You get a thing of Pop-Tarts out of the vending machine (or a coffee shop muffin, if you’re working from home) at 10:30 because lattes aren’t the same as food and you’re starving and you can’t remember whether “real time” is 9:30 or 11:30, and all you know is you can’t wait another 90 minutes for lunch: $2.50
Professor Dumpster is moving out of the dumpster—and if you live in Austin, he might be coming to a couch near you.
Maybe solar was too cumbersome. Maybe the start up costs were too high. But at least one person has found workarounds and has been surprisingly satisfied by the results.
There are a lot of reasons why we find ourselves living in places. Often, it’s because we have a job or family obligations, or we just can’t afford to leave, or we don’t know where we’d go if we did leave. None of that means that the place we live is good or bad. It simply means we’re there, and for lack of other options, we have to keep living.
There’s a religious Jewish movement called Chabad, which is famous for being pretty aggressive about outreach. When my family was visiting Italy one fall, it was members of Chabad that spotted us and welcomed us, inviting us to join them for services and dinner. Their energy can also be alienating: if you so much as walk on the streets of Brooklyn on a holiday like Passover with brown hair, or hey even with hair, period, a Chabadnik will probably approach you and ask if you’re Jewish. But Chabad, unlike other more dour and insular Hasidic groups, puts an emphasis on DIY, populist joy — dancing, singing — and bringing people together. That’s one of the reasons it’s growing. The other reason? It doesn’t charge membership dues.
As their website puts it, “Most often a Chabad House does not charge membership–if you are Jewish, you are a member.”
It’s a nice idea! It’s also the kind of idea that makes most rabbis go, “Oy vey.”
Most synagogues rely on annual membership dues which, for families, are in the four-figures. Most American Jews don’t belong to synagogues. The NYT this week connected the dots and, in the process, started a much needed conversation about paying to belong.
Disability is I guess welfare for white people? The kind of social safety net even Republicans are okay with.
“Yes, I did it!” I thought, after a successful phone interview for my first full-time job. “I’m moving to New York!” This was followed by another thought: “Oh no, I’m moving back into women’s housing.”
There’s my record player. I wouldn’t mind selling that. It has a speaker connected to it, which means it doesn’t sound as good, which means any serious vinyl head would judge me for having it.