How is a mitten like an academic article?

(Insert comment about long absence from blogging here.)

As noted, it’s been a while. I’ve changed jobs—and countries—in the interim, but Spanish literature still remains my jam. What many who stumble across this blog might not realize, is that I am also a knitter. Hence the question I propose to answer today: how a mitten is like an academic article.

My current knitting project (or one of, I should say) is a pair of mittens. But these are not just your standard mitten, no, these mittens are special. Exhibit A: They are made out of a lovely silk-merino blend, not at all scratchy. Exhibit B: they have a fun pattern that is made out of knitting intarsia (a colour-work technique usually constructed flat) in the round. The latter is a new technique to me, so even though I’ve knit a number of mittens before, I’m still learning something new.

Most of a mitten in green and purple yarn.

Exhibit B: Magically a tree appears on a knitted background…

And that, in part, is how a mitten is like an academic article. We tend to write what we know, sticking within the limits of our minor field of knowledge… but a good project will test those limits, forcing us to learn new things.

Still these things are variations on what we are already familiar with. Note how the green stitches slant to the right more than the background, purple stitches? Those are two-stitch mock cables (meaning the left (or second) stitch is knit first and then the first, or right stitch, forcing the left to cross in front of the right). Although this is a technique I was familiar with from previous projects, it is not one that I have used in many years. And yet, this pattern, plus two sock patterns I’ve recently worked on, all have variations of this stitch. All of them, however, have slightly different patterns, which in turn make them all look very different as final products:

crossed socks

Exhibit C: same technique, different outcomes

As we apply our knowledge to different scenarios, we sometimes come up with varied conclusions. Or, sometimes, we realize that many of the things that appear different on the surface are much more closely related that we originally thought.

In knitting, just as in writing, we can make mistakes. Sometimes these are easy to fix, but sometimes they aren’t. In knitting, the hard-to-fix mistakes, the ones that would require you to rip back to the beginning, are often called “design features”… those things that make the project unique to that knitter, sort of like Persian carpet flaws. In academic writing, however, those mistakes can incur the wrath of reviewer number 2… Let’s just say I’m glad my knitting isn’t held to quite the same standard!

En un lugar de la mancha…


Screen Shot 2016-07-03 at 10.38.03 AM

it’s hard to see but Rocinante and Rucio are actually saying “de cuyo nombre no quiso acordarse…”

I’m fortunate enough to be hanging out in Spain for a few weeks this summer in order to work on some projects that require archival and library visits, and, even luckier for me, it just so happens to be the 400th anniversary of Cervantes’ death, which means that everything is all Cervantes, all the time!

Last weekend I spent a day in Alcalá de Henares, the birthplace of Cervantes (the outside of which is being obscured by the above posters announcing a special exhibition “Cervantes (Don Quijote) Forges: un diálogo a través de los siglos” (“Cervantes (Don Quijote) Forges: a dialogue across centuries). Forges is a graphic artist who has used Quijote and Sancho in his work for many years. The exhibition gives us a humorous look into the lives of Quijote and Sancho, particularly the innermost thoughts of Sancho as he follows Quijote around on, well, quixotic adventures. It also puts Quijote in 21st century scenarios and gives his companions, particularly Sancho, some modern touches:

forges 8 forges 4

Here we see Sancho, with a modern “rappers hat” and the racing greyhound of Alonso Quijano, complete with fitbit and beat-style headphones.

forges 7

And here, Sancho warning against getting too involved with the windmills because “they continue to get voted in”… an allusion to modern-day Spanish politics, one assumes.

 The house itself is a two-story structure that features a sitting/guest-receiving room, the “surgery” of Cervantes’ father, a kitchen/dining room, sitting room for the women of the house and inner patio, all on the first floor; and the temporary exhibition space, and two bedrooms (one for women/children and the other for the man of the house, with a writing space).

baciaHis father’s surgery, complete with bacía or shaving bowl—much like the one that Quijote adopts as a helmet—sitting on the patient’s chair. Since the professions of surgeon and barber were often one and the same, it is not unusual that he would have had such an instrument… but one must assume that the museum did not place it there accidentally!

estrado instruccion mujer cris

The estrado de damas or women’s sitting room, a tradition that, according to the museum, comes from Muslim traditions. Women sat on cushions on the carpeted area and performed daily tasks. Of course, no woman’s life would have been complete at the time without a copy of Juan Luis Vive’s Instrucción de la mujer cristiana, which can be seen on the little desk in the picture on the right.

Of course, Cervantes is not relegated to his houses this year (nor really any year in Spain), but his presence is definitely felt in the streets right now.  All around Madrid you can find well-chosen quotes in the place of advertisements. Here are just two that I have happened upon while making my way to and from various archives:

cervantismos 1 cervantismos2

My rough translations:on the left: if they don’t want me to speak or write, cut out my tongue, and cut off my hands, and even then I would put my mouth in the the entrails of the earth and I’d shout however well I could; and on the right: Because one of the effects of fear is to upset the senses and make things appear to be that which they are not…

I can’t really top that, so I’ll just leave it here, with one final picture of me, hanging out with Quijote and Sancho.

quijote y yo

Ok, more Quijote than Sancho… I think Sancho was eating and he really didn’t look like he wanted to share…

Orphan Black: Playing Within the Play

Spoiler Alert: This is a post about the Season 3 premiere of Orphan Black. If you haven’t seen it (or any of the previous seasons for that matter) please go watch it first!!

I have been obsessed with Orphan Black since it started. As others have recently pointed out, part of that obsession likely stems from the fact that it is one of the only shows on the air that is really, truly invested in showing a large female cast (even if only one woman actually plays most of the leads), who are fighting for autonomy over their bodies and the decisions made about them. Sure they’re clones, and one might argue—as the show’s antagonists at the Dyad do—that they’re not fully human and thus not fully deserving of human rights… but they fight for them and you, as an audience member, are fully invested in seeing them win. (For more on the woman-centric-ness of Orphan Black, check out “The Many Faces of Tatiana“, which discusses how using female archetypes in concert with each other actually breaks down stereotypes and begs TV to do something new with women; or “Orphan Black: An Allegory for Reproductive Rights“, and “TV’s Most Important Political Debate Is Happening Right Now on Orphan Black” which both delve into the ways in which the show directly comments on the politicization of women’s bodies and issues.)

So they’re clones—so far there are nine, to be precise (Beth, Katja, Alison, Sarah, Cosima, Rachel, Helena, Jennifer, and Tony)—all played by the same actress, Tatiana Maslany. Each is similar, of course, in that they have more or less the same face, and yet they are all so very different. There is no mistaking when Maslany walks into the shot, which character she is playing. Each has their own style and demeanor—Alison, the stiff, Stepford-wife; Sarah, the punk rocker; Helena, the abused, misguided killer—and they’re unmistakeable for the viewer. Prior to this season Sarah had “played” Beth, the deceased police officer, in order to figure out who—or perhaps more fitting what—Beth was, as this is the first time she has seen someone who shares her face. Since as an audience we have never seen Beth herself, aside from the brief opening sequence in which she commits suicide in front of Sarah, we had no way of knowing whether or not Sarah’s “acting” was on point. The show has played with clone as clone in various ways, but the audience is always in on the joke and the often times the characters are recognized quickly as impostors. Two seasons into the show, we know each of the living clones so well that it would be hard to fool us as spectators.

Clones will be clones, indeed.

So when the premise of the season 3 premiere became apparent—(and here come the spoilers): that Rachel, although not dead, is badly wounded and Delphine, who has taken over Dyad, needs someone to “play” Rachel for a visiting executive—I found it hard to believe that it would work. The clones, in all their guises, are familiar, and so different, that it seemed a stretch that one actress could play them all playing each other.

And yet… it was perfection. The play-within-the-play is a trope that has been around for hundreds of years. In the Spanish Golden Age (as well as the English one, I would think) it was used for a variety of purposes: to move along the plot; make a point about a character’s flawed nature; to disguise one’s true purpose… but the audience is always aware of its relation to the overarching storyline, even if the characters are not. Here, when Sarah-as-Rachel appears on screen we can sense her nervousness; she wants to pull off a one-line act and escape as soon as possible. Ferdinand, the visiting exec, will have none of it though, inviting “Rachel” to sit down and discuss their future plans. Sarah-as-Rachel quickly realizes that they have shared a more intimate relationship and, not wanting to jeopardize her freedom, agrees to a more private meeting later on. She almost panics, however—as do the spectators, since we aren’t yet in on the whole story—when he asks to see the captive Sarah. As Sarah, she cannot possibly be playing herself and Rachel at the same time. When they arrive in the holding area, we see an almost-too-perfect version of Sarah sitting, chained, before us. Alison has been brought in on the game and she plays Sarah for Ferdinand, Delphine, and Sarah-as-Rachel.

The part that is perfection is not so much that Maslany is playing Rachel and Sarah in these scenes, but that she is flawlessly pulling off Sarah-as-Rachel and Alison-as-Sarah. In the scenes in which the clones are themselves, they are fully themselves. There are no seams, no tells that remind the audience that this is one actress playing nine (or more?) separate people, but rather she embodies each of them fully and distinctly. In these scenes, there are gaps, holes through which the audience can see another character thinly veiled below the facade of the character they are then playing. Alison-as-Sarah has an obvious wig—the bangs are all wrong—as does Sarah-as-Rachel. Alison’s tight-lipped smile belies her wound-up nature even as she tries her hardest to be Sarah for her audience of three. Sarah-as-Rachel does somewhat better—which makes sense, given Sarah’s background as a bit of a vagabond who has had to be deceitful in order to survive—but can hardly suppress her panic in the elevator to what she assumes will be an empty cell, as well as in Rachel’s apartment when she realizes that “Helsinki” is code for kill-all-clones. Still, she holds it together enough to try and seduce Ferdinand in order to kill him off (although unsuccessfully thanks to the interruption of Delphine).

In a way, the season 3 premiere has pulled back the curtain. We watch as Sarah picks out an outfit with Delphine’s help, and puts on a wig to match her hair to Rachel’s—likely the same wig they use to make Maslany into the “real” Rachel. Alison’s valiant, but ultimately poor attempt to play Sarah can only be pulled off for someone who is completely unfamiliar with the clones and their personalities. By showing us how difficult it is for Sarah to play Rachel and Alison to play Sarah the audience is forced to acknowledge how seamlessly Tatiana Maslany plays each of these characters as individuals, and yet even as individuals they are only made whole by each other.

Spain’s Nuns Come Full Circle


Portrait of Catalina de Erauso by Juan van der Hamen, from the Wikipedia page dedicated to Erauso

Some 400 years ago, a novice from a convent in the remote reaches of the Basque province of Spain cut her hair, fashioned her robes into a rough suit, and ran away to join the forces conquering America. Her name was Catalina de Erauso, but she changed that to fit in undetected amongst the all-male troops, and later became known under the moniker she shared with her autobiography: La monja alférez (the Lieutenant Nun). Catalina was not your typical cloistered sister, much preferring her life as a violent, gambling, womanizing, cross-dressing soldier. She has been called “Spain’s only true mujer guerrera [woman warrior]” (McKendrick 213), and spent her time outside of the convent subduing the indigenous peoples of Peru, Chile, and Argentina. At the end of her escapades she returns to Spain where she demands equal pay for equal work, and when denied that by the crown, travels to Rome where she (according to her own autobiography, in any case) asks and receives dispensation from the Pope to continue living her life the way she truly desires:

Partí de Génova a Roma. Besé el pie a la santidad de Urbano VIII, refiríle en breve, y lo mejor que supe, mi vida y corridas, mi sexo y virginidad; y mostró su santidad extrañar tal caso, y con afabilidad me concedió licencia para proseguir mi vida en hábito de hombre, encargándome la prosecución honesta en adelante, y la abstinencia en offender al prójimo…

(Erauso 173)

I left from Genova to go to Rome. I kissed the feet of his holiness Urban VIII, gave him a brief account, the best that I could, of my life and actions, my sex and virginity; and his holiness was shocked by such things, and with affability he gave me permission to proceed with my life in men’s clothing, charging me to be honest in future endeavors and abstain from offending others…

(Translation mine)

Basically Catalina was a bad-ass. One of the first accepted female cross-dressers, by the Pope no less, she surpasses all previous—and many later—attempts by women to live out their lives as men. Most women who chose to cross-dress in the early modern period did so for protection while they traveled alone, or to follow a lover into battle, or to make decent money for their families without having to turn to prostitution. Most of these reasons lead to short lived stints of cross-dressing, and if caught, most women argued that they were only doing it to preserve their chastity, an argument that was generally acceptable to both the courts and church, as long as the woman in question promised that it would not happen again. (See Dekker and van de Pol The Tradition of Female Transvestism in Early Modern Europe.)

So, how has all of this come full circle, you might ask… it has nothing to do with Catalina’s cross-dressing, unfortunately (but All about my mother by Almodovar has some great nun/transvestite interaction, if you need a fix of queer Spanish culture, I highly recommend it), but rather her warrior side. Yesterday, All Things Considered on NPR ran a story about another Spanish nun, Teresa Forcades, who is about as unusual a nun as the original Catalina. Born into an atheist family, Forcades only went into the convent as she looked for a quiet place to study when taking her medical exams. She’s a doctor with an MA from Harvard and a feminist who has had run-ins with the Vatican… but if you’ve read the article or listened to the story, you know all that. My interest with her lies in the intersections of her life and that of Catalina. Specifically in her ideas about Catalonian independence, which she makes clear in the NPR piece:

Forcades’ latest crusade is for Catalan independence. She has become one of the most prominent faces of the secessionist movement in Catalonia, which seeks to break away from Spain and form its own country in Europe.

“I am in favor of the independence of my country, because I do believe that for true democracy to be real or possible, you need small political units,” she says, offering the example of the U.S., in which many powers are devolved to the state rather than federal level.

“I want to avoid what unfortunately has been so prevalent for the Catalans. We complain to our local government, the Catalan government, and the local government says, ‘Yeah, you are right, but you know what? It’s Madrid’s fault.’ OK, so we go to Madrid, and Madrid says, ‘Yes, you’re right, but you know what? It’s Brussels’ fault,’ ” she says. “I don’t like growing huge empirelike structures that are removed from the people.”

Spain was, at the time of Catalina’s life, quite possibly the biggest empire the world has ever seen. The King of Spain was also the Holy Roman Emperor, which meant that just within Europe Spain controlled much of the area that is now southern Germany and Austria, Flanders and other Northern parts of Europe, not to mention the vastly unexplored South American continent and the Caribbean. Now, this new, outspoken nun, Forcades, is speaking out against precisely the sort of thing for which Erauso fought and killed. But Erauso did not join the Spanish troops for political reasons. She didn’t necessarily believe in the expansion of Spain’s empire to an unwieldy size. She did it to escape a life she hated, and to live as her true self. Forcades found her calling by entering a convent, in spite of the difficulties of living within the church as an ex-atheist feminist. Erauso found hers by leaving, in spite of the dangers of living both in disguise and in full view of those who might harm her. Although they might appear to fight for the opposite thing, I see them as having far more in common.


Rudolf M. Dekker, and Lotte C. van de Pol,  The Tradition of Female Transvestism inEarly Modern Europe.  London: Macmillan Press, 1989.

Catalina de Erauso, Historia de la Monja Alférez, Catalina de Erauso, escrita por ella misma, Ángel Esteban, ed.  Madrid: Catedra, 2002.

Lauren Frayer, The Outspoken Spanish Nun Who’s Made Herself a Political Force. NPR “All Things Considered”. September 24, 2014. Web:

Melveena McKendrick, Woman and Society in the Spanish Drama of the Golden  Age. New York: Cambridge UP, 1974.

Gender, performance, performativity, and the stage

As I was scrolling through facebook this morning I saw a link to an NPR story “Laura Jane Grace, Transgender Punk, On Life In Transition“, which turned out to be a beautiful conducted and written interview on the transition of Laura Jane Grace, the frontperson/singer of Almost Me!, a punk group that I had not actually heard of (academia doesn’t leave one much time for getting deep into the contemporary punk scene apparently) until this morning, but that I am very much intrigued by now.

The reason I even clicked on the link, however, was not because I am a fan (see above re: knowing nothing about current punk) but because of the tagline featured above a picture of the band, a tagline which is not a direct quote from the piece but an interesting way to frame the piece, and gender/transitioning in general:

NPR performance fb

shameless screenshot from the NPR facebook page.

“I don’t have to think,” Laura Jane Grace says of performing as a woman. “I can just be and exist.”

What the “performing as a woman” refers to is the on-stage presence of Grace. The actual question and answer from the article are as follows:

MARTIN: And performing is better for you now?

GRACE: Of course. It’s what it was when I started out, as far as being a joyful experience and what I live for. I don’t have to think; I can just be and exist.

But written the way it is on the facebook page “performing as a woman” has connotations beyond the idea of performance as a punk star. To me, at least, it referenced the idea of performing gender as described by Judith Butler:

The performance of drag plays upon the distinction between the anatomy of the performer and the gender that is being performed. But we are actually in the presence of three contingent dimensions of significant corporeality: anatomical sex, gender identity, and gender performance. If the anatomy of the performer is already distinct from the gender of the performer, and both of those are distinct from the gender of the performance, then the performance suggests a dissonance not only between sex and performance, but sex and gender, and gender and performance. (Gender Trouble 175)

I am by no means insinuating that what Grace is doing is drag—her performance on stage is not one of gender-bending, her gender is female and the anatomy is irrelevant—but that what the NPR screenshot suggests that she has found her comfort zone. Being on stage as a man was probably far more of a taxing performance in terms of the performative nature of gender, whereas having self-identified (even calling the latest album Transgender Dysphoria Blues) and begun the transition process, Grace has become her full self and is able to focus the performance on the music, rather than the image that someone plagued by dysphoria would likely feel they had to project. This is what the second half of the Butler quote above alludes to: prior to transition, Grace would have felt the distinction of sex (male) and gender (feminine) internally, as well as the disconnect of the performed gender (masculine) for the sake of the audience. Now that all line up (not that I know the extent of the physical transformation, but again, anatomy is less of a concern here*) Grace can focus on the rest of her life, and partake in the “joyful experience[s]” that can be marred by the need to be consciously aware of who your audience is and what they might be thinking.

*To those who might argue that anatomy is important to this process, I’m sure for some it might be… but our ideas about the binary nature of sex and gender and the links between the two are outdated at best and extremely harmful at worst. They are what force families into making uninformed decisions on behalf of intersexed children, and they are what keep many from leading full lives in the way in which they need. Serendipitously (because I wasn’t following but someone retweeted) I saw this on twitter just as I was sitting down to write this:


Genitals = sex, Gender = heart, mind, body, soul, love, hate…. and anything else you might feel shapes you. If the only thing that shapes you is what you see between your legs you lead a pretty small, sad existence.

Panem et circenses: Honey Boo-Boo

I’m home visiting family, which for me means that I spend some of my time helping out with my nana, who, all things considered, is in very good shape for someone who is over 90. But she still has health issues from time to time and has appointments with various doctors regularly. Generally it falls to my mom, who is the only child/grandchild in the same city (and province for that matter) who isn’t employed/in school full time, to drive her around, take her to appointments, gether groceries, etc, etc. This can be, as one might imagine, somewhat exhausting after a time. I lived closer and was able to be home a lot more last year (see: un/underemployed), now it seems that we will only be able to get in every 6 months or so. Point being, when I’m here, I try to alleviate some of the work for my mom so she can do her own thing sometimes too (her own thing, for the record, is being a pretty kick-ass artist).

Ok, so yesterday I took nana to the drs, and then to the drugstore, and then home for tea. Tea with nana = philosophical/political discussions and tea. And probably biscuits or chocolates or something. So sometimes (a lot of times) tea with nana = awesome. Nana is also slowly losing her sight, which is sad because she was a voracious reader up until 2 or 3 years ago, reading 2-3 books a week and several newspapers every day. The love of literature thing runs in the family around here. So whereas often our conversations would have centered around something she had read recently, now they often come from something that she heard/watched on radio or tv. Yesterday she brought up Honey Boo-Boo. Full disclosure: I have never watched a full episode of Honey Boo-Boo, but I have seen clips and I did mention it in a lecture last year. Apparently, however, there was a Honey Boo-Boo marathon on tv on New Year’s Day and nana happened to catch an episode or two.

The conversation went something like this (I’m editing the times I had to repeat since nana is also a little hard of hearing):

Nana: Why would the US want to broadcast something like that?
Me: I don’t know… entertainment purposes?
Nana: But do people find it entertaining? It just seemed a little… silly.
Me: Well, it is a narrative. They’re poor, uneducated… maybe it’s what they want people to see.
Nana: But do they really want the rest of the world to think that they’re all like that?
Me: … (thinking) Maybe they do. The political argument in the US is that if you are uneducated you’re poor because you didn’t work hard. So that’s the narrative they want to project. A TV show that followed around super-educated but poor people wouldn’t be as funny because it would be a harsh look at reality. Take the salary I was offered [and eventually walked away from] last year: $2300 per class to teach 2 classes with no guarantee of work in the Spring. $4600 (minus taxes and other deductions) for 4 months of work. With a PhD. Would anyone want to watch that “reality”?

There was further discussion about whether some of the audience could relate or whether most viewers were just watching for the laughs, but the point that echoes in my mind is that Honey Boo-Boo (and it’s ilk) is, in a way, suppressing the revolution. No one cares how they live because they “deserve” it (note: I’m not actually saying that they do or don’t, again I haven’t watched the show, I’m just riffing on the idea that circulates in US politics that everyone gets what they work for) and it is entertaining. Watching someone that has been in school for over a decade, working hard at something they are passionate about, only to be paid to educate your children for far below minimum wage would be far too difficult.

Until we get it out there, until we force people to see the reality that adjuncts live in (and not just other academics, I think most of us/them are painfully aware now… although there are a few hangers on that still need convincing) the myth of the ivory tower will continue to blot out any truth we try to speak.

So, anyone up for their own reality show?

how to fight the power (and fix the system from within)

Yesterday I was angry. And it would appear a few others were as well. But out of Schuman’s post (linked again for posterity and clarity) came some interesting comments. More than one tenured (not necessarily lifeboater) claimed to understand the frustration felt by those of us on the “outside” but did not have (nor did they claim to) a solution.

One in particular (theelderj) stuck out as a particularly good potential ally when he said this:

Look, I’m tenured, I know I am privileged and I also know that the whole damn system is doomed. But I wonder (and this is not ad hominem, I am really just trying to figure out what happens next and what I can do) whether the revolutionary language is rhetorically overblown (I am a bit of a defeatist) or whether I’m blind to ways to alter a system that is irreversibly corporatist and historically elitist…

(cited from the previous linked pankisseskafka post)

OK. He gets it. At least in theory. But he doesn’t know what to do. This seems to be a common theme amongst the responses to these sorts of posts. Sure, things are broken, we can all see it, but how do we change it? No one is posting about how to change it, so we’ll all just sit on our hands and hope that it will magically fix itself, right?

Here’s my response to him (originally posted as a comment, also on Schuman’s post):

On the small scale, what can you do? Well, for one, you can encourage your dept/division/school not to hire multiple adjuncts/lecturers to teach the equivalent of full-time positions, but rather hire one or two to teach full-time with benefits (crazy concept, right?).

On the larger scale: accept non-tenured/tt (who have decent proposals, of course) to speak at your school/conference/MLA panel. Sure you’ll probably get a 35.6 (or whatever it is that just barely excludes your panel) and not get to present at the MLA, but if everyone decided that the MLA was actually for what it is supposed to be for (that is, presenting new research and allowing up and coming colleagues to shine in front of their potential employers), then they’d have to start accepting panels with newly-minted grads and ABDs.


So: Tenured and TT people who might stumble upon this (particularly if you’ve received my application and are here to check out what I’m all about): I don’t think I’m asking anything too radical here. Advocate for full-time (and note that I didn’t necessarily say TT) lines that treat your colleagues like decent human beings over multiple adjunct/lecturers in your own dept/division/school/whatever you feel comfortable with. Include promising grad students and recent grads/adjuncts/non-TT people on your conference panels, even if it means you might get excluded. If every person who submits a panel to the MLA makes the conscious decision to include “outsiders” on their panels, they will have to accept at least some of them. I’ve been accepted to MLA panels, as a almost-finished grad student and as an adjunct/”independent scholar” and they’ve always been just under the acceptable score required to be allowed to present. I assume (rightly or wrongly, but if I’m wrong I’d like to see the documentation) that they would have gotten the score to present had they only accepted well-known full-time, TT/Tenured scholars. Sure, there have been outsiders allowed to present at the MLA but generally they are one on a panel full of lifeboaters to make up for their deficit.

And here’s the other thing you can do, as an insider, although this one might really rock the boat: stop accepting so many grad students. Teach more undergraduate classes yourself. I’ve written about the plan at Hopkins to do just this already, here. Stop telling us “it gets better” or “it’s still early” or “that won’t happen to you“. Unless you can back it up with real results (which, since we’re being honest, let’s just admit that we all know you can’t, at least right now)

So, what can you do to fix the system from the inside out? I’ve given you a couple of ideas here. We are all smart “inteleckshuals” so I’m sure there are more, and better, ideas out there. I’d love to hear them.