Thursday, July 21, 2005
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Personal Blogging/ My family
I am a lot who I am today because of my family, my background, and the environment and the times in which I grew up. Over the years, there have been occassions of people trying to rule over me, manipulate me, or simply totally disrespect me and I have reacted to that in fashion that is true to myself and responsive to my learned/acquired/ and personally developed since of ethics, beliefs, and ideas concerning everything.
Indeed, I have blogged before, that one of my earliest developments of this type was to my grandmother. When I was coming along, my grandmother would recount many things, among them how my mother, when she was in high school, at St. Michael's on the northside of Chicago, was involved in an incident in a classroom in which one of the Nun's tried to tell her that the reason she was black was because that god put a curse on her. My mother refuted this Nun's statement, and, on the adverse, told the nun that quite the opposite was true, that whites were white because of a curse God had placed on them. The nun, offended and apparently disgruntled at this little negro girl refuting her assured authority as a white woman and, I guess, as a nun, told my mother to leave the school and not come back until she had found solid evidence to back up her statements.
My grandmother frantically called Alabama to her father (an expert on the Bible, as it goes) and hastily sent my mother back with some passage somewhere about whatever it was about white people being cursed. Well, anyway, this nun from that point on did not like my mother ( and alas, the nuns at the school did not like my mother) and so when time came to get ready for colleges, my mother's first choice was Kentucky State. The nun', knowing this, in some manner or fashion refused to release my mother's records to the school. My mother ended up going to Miles in Birmingham instead. When my mother got wind of this and told my grandmother of what the nun's were doing, my grandmother told her that she should have "kept her mouth shut."
I wondered why my grandmother would tell me this, as I dont see it as anything to be proud of (and alas, she also recounted how one of her friends chastised her for not doing anything about the situation). I declared then and there, upon hearing this, that 1. If it had been me I would have torn that school up and then down again and my granmother would probably be seriously hurt and 2. That I would NEVER keep my mouth shut, that I would always speak my mind and be true to myself. My self. And although I have been guilty more than once and more often than not of NOT Speaking up (which is something that afflicts most minorities, and particularly Afro-Americans- bell hooks and others address this issue quite openly and with much serious discussion, it is a principle I strive to live by.
Alas, there have been several occassions in my growing up that stand as testatment to that fact. I rememeber quite vividly, a first incident when I was in the fifth grade, it is quite funny actually, when I was in class and had been talking to some boy (who was cute). Well, I had finished talking to him and had turned around to do something else. Then he decided to start hitting my ear with a pencil. Ok. Well, I asked him to please stop. Several times. Well, then I went to the teacher and told her to make him stop.
Her response to me began "Well, if you weren't such a ---, then he wouldn't..." I dont even think I heard the rest, because her response was not what I wanted to hear (which was to make this boy leave me alone for time time being)my mouth fell open that she wouldn't stop him, so I went back to my desk mad. I got out a sheet of paper and I started writing some stuff down about her ( and mind you she wasnt talking in a kidding manner either when she stated that if I wasnt such a ---" at anyrate, I remember I wrote down that she was a pharisee, and alas, some stupid children behind me started looking over my shoulder to see what I was doing, and when they saw that I was writing stuff about the teacher they snatched the paper from me and took it up to her. Whatever I wrote apparently made her mad as hell ( and (I remember calling her a pharisee, but I dont remember what else I wrote), but she came and grabbed my arm and started dragging me, telling me she was going to take me to the office.
Mind you, at this point, and in the whole incident, I wasn't so much upset about the boy hitting me with a pencil, I was upset because this woman, who was supposed to be teacher, wasn't gonna do anything about it. What the hell. Well, we got out into the hallway and I started yelling something at the top of my lungs and yelled from her door all the way to the office and into the principal's office, which was at least a good ten minutes. So anyway, what happened was this woman finally had to admit that she was in the wrong for not doing anything about the boy sitting behind me. Now, we had gotten along great up until that point, were almost buddy buddy, me and this teacher were. Well, anyway, what happened was she admitted that she was wrong and by that time she had made me miss my bus so she had to drive me home. The incident was never mentioned again. I often see this woman a lot, as her aunt is a friend of my mother's and she is married to one of the local car dealers. We don't have much to say to each other. but she learned.
Again, when I was in high school, another incident occured. I was in french class, the worst class in the school as no one could learn anything in that room because one the teacher didnt know anything and two she couldnt control her classroom. Anyway, the teacher just happened to be absent that day and we were watching some film. A group of boys were sitting in the back of the classroom ( white boys) and decided they were going to throw pencils and crap up to the front of the room. Well, they hit me with one of them and I asked the substitute to make them stop. She replied to me that "She couldnt do anything about it." And I looked at her with a look that said "well then, what in the hell are you here for?"
So, I decided that I could. The boys got confrontational after a while and I don't remember what happened in the meantime, but I do remember that after an exchange I slapped the taste out of one them. At that point, a fight ensued and my glasses were broken and we were tussling on the floor. I decided that I was not going to fight with this person, so I walked up to the vice principal's office and told him what happened ( I was freshman,I didn't know who this man was). Well, he told me, that "he couldn't do anyhting about it except send both of us to alternative school." I looked at him and I said, " well, I know what I can do, I can call my mama."
So I picked up his phone and called my mother in my mad,frantic state (which was heard throughout the office)and I remember distinctly saying to her, " Mama, this so-called Vice Principal is sitting up here and tells me he can send me to alternative school). My mother really is a lioness about her cubs, for sure. I never had to fight, I had a mother and a sister, who were both strong enough to take on grown men, but more about that later. Well, anyway, the boy had to pay for my glasses, but I am just relaying this to say that I have never been one to shut my mouth or let anyone try to walk over me. I suppose sometimes that can make me mean, and possibly evil, but I for one, refuse.
That also leads to the other incident that my grandmother recalled to me, that I found troubling. When the white superintendent fired my grandmother, harrassed my Aunt Bertie, and demoted my Aunt Earnestine from a principal after my Uncle Fess' death as his sort of revenge on the man whom he could not stand, but could not deal with while he was alive,my grandmother refused to fight this. Alas, I do realize it was 1963 and in Alabama, but alas, I would have raised hell. And if my grandmother had had any of her brother in her, she would have done a bit more than raise hell ( I have blogged about my Uncle Lawrence before).
Perhaps I have a bit too much Goodson blood in my system for my own good. They say Morgan Goodson was the meanest man in Autauga County. It is not good to be mean, and I try not to be, really really hard, and sometimes have to catch myself ( or be reminded), and I really really want and hope to be open and loving and caring, and not hard and not mean. But I will cut your throat if I have to. It is hard to maintain a balance, to protect oneself and maintain integrity and spirit in the face of a racist, hostile society while continuing to see the humanity in people, and be loving, and trying to share the spirit with all people,embracing the world. God grant me the strength.
Indeed, I have blogged before, that one of my earliest developments of this type was to my grandmother. When I was coming along, my grandmother would recount many things, among them how my mother, when she was in high school, at St. Michael's on the northside of Chicago, was involved in an incident in a classroom in which one of the Nun's tried to tell her that the reason she was black was because that god put a curse on her. My mother refuted this Nun's statement, and, on the adverse, told the nun that quite the opposite was true, that whites were white because of a curse God had placed on them. The nun, offended and apparently disgruntled at this little negro girl refuting her assured authority as a white woman and, I guess, as a nun, told my mother to leave the school and not come back until she had found solid evidence to back up her statements.
My grandmother frantically called Alabama to her father (an expert on the Bible, as it goes) and hastily sent my mother back with some passage somewhere about whatever it was about white people being cursed. Well, anyway, this nun from that point on did not like my mother ( and alas, the nuns at the school did not like my mother) and so when time came to get ready for colleges, my mother's first choice was Kentucky State. The nun', knowing this, in some manner or fashion refused to release my mother's records to the school. My mother ended up going to Miles in Birmingham instead. When my mother got wind of this and told my grandmother of what the nun's were doing, my grandmother told her that she should have "kept her mouth shut."
I wondered why my grandmother would tell me this, as I dont see it as anything to be proud of (and alas, she also recounted how one of her friends chastised her for not doing anything about the situation). I declared then and there, upon hearing this, that 1. If it had been me I would have torn that school up and then down again and my granmother would probably be seriously hurt and 2. That I would NEVER keep my mouth shut, that I would always speak my mind and be true to myself. My self. And although I have been guilty more than once and more often than not of NOT Speaking up (which is something that afflicts most minorities, and particularly Afro-Americans- bell hooks and others address this issue quite openly and with much serious discussion, it is a principle I strive to live by.
Alas, there have been several occassions in my growing up that stand as testatment to that fact. I rememeber quite vividly, a first incident when I was in the fifth grade, it is quite funny actually, when I was in class and had been talking to some boy (who was cute). Well, I had finished talking to him and had turned around to do something else. Then he decided to start hitting my ear with a pencil. Ok. Well, I asked him to please stop. Several times. Well, then I went to the teacher and told her to make him stop.
Her response to me began "Well, if you weren't such a ---, then he wouldn't..." I dont even think I heard the rest, because her response was not what I wanted to hear (which was to make this boy leave me alone for time time being)my mouth fell open that she wouldn't stop him, so I went back to my desk mad. I got out a sheet of paper and I started writing some stuff down about her ( and mind you she wasnt talking in a kidding manner either when she stated that if I wasnt such a ---" at anyrate, I remember I wrote down that she was a pharisee, and alas, some stupid children behind me started looking over my shoulder to see what I was doing, and when they saw that I was writing stuff about the teacher they snatched the paper from me and took it up to her. Whatever I wrote apparently made her mad as hell ( and (I remember calling her a pharisee, but I dont remember what else I wrote), but she came and grabbed my arm and started dragging me, telling me she was going to take me to the office.
Mind you, at this point, and in the whole incident, I wasn't so much upset about the boy hitting me with a pencil, I was upset because this woman, who was supposed to be teacher, wasn't gonna do anything about it. What the hell. Well, we got out into the hallway and I started yelling something at the top of my lungs and yelled from her door all the way to the office and into the principal's office, which was at least a good ten minutes. So anyway, what happened was this woman finally had to admit that she was in the wrong for not doing anything about the boy sitting behind me. Now, we had gotten along great up until that point, were almost buddy buddy, me and this teacher were. Well, anyway, what happened was she admitted that she was wrong and by that time she had made me miss my bus so she had to drive me home. The incident was never mentioned again. I often see this woman a lot, as her aunt is a friend of my mother's and she is married to one of the local car dealers. We don't have much to say to each other. but she learned.
Again, when I was in high school, another incident occured. I was in french class, the worst class in the school as no one could learn anything in that room because one the teacher didnt know anything and two she couldnt control her classroom. Anyway, the teacher just happened to be absent that day and we were watching some film. A group of boys were sitting in the back of the classroom ( white boys) and decided they were going to throw pencils and crap up to the front of the room. Well, they hit me with one of them and I asked the substitute to make them stop. She replied to me that "She couldnt do anything about it." And I looked at her with a look that said "well then, what in the hell are you here for?"
So, I decided that I could. The boys got confrontational after a while and I don't remember what happened in the meantime, but I do remember that after an exchange I slapped the taste out of one them. At that point, a fight ensued and my glasses were broken and we were tussling on the floor. I decided that I was not going to fight with this person, so I walked up to the vice principal's office and told him what happened ( I was freshman,I didn't know who this man was). Well, he told me, that "he couldn't do anyhting about it except send both of us to alternative school." I looked at him and I said, " well, I know what I can do, I can call my mama."
So I picked up his phone and called my mother in my mad,frantic state (which was heard throughout the office)and I remember distinctly saying to her, " Mama, this so-called Vice Principal is sitting up here and tells me he can send me to alternative school). My mother really is a lioness about her cubs, for sure. I never had to fight, I had a mother and a sister, who were both strong enough to take on grown men, but more about that later. Well, anyway, the boy had to pay for my glasses, but I am just relaying this to say that I have never been one to shut my mouth or let anyone try to walk over me. I suppose sometimes that can make me mean, and possibly evil, but I for one, refuse.
That also leads to the other incident that my grandmother recalled to me, that I found troubling. When the white superintendent fired my grandmother, harrassed my Aunt Bertie, and demoted my Aunt Earnestine from a principal after my Uncle Fess' death as his sort of revenge on the man whom he could not stand, but could not deal with while he was alive,my grandmother refused to fight this. Alas, I do realize it was 1963 and in Alabama, but alas, I would have raised hell. And if my grandmother had had any of her brother in her, she would have done a bit more than raise hell ( I have blogged about my Uncle Lawrence before).
Perhaps I have a bit too much Goodson blood in my system for my own good. They say Morgan Goodson was the meanest man in Autauga County. It is not good to be mean, and I try not to be, really really hard, and sometimes have to catch myself ( or be reminded), and I really really want and hope to be open and loving and caring, and not hard and not mean. But I will cut your throat if I have to. It is hard to maintain a balance, to protect oneself and maintain integrity and spirit in the face of a racist, hostile society while continuing to see the humanity in people, and be loving, and trying to share the spirit with all people,embracing the world. God grant me the strength.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Monday, July 18, 2005
House By The Side of the Road
They recited this poem at my aunt Bertie's funeral when I was five years old. I have always remembered it.
THERE are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
THERE are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat
Nor hurl the cynic's ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife,
But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Albums of My Life
I decided to write about the music that has really made a profound presence with me. This is not complete, but it does cover most of what I have encountered that has stuck with me.
Back to Broadway- Barbra Streisand
This was the first Barbra Streisand album I bought, back in 1992. It was erotic and with a flare that was totally captivating. I love particularly the mellow seductiveness of "Speak Low," which is an incredibly sensual rendition of the classic tune from "South Pacific." "Move On," is incredibly moving and brings goosebumps to my skin listening to it. Barbra's delivery here is earth-shattering as she lays out her sorrow song about self-fullfilment and letting go. The melange of Broadway standards that Barbra puts together on this album flow with a sensational ease and make for a breezy, jazz-tempered album that stands out on it own. The two duets on this album are also intoxicating. "Music of the Night," with Michael Crawford and "One Hand/One Heart," with Johnny Mathis are truly classic, each displaying the ease with which Barbra's magnificent and powerful voice blends and flavors the art of duet.
The Broadway Album- Barbra Streisand
The original Broadway Album, released six years before Back to Broadway (both were number one on the charts), I acquired this album after the second one. I was profoundly moved. The way Barbra arranges songs for an album is truly, in a word, exceptional. Each song tells a story or sends a message, and they all fit within a theme or pattern that she has carefully designed for the album. "Putting it Together," really gets into my bones. Opening the album, this song expresses the frustration of being true to one's craft and talent in the face of naysayers and public trends. Art truly isn't easy. "Being Alive,"is absolutely heart-wrenching and touches the soul with its heart-filled request to be taken, to be used, to be loved. Barbra's "Porgy," is definitely a classic rendition and rivals(although doesn't quite reach the level of) Nina Simone's. "Pretty Women/Ladies Who Lunch" is fun, playful, and delicious as it weaves together a stinging blow to the prototypical society woman. This album is definitely important to the Streisnad repertoire and is truly one of the best albums ever produced.
Barbra Streisand Greatest Hits Volume II is truly one of the greatest albums of all time. This album is astoundingly fresh and erotic, especially considering that all of the songs on this album were previously released. The compilation and arrangement of this album are truly what make it powerful andstand as testament to Streisand's ability as an artist. This is a true rock and roll classic and defines Barbra's ingenuity as a rock and roll diva. "Prisoner/ Eyes of Laura Mars," is a primal scream that speaks for itself. With grit and the fire of emotion, Barbra gives this album an intensity that is reached by few albums.
A Star is Born
This album only gets mentioned because of the presence of "Queen Bee," "Everything," "Woman in the Moon," and "With One More Look at You." This album is not a classic like Greatest Hits Volume II, but it does hold its own as a rock and roll album, which is attested to by its status as a quadruple platinum seller.These four songs range from the playful to searing with razor sharp lyrics, earth shattering deliveries, and subtle messages of feminist testimony,individual freedom and integrity. As a soundtrack, "A Star is Born," reaches beyond expectation.
Tapestry
I bought this album when I was just about to graduate from high school. It had a profound effect on me. Tapestry is one of those albums with deep roots that bury themselves down in your soul and plant themselves there. "Home Again" and "Beautiful as You Feel," cut right to the core. "Natural Woman," and "Will You Still Love Me Tommorow," prove that what she pens she can also sing. "Tapestry," is a mesmerizing, magical lyric that weaves together a morose,enchanting tale and evokes the sincerest emotions from the listener. This album is indeed exceptional.
Waiting to Exhale is THE soundtrack that deserves respect as a part of the regular cannon. This album is spiritual medicine and although I completely ignored this album when it first came out, in high school and college I absolutely learned to appreciate both the album and the movie. This album is the Black Woman's testimonial. An offering of balm to the soul. Patti, Aretha, Chaka, Brandy, Toni Braxton, Whitney Houston,Mary J. Blige....this album is truly beautiful.
Back to Broadway- Barbra Streisand
This was the first Barbra Streisand album I bought, back in 1992. It was erotic and with a flare that was totally captivating. I love particularly the mellow seductiveness of "Speak Low," which is an incredibly sensual rendition of the classic tune from "South Pacific." "Move On," is incredibly moving and brings goosebumps to my skin listening to it. Barbra's delivery here is earth-shattering as she lays out her sorrow song about self-fullfilment and letting go. The melange of Broadway standards that Barbra puts together on this album flow with a sensational ease and make for a breezy, jazz-tempered album that stands out on it own. The two duets on this album are also intoxicating. "Music of the Night," with Michael Crawford and "One Hand/One Heart," with Johnny Mathis are truly classic, each displaying the ease with which Barbra's magnificent and powerful voice blends and flavors the art of duet.
The Broadway Album- Barbra Streisand
The original Broadway Album, released six years before Back to Broadway (both were number one on the charts), I acquired this album after the second one. I was profoundly moved. The way Barbra arranges songs for an album is truly, in a word, exceptional. Each song tells a story or sends a message, and they all fit within a theme or pattern that she has carefully designed for the album. "Putting it Together," really gets into my bones. Opening the album, this song expresses the frustration of being true to one's craft and talent in the face of naysayers and public trends. Art truly isn't easy. "Being Alive,"is absolutely heart-wrenching and touches the soul with its heart-filled request to be taken, to be used, to be loved. Barbra's "Porgy," is definitely a classic rendition and rivals(although doesn't quite reach the level of) Nina Simone's. "Pretty Women/Ladies Who Lunch" is fun, playful, and delicious as it weaves together a stinging blow to the prototypical society woman. This album is definitely important to the Streisnad repertoire and is truly one of the best albums ever produced.
Barbra Streisand Greatest Hits Volume II is truly one of the greatest albums of all time. This album is astoundingly fresh and erotic, especially considering that all of the songs on this album were previously released. The compilation and arrangement of this album are truly what make it powerful andstand as testament to Streisand's ability as an artist. This is a true rock and roll classic and defines Barbra's ingenuity as a rock and roll diva. "Prisoner/ Eyes of Laura Mars," is a primal scream that speaks for itself. With grit and the fire of emotion, Barbra gives this album an intensity that is reached by few albums.
A Star is Born
This album only gets mentioned because of the presence of "Queen Bee," "Everything," "Woman in the Moon," and "With One More Look at You." This album is not a classic like Greatest Hits Volume II, but it does hold its own as a rock and roll album, which is attested to by its status as a quadruple platinum seller.These four songs range from the playful to searing with razor sharp lyrics, earth shattering deliveries, and subtle messages of feminist testimony,individual freedom and integrity. As a soundtrack, "A Star is Born," reaches beyond expectation.
Tapestry
I bought this album when I was just about to graduate from high school. It had a profound effect on me. Tapestry is one of those albums with deep roots that bury themselves down in your soul and plant themselves there. "Home Again" and "Beautiful as You Feel," cut right to the core. "Natural Woman," and "Will You Still Love Me Tommorow," prove that what she pens she can also sing. "Tapestry," is a mesmerizing, magical lyric that weaves together a morose,enchanting tale and evokes the sincerest emotions from the listener. This album is indeed exceptional.
Waiting to Exhale is THE soundtrack that deserves respect as a part of the regular cannon. This album is spiritual medicine and although I completely ignored this album when it first came out, in high school and college I absolutely learned to appreciate both the album and the movie. This album is the Black Woman's testimonial. An offering of balm to the soul. Patti, Aretha, Chaka, Brandy, Toni Braxton, Whitney Houston,Mary J. Blige....this album is truly beautiful.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Tonight on television, there were three consecutive shows that broached the topic of homosexuality - Living Single, That Seventies Show, and one other one which I cant remember right now. Who comes up with this programming? I can't believe I am watching television these days. I haven't watched tv in ages.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
What is going on with the NAACP? Well, I will simply state right now that the NAACP needs backbone and integrity. It needs to, as I have just heard a commentator say, pick up the issues that need to be addressed to better the lives of people. Alas, I think George Bush is filthy and should be beaten with a stick for refusing the NAACP's invitation, but alas, I think that the NAACP needs to get a grip, which means stop allowing the Bush administration from defnining the way you operate and what your agenda is. I think this needs to be addressed. Alas, where are the Black Panthers?
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Friday, July 08, 2005
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Today I am going to write about something that I should and want to, now, address. I had a friendship(which was quite sincere on my part), but which was very much abused. It will never be fitting for anyone to take their frustrations out on me because they have not gotten the job that they wanted. I had sensed a few times a bit of class resentment (along with a bit of white male righteousness) on the part of this person, but simply brushed it aside. However, when his job failed to materialize, it really showed through in one of our last conversations in which he referred to me as being "bougie," among other things which I don't remember. Alas, I dont care how much I may like you, you won't take it out on me when the world doesnt go your way. The dynamics of a lower-middle class white boy trying to reach up and being resentful of middle class Blacks shows a lot, especially how in this country it doesnt matter what your class is, to be white is supposed to mean that you have power, privilege, and legitimacy. Not in my book. And alas, I will lay it out a bit that now this person who has an undergraduate degree in Women's studies (no money) and wants to find a job in computers (ha!) and who will be going to a second-rate graduate school in California with no funding(as much as I don't like Purdue, it is established and I was funded;-) Anyway, there is always something to learn from.
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