Friday Conversations

I expected a very depressing person, considering the content and atmosphere of most of her stories. But I was proven wrong. Jennine Capó Crucet was a very funny person and easy to relate to. Not to say that she couldn’t be serious, because she showed that she could be serious. The point was, she also had a funny side.

What I took away from this presentation was that I could relate to her, that I could be on her level and that she wasn’t on some high throne. We could relate and reflect upon the same identity problems that we, and other first-generation Americans face today. Finding that delicate balance between your American identity and the identity of your home country is extremely difficult.

And I loved that she gave advice on how to make it in the literary world. I had expected most authors to be really uptight with that subject, like it was some great secret that no one could tell us, something we had to discover all by ourselves. I also really appreciated that she explained how she got the idea for “Resurrection”. I was really puzzled at how unusual that story was, it always struck me as the most odd story in the book. I could never really see it happen in real life or in Miami. A woman on ecstasy, clubbing on South Beach, asking for the dead to be raised back to life to help her keep her job? It was too strange to be in Miami, and unfortunately someone thought that it was not strange for Miami. Perhaps we can one day change this notion that Miami is all clubbing and voodoo.

In Listening to Jennine Capo Crucet

In listening to Jennine Capo Crucet, I have developed a better sense of what it means to be a writer. The way she shows truth through fiction is absolutely brilliant. Instead of analyzing one part of society or one aspect of Hialeah, she channels one strong emotion into a skeleton of a short story. As she becomes more familiar with her characters, the story develops. But the most valuable writing technique I have learned is to go back and heavily revise the emotion-filled story at a moment when I am not so emotional, so that the message can come through loud and clear.

In my experience, the best writing comes from emotion first and revision second. Having a structure in mind before I begin writing usually prevents a certain level of creativity from coming through in my story. So, I completely agree with Jennine on this aspect. One technique I must develop, however, is giving my characters more meaning and purpose—creating a life for them that matters. All characters are important because even a minor character can say something about you as a writer or about the message you are trying to get across.

Thank you Jennine Capo Crucet for all your valuable advice. I will be looking forward to your next book.

The image above is taken from http://jcapocrucet.com/

Living the Miami Life

The top ten songs on the local hit radio stations are littered with bass, drugs, sex, and partying. Charts are dominated by club music about a free lifestyle of money, sex, and entertainment. We locals live vicariously through our music: do we feel like we have to live up to some standrds because we live in Miami?

I hate this genre of music but at night I roll down the windows of my 2000 BMW and blast songs like Party Rock Anthem and Young Wild and Free. Clubs aren't my scene but each weekend I find myself standing half-drunk in an hour-long line to pay twenty bucks to pretend to enjoy myself for the night. Why do I do these things? I feel more at home when I live up to the ideal Miami lifestyle but that means that I feel the closest to Miami, the city in which I've lived my entire life, in the places where I'm the least comfortable.

An eighteen year old spending his Saturday night studying in his room after a trip to the local movie theater with his parents. Who would want to see that? That's not Miami. The sad thing is taht I'm beginning to enjoy the "Miami Lifestyle." Through succumbing to the accepted idea of how Miamians live, I've become the false image of the local Miamian. If my identity is based off of some fake representation, ten who the hell am I?

Moon Over Miami visits Naomi Fisher's "Jungle Sweat, Roseate" at Viscaya this Friday!

South Florida native Naomi Fisher weaves her lifelong memories of Vizcaya within a fictional narrative to create Jungle Sweat, Roseate, a video piece and installation on view throughout the Main House. Fisher's ongoing exploration of nature and our desire to tame it comes into focus at Vizcaya, where the imposition of formal architecture on a native landscape presents striking contrasts. In Jungle Sweat, Roseate, a female character stumbles upon Vizcaya from the depths of the mangroves, covered in the residue of nature. Fisher tells the fantastical story of the woman's experiences in this new environment and her struggles to dethrone the "civilized" lady of the house.  

More here.

The Poor College Students' South Beach

Nearly every day they greet me on the way to and from art class, but they never say a word. And even while I walk far from them, I have the irrational fear that I’ll trip over them. It's not a daily hassle that I have to walk around them, but sometimes they situate themselves in a such a critical place that you just have to. I still wait, and fear, for the day when they cover the entire field, making my regular trek to the Rainbow Building even more difficult. Who wants to trip over nearly naked bodies on the way to class, especially if you are late? And how do you explain that to your professor?

Almost every single day, University of Miami students sunbathe on the Intramural Fields, when no teams play, usually sometime between ten in the morning to five in the afternoon. And let’s not even get started about Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays; unless it rains or it’s cloudy, they cover most of the fields. Lefebvre wrote about how a person’s leisure time is a reflection of one’s work, or more of diverging completely from work. And what is more opposite of doing anything at all than doing absolutely nothing at all? After a long week of exams and projects and labs and whatnot, it’s nice to just lie down in the sun and not think. I’ve heard from nearly everyone about how studying here is like being on a constant vacation with some studying in-between; this only enhances that idealistic image.

But is this even the end of it? Tanning serves one purpose: to match the standard beauty ideals, especially those of South Beach. Or to get skin cancer. So maybe this leisure is the first step in attaining a higher leisure: doing nothing on the beaches of Miami. After all, there is no greater spectacle on Miami Beach than those tan bodies in the sun. So, by doing nothing today, you can do even more nothing tomorrow! Of course, if tomorrow is Sunday, that totally changes the dynamic; every Sunday is Universal Homework Day, so you’ll have to wait until next Friday and tan even more.

So, lying down in the sun every day after class can get you steps closer to the ideal tan-thin-beautiful person, guaranteeing you a place on the shores of Biscayne. What a great deal! And let’s not forget the best part: it's FREE!

Vital Signs

A mother and her disabled child leave a promising diagnosis. She calls her sister about her healthy fetus. Her first child sits in her chair, attempting to smile or look away in disbelief. Behind the mother, a yellow column attempts to create a vibrant atmosphere of what is a sad place. Seeing these individuals, the trust they put into a county hospital, makes everything that happened with Jackson Memorial Hospital over a year or two ago appear insignificant.

In 2010, Jackson Memorial Hospital was on the brink of financial ruin. It had no choice but to close its other locations north and south of its original, 12 Avenue location. What did residents do when the other branches closed down? While administrators and financiers tried to keep the locations, it only shadowed the reality in a media frenzy and a hurricane-style watch of Jackson’s fate. The economics overshadowed the many mothers and children left without a place to go. Of course, other hospitals profited from the inopportune moment. Where does this leave the uninsured or unwilling to accept matters beyond their control?

Patients’ trust in Jackson is not new. Since its inception in 1918, Jackson has strived to provide advanced medical care regardless of socioeconomic status. Dr. James M. Jackson took the helm and organized a leading group of physicians that set a precedent for decades to come. When the 1926 hurricane devastated Miami, the hospital in its dying breath admitted patients. It saved 700 victims and established relief stations around the most affected areas.

A century later, Jackson should learn from its past and create relief stations that can save them from a $229.4 million deficit. Committee Commissioner at the time Javier Souto rejected the plan. He worried that Liberty City riots would ensue after having already lost two other clinics. And the 30 percent unemployment marker was not too favorable. Though this suggests a classic example of the suppression of a culture, this next line places Souto and therefore Jackson in the context of Miami.

“The riots, Souto explained, would cause a decrease in the amount of tourism and worsen an already bleak economic situation.”*

Thus, the suppression of a culture by aloof politicians will affect the vacation capital. Here, the cornerstone of Miami’s dualism of reality versus spectacle coincides with the three major groups: locals, mobiles, and exiles. Apparently, the city caters, even in matters as universal as health care, to select groups. They fear that a voice as united and powerful as the locals will destroy Miami’s hallmark. Jackson’s situation symbolizes a climax of this ongoing struggle, a tension that has yet to find resolution.

*Quoted from http://fla2010elections.wordpress.com/2010/03/23/third-largest-u-s-public-hospital-close-to-bankruptcy/

Alienated Local

Situated just miles outside of Downtown Miami, Kendall has always been my home. In these suburbs, everyday activities include going to work, hanging out at the local mall, taking kids to
the park, or meeting up with friends for coffee at the French bakery off of US-1 and 152nd street; there are no clubs, neon signs, or beaches-just schools, parks, grocery stores, and the occasional mall. Ironically, although Kendall is mainly comprised of local Miamians, it attracts
no tourists because it isn’t “Miami enough:” tourists would be disappointed by
a weekend in Suburbia.




The average Friday night is made up of long naps after a stressful day at work or
school and maybe a small party if someone’s parents are out of town. The weekend concludes with a lazy, family-centered Sunday. My parents drag me and my little sister Nicole to Church
despite our protests that “it’s too early” or “I don’t wanna wear this dress!” The traditional family lunch at IHOP is followed by a trip to Briar Bay Park: Josie, our 2-year old Rat terrier, “needs to run around and Nicole wants to play on the playground.” My mom yells at Nicole because the sand under the swing set and the syrup she spilled on her dress earlier have had a glue-and-glitter effect. I chuckle and lie on a nearby bench, absorbing the scene. Some people
say that you can smell the salt from the ocean all the way in Kendall but everyone knows it’s a myth: the only things we smell are the dump truck weaving
through nearby neighborhoods and the fresh croquettes Publix makes every morning. No one here goes to South Beach anyway: we’re all too busy and it’s
way too expensive. That kind of thing is reserved for the tourists and people who live in the million-dollar condos for only 3 months out of the year.



So what’s it like growing up in a city that doesn’t include you? It’s like living in a house where the renters pay the bills and run the place while sleeping in a shed in the backyard. I can
see the parties, elaborate dresses, and expensive food taking place inside but
I never participate; Instead, I live with my family in one of the many sheds
outside. It’s my house, why am I never invited?