Today, I became a human slapstick metaphor for the fact that the revolution will NOT, in fact, be funded.
Yes, I am re-reading that book, including the essays I never read in the first place because they were too academic for college-student-me to handle in addition to my already large load of academic reading.
(The same book, which, by the way, fairly obviously deserves credit for inspiring the title of my blog)
So today:
I had to deliver a grant proposal to some foundation in another neighborhood in brooklyn (for those of you who are not NYers- Brooklyn is BIG. not small. its only small compared to Manhattan. its actually one of the biggest cities in the world (i'm not sure how many biggest cities there are, i just know bk is one of em).
So, I'm hand delivering the proposal, because it wasn't finished until the absolute deadline.
Also today- it was POURING rain. Think San Francisco winter-style pouring rain, but with a LOT more wind, so that umbrellas not only become useless because the rain is coming at you sideways from various directions, they also flip over so you have to get one arm completely soaked holding the umbrella in its umrella position.
So there's me...walking to the subway under my umbrella (okay and now i'm sure i've put that catchy rihanna song in all of your heads) with the grant proposal in my bag, ironically resting next to my book- the revolution will not be funded. and i am ironically excited that this unusual task of hand delivering a grant proposal means that i get to get out of the office for a second and even get to read my book on the subway! at this point, it's raining more of a San Francisco late-fall style (i.e. less) with less wind. I get on the subway. I read about the problematic aspects of foundations.
I get out of the subway. Still raining. Still not yet pouring. I walk to the address of the foundation. I arrive. Hmm...no foundation! Where is it? In its place is a HUGE dug-out hole in the ground which looks like it's going to be the foundation for a building (not the right kind of foundation to deliver grant proposals to)- There are all these bright blue thin wood walls semi-attached to the ground around this giant hole. With some big sign about development.
I start to think maybe this is some kind of symbolic dream. But it isn't
I go to the nearby store and ask them where #352 is. "It's gone. They tore it down." I ask if they know where the foundation went. They do, but they lost the paper they had it written down on. I call my office and they look it up on the internet (apparently no thought to do this beforehand?) and tell me where to go. It's an 18 minute walk, but the rain is temporarily lighter and the walk will be quicker than walking to the subway, waiting for the subway, and then walking from the subway to the place. They suggest that I walk. I agree to walk.
The light rain= totally an illusion. Within minutes, it is POURING. I am drenched. I run beneath the small tent cover of a food stand in a park and ask them for a plastic bag (so I can put the proposal in it and it won't get completely soaked)- they give me the plastic bag, and I reflect on the fact that this interaction, running for shelter from the rain and asking for what I needed, and recieving it just because people are occasionally nice, was much much much more human than the larger interaction that was taking place between my organization (not to mention my self) and this foundation.
I keep walking. About a block later, my umbrella (which is not actually mine, but someone else's from my office...shhh) flips completely upside down. The rain starts coming at me like someone might as well be pointing a large amount of hoses at me, totally horizontally, directly in front of me, as well as vertically, from up above. Soon the puddles that form on the ground mean it's basically coming from below as well- and in NY, that is GROSS because this city has a lotta grit on the ground.
At this point- specifically, the moment the umbrella flips over- I start laughing out loud. I'm sure I looked crazy because people in NY do NOT laugh out loud when they're alone. But I couldn't help it. I had spent the last couple nights up late reading about how much non-profits bend over backwards and waste their time and compromise themselves to get foundation funding and then here I am, walking down the street in the pouring rain, 18 minutes (but actually longer b/c of the rain and lack of accurate directions) from the wrong location to the right location, my umbrella flipping over, my clothes and my bag completely soaking wet with only the grant proposal protected from the rain because the plastic bag is too small for me to put ALL my stuff in, my directions in my hand and falling apart because the paper is so wet, all for the sake of this grant.
And it's a weird 18 minutes too because the foundation turns out to be located almost directly under a bunch of bridges. totally totally surreal. again, for the sf parallel- imagine the soma district under about three bridges- and of course pouring rain. and a really loud subway underground that doesn't seem to have any entrances or exits anywhere nearby.
Finally, I get there. At this point, my pants are extremely heavy because they are soaked in water and grit from the brooklyn sidewalks and streets. I find it- I go in, afraid they are going to turn me away from the building and I'll never get the the office I need to go to, but they don't. They let me in, dripping wet, and a mess. I take the elevator. Knock on the door. "I'm here to deliver a grant proposal." They take it. They do not acknowledge that I am soaking wet. They do not acknowledge much at all. They also don't seem to be in any sort of rush, or bombarded with proposals, so I wonder about this supposed deadline...
I leave. Going to the subway, I'm no longer laughing because I'm too tired. My shoes are soaked through and I can feel the water on my toes, so I give up on jumping over puddles and just walk through them. On the subway I notice that the water has my hat sticking to my head so I take it off. Of course I end up forgetting my hat on the subway. I go into my office. And still no acknowledgement. Now I KNOW I am soaking wet- I know that I am literally dripping and my sneakers are squeaking LOUD. Their question "So did you get it there?"
Deep breaths, self. Deep breaths.
"Yes, but I lost my hat in the process and I'm literally soaking wet."
The development director apologizes profusely of course.
I look expectantly at my ED until she says I can go home. I mean seriously, she HAD to at least let me go home and change- but it took so long to deliver the proposal that I'd only have been able to come back for about 15 minutes before leaving again. Of course she still got to feel very benevolent about letting me go home an hour early.
How sweet.
And that, my friends, is the story of how I became a walking slapstick style metaphor (I wish I could capture on film that moment where my umbrella first flipped upside down and I hovered around the grant proposal and its plastic bag making sure IT didn't get wet, regardless of how wet I was getting)for the absurd measures non-profits go to get foundation funding, the ineffectiveness of these measures, the extreme amount of energy they drain us of, and the fact that the revolution will NOT, in fact, be funded.
The end.
