#survivng america

[altr5312916195]

Echo - Marvel

If I see one white man complaining about Echo not making sense or the 'girl power scene' when the ancestors come together to help Maya being unnessecary. I will scream I swear because when it's a white man and his mystical powers come together no one cares, but I know they're gonna complain about Maya being OP or overrated and her power origins not making sense just like they did with Black Panther. It does make sense, if you bothered to look at any culture that isn't white. If Thor's people can give him strength so can Maya's. If god damm Captain America can survive in ice for years Maya can have powers from her ancestors. Bucky survivng the train fall is chill, then Maya's powers should be okay too. People namely men are already dogging the show, saying people are here only for DareDevil or Kingpin and that just isn't true. Some of us want to see the character progression, some of us want to see how they can execute a visual story with a deaf person. Some of us want to see Native stories told on screen. All other media chaters to white men, we can have A show.

[mbrainspaz]

the manager asked me how to find more workers like me. I had reminded her (again) that we need another worker in order to be fully staffed for the summer. She said she can only ‘afford’ to hire someone part time. I told her good luck, basically. Hope you like hiring desperate angry men who have zero reasons not to do crimes, ‘cause in most cases you get what you pay for. No way you’re finding another guy who has over a decade of industry knowledge, a degree, management experience, is clean, is fit enough, is fluent in boomer etiquette as well as bilingual, and happens to be so catastrophically down on their luck that they’d take this job. Especially part time. That wouldn’t even cover most people’s grocery bills, much less housing costs. She better hope she finds a really eccentric teenage horse girl with rich parents or we’re screwed. Actually that’s my other coworker except he’s a 30 year old man. Nah, this company is never gonna stoop to paying a worker what they’re actually worth. Like beeeeesh I’m worth almost double what you’re paying me in this biz alone and instead you started me on Seattle’s minimum wage and gave me a 2% raise while prices at the grocery store went up 30%. If the company didn’t offer me a house to live in along with the sh*t pay I wouldn’t even be here. I’d rather live in my car than funnel 80-90% of my paycheck directly into another landlord’s pocket. I’ll probably leave in the summer if she doesn’t hire another person, because I’m trying to build my art business back up on the side (so that I have a reason to live or whatever) and I can’t do that while this stupid company is forcing me to work overtime every week and then whining about how they can’t afford to pay me overtime. I can’t do anything with zero sick days. I can’t use my alleged vacation time. And they always want ME—the guy they’re paying as if I’m a damn disposable peasant—to fix this for them. I dunno, Sharon, did you ask your CEO if he’d consider selling one or two of his mansions so you could buy another laborer on the free market? It’s called ‘budgeting.’

[personasfincas-blog]

Buzz Buzz Buzz

San Jose took us in like another couple of bees in the hive. The downtown area is unbelievably bustling, and keeping an eye on the sidewalk ruts, crossing traffic that knows no gods or masters, lines that span entire blocks waitng for buses, folks toting huge plastic bags from the shopping strips getting ready for the coming Christmas holidays, we tried to seem like we knew where we were going. We tumbled into a tourist market and bought lightweight treasures and got told our eyes were like babies’.

We are stiving and survivng without really any real problems yet, aside from having to take the hinges off our hostel locker because we forgot to make sure a key copy was not on the ready beforehand. What is a real problem? Maybe theft or injury or losing someone in a thicket of jungle?

The only other issue we’ve encountered was having to go to a college-aged club in a part of San Jose we never would have found or chosen without David, the wiley conceierge. He was set on a party, and we definitely did not take him seriously enough until we turned the corner onto “Angry Street”, where the youth get turnt on gigantic glass mugs of a blue dyed “craft beer” and lil shots of “Jagger” and the like. We paid a couple dollars worth of Colones to get our orange XCAPE wristbands slapped on, and they didn’t mind my expired California ID in lieu of my only other photo ID, passaporte, which I had been toting around basically in my underwear with my slim wallet beind the fly to my snug shorts, but left locked up at our place. We danced, we drank a large Imperial beer and then another smaller one, we shoved and shimmied up against a slew of Ticos and Ticas that had no idea what to do with us. Ben and I were undoubtedly the only ones of our sort present. We had a way better time than we anticipated, despite our guide being kind of creepy in a non-confrontational way with the attractive ladies that were everywhere.

We had made made our way to a hostel outside of the downtown area, near the “Gastronomic district” (expensive). It was Ben’s first hostel, and though we didn’t form a posse of new temporary friends and swarm the streets with beers on our breath, we did sleep in our own bunks and eat as much of the free breakfast food as possible, mostly consisting of fresh fruit and pancakes. Ben found a guitar to play in a hammock on the little patio, and a vegan hash slinger from Canada found us for a converation about choosing compassion. They let us leave our bags there while we walked about to get some of the more gourmet Costa Rican coffee I’d been wanted to try at Cafeteto, which was of course in the fancier “pipi” district we were in that second night at the hostel. It was like a Yin microverse experience to the Yang of the downtown bustle of Hotel Santo Tomas. Walking the quiet streets of that upper/middle class neighborhood made me realize how different Costa Rica was from my other experiences in Lain America while at the same time just being like everywhere else: wealth is segregated and protected simply by its own self-insulation.