Lazy Mondays

On a quiet Monday night I am more than apt to
procrastinate and so as I lie stretched out on the
floor of my shared room- winnie - my room mate
giggling as she MSNs her boyfriend back in Hong Kong
and the sound of the smokers outside my window (25
foot away - as the law declares) chattering away.

After the turmoil and life alteration that was DC I am
once again merely a partaker of news rather than an
active participator. I am returned to student status
and with it the wonderful feeling of luxury and stress
that accompanies studenthood. I am telling myself that
instead of worrying over grades and essays this
quarter I am instead embarking on a mission to work
out where I stand on feminism - armed with "Founding
Fathers and Feminist Interventions" and a class on
"Women and War" I hope to work out where I stand on
the concepts of feminism - and also how on earth I am
going to bring all the radical, post colonial, post
structural, queer theory back to St Andrews - and IR.

Santa Cruz gleams brightly in its sunny haziness -
complete with simemrings of revolution amongst the
students. Spring is the perfect time for revolution.
This week a tent university is being constructed at
the base of campus - from where students over the next
four days will be preparing a list of demands that
will help claim the unviersity back frrom those who
would sell it for profit. At the moment the anger is
directed towards our new chancellor - a lady whose
partner is being paid $250,000 a year to accompany her
to Santa Cruz - while the workers in the dining hall
are forced to work double jobs and sleep on the ground
because they aren't being paid a living wage. Over 90%
don't earn enough to live off - and believe me if you
have ever been to an American Dining Hall you realise
the excess of the workforce and food that is seen as
normal. Last year the unviversity earned $175 million
in profit - and despite my lack of economic knowledge
on what counts as profit - my overall feeling is one
of anger that even in Santa Cruz - a place that prides
itself on equality and liberal thought the
exploitation of immigrants takes place. It's like
living a double existence - two worlds held suspended
side by side - the haven of redwoods and hippies -
next to a group of people struggling to put food on
the tables. Seeing the strikes and marches and
protests over the last few weeks makes me proud of
this place - and has made those two worlds clash in my
head - forced to confront and acknowledge each other
in a rare vision of community.

For Santa Cruz is rising up - and fingerscrossed that
the police don't start arresting folks - as they have
promised - we might just have a social victory on our
hands. It's tempting to get caught up in the heady
delights of changing the world - and even more
tempting to make a stance and get myself arrested for
the privildge - but I am continually reminded that as
an international student my status here is only
subject to the pleasure of the state - so as yet I am
holding myself back. Companies get to claim parks, or
stadiums or schools as their own here - one of our
colleges is called after the company that owns Kmart.
And in San Francisco Haight -Ashbury (the location of
the beatnik revoltution) sports a gap on its corner.
But in amongst all this is a passionate energy and
belief that people can change the world - and the
students here atleast seem to have got over the apathy
that we seemed to fight in St Andrews over the Ethical
investment Campaign.

I try to ask myself why. Perhaps in California the
extent of unfairness, of inequality, of the push for
market individualism is so strong that the rise of
impassioned young protesters seems ever more important
and vital in a world sinking under the oppression of
"the invisible hand" - But although Britain's
inequalities come in different forms, different
shapes, with different legacies and causes I don't
really believe the need for activism is any less
great.

So, perhaps there's a certain historical division
between the UK and California -- Britain's self
conception is more stagnant - not revolutionary - our
class system, our sarcasm, our understanding of place
within society does not bring us up to believe that we
can change the world - that anyone can become the
prime minister, that we are young and powerful and
idealistic. And although most of this idea of a
classless society, of the ability to transcend your
birth place, or become the president of the United
States is a founding myth that leaves millions without
adequate shelter or support the myth still remains.
And it still rises in the hearts of students in Santa
Cruz when they believe that their voice will be
lsitened to when hundreds of them sit down on the road
into campus - and block the way for all traffic until
the chancellor comes out and speaks to us. Perhaps to
Europeans the idea of the unbridled power of the US to
change the world is precisely the thing that terrifies
us most, but when you are within the country it is
hard not to become infected by that sense of power.
And when that sense of power can be harnessed to a
good cause the power seems ultimately wonderful and a
means to create a better world.

Perhaps we are jaded with our own sense of history and
cannot believe that the world can be changed. The
spirit of revolution - of a society founded on
potential and the idea that the world can be changed -
and will be changed is absent. We have tried to change
the world - and realised that perhaps its all more
complex and difficult than we first thought. We sit on
the remains of our empire - and with a certain british
sense that maybe people are better left to their own
business.

Or maybe in the end it's all just the weather - a
tent university wouldn't fly quite as well in Scotland
as it does here - drumming and screaming protests
songs is beautiful if combined with sunbathing - but
just plain cold and depressing if combined with
getting soaked with rain.

Apathy exists here too - by all means
-- as activists and strikers most definately exist in
Britain - but the mass movement and organisation of
people and workers over the last week has taken my
breath away and left me smiling with pride. Because -
somehow there seems no more powerful of a statement
than watching a people rise as a community.

This last week has also seen a very distinct type of
homesickness in me. I have missed all my friends back
in the UK in a way I don't think I have since I
arrived here. Induced by having visits from some of
you dear people I have found the idea of settling back
down here rather difficult. Very much of my heart
wants to take itself to a kitchen table in St Andrews
for a cup of tea and a shortbread biscuit (not
cookie), or to Aittmans to a share a drink (that they
won't check ID for) admidst a haze of
smoke (inside - not 25 foot from a door) or to the
Crawford to see some theatre - which I am missing more
than I think I allow myself to consider, or down West
sands (in its isolating, drastic glory) with an old friend
accompanying me, or even to enter
a tutorial (where there might be silences - and not
constant chattering) - in one of those richly old
buildings that is solid as opposed to efficient, and
any number of things that are not options at the
moment.

So in a moment I will pick myself off my room floor,
knock on Breanne;s door across the way - and take a
walk under the stars to visit tent university. And my
heart - as torn as it is between St Andrews, DC and
Santa Cruz will continue getting fabulously fit over
the coming weeks - daily stretches, workouts and
warmups I am sure are enlarging it by the day. So that
when I do return to my native shores it will be
larger than ever.