the 1800s. I was under the impression activists made great strides with the Civil Rights Movement, the Brown vs. Board of Education decision, and the final dismantling of Jim Crow laws. I truly wanted to believe we were moving towards a post-racial society, where race was not an indication of one’s “value” or “worth.” This law in Arizona says otherwise. It says that “differing” is alive and well, that it has to be the “American” way, or the high way.
Part III soon!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Differing, Part I.
The following is the first part an opinion paper I wrote for my expository writing class. I'll post the other two parts later on in the week.
Last month, Arizona passed a law to counteract illegal immigration. The law requires officials to stop anyone they suspect of being illegal and ask them to produce documentation that proves they are here legally. If they cannot, they can spend a night in jail. If they are in fact illegal they face being deported from the United States promptly.
As a born-and-bred New Yorker, I do not fully comprehend the need for this law. People of this city are accustomed to walking down a crowded avenue and hearing up to five different languages within a five block radius. We are used to the different smells, sights, styles that indicate the culture or country an individual hails from. Children of immigrants also wear their culture proudly even if they have spent little time in their parent’s native land. I bring this up because this new immigration law in Arizona, that some are claiming is the best thing that has happened since sliced bread, will not only strike fear and anxiety into the hearts of thousands of people. It will force those individuals, be they illegal or not, to suppress a part of their identity that will indicate they are “un-American.” It is abhorrent and unacceptable. Perhaps this country has not learned from the failures of the past what this sort of discrimination will do to the morale of its inhabitants.
There are various historical events I can think of that compares to these actions in Arizona. Before slavery was completely outlawed, free African Americans were required to carry documentation stating they they were in fact free. If they failed to conjure these documents, it was likely officials would take them into custody and sell them as slaves. For those African Americans that were indeed enslaved, they were required to carry papers at any given time stating that their master had given them permission to travel to a different town, state, or a couple miles away from their residence. It has been well over a hundred years since slavery was outlawed. This government has attempted its share of reparations. However, laws that were intended to help African Americans were trumped by laws intended to prevent equal opportunity. Jim Crow laws and the Grandfather Clause reinforced the notion that the government did not want to help a group of people who needed the help the most. In case the reader may not remember, Jim Crow laws mandated the “separate but equal” laws. These included separate public facilities including bathrooms and public buses as well as private facilities such as schools and restaurants. As many who have studied modern American History will know, these laws stayed in place well into the twentieth century. The Grandfather Clause mandated that African American men could not vote if their grandfather was once a slave. Since this was the mid 1800s, it was more likely than not most African American men had grandfathers who were slaves. Therefore, many African American men could not vote even after granted their "freedom."
Stay tuned for Part II!
Last month, Arizona passed a law to counteract illegal immigration. The law requires officials to stop anyone they suspect of being illegal and ask them to produce documentation that proves they are here legally. If they cannot, they can spend a night in jail. If they are in fact illegal they face being deported from the United States promptly.
As a born-and-bred New Yorker, I do not fully comprehend the need for this law. People of this city are accustomed to walking down a crowded avenue and hearing up to five different languages within a five block radius. We are used to the different smells, sights, styles that indicate the culture or country an individual hails from. Children of immigrants also wear their culture proudly even if they have spent little time in their parent’s native land. I bring this up because this new immigration law in Arizona, that some are claiming is the best thing that has happened since sliced bread, will not only strike fear and anxiety into the hearts of thousands of people. It will force those individuals, be they illegal or not, to suppress a part of their identity that will indicate they are “un-American.” It is abhorrent and unacceptable. Perhaps this country has not learned from the failures of the past what this sort of discrimination will do to the morale of its inhabitants.
There are various historical events I can think of that compares to these actions in Arizona. Before slavery was completely outlawed, free African Americans were required to carry documentation stating they they were in fact free. If they failed to conjure these documents, it was likely officials would take them into custody and sell them as slaves. For those African Americans that were indeed enslaved, they were required to carry papers at any given time stating that their master had given them permission to travel to a different town, state, or a couple miles away from their residence. It has been well over a hundred years since slavery was outlawed. This government has attempted its share of reparations. However, laws that were intended to help African Americans were trumped by laws intended to prevent equal opportunity. Jim Crow laws and the Grandfather Clause reinforced the notion that the government did not want to help a group of people who needed the help the most. In case the reader may not remember, Jim Crow laws mandated the “separate but equal” laws. These included separate public facilities including bathrooms and public buses as well as private facilities such as schools and restaurants. As many who have studied modern American History will know, these laws stayed in place well into the twentieth century. The Grandfather Clause mandated that African American men could not vote if their grandfather was once a slave. Since this was the mid 1800s, it was more likely than not most African American men had grandfathers who were slaves. Therefore, many African American men could not vote even after granted their "freedom."
Stay tuned for Part II!
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Umbrella.
I don't like umbrellas.
Today is raining and cold and dreary. I don't mind the rain and the cold too much actually. I just don't like having to use umbrellas.
I almost left my umbrella on the 2 train this morning. The umbrella I was holding made it increasingly difficult to drink my coffee and hang on to my heavy bag. Anything that interrupts my morning routine is something I dislike in general really. On the subway it drips everywhere and other's umbrellas drip on other people. Some people decide their umbrella needs its own seat and when they get up, it leaves the seat wet.
Umbrellas are a major cause of arguments in my household. Who lost my umbrella? Why is this one broken? No, I need that umbrella I'm going further than you! I don't like that one it doesn't open properly! These discussions usually leave me using the tiny Spongebob umbrella I bought in the 8th grade because I thought it was cute. Today, not so much.
Speaking of 8th grade, I had a friend who flat out refused to use umbrellas. When it was pouring, all she would have on was the hood of her sweater. I asked her where the heck her umbrella was. "I don't believe in umbrellas," was her response. I would share this philosophy if I wasn't so partial to being dry.
I do not see the purpose of buying these expensive, fancy umbrellas because the wind tends to break each and every umbrella I have owned. Umbrellas are a cause of major embarrassment, especially when they fold inside out. Or they decide not to open. Or when they decide to open at random.
So yeah. I'm not a fan of umbrellas. Yet I like the rain and getting to wear my rainboots. That is always fun.
Today is raining and cold and dreary. I don't mind the rain and the cold too much actually. I just don't like having to use umbrellas.
I almost left my umbrella on the 2 train this morning. The umbrella I was holding made it increasingly difficult to drink my coffee and hang on to my heavy bag. Anything that interrupts my morning routine is something I dislike in general really. On the subway it drips everywhere and other's umbrellas drip on other people. Some people decide their umbrella needs its own seat and when they get up, it leaves the seat wet.
Umbrellas are a major cause of arguments in my household. Who lost my umbrella? Why is this one broken? No, I need that umbrella I'm going further than you! I don't like that one it doesn't open properly! These discussions usually leave me using the tiny Spongebob umbrella I bought in the 8th grade because I thought it was cute. Today, not so much.
Speaking of 8th grade, I had a friend who flat out refused to use umbrellas. When it was pouring, all she would have on was the hood of her sweater. I asked her where the heck her umbrella was. "I don't believe in umbrellas," was her response. I would share this philosophy if I wasn't so partial to being dry.
I do not see the purpose of buying these expensive, fancy umbrellas because the wind tends to break each and every umbrella I have owned. Umbrellas are a cause of major embarrassment, especially when they fold inside out. Or they decide not to open. Or when they decide to open at random.
So yeah. I'm not a fan of umbrellas. Yet I like the rain and getting to wear my rainboots. That is always fun.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Request.
On Sunday evening, I was on Facebook instead of writing a paper for my American Pop Culture class. As I was writing on my friend's status about something that happened to him at the Louis Vuitton store, I see the little red flag pop up over the new friends icon on the upper left hand corner of the screen. I click on it.
"Oh no. No, no, no, no."
I looked at the profile picture for a while. This person's expression looked sad, it seemed. We have 122 friends in common. Naturally. We used to be best friends.
For those who have been reading my blog for a while now, you will probably remember my post on expired friendships. I argued in that post was that some friendships are bound to fail while others are strong enough to withhold the test of time. Unfortunately, the friendship with "new friend request" had long expired. Dare I say, the mention of this person makes me wrinkle my nose as if I just sniffed some nasty, rancid milk.
We live in a curious time in terms of socializing. One of my classmates discussed his hatred of texting; he writes that people would rather text instead of actually having a conversation with a person. I completely agree. Now, we write on our friend's Facebook walls to wish them a happy birthday instead of singing to them through the phone. Or better yet, showing up to their house with balloons. We type incoherent emails instead of meeting with the person you want to talk to. Methods of everyday communication have been completely revamped thanks to the marvels of the internet and smart-phones. Sadly, some of these methods are the worse. Many people do not know how to verbalize their frustrations to someone else because they can leave this comment anonymously over the internet instead of resolving the issue. We now have a way to be completely elusive yet completely explicit. It's very strange.
To me, it's interesting to see how "new friend request" probably believed re-adding me as a friend on Facebook was a step towards possible reconciliation. I'm not sure whether to blame this person's general incompetence or the way our generation is used to dealing with problems with abstract internet actions, making it almost impossible to decipher the motives or reasons behind them. Perhaps I'm completely wrong about this. But I digress.
Let's say this person truly wanted to reconcile. Sending a friend request through a social networking site is not the way to do it. There is so much more that would need to be done than simply being friends on a website. When did people forget the fundamentals on healthy, real relationships? Where's the communication? Where is there the sincerity? You simply could not figure these things out through words typed on a page.
Maybe some people are downright clueless. About everything.
"Oh no. No, no, no, no."
I looked at the profile picture for a while. This person's expression looked sad, it seemed. We have 122 friends in common. Naturally. We used to be best friends.
For those who have been reading my blog for a while now, you will probably remember my post on expired friendships. I argued in that post was that some friendships are bound to fail while others are strong enough to withhold the test of time. Unfortunately, the friendship with "new friend request" had long expired. Dare I say, the mention of this person makes me wrinkle my nose as if I just sniffed some nasty, rancid milk.
We live in a curious time in terms of socializing. One of my classmates discussed his hatred of texting; he writes that people would rather text instead of actually having a conversation with a person. I completely agree. Now, we write on our friend's Facebook walls to wish them a happy birthday instead of singing to them through the phone. Or better yet, showing up to their house with balloons. We type incoherent emails instead of meeting with the person you want to talk to. Methods of everyday communication have been completely revamped thanks to the marvels of the internet and smart-phones. Sadly, some of these methods are the worse. Many people do not know how to verbalize their frustrations to someone else because they can leave this comment anonymously over the internet instead of resolving the issue. We now have a way to be completely elusive yet completely explicit. It's very strange.
To me, it's interesting to see how "new friend request" probably believed re-adding me as a friend on Facebook was a step towards possible reconciliation. I'm not sure whether to blame this person's general incompetence or the way our generation is used to dealing with problems with abstract internet actions, making it almost impossible to decipher the motives or reasons behind them. Perhaps I'm completely wrong about this. But I digress.
Let's say this person truly wanted to reconcile. Sending a friend request through a social networking site is not the way to do it. There is so much more that would need to be done than simply being friends on a website. When did people forget the fundamentals on healthy, real relationships? Where's the communication? Where is there the sincerity? You simply could not figure these things out through words typed on a page.
Maybe some people are downright clueless. About everything.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Change.
I like change, for the most part. I like it when the winter melts into spring and when summer cools to fall. I like changing up the bags I use during the weekends. I like trying new cuisines and becoming borderline addicted to it. I like how one can change the fluidity of everyday life, whether it be changing the subway route I take or walking down a street I've never walked before. Change helps one determine whether we should keep things, relationships, and desires or get rid of them for something better. Change is essential to constructing a life one would like to lead.
But what if you don't have control over this change?
This sentiment springs from various situations happening around me, that are directly and indirectly connected to me. One of them kind of, sort of having to do with my still-not-sure decision to not become a lawyer. I have not shared this with anyone else because then they'll ask "So, what are you going to do?" and I do not have an answer. I suppose I do have control over what career path to take but... I'm feeling conflicted. Anyway. Back to not having control over changes.
It can go one of two ways. It is change you did not wish for but it turned out being for the best. For example, in my junior year of high school I was placed in dance instead of gym. Although I had no say in this unprecedented change in my curriculum, I really enjoyed learning how to square dance and swing. Plus, I wasn't forced to play basketball, which I hated with a burning passion. Then there are changes you have no control over and it's not for the best. I see my family's move to the Dominican Republic when I was in the third grade as something I certainly did not want and did not enjoy. I was forced to learn in a different language that was not as familiar as I thought it was. I had to adapt to a hotter climate, which I learned quickly to despise. All in all, I did not have such a pleasant time living in my parent's native land and was more than content when we moved back to New York soon after I turned ten. It was a failed change.
However, my time in the Dominican Republic strengthened my Spanish. As extremely corny as this is going to sound, it made me more resilient to circumstances out of my control, such as the hot weather and unfriendly classmates and relatives who believed I was not "Dominican" enough because I was actually a "New Yorkina."
By that, I mean quite a few things. When I was in school, students were asked to get up and read out loud a passage of something we were reading. When it was my turn, I would need to pause and ask the teacher what it meant. My classmates would laugh openly at my inability to read Spanish properly. This didn't bother me too much since I knew I couldn't read as fluently as they could and held my ground. Still, when I wasn't invited to a pool party one of my classmates was throwing, or when in the third grade they would run away from me because I was apparently made out of mud, that didn't make me too happy. I grew infuriated when I needed to wake up from an air-conditioned nap to get reading tutoring in our stifling hot dining room downstairs. When I complained about the heat, no one understood why I was complaining. The English teacher in fourth grade didn't give me 100 in the subject because I constantly corrected her in class. Some mistook my help as being pretentious. Some told me straight up that they thought that I thought I was too good for them because I'm from the good ole USA. This was false. Still, I did not fit in too well with my broken Spanish, my affinity for cooler temperatures, and for not calling cereal "corn flakes" in an insanely Dominican accent. Perhaps it was not so much I wasn't "Dominican" enough rather than being different from the rest. Writing this, I realize that living in DR helped me understand that simply being "me" was just fine; I didn't need to change to make anyone happy other than myself. I loved the fact I was from New York and they were all really jealous that I grew up in this mysterious, foreign land. I loved the fact I said "Hello?" on the phone instead of "Allo!" I loved the fact that I knew what a bagel was and they did not. Never once did I want to be like my classmates: snobby rich kids who thought the universe revolved around them, being rude to classmates and adults alike, and generally annoying. I learned that loving myself was all that mattered.
In retrospect, this change I did not want and did not ask for was beneficial in many ways.
Unwanted change does not have to be as life changing as moving to a different country. Changes such as a train getting cut (see my rant on GreeNYC) or having to sell your car to save money may seem like a burden. It's important, though, that there is always a way to get through it. Maybe that extra ten minute walk to the bus stop will help you lose unwanted weight. Selling the car gets rid of all the expenses associated with it, making it easier to save up for that dream house you have always wanted. Perhaps the change is not as dismal as we perceive it to be at first.
In fact, undesired change can be good for you. These experiences make you reevaluate priorities and simply learn how to deal. And maybe learn something about yourself along the way.
Of course, if this unwanted change is nothing but detrimental, then by all means something must be done.
If you feel all this uncontrollable, negative change leaving you feeling powerless, keep in mind what the A train conductor said over the intercom this afternoon: No matter what happens, keep your head up. It's going to be a good day.
But what if you don't have control over this change?
This sentiment springs from various situations happening around me, that are directly and indirectly connected to me. One of them kind of, sort of having to do with my still-not-sure decision to not become a lawyer. I have not shared this with anyone else because then they'll ask "So, what are you going to do?" and I do not have an answer. I suppose I do have control over what career path to take but... I'm feeling conflicted. Anyway. Back to not having control over changes.
It can go one of two ways. It is change you did not wish for but it turned out being for the best. For example, in my junior year of high school I was placed in dance instead of gym. Although I had no say in this unprecedented change in my curriculum, I really enjoyed learning how to square dance and swing. Plus, I wasn't forced to play basketball, which I hated with a burning passion. Then there are changes you have no control over and it's not for the best. I see my family's move to the Dominican Republic when I was in the third grade as something I certainly did not want and did not enjoy. I was forced to learn in a different language that was not as familiar as I thought it was. I had to adapt to a hotter climate, which I learned quickly to despise. All in all, I did not have such a pleasant time living in my parent's native land and was more than content when we moved back to New York soon after I turned ten. It was a failed change.
However, my time in the Dominican Republic strengthened my Spanish. As extremely corny as this is going to sound, it made me more resilient to circumstances out of my control, such as the hot weather and unfriendly classmates and relatives who believed I was not "Dominican" enough because I was actually a "New Yorkina."
By that, I mean quite a few things. When I was in school, students were asked to get up and read out loud a passage of something we were reading. When it was my turn, I would need to pause and ask the teacher what it meant. My classmates would laugh openly at my inability to read Spanish properly. This didn't bother me too much since I knew I couldn't read as fluently as they could and held my ground. Still, when I wasn't invited to a pool party one of my classmates was throwing, or when in the third grade they would run away from me because I was apparently made out of mud, that didn't make me too happy. I grew infuriated when I needed to wake up from an air-conditioned nap to get reading tutoring in our stifling hot dining room downstairs. When I complained about the heat, no one understood why I was complaining. The English teacher in fourth grade didn't give me 100 in the subject because I constantly corrected her in class. Some mistook my help as being pretentious. Some told me straight up that they thought that I thought I was too good for them because I'm from the good ole USA. This was false. Still, I did not fit in too well with my broken Spanish, my affinity for cooler temperatures, and for not calling cereal "corn flakes" in an insanely Dominican accent. Perhaps it was not so much I wasn't "Dominican" enough rather than being different from the rest. Writing this, I realize that living in DR helped me understand that simply being "me" was just fine; I didn't need to change to make anyone happy other than myself. I loved the fact I was from New York and they were all really jealous that I grew up in this mysterious, foreign land. I loved the fact I said "Hello?" on the phone instead of "Allo!" I loved the fact that I knew what a bagel was and they did not. Never once did I want to be like my classmates: snobby rich kids who thought the universe revolved around them, being rude to classmates and adults alike, and generally annoying. I learned that loving myself was all that mattered.
In retrospect, this change I did not want and did not ask for was beneficial in many ways.
Unwanted change does not have to be as life changing as moving to a different country. Changes such as a train getting cut (see my rant on GreeNYC) or having to sell your car to save money may seem like a burden. It's important, though, that there is always a way to get through it. Maybe that extra ten minute walk to the bus stop will help you lose unwanted weight. Selling the car gets rid of all the expenses associated with it, making it easier to save up for that dream house you have always wanted. Perhaps the change is not as dismal as we perceive it to be at first.
In fact, undesired change can be good for you. These experiences make you reevaluate priorities and simply learn how to deal. And maybe learn something about yourself along the way.
Of course, if this unwanted change is nothing but detrimental, then by all means something must be done.
If you feel all this uncontrollable, negative change leaving you feeling powerless, keep in mind what the A train conductor said over the intercom this afternoon: No matter what happens, keep your head up. It's going to be a good day.
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