I couldn't put into words what made me uncomfortable about The Blind Side. Then I read my own feelings in a much more eloquent piece written by Christopher Chambers.
Or maybe it is because I'm rarely in the mood for feel good movies in general. Unless its The Princess Bride.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Sky Blue and Black
I talk a lot about caring for people far away, in Rwanda, in Darfur, in places of the world where we will never know. But it's so easy to get caught up in the little things in life. Exams, stupid arguments, where I'm going for dinner...life is busy and we think we have all the time in the world.
Someone I didn't know died today. Someone right down the road; not an ocean away. Someone young and beautiful and I'm sad that she's gone. I don't know how to say this and not sound cliche, but my heart aches for her family.
And I think about the last time before now that I cried, and what a stupid, stupid reason it was for. And I wish there were better ways to put my life in perspective than the blunt reminders of other people's pain and suffering.
And again, at the risk of sounding like an incredibly cheesy hippie, I know that what connects us all together is...love. Yeah, I said it. But it's not just that warm gushy feeling, but that gut wrenching grief and undying connection we find ourselves locked in with each other, when we see others sadness and make it our own.
You know those commercials during the holidays encouraging you to tell people you love them...and then buy their diamonds to give to said loved ones? Well they got the first half right.
A great young woman told me tonight, "Don't ever underestimate the power of just standing with a friend and being still."
Someone I didn't know died today. Someone right down the road; not an ocean away. Someone young and beautiful and I'm sad that she's gone. I don't know how to say this and not sound cliche, but my heart aches for her family.
And I think about the last time before now that I cried, and what a stupid, stupid reason it was for. And I wish there were better ways to put my life in perspective than the blunt reminders of other people's pain and suffering.
And again, at the risk of sounding like an incredibly cheesy hippie, I know that what connects us all together is...love. Yeah, I said it. But it's not just that warm gushy feeling, but that gut wrenching grief and undying connection we find ourselves locked in with each other, when we see others sadness and make it our own.
You know those commercials during the holidays encouraging you to tell people you love them...and then buy their diamonds to give to said loved ones? Well they got the first half right.
A great young woman told me tonight, "Don't ever underestimate the power of just standing with a friend and being still."
Sunday, November 22, 2009
America's Informed Consent?
I’m not pro-war. But I haven’t quite figured out how “anti-war” I am either.
There has been a lot of discussions on the war in Afghanistan in the media, the right complains Obama hasn’t responded quickly enough and criticizes the fact he hasn’t sent more troops, and the left continues to cite polls saying that an overwhelmingly large number of Americans do not want a war in Afghanistan.
Even assuming that these polls are accurate in measuring public opinion, how much weight should the government place on it anyways? In a democratic society, should the majority ALWAYS rule when it comes to foreign policy and decisions of national importance, especially when other polls show just how ignorant the average American is of the world? Can the average Americans really make informed decisions on these matters, and should we always take into account what these opinions are?
It makes me think of the principle of informed consent in the medical world—when doctors have to get the permission of their patients before performing procedures. In these situations, who should the patient trust, a doctor with years of medical training, or his personal “gut feeling”? In highly complicated medical matters, could the average patient really understand what is going on and truly make an informed decision within the short timeframe they are given to decide? When it’s your body and your life on the line, you want to feel like you are in control and that you should always have the decision to do what you want, but wouldn’t doctors make the best decision in most cases?
It all depends on if you trust the doctor, just like if you trust the President and the government to make the best choice. Because after 9-11, polls showed that huge numbers of Americans supported a war in Iraq (the left weren’t quoting these polls then…). Not suggesting that Bush truly cared about public support when deciding whether to go in, but the pro-war side of the media surely capitalized on it. Now that the focus has shifted to Afghanistan, is Obama really looking at what the average American wants to do in the Middle East, even if he is or isn’t, should he be?
This would, of course, be a totally different conversation if Americans really knew what was going on outside their own neighborhood. But until that day comes, are we truly living in a democratic society, and is that even a good thing?
There has been a lot of discussions on the war in Afghanistan in the media, the right complains Obama hasn’t responded quickly enough and criticizes the fact he hasn’t sent more troops, and the left continues to cite polls saying that an overwhelmingly large number of Americans do not want a war in Afghanistan.
Even assuming that these polls are accurate in measuring public opinion, how much weight should the government place on it anyways? In a democratic society, should the majority ALWAYS rule when it comes to foreign policy and decisions of national importance, especially when other polls show just how ignorant the average American is of the world? Can the average Americans really make informed decisions on these matters, and should we always take into account what these opinions are?
It makes me think of the principle of informed consent in the medical world—when doctors have to get the permission of their patients before performing procedures. In these situations, who should the patient trust, a doctor with years of medical training, or his personal “gut feeling”? In highly complicated medical matters, could the average patient really understand what is going on and truly make an informed decision within the short timeframe they are given to decide? When it’s your body and your life on the line, you want to feel like you are in control and that you should always have the decision to do what you want, but wouldn’t doctors make the best decision in most cases?
It all depends on if you trust the doctor, just like if you trust the President and the government to make the best choice. Because after 9-11, polls showed that huge numbers of Americans supported a war in Iraq (the left weren’t quoting these polls then…). Not suggesting that Bush truly cared about public support when deciding whether to go in, but the pro-war side of the media surely capitalized on it. Now that the focus has shifted to Afghanistan, is Obama really looking at what the average American wants to do in the Middle East, even if he is or isn’t, should he be?
This would, of course, be a totally different conversation if Americans really knew what was going on outside their own neighborhood. But until that day comes, are we truly living in a democratic society, and is that even a good thing?
Monday, October 12, 2009
Devil's Advocate
What’s the point of caring about world events? Why does it matter if we know what is going on in Sudan right now if it doesn’t affect us? Now sure, you could do the whole “six degrees of separation” thing, or simply explain how as a united humanity, an atrocity towards one is an atrocity towards all philosophy, but that still ain’t changing the way I live my day to day life.
And even let’s say I am a compassionate person who does care deeply about the starving people in India, the poor sanitary conditions in southern China, or the homelessness in Durham. Since there is no way I as an individual can do anything to change it or do anything about it on a meaningful scale, how is simply KNOWING about it and being AWARE that its happening any different than the person who is clueless? How much real change has a UNC member of the ONE campaign done, compared to the self righteous trust fund baby who’s excited about the new season of The Hills?
Does it really matter if I know about the US involvement in Afghanistan? If I do or don’t, I’m still not going to be able to stop the Taliban. Beyond simple self-respect and “being an educated person,” who cares if I can name the 3 branches of our government? Or if I take the time to understand the health care debate, because let’s be honest, whether I understand it or not, decisions are being made.
Are the coffee shop revolutionaries, the UNC study abroad kids who go to Rwanda or the stay at home dads who watch CNN and MSNBC all day really any better than the “ignorance is bliss” bunch?
I think I'll stop there. My question mark key is feeling overworked.
And even let’s say I am a compassionate person who does care deeply about the starving people in India, the poor sanitary conditions in southern China, or the homelessness in Durham. Since there is no way I as an individual can do anything to change it or do anything about it on a meaningful scale, how is simply KNOWING about it and being AWARE that its happening any different than the person who is clueless? How much real change has a UNC member of the ONE campaign done, compared to the self righteous trust fund baby who’s excited about the new season of The Hills?
Does it really matter if I know about the US involvement in Afghanistan? If I do or don’t, I’m still not going to be able to stop the Taliban. Beyond simple self-respect and “being an educated person,” who cares if I can name the 3 branches of our government? Or if I take the time to understand the health care debate, because let’s be honest, whether I understand it or not, decisions are being made.
Are the coffee shop revolutionaries, the UNC study abroad kids who go to Rwanda or the stay at home dads who watch CNN and MSNBC all day really any better than the “ignorance is bliss” bunch?
I think I'll stop there. My question mark key is feeling overworked.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Never mentions the word addiction in certain company
Coming home after this summer, I made a conscious effort to not to spend money on things I don’t need. And generally, I’ve been pretty good at patching jeans instead of buying new ones, abstaining from haircuts, biking instead of driving, and packing lunches for the day (ok, that’s not been much of a sacrifice, anyone who knows me knows my cooking obsession). But there’s one thing I can’t bring myself to stop buying.
Coffee.
And it’s not because I turn into this crazy, bitchy monster if I don’t have my morning dose of caffeine. It’s that habitual comfort and everything that comes from that warm coffee smell, tearing the brown packets of sugar, and even the little cardboard sleeves.
Nothings quite the same as getting to the Pit early in the morning (ok, not THAT early…) and sitting outside Daily Grind sipping on a cup of happiness swirled with a splash of half and half. You can’t beat that chilly morning air and people watching with a reading that’s either health policy or more likely the DTH crossword.
And then there’s Weaver Street. Love of my life. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when I’m drinking coffee in my free refill white ceramic mug surrounded by trees, art, kids, dogs, people with accents, bikers, bikers with kid’s seats—or side cars, old people, hippies, and every other kind of Carrboro person. I am convinced I get more work done in this kind of environment than the library, or maybe it’s simply because I die a little on the inside each time I step into Davis.
I don’t even want to do the math to see how much extra money I spend each week feeding my addiction (but that might be more because of my desire to run away from all things math related). Either way, I can rationalize it by at least drinking Rwandan coffee, no?
Coffee.
And it’s not because I turn into this crazy, bitchy monster if I don’t have my morning dose of caffeine. It’s that habitual comfort and everything that comes from that warm coffee smell, tearing the brown packets of sugar, and even the little cardboard sleeves.
Nothings quite the same as getting to the Pit early in the morning (ok, not THAT early…) and sitting outside Daily Grind sipping on a cup of happiness swirled with a splash of half and half. You can’t beat that chilly morning air and people watching with a reading that’s either health policy or more likely the DTH crossword.
And then there’s Weaver Street. Love of my life. It’s hard to be in a bad mood when I’m drinking coffee in my free refill white ceramic mug surrounded by trees, art, kids, dogs, people with accents, bikers, bikers with kid’s seats—or side cars, old people, hippies, and every other kind of Carrboro person. I am convinced I get more work done in this kind of environment than the library, or maybe it’s simply because I die a little on the inside each time I step into Davis.
I don’t even want to do the math to see how much extra money I spend each week feeding my addiction (but that might be more because of my desire to run away from all things math related). Either way, I can rationalize it by at least drinking Rwandan coffee, no?
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Sticking Up for the Guys...
"Don't believe the crap about the patriarchy. More women are accepted and attend college. More degrees are awarded to women than men. Women outlive men. More men commit suicide. Men are twice as likely to be victims of violence, including murder. If you consider sexual assaults in prisons, twice as many men are raped as women (society thinks prison rape is funny). The streets are littered with homeless men, sprinkled with a few homeless women. Statically, women are happier than men. The myth that girls are being cheated by our educational system is belied by the fact that schools are bastions of femininity, mostly run by and taught by women. Girls outperform boys in school. It is the boys in school getting screwed over, and prescribed Ritalin for being boys. Real wages for men are falling, while real wages for women are rising. Just because someone says something enough times, doesn't make it true. You have nothing to feel guilty about."
That being said, I'm all for the empowerment of women, just not at the expense of cutting down the other half of our population.
That being said, I'm all for the empowerment of women, just not at the expense of cutting down the other half of our population.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
But I mean, we elected a black president, so we're all good
My hours at Davis library (I know, be jealous) have been spent reading countless accounts and critical discussions of the genocide for our paper due in a few weeks for one of my Rwandan classes. And I keep finding parallels between the ethnic identity and race in Rwanda and here at home; which is think stems a lot from the desire to see yourself in other people’s lives and to find that connection even if its just a glimmer. But while we’ve studied how ethnic tensions, inequalities, and a constant mantra of racial superiority between Hutu and Tutsi has been going on for years and how sad it is that its still evident today in Rwanda—it happens here at home on a daily basis if anyone wanted to acknowledge it. Sure, I’m not saying that the US is on the brink of a genocide against minorities, but how would race relations be different here if the economy truly was destroyed, if the wars we’re involved in suddenly created mass US troop casualties (probably of which no one would care about if another famous pop singer dies…) and unemployment rose to catastrophic highs?
Given a few situational alterations, I don’t think we are much different than Rwandans. How easy little comments slide by in everyday conversation—a neighbor’s upset objection to their daughter’s pot luck black roommate for college, the idea that “race relations” in churches is a waste of resources which could be better spent on a rocket ship-like bell tower, and the issue of self segregation in schools, colleges, faculty lounges (Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?).
I was watching American History X a few days ago and one of Edward Norton’s early speeches in the movie as a white supremacist was incredibly unsettling (starts at time 5:30). Not because it was horrifying, disgusting, or incredibly violent, but because I had heard that same speech so many times before. Take away the shaved head, the tattoos, built physique, a few F words, and put Edward in a suit and he’d be a pretty average talk show guest on CNN or Fox News discussing how minorities are taking away jobs, illegal immigrants are burdening the system, and how the white man has to pay for these things.
This isn’t happening just far away, in a remote village in Africa.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Europe travels!
After an abrupt goodbye to the rest of our group, the next few days with Ben, David, Sarah, and Thomas in Amsterdam were a crazy blur of canal wandering, red light district observing, Mannekin Pis, and a sobering and incredibly moving afternoons spent at the Anne Frank house and the Dutch resistance museum on the Nazi occupation. Yet again, the G-Tour finds its way to continue.
After leaving David in Amsterdam, our next stop was Prague, the amazing city of central Bohemia!
I really loved the tour we took of the city and seeing all the places I learned about in my history classes I fell in love with in high school-Davenport would be so pleased! There's nothing quite like listening to stories of the defenstrations of Praha and the Czech rebellion during the Nazi occupation in the actual settings they occured. All my fellow history dorks understand me!
Besides a brief history refresher, the best parts of Prague included listening to Vivaldi in a Prague cathedral, getting caught in a rain storm, meals of meats, potato pancakes and amazing freshly brewed beer cheaper than water. And even though I know I can lay in the grass and read anywhere in the world, it's just that much better when you're on the Vltava river with a freaking castle in the background.
Our days in Paris were packed-we were welcomed into the city with a midnight meal at McDonals where we were luckily able to order via computer touch screen and avoided awkward French-English language exchange.
The first full day began at Notre Dame. It was a beautiful yet strange experience. As hundreds of tourists filed through the cathedral, snapping photos, posing at crucifixes and buying memorative candles and charms, an actual mass was occuring! Ben brought up the story in the Bible where Jesus throws the seller's tables in the Temple and it seemed to fit this situation exactly. I think that Rwanda has made me incredibly sensitive to preserving the sacred, whatever religious or situationl setting. The impact of Rwanda continues to manifest itself in random situations.
From Notre Dame, we had lunch consisting of veggie sandwiches from a street vender and the previous day's wine, drank from an empty water bottle. Not the complete image of classy but we do what we can.
Before our marathon in the Louvre, we rested our tired legs in the fountains at the pyramid entrance to the museum and floated our feet in the water. I have to admit this place made me think of the DaVinci Code the whole time!
The Louvre was spectacular. Highlights included Hammarabi's Code, and various works I won't even attempt to spell that I studied back when I actually had time to take history and art classes.
I loved watching the complete shit show surrounding the famous 'great' works of art-you had to fight your way through crowds to see Venus de Milo-and she doesn't even have any arms left! Simply tell people its great and they LOVE it! Same goes for that grubby little painting they call the Mona Lisa. Why is she smiling? She's laughing at all the unwarrented attention!
The day was topped off with take out Chinese on the lawn of the Eiffel Tower, where we stayed late into the night. The following day was spent with the lovely Lauren after a crazy ordeal trying to meet up at the train station-trying to connect without cell phones is incredibly difficult-I don't know how they did it before!
Currently, I'm listening to Bruce Springsteen on a train from Paris to Amsterdam (I felt it was necessary to pay homage to The Boss on the fourth). First class was actually the cheapest ticket (who would have thought?!) Feeling a bit like Gatsby, pretending to pass by as upper class citizens, I'm watching the European landscape pass by in a lounge chair, being served amazing food and French wine and free WiFi. This is definitly the way to travel!
Since tomorrow is the final day of my travels (!) this would be an approprite time for reflection and witty story sharing, but I think those will be best told another time.
Happy Fourth! Eat an American burger and watch some fireworks for me!
After leaving David in Amsterdam, our next stop was Prague, the amazing city of central Bohemia!
I really loved the tour we took of the city and seeing all the places I learned about in my history classes I fell in love with in high school-Davenport would be so pleased! There's nothing quite like listening to stories of the defenstrations of Praha and the Czech rebellion during the Nazi occupation in the actual settings they occured. All my fellow history dorks understand me!
Besides a brief history refresher, the best parts of Prague included listening to Vivaldi in a Prague cathedral, getting caught in a rain storm, meals of meats, potato pancakes and amazing freshly brewed beer cheaper than water. And even though I know I can lay in the grass and read anywhere in the world, it's just that much better when you're on the Vltava river with a freaking castle in the background.
Our days in Paris were packed-we were welcomed into the city with a midnight meal at McDonals where we were luckily able to order via computer touch screen and avoided awkward French-English language exchange.
The first full day began at Notre Dame. It was a beautiful yet strange experience. As hundreds of tourists filed through the cathedral, snapping photos, posing at crucifixes and buying memorative candles and charms, an actual mass was occuring! Ben brought up the story in the Bible where Jesus throws the seller's tables in the Temple and it seemed to fit this situation exactly. I think that Rwanda has made me incredibly sensitive to preserving the sacred, whatever religious or situationl setting. The impact of Rwanda continues to manifest itself in random situations.
From Notre Dame, we had lunch consisting of veggie sandwiches from a street vender and the previous day's wine, drank from an empty water bottle. Not the complete image of classy but we do what we can.
Before our marathon in the Louvre, we rested our tired legs in the fountains at the pyramid entrance to the museum and floated our feet in the water. I have to admit this place made me think of the DaVinci Code the whole time!
The Louvre was spectacular. Highlights included Hammarabi's Code, and various works I won't even attempt to spell that I studied back when I actually had time to take history and art classes.
I loved watching the complete shit show surrounding the famous 'great' works of art-you had to fight your way through crowds to see Venus de Milo-and she doesn't even have any arms left! Simply tell people its great and they LOVE it! Same goes for that grubby little painting they call the Mona Lisa. Why is she smiling? She's laughing at all the unwarrented attention!
The day was topped off with take out Chinese on the lawn of the Eiffel Tower, where we stayed late into the night. The following day was spent with the lovely Lauren after a crazy ordeal trying to meet up at the train station-trying to connect without cell phones is incredibly difficult-I don't know how they did it before!
Currently, I'm listening to Bruce Springsteen on a train from Paris to Amsterdam (I felt it was necessary to pay homage to The Boss on the fourth). First class was actually the cheapest ticket (who would have thought?!) Feeling a bit like Gatsby, pretending to pass by as upper class citizens, I'm watching the European landscape pass by in a lounge chair, being served amazing food and French wine and free WiFi. This is definitly the way to travel!
Since tomorrow is the final day of my travels (!) this would be an approprite time for reflection and witty story sharing, but I think those will be best told another time.
Happy Fourth! Eat an American burger and watch some fireworks for me!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
life is better on wheels
Today I let go of my previous inhibitions of Europe and had a blast exploring The Hague by bike with Sarah, David, and Caitlin (there always seems to be at least one other Caitlin in any group!) This will come as a complete un-surprise to you, Dad, but you would absolutly love this place. Nice people, beautiful weather, and super comfy bikes. There are nice wide bike paths all through out the city and neighboring towns, even crosswalk lights for bikers. We ended up biking fown to the North Sea beach, having lunch at McDonalds on the water (sticker shock has quickley driven us to the cheapest places to eat) and then biked through parks and back into the city to our hostel.
Fun fact: while attempting to ride and videotape at the same time, a woman tried to pass me. Not being perfectly balanced steering with one hand, I kind of skid and saw myself about to crash into a parked, brand-new PORCHE! Due to my quick reflexes and my instant desire to sacrifice my body instead of paying for damages, or worse yet-riding off, getting caught, and spending my days in a Dutch jail, I did a sort of barrel roll slash tumble off my bike and avoid any damage to the horrifyingly expensive, shiney black car inches from me. Video posts soon to come!
Fun fact: while attempting to ride and videotape at the same time, a woman tried to pass me. Not being perfectly balanced steering with one hand, I kind of skid and saw myself about to crash into a parked, brand-new PORCHE! Due to my quick reflexes and my instant desire to sacrifice my body instead of paying for damages, or worse yet-riding off, getting caught, and spending my days in a Dutch jail, I did a sort of barrel roll slash tumble off my bike and avoid any damage to the horrifyingly expensive, shiney black car inches from me. Video posts soon to come!
No Longer a Mzungu
Landing in Amsterdam brought the jarring realization that I was no loner a minority and that our group was much harder to locate within the masses of white faces! No more stares, shouts of sista, sista! or pleads to buy anything from street venders was a surprising return to animinity.
I have to admit, after a long day of traveling (we took a three hour cramped bus ride from Butare to Kigali, then caught a flight from Kigali to Arusha, from Arusha to Dar, a brief layover, then a flight from Dar to Amsterdam, THEN an hour train to the Hague!) When we finally arrived in the Hague and ventured into the city, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Probably a mix of utter exhaustion from my Ambien induced nap on the plane, a desire for food, the realization that I had absolutly no way to either exchange US dollars or withdraw from ATMs (fun story for later...) And the fact that my 'Africa' clothes weren't quite up to par with European fashion (dirty Tshirts and long cotten skirts aren't really 'in' with the hipster-chic Euroipeans-who knew?) Call it mild culture shock-going from impoverished Rwanda to an incredibly wealthy area of Europe will do the trick. Where Porsches roam the streets, resturants commonly charge over 20 euros for entrees and people dress to the nines everyday-we certainly weren't in Africa anymore.
As I passed designer shoe stores, I couldn't help invisioning the number of bednets each pair could be sold for, or was reminded of the hungry street kids in Butare when I ate my lunch (which was delicious by they way). Regardless, this city of mixed emotions was sure to bring many adventures and perhaps new insights and a space to relax while enjoying each other's company for one final week.
I have to admit, after a long day of traveling (we took a three hour cramped bus ride from Butare to Kigali, then caught a flight from Kigali to Arusha, from Arusha to Dar, a brief layover, then a flight from Dar to Amsterdam, THEN an hour train to the Hague!) When we finally arrived in the Hague and ventured into the city, I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Probably a mix of utter exhaustion from my Ambien induced nap on the plane, a desire for food, the realization that I had absolutly no way to either exchange US dollars or withdraw from ATMs (fun story for later...) And the fact that my 'Africa' clothes weren't quite up to par with European fashion (dirty Tshirts and long cotten skirts aren't really 'in' with the hipster-chic Euroipeans-who knew?) Call it mild culture shock-going from impoverished Rwanda to an incredibly wealthy area of Europe will do the trick. Where Porsches roam the streets, resturants commonly charge over 20 euros for entrees and people dress to the nines everyday-we certainly weren't in Africa anymore.
As I passed designer shoe stores, I couldn't help invisioning the number of bednets each pair could be sold for, or was reminded of the hungry street kids in Butare when I ate my lunch (which was delicious by they way). Regardless, this city of mixed emotions was sure to bring many adventures and perhaps new insights and a space to relax while enjoying each other's company for one final week.
Butare
Wow! It sure has been a while since my last visit to cyberspace. Thinking back to when we left our homestays in Kigali for Butare seems like remembering a previous lifetime.
We spent a week in Butare, sourthen Rwanda about three hours from Kigali. A much more rural, less bustling place than Kigali, Butare still has the characteristically rolling green hills that I will forever associate with this country. Much of our days have been spent at a local grocery store slash cafe, having class with Donna in the mornings and NUR (National University of Rwanda) faculty in the afternoons.
The evenings are spent either at a bar downtown with our group or simply at our guesthouse. My favorite time of day is sunset on our balcony, with the sun dipps below the horizon and the chirping birds give way to a chorus of insects. The call to prayer from the loudspeakers of the teal mosque across the valley adds to the calming appeal.
One of our last days in Butare was spent at a genocide memorial where many of the bodies had been preserved-Mt Vesuvious like-but with lime preservation. During the genocide, Tutsi fled to a local tech school in hopes of protection but instead were destroyed. We walked into countless rooms of dessicated bodies white with lime powder, as well as a room filled with clothes and other possessions. Equally, if not more, horrfying than simply seeing bodies in the positions of their murder was the obvious signs of Frenc involvement. Over a mass grave, the French flew their flag and even made a volleyball court.
In many ways, I have become accustomed to hearing survior stories, seeing wounds and even experiencing the presentation of preserved bodies to a point that it seems normal and expected. So many of us have expressed how desentized they are and how many of us will not be able to process what we have learned and seen for a long time after we have left this place. It's difficult to imagine what returning home will be like for me and the rest of our group once we have become immersed in the knowledge and exposure to this history, this people, and this experience in whole.
On a lighter subject, we leave for The Netherlands soon! A salad, hot shower, and a fountain soda are needed immediatly upon landing.
We spent a week in Butare, sourthen Rwanda about three hours from Kigali. A much more rural, less bustling place than Kigali, Butare still has the characteristically rolling green hills that I will forever associate with this country. Much of our days have been spent at a local grocery store slash cafe, having class with Donna in the mornings and NUR (National University of Rwanda) faculty in the afternoons.
The evenings are spent either at a bar downtown with our group or simply at our guesthouse. My favorite time of day is sunset on our balcony, with the sun dipps below the horizon and the chirping birds give way to a chorus of insects. The call to prayer from the loudspeakers of the teal mosque across the valley adds to the calming appeal.
One of our last days in Butare was spent at a genocide memorial where many of the bodies had been preserved-Mt Vesuvious like-but with lime preservation. During the genocide, Tutsi fled to a local tech school in hopes of protection but instead were destroyed. We walked into countless rooms of dessicated bodies white with lime powder, as well as a room filled with clothes and other possessions. Equally, if not more, horrfying than simply seeing bodies in the positions of their murder was the obvious signs of Frenc involvement. Over a mass grave, the French flew their flag and even made a volleyball court.
In many ways, I have become accustomed to hearing survior stories, seeing wounds and even experiencing the presentation of preserved bodies to a point that it seems normal and expected. So many of us have expressed how desentized they are and how many of us will not be able to process what we have learned and seen for a long time after we have left this place. It's difficult to imagine what returning home will be like for me and the rest of our group once we have become immersed in the knowledge and exposure to this history, this people, and this experience in whole.
On a lighter subject, we leave for The Netherlands soon! A salad, hot shower, and a fountain soda are needed immediatly upon landing.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Indian Culture...who knew?!
I've been living at my homestay for three days now, and it's nothing I ever would have expected. I am living with Raj, a textiles businessman from India who has been in Rwanda for ten years. I've posted an article written about him which is really interesting about how he came to Rwanda and what he has done for the Rwandan economy. He's also an active Rotary member, heading a huge project to build Rwanda's first public library located in Kigali.
- Raj loves cricket. World Cup is going on now and I have to admit I can somewhat see the excitement of men running back and forth between wickets. Somewhat.
- Brigitte and I have our own house. Yes. House. With our own security guard, a woman who serves us breakfast and cleans our clothes, a man who serves us tea in the afternoons and makes the most amazing southern Indian food for dinner.
- For dinner, everyone eats whenever they are hungry. Utinsils are not used, in favor of scooping up delicious vegetarian dishes with breads. Yum.
- Raj has a massive DVD collection. His favorites are Spy Game, Vantage Point, and Indian films I've never heard of.
- Raj used to have two snow white pet rabbits. A few years ago they escaped, and now there are tons of white rabbits hopping around the gated property. Their eyes glow red at night'
- We have a driver who takes us to class in the morning, who follows "African time," which means he is always at least 30 minutes late.
Our first night at Raj's we went to a birthday party for the two year old son of some of Raj's friends. It was basically a quiet get together of Indian friends and family in the area. The women all wore gorgeous traditional silk dresses and chatted together on the balcony over Fanta, fried fish, and fried green chilies and chickpeas, while the children ran around playing with balloons and the men sat at tables in suits smoking and talking. Someone explained that here in Rwanda, the Indian men do not wear the tradional Indian dress because it looks very similar to batiks--the traditonal dress for Rwandan women!
The food was deliciously spicy and everyone was incredibly polite and friendly. We even set a date to play badmitten with a couple who live next door to us for the following day--which ps: I'm terrible at.
While I sit here in the living room, ignoring the security man who walks by my window every 15 minutes or so and sipping my liquid-sugar coffee, I marvel at my unexpected week of luxury and try to ignore the creeping feeling of guilt that if I got out of my overstuffed recliner and walked five minutes down the road, I would meet people living without running water, in a home smaller than this guesthouse, with 5 children and little food in the pantry.
Reflection
It's interesting how quickly conversations shift in Rwanda. One moment, I am relaxing at New Cactus, a popular hang out for NGO workers, eating pizza and laughing with my friends about the ridiculous parts of our days. Someone mentions how no one besides us would understand our jokes and the mood instantly changes. Because we all know that while no one will be able to understand our jokes, no one will be able to understand our experience at all--the funny, the difficult, the horrifying, the beauty, the people.
A wave of silence passes over the table--we all know what we are all thinking--the churches we visited days before. The churches where Tutsi fled for refuge from the genocide, believing their attackers would not commit murder in a sacred place of God. Instead, they were slaughtered in mass number, on alters, pews, the lawn, everywhere. The experience is impossible to describe, like when you take a picture of a beautiful landscape but when you print it, it doesn't fully reflect what you saw. The colors are less intense, the particular way the sunlight shines in the sky isn't shown, and the overall feeling of the experience is lost. I haven't written about these experiences because I have no words, but neither does anyone else.
Suddenly, the air at New Cactus seems a bit chillier, the lights seem overly bright, and when my food comes I'm suddenly a little less hungry. It's exhausting--all these intense conversations, but in no way less interesting or important. Our experiences here makes it almost too easy to shift from light hearted conversation to discussing the role of politics in international aid, our shame and disgust in some past US actions and lack of action, or the role of religion in Rwanda and our own lives. But when the conversation gets to be too much, someone throws out a question we all know means to change the subject (Hey! What's your favorite color? Mine's green...) We all laugh and the conversation shifts to soccer and sharing photos.
Suddenly, the air at New Cactus seems a bit chillier, the lights seem overly bright, and when my food comes I'm suddenly a little less hungry. It's exhausting--all these intense conversations, but in no way less interesting or important. Our experiences here makes it almost too easy to shift from light hearted conversation to discussing the role of politics in international aid, our shame and disgust in some past US actions and lack of action, or the role of religion in Rwanda and our own lives. But when the conversation gets to be too much, someone throws out a question we all know means to change the subject (Hey! What's your favorite color? Mine's green...) We all laugh and the conversation shifts to soccer and sharing photos.
Rwanda has been a mix of indescribable extremes--which makes even explaining what that means difficult.
Friday, June 5, 2009
pics
Basket making
A teacher at a secondary school
Brigitte, Sarah, David and I stopped in at World Food Programme, which is part of the UN. I think I've found my life calling :)
At the Barcelona-Man U football game
At a classic Rwandan buffet--potatoes, mystery meat, peas, bananas, rice and spinach. 1,000 Francs ($2!)
Thomas and Gilbert.Friday, May 29, 2009
au revoir
Sidenote: I'm sitting on my balcony, listening to Kinyarwandan singing in the church right next door. Beautiful.
Yesterday, on a whim, I decided to share a cab with Thomas to a secondary school where a handful of UNC students were already at to teach English. It was so nice to get out of the city and see a bit of rural Rwanda. Thirty minutes of bumpy roads, a few almost collisions, two wrong turns and beautiful scenery, we were dropped off at the school and greeted by the director of academics. While I've gotten used to all the stares, it still makes me laugh to hear whispers from students of "mzungu!" and realize how much I stick out.
So to better understand my evening at the secondary school, a (very) brief history lesson is needed. Before the genocide of 1994, there was a huge amount of French influence in Rwanda. When Hutu Power increased and the genocide against Tutsi was inacted, the French supported the Hutus in order to continue the influence in the area. So, when the genocide ended and Kagame came into power, the French were not very popular if you can imagine. Kagame's administration has therefore taken numerous acts to remove Rwanda's "Frenchness," which includes switching the language from French to English. All schools are supposed to be teaching all classes in English by next year, but the teachers are not fluent in English. So, for three hours last night a group of 5 UNCers taught about 15 (all male) teachers ways to improve their English.
What was so heartbreaking were these men's worry and frustration to teach in a language neither they nor their students were comfortable with. Think about it: you're a high school chemistry teacher whose always taught in French, but now all of a sudden you are supposed to change to English. Converstationally, all these teachers are perfectly fine in English, but when it comes to technical terms, like proton, neutron, particle, or nebulus, they are lost.
The best part was when we broke up into small groups. Luke and I chatted with about 5 teachers, mainly about us--our education backgrounds, what we want to do in the future, why we chose to come to Rwanda, what we thought about Rwanda before coming, and what we think about Rwanda now, etc. We also talked about different languages and how useful it is to know many languages. It's always embarrassing when I tell Rwandans that I only speak English...here we are in a developing country with so many challenges and lack of resources, but they are still able to be bi or even trilingual. We talked about languages offered UNC (they LOVED that we even taught Kinyarwandan) but that most students rarely take enough classes to actually become fluent.
We also talked about how languages not only give you the ability to communicate with more people, but that different languages simply express different feelings, emotions, things, etc better and eaiser than other languages. One teacher pointed out that in English, we only have one way to communitcate we are leaving...goodbye...but in Kinyarwandan, they have so many ways to say goodbye. Instead of simply saying bye, in Kinyarwandan you are able to express so much more: that your heart is breaking because you are separating from someone/thing you love and you will miss them for every second until you return.
I'm already anticipating something like this in a few weeks.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Little Things
So I've been thinking about all the little things that make each day special, and thought I'd make a list. Lets just say its a work in progress and will need to be updated more than once!1. being stared at by children (and adults) shouting mzungu! (a slang, somewhat rude term for white person) but I mean, hey, we stick out and we know it.
2. seeing Patrick, our "helper" at the guest house, and his smiling face every morning
3. eating a breakfast of passion fruit, pineapple, figs, amazing African bananas (I swear they taste better) bread with jam, this yummy cheese with little holes all in it, and multiple cups of coffee
4. learning Kinyarwandan from our servers at bars
5. David making fun of my complete failure to learn the language.
6. listening to Thomas talk to our cab drivers, and everyone else for that matter
7. riding in the love bus
8. going out to Rwandan clubs and dancing to really old American hip hop
9. going for a run with David and Kate while being followed and "raced" by children
(oh and did I mention I had to wear pants? yay conservativism)10. hiding from the cops with four people in the back seat of a taxi, and running out of gas
11. eating dinner with the power out (apparently they dont have a generator, but they DO have some pretty romantic candles).
12. spending thousands of Rwandan francs for everything (1000 francs equals about $2)
13. finding a local bar that sells platters of goat kabobs, Primus, and the BEST POTATOES I have ever had in my life. seriously. I talk about them all the time. I want to eat them for the rest of my life.
14. hiking the tallest mountain in K
igali in ballet flats (number one rule in a develping country: be flexible and go with the flow!)15. not being on Facebook 24/7
16. not being able to text at all
17. reading about places I've actually been to
18. singing hip hop songs with 13 year old boys
19. bartering with street vendors
20. taking the minibus. it's a cultural experience for sure
21. learning to love hand sanitizer
22. getting locked out of the guest house in the middle of the night
23. listening to children singing outside my window
24. figuring out the max number of days I can go without doing laundry
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Being Rwandan
It's interesting the kinds of Rwandans I have met and what it means to "be Rwandan." In 1959, before the famous 100 days genocide in 1994, Tutsi were being exterminated and many fled the country. Only after 1994 did many Tutsi return to Rwanda Today I met a woman that fit this example exactly. A group of us were walking in the commercial district downtown (no tourists here!) and stopped at a small store selling cloth. We began talking to the woman selling and we asked how she learned to speak English so well. She told us that she left Rwanda in '59 and went to Nairobi to escape the violence3 and returned in '94. She described life now in Rwanda as "coming back to the motherland" and finally felt at home.
In comparison, a Tutsi woman at the Genocide Memorial Center feels no connection to Tutsi who left Rwanda and are now returning; she considers that these people not Tutsi because they could never understand what it was like for Tutsi that stayed in Rwanda and survived the genocide like herself. She told me about how several members of her family were murdered, she was adamant that no reconciliation was possible and that it angered her when people who did not experience what she experienced told her why she should forgive. She sees Tutsi who returned after 1994 as a totally separate group of people and chooses not to associate with them.
This afternoon I was sitting in a coffee shop downtown attempting to read but ended up chatting with a Rwandan brother and sister and the woman's German boyfriend. Both siblings grew up in Germany when their mother left in 1959. The young man was studying at the University in Kigali now and this was actually the woman's first time ever coming to Rwanda. Both siblings described themselves as Rwandans when they introduced themselves and took pride in describing the country and it's people, but I wondered how much people who have lived all their lives in Rwanda would truly see them as "real" Rwandans. How much of a culture and society can you belong to when much of your connection is family connection?
Although I have not met any Rwandans who have told me they are Hutu, 86% of the population before the genocide were Hutu and the likelihood I have interacted with people who were involved in the killings, or knew family members or friends who were, is very high. (Side note: President Kagame has made several public statements saying that Rwanda will not use the terms Hutu and Tutsi. While Kagame is Tutsi, he only refers to himself as Rwandan. But just because people may not use the term, most everyone knows which group people belong to). This aspect must change the way people interact with each other as well.
As always, the picture of reconciliation and reconstruction is not as simple and easy as one would hope. While there have been huge improvements (Kigali is incredibly clean and safe for one) Rwanda still struggles with incredible poverty in the slums and the somewhat impossible task of reconciliation. In Gourevitch's book, he interviews a Tutsi who says, "People come to Rwanda and talk of reconciliation. It's offensive. Imagine talking to Jews of reconciliation in 1946. Maybe in a long time, but it's a private matter."
In comparison, a Tutsi woman at the Genocide Memorial Center feels no connection to Tutsi who left Rwanda and are now returning; she considers that these people not Tutsi because they could never understand what it was like for Tutsi that stayed in Rwanda and survived the genocide like herself. She told me about how several members of her family were murdered, she was adamant that no reconciliation was possible and that it angered her when people who did not experience what she experienced told her why she should forgive. She sees Tutsi who returned after 1994 as a totally separate group of people and chooses not to associate with them.
This afternoon I was sitting in a coffee shop downtown attempting to read but ended up chatting with a Rwandan brother and sister and the woman's German boyfriend. Both siblings grew up in Germany when their mother left in 1959. The young man was studying at the University in Kigali now and this was actually the woman's first time ever coming to Rwanda. Both siblings described themselves as Rwandans when they introduced themselves and took pride in describing the country and it's people, but I wondered how much people who have lived all their lives in Rwanda would truly see them as "real" Rwandans. How much of a culture and society can you belong to when much of your connection is family connection?
Although I have not met any Rwandans who have told me they are Hutu, 86% of the population before the genocide were Hutu and the likelihood I have interacted with people who were involved in the killings, or knew family members or friends who were, is very high. (Side note: President Kagame has made several public statements saying that Rwanda will not use the terms Hutu and Tutsi. While Kagame is Tutsi, he only refers to himself as Rwandan. But just because people may not use the term, most everyone knows which group people belong to). This aspect must change the way people interact with each other as well.
As always, the picture of reconciliation and reconstruction is not as simple and easy as one would hope. While there have been huge improvements (Kigali is incredibly clean and safe for one) Rwanda still struggles with incredible poverty in the slums and the somewhat impossible task of reconciliation. In Gourevitch's book, he interviews a Tutsi who says, "People come to Rwanda and talk of reconciliation. It's offensive. Imagine talking to Jews of reconciliation in 1946. Maybe in a long time, but it's a private matter."
Kigali!
We've been in Rwanda for a few days and I'm already in love. The second we stepped off the plane, we were surrounded by rolling green hills in a city larger than I had envisioned. We are living at Solace Ministries guest house, a Christian organization a little bit on the outskirts of the city. Kigali is incredibly clean with incredibly friendly people. The first day a few of us decided to walk into the city. Not knowing really how far or how long it would take, we ended up walking for two hours, getting slightly lost, talking in English and broken French to locals eager to help us out. It was so fun to walk and move around after so many hours traveling! Every time we would get to the top of a hill (this truly is the land of a thousand hills!) the entire city would be visible to look down upon. Downtown we had dinner and went grocery shopping...good thing I learned the conversion rates because a box of cereal was about 16 US dollars!
That night we went to the Hotel des Millie Collines, the hotel that Hotel Rwanda is based on, hoping to drink a traditional banana beer but they didn't serve it. We've come to learn that banana beer is kinda the equivalent to American PJ or moonshine...its alcohol content is not regulated and is generally drunk by the lower class. We finally found a place that served it last night, and needless to say the hype was overrated. Think apple cider thats not sweet. Pretty gross to tell the truth!
It was incredibly eerie to sit and drink where so many people were housed during the genocide. While there is controversy over the "goodness" of the hotel owner's actions (Kagame does NOT regard him as a national hero) it was still incredibly humbling to be surrounding by so much history. I have a feeling that this will be a common occurence around Rwanda in the coming weeks.
That night we went to the Hotel des Millie Collines, the hotel that Hotel Rwanda is based on, hoping to drink a traditional banana beer but they didn't serve it. We've come to learn that banana beer is kinda the equivalent to American PJ or moonshine...its alcohol content is not regulated and is generally drunk by the lower class. We finally found a place that served it last night, and needless to say the hype was overrated. Think apple cider thats not sweet. Pretty gross to tell the truth!
It was incredibly eerie to sit and drink where so many people were housed during the genocide. While there is controversy over the "goodness" of the hotel owner's actions (Kagame does NOT regard him as a national hero) it was still incredibly humbling to be surrounding by so much history. I have a feeling that this will be a common occurence around Rwanda in the coming weeks.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Please rise for the honorable judges...aka Court Time!
Our few days spent in Arusha were a compilation of breakfast at our hotel with our amazing hotel staff, conversations with our constant street companions (street salesmen who were relentless in their offers of Tanzanian trinkets), days spent at the ICTR, and evenings out unwinding with the group. The ICTR was created by the United Nations Security Council in order to prosecute those responsible for the Rwandan genocide, and we were able to observe actual trials and talk to several members in the court system.
In the court room, it was unnerving and somewhat unreal sitting three feet away, divided only by an observing glass, from an incredibly high ranking official in the Rwandan government who has been accused of orchestrating the genocide. It was almost like seeing a celebrity; you read about him, know his importance, but it’s still hard to believe he’s an actual person. During the times we observed court session, this man was giving his testimony and trying to discredit the prosecutor’s witnesses who testified earlier that this man, the accused, organized and encouraged the brutal killings to Tutsis and moderate Hutus. In an OJ Simpson-style of cool collectedness he testified, often playing with a pen or paperclip while he spoke, leaning forward with his foot hooked around the leg of the chair. When the court broke for a 20 minute recess, the accused turned around and looked directly at me. I made eye contact. With an accused genocidaire. As he turned to leave, he was smiling and laughing with the guard, turned back to look at us and gave us the upward head nod—that casual “what’s up” sign that made it like we had been watching him perform a dramatic monologue in a school play. Or maybe that’s how he saw his testimony, dramatic entertainment.
I’ve struggled with my opinion of the ICTR the past few days. Originally, I fully accepted their far-reaching power in the justice world: with the implementation of courts such as these, future political regimes will know that their crimes will not be passed over and go unpunished. But I still have a hard time with this international attention and resources going to the genocide after the genocide has already taken place. UN states, including the United States, ignored the genocide completely. No troops were brought in, little media coverage was shown, and the Rwandan government was allowed to continue a massacre of its people. In the “We wish to inform you…” book I have been reading, Gourevitch quotes Rwandan’s Presidential Commission on Accountability for the Genocide, Charles Murigande. He states, “The [ICTR] was created essentially to appease the conscience of the international community, which has failed to live up to its conventions on genocide. It wants to look as if it is doing something, which is often worse than doing nothing at all.” It’s hard to criticize the tribunal in the fact that these men (and the one woman accused) should be brought to justice, but it is hard to ignore the role, or lack of a role, the UN played in allowing the genocide to occur.
In the court room, it was unnerving and somewhat unreal sitting three feet away, divided only by an observing glass, from an incredibly high ranking official in the Rwandan government who has been accused of orchestrating the genocide. It was almost like seeing a celebrity; you read about him, know his importance, but it’s still hard to believe he’s an actual person. During the times we observed court session, this man was giving his testimony and trying to discredit the prosecutor’s witnesses who testified earlier that this man, the accused, organized and encouraged the brutal killings to Tutsis and moderate Hutus. In an OJ Simpson-style of cool collectedness he testified, often playing with a pen or paperclip while he spoke, leaning forward with his foot hooked around the leg of the chair. When the court broke for a 20 minute recess, the accused turned around and looked directly at me. I made eye contact. With an accused genocidaire. As he turned to leave, he was smiling and laughing with the guard, turned back to look at us and gave us the upward head nod—that casual “what’s up” sign that made it like we had been watching him perform a dramatic monologue in a school play. Or maybe that’s how he saw his testimony, dramatic entertainment.
I’ve struggled with my opinion of the ICTR the past few days. Originally, I fully accepted their far-reaching power in the justice world: with the implementation of courts such as these, future political regimes will know that their crimes will not be passed over and go unpunished. But I still have a hard time with this international attention and resources going to the genocide after the genocide has already taken place. UN states, including the United States, ignored the genocide completely. No troops were brought in, little media coverage was shown, and the Rwandan government was allowed to continue a massacre of its people. In the “We wish to inform you…” book I have been reading, Gourevitch quotes Rwandan’s Presidential Commission on Accountability for the Genocide, Charles Murigande. He states, “The [ICTR] was created essentially to appease the conscience of the international community, which has failed to live up to its conventions on genocide. It wants to look as if it is doing something, which is often worse than doing nothing at all.” It’s hard to criticize the tribunal in the fact that these men (and the one woman accused) should be brought to justice, but it is hard to ignore the role, or lack of a role, the UN played in allowing the genocide to occur.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
At Long Last
The morning of my departure was a blur of repacking, cleaning, and wondering what crucial items I was forgetting. It still felt unreal I would finally be leaving for the summer. Three flights, three different continents, a few meals, three movies and two Ambien later, our plane touched the Tanzanian runway and a jolt of excited disbelief ran through my body. Walking off the plane I took my first big breath of African air--it was 8:00 pm and was surprisingly cool and breezy. Passing customs, which simply meant smiling at the guard and walking out the door, we met our driver who drove us to Arusha, about a 30 minute drive from the airport. What I have loved the past few days are the stars every night since I've been here. The intense darkness of the night allows the stars to shine with indiescrible brightness. Sticking my head out the window of the truck, I knew this was going to be an awefully big adventure.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
..Wait...so WHERE am I going?
So I thought I'd do a quick crash course on where my adventures will be taking place! When first hearing about Rwanda, the only thing I really knew was related to "that hotel movie." Rwanda is landlocked, a bit larger than Vermont and a bit less populous than Chicago, a place so dwarfed by neighboring Congo, Uganda, and Tanzania that for the sake of legibility its name has to be printed on most maps outside the lines of its frontiers. The genocide and the politics that surround it are far more complicated than stating the Hutu majority randomly decided one day that Rwanda would be better off if the Tutsi minority were gone, but that is how it has often been simplified.Rwanda's population is approximately 10.1 million, with Kinyarwanda, French, and English official languages. The populatio
n is overwhelmingly Christian; a 2006 study found that 56% were Catholic, 37% Protestant, and about 4% Muslim. It is largely agricultural, but has economically suffered since the genocide. There has been great effort in rebuilding, reconciliation, and has shown signs of rapid development. Rwanda is generally described as grasslands and rolling hills.I will be taking classes generally three days a week, volunteering at a NGO once a week, and group field trips on Fridays. Here's the link for more info on my studies.
Ok. I think I've procrastinated enough. I must finish packing and reading Bone Woman and We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families. Both of which I would recommend to anyone interested in Rwanda! (not exactly the classic summer reading by the beach, but it's what I would pick!)
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
See and Feel
"You see some things I can teach you, some you learn from books, but there are things that, well, you just have to see and feel."
This quote is from the book, A Thousand Splendid Suns, by Khaled Hosseini (author of the Kite Runner) which I've been frantically trying to finish before I leave because I'm afraid it will be too bulky to carry with me. It was spoken from a father to his daughter, atop a massive Buddha statue overlooking their city of Kabul, Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation.
In all the excitement, the recent onslaught of emails about packing lists and last minute reminders, reading this book reminded me about how important this experince is. I chose to apply to this trip because I knew that I probably would not have the opportunity to go to Rwanda on my own in the forseeable future. Its a kinda overwhelming thought! That all these experiences I need to soak up quick for fear of never having another journey like this one.
While this trip is going to be amazing for so many reasons, I remind myself the reason for my journey--to learn about Rwanda and its recent genocide. This won't be a summer at the beach! My biggest concern is that I won't absorb all that's around me, that I will let once in a lifetime experiences and moments pass me by. I hope that I don't "lose my humanity" (for lack of a better phrase)--that I don't become desensitized by all the violence and unspeakable horror. I don't want to discount numbers. When thinking about the genocide, its hard to really imagine just how many people the statistics are talking about.
An unrelated subject but similar idea, Chris Jordan uses art to illustrate various statistics of social justice and environmental issues. (skip the first part about paper cups, it gets better)
Plus, I'm really want to try banana beer.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
It would be cool to have a comic book named after me though...
I always thought, that if I was able to have any superpower, I would want to instantly be in any location in the world, just by thinking it. Believe it or not, I've given this a great deal of thought. I always thought how great that would be--just think about it, I'm running late to class (which is pretty much everyday, every class) so I step out of my building and just think real hard "Chapman Hall" and wham! I'm there, 3 minutes early. Or no more layovers in the Atlanta airport, or no more stuffy buses, or incessant car rides. Kinda like clicking my heels Dororthy-style, but a much cooler and more badass version of it. I'm not into sparkle shoes.
But then I think about all the amazing stuff thats happened via transit, the stuff I would have missed out on using my superpower. Walking through the quad on amazing days like these, chatting with a friend on the way to Weaver Street, or crazy dance parties on car rides to DC.
And I think about last summer when I lived in NYC, when a friend and I were determined one week to never take the subway or cabs--all the way from Central Park to Soho. If we had just taken the subway, or if I was generous and shared my superpower (can you share superpowers?) then we would have missed the art fair in Chelsea, stopping at PinkBerry, listening to this amazing guitarist on the street, a little Spanish and French bookstore, and this jewelry and craft expo from local artists. Where some people thought we were sisters because we were laughing and having so much fun. I never realized that similing and general happiness was a "southern" sterotype until that summer :)
I guess the ideal phrase to stick here would have been "life's the journey, not the destination," but I hate overused sayings. So instead I'm going to end this simply saying, I need to pick a new superpower.
But then I think about all the amazing stuff thats happened via transit, the stuff I would have missed out on using my superpower. Walking through the quad on amazing days like these, chatting with a friend on the way to Weaver Street, or crazy dance parties on car rides to DC.
And I think about last summer when I lived in NYC, when a friend and I were determined one week to never take the subway or cabs--all the way from Central Park to Soho. If we had just taken the subway, or if I was generous and shared my superpower (can you share superpowers?) then we would have missed the art fair in Chelsea, stopping at PinkBerry, listening to this amazing guitarist on the street, a little Spanish and French bookstore, and this jewelry and craft expo from local artists. Where some people thought we were sisters because we were laughing and having so much fun. I never realized that similing and general happiness was a "southern" sterotype until that summer :)
I guess the ideal phrase to stick here would have been "life's the journey, not the destination," but I hate overused sayings. So instead I'm going to end this simply saying, I need to pick a new superpower.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
I'd pay $4 NOT to wait in the Ben and Jerry's line
So, of course, I'm sitting in Caribou--where the two baristas greeted me by name because I'm here so often (I think that's a sign I need to lay off on the caffeine), and I have a lovely view of the hundreds of people willing to stand in line for Ben and Jerry's Free Cone Day.
Not that I don't love free stuff. Free stuff is really exciting, and regardless if I even wanted it, I usually take it...because...it's free. Or even buy one get one free, somehow that just seems awesome too, even though I'm still paying for it. I remember when I shopped at Claire's and they constantly had the "buy 3 get 2 free" earrings, which meant that every time I went to the mall, I came out with 5 more pairs of earrings, because of course I wasn't going to pass up such a great deal.
But I think that my UNC education has destroyed my sense of fun and excitement over free stuff...because all I can think of right now are the opportunity costs of standing in that line, the environmental impact of all those free promotional stuff, or the fact that you still have to pay for 3 to get 3. THANKS Carolina, you've turned me into a crazy econ nerd.
No amount of education will ruin my excitment for free sprinkles though.
Not that I don't love free stuff. Free stuff is really exciting, and regardless if I even wanted it, I usually take it...because...it's free. Or even buy one get one free, somehow that just seems awesome too, even though I'm still paying for it. I remember when I shopped at Claire's and they constantly had the "buy 3 get 2 free" earrings, which meant that every time I went to the mall, I came out with 5 more pairs of earrings, because of course I wasn't going to pass up such a great deal.
But I think that my UNC education has destroyed my sense of fun and excitement over free stuff...because all I can think of right now are the opportunity costs of standing in that line, the environmental impact of all those free promotional stuff, or the fact that you still have to pay for 3 to get 3. THANKS Carolina, you've turned me into a crazy econ nerd.
No amount of education will ruin my excitment for free sprinkles though.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
I'm sorry but if you don't agree with me, then you're just wrong and I feel bad for you
I was reading something a friend had written this afternoon, and I was really shocked and offended by what it said. But I think what surprised and upset me the most was how much of myself I saw in this person's point of view.
I know that I have a very, what's the word...I guess definitive way I see the world, and when people either see it differently or have never given a second thought to something that I am interested in, I see only ignorance and perhaps a little selfishness on their part. I'm sure this can be seen on my views of religion, conservative politics, ideas on poverty, and the world in general. And I also recognize how very sarcastic I am and, while I like to make comments that are a mix of comedy and "truth", today made me aware how what I say might be perceived to others.
Take poverty issues for example. For me, I feel a strong responsibility to live in a way that allows me to give away as much as I can. I know that I will never buy a really expensive car and I am critical of those do. But looking at it from an expensive car owner's POV, I understand they work hard for their money and buying a nice car can be seen as a reward for this work and they deserve to spend their money as they wish. I know I've made some pretty scathing comments on what people choose to spend their money on, and while I still believe we should not be spending money on things like second homes, expensive cars, and luxurous trips, I've come to realize the problem needs to be addressed at the societal level and talk more about why material goods are so important in American culture, rather than attacking individual's decisions. (Hypocrisy note: my family has a vacation house on the Neuse River, we own three cars, and have lived in Australia...)
And responding to my previous posts about Africa, I also know that a lot of people do not know a lot about Africa and I shouldn't hold it against anyone. I should be excited to have this opportunity to share with other people all this cool stuff I'm going to be doing (and I am!) and not critcally judge poeple for not being very knowledgeable about the area.
And it's not like I know about everything that's going on the world either! For example, last summer I taught 8th grade history for BreakThrough Collaborative, and when I found out I was going to be teaching Iraqi history, I panicked for a second---I did't know anything about Iraqi history...even though America had been in Iraq for years and it had been on the news nightly. And thinking about places like Darfur, the Congo, Pakistan, and Lebanon, its embarrassing to admit how much I don't know about these places either.
Moral of the story: I am young and don't have all the answers to anthing. I am going to remind myself of this more often.
I know that I have a very, what's the word...I guess definitive way I see the world, and when people either see it differently or have never given a second thought to something that I am interested in, I see only ignorance and perhaps a little selfishness on their part. I'm sure this can be seen on my views of religion, conservative politics, ideas on poverty, and the world in general. And I also recognize how very sarcastic I am and, while I like to make comments that are a mix of comedy and "truth", today made me aware how what I say might be perceived to others.
Take poverty issues for example. For me, I feel a strong responsibility to live in a way that allows me to give away as much as I can. I know that I will never buy a really expensive car and I am critical of those do. But looking at it from an expensive car owner's POV, I understand they work hard for their money and buying a nice car can be seen as a reward for this work and they deserve to spend their money as they wish. I know I've made some pretty scathing comments on what people choose to spend their money on, and while I still believe we should not be spending money on things like second homes, expensive cars, and luxurous trips, I've come to realize the problem needs to be addressed at the societal level and talk more about why material goods are so important in American culture, rather than attacking individual's decisions. (Hypocrisy note: my family has a vacation house on the Neuse River, we own three cars, and have lived in Australia...)
And responding to my previous posts about Africa, I also know that a lot of people do not know a lot about Africa and I shouldn't hold it against anyone. I should be excited to have this opportunity to share with other people all this cool stuff I'm going to be doing (and I am!) and not critcally judge poeple for not being very knowledgeable about the area.
And it's not like I know about everything that's going on the world either! For example, last summer I taught 8th grade history for BreakThrough Collaborative, and when I found out I was going to be teaching Iraqi history, I panicked for a second---I did't know anything about Iraqi history...even though America had been in Iraq for years and it had been on the news nightly. And thinking about places like Darfur, the Congo, Pakistan, and Lebanon, its embarrassing to admit how much I don't know about these places either.
Moral of the story: I am young and don't have all the answers to anthing. I am going to remind myself of this more often.
Monday, April 6, 2009
I really DO love humanity
So I thought I'd share this long list of things that I LOVE...just to prove that I am not always that cynical, sarcastic, and condescending. Extra points if you add things you love :)
1. Road trips
2. Buying stuff on sale
3. When a great song comes on the radio
4. Crazy wild thunderstorms
5. Text messages
6. Phone calls
7. Really good coffee
8. Really good coffee for free
9. Hair cuts
10 Making Kushari in small apartments
11. Making tortillas
12. Dancing
13. Rain Dancing
14. Coming home
15. Leaving home
16. The ice served on airplanes
17. Skymall!!!
18. Kissing
19. Hugs
20. The Daily Show
21. Green olives
22. That "bump" signaling the plane has landed
23. Finishing a painting
24. Movie nights
25. Good timing
26. When my room is clean
27. Getting "lightening" on MarioKart
28. Digging a really hard hit volleyball
29. Hitting down the line kills
30. New shoes that don't hurt my feet
31. My worn out rainbows
32. Looking through photo albums
33. Listening to my grandparent's stories
34. The feeling after a really hard workout
35. The smell of sunscreen
36. Tan lines-they tell a story :)
37. Finding the perfect gift for someone
38. Getting that really cute waiter
39. Not wearing makeup
40. Cuddle wedges
41. Seeing Carolina basketball players on campus
42. Superfine ink pens
43. The sound of the ocean at night
44. Really good food with really good people
45. Shower singing
46. Midnight cookie baking smell
47. Midnight cookie eating with Malia
48. Car dancing with the little bro
49. YouTube videos
50. Busy NYC streets
51. Naps in Central Park
52. Being ridiculous in DC with Momma Rankin
53. Catching up with old friends
54. Solving the crossword with minimal cheating
55, Farmer's markets
56. Getting postcards
57. Franklin Street madness
58. Reading in the Quad
59. Meandering
60. Discovering new music
61. Reconnecting with old music
62. When it just fits
63. That glowing light that comes up right before the sun rises
64. This American Life
65. Story Corps
66. Turkish coffee
67. Not taking life so seriously (I'm working on it, ok?!!)
68. The hissing sound when you open carbonated bottles
69. Good hair days
70. Baseball hat days
71. The feeling when I click "Print" for a big paper
72. NOT having to order swim suits online!!
73. Cooking for lots of people
74. Cooking for just you
1. Road trips
2. Buying stuff on sale
3. When a great song comes on the radio
4. Crazy wild thunderstorms
5. Text messages
6. Phone calls
7. Really good coffee
8. Really good coffee for free
9. Hair cuts
10 Making Kushari in small apartments
11. Making tortillas
12. Dancing
13. Rain Dancing
14. Coming home
15. Leaving home
16. The ice served on airplanes
17. Skymall!!!
18. Kissing
19. Hugs
20. The Daily Show
21. Green olives
22. That "bump" signaling the plane has landed
23. Finishing a painting
24. Movie nights
25. Good timing
26. When my room is clean
27. Getting "lightening" on MarioKart
28. Digging a really hard hit volleyball
29. Hitting down the line kills
30. New shoes that don't hurt my feet
31. My worn out rainbows
32. Looking through photo albums
33. Listening to my grandparent's stories
34. The feeling after a really hard workout
35. The smell of sunscreen
36. Tan lines-they tell a story :)
37. Finding the perfect gift for someone
38. Getting that really cute waiter
39. Not wearing makeup
40. Cuddle wedges
41. Seeing Carolina basketball players on campus
42. Superfine ink pens
43. The sound of the ocean at night
44. Really good food with really good people
45. Shower singing
46. Midnight cookie baking smell
47. Midnight cookie eating with Malia
48. Car dancing with the little bro
49. YouTube videos
50. Busy NYC streets
51. Naps in Central Park
52. Being ridiculous in DC with Momma Rankin
53. Catching up with old friends
54. Solving the crossword with minimal cheating
55, Farmer's markets
56. Getting postcards
57. Franklin Street madness
58. Reading in the Quad
59. Meandering
60. Discovering new music
61. Reconnecting with old music
62. When it just fits
63. That glowing light that comes up right before the sun rises
64. This American Life
65. Story Corps
66. Turkish coffee
67. Not taking life so seriously (I'm working on it, ok?!!)
68. The hissing sound when you open carbonated bottles
69. Good hair days
70. Baseball hat days
71. The feeling when I click "Print" for a big paper
72. NOT having to order swim suits online!!
73. Cooking for lots of people
74. Cooking for just you
Sunday, April 5, 2009
To Hong and other readers:
the previous post does not reflect the intelligent people who know that Africa is not a country. and i promise not to use this solely as a place to bitch about people.
Warning: Danger Ahead!!
So I get a lot of questions when people find out my summer plans. The overwhelming response seems to be deep concern for my health and safety. While I have always appreciated that people care that I am and continue to be alive, I am confident that I will not be mauled by a gorilla, infected with AIDS or contract some equally terrifying African disease, kidnapped by corrupt politicians and/or gangs and then sold into white slavery. These were all REAL concerns people have expressed to me...well...except the white slavery one, but I thought it fit quite nicely in with the rest of them.
I wonder why this is. Do people not know enough about parts of Africa to mention all the amazing things I might encounter, and can only think to tell me about what they know about malaria medications? According to the US Dept Consular info sheet (gotta love this site by the way...without their sagely and Jack Bauer's 24 level of paranoia, there might be more people trekking across the world) Anyways, according to them, Italy--a common country for the student traveler--can boast of occasional episodes of anti-American violence, letter bombs, bombs outside public buildings, and a "moderate rate" of violent crime directed at tourists. (Another side note...what the hell does a "moderate rate" of violence look like?) Travelers are victims of rape and beatings, laced drinks, and carjackings. Did you know that?? Yeah me neither, that's why I looked it up and was pleased to find (I guess...) how well it made my point. Yay violence.
Because I mean, Italy sounds like a pretty dangerous place now, right? Somewhere people might be concerned for your well being and personal safety. But this is Italy!! So people will tell you how fun your trip sounds, to make sure to take lots of pictures, drink fantastic wine, see lots of amazing art, and fall in love with an Italian boy.
In the same way, I went to Washington DC this weekend--did you know it's the 5th most dangerous city in the WORLD? But don't worry, I took lots of pictures, drank fantastic wine, saw some incredible art...all the stuff you would have asked me about, right? (no Italian boys though, but thanks for your interest in my love life)
So I wonder why this worry and negative outlook on Rwanda...
The other thing I've been struggling to answer in a "polite" way is, "so how are you going to be helping the people in Africa?" Now, I understand the good intentions and general interest that this question is coming from, but reeeeaaaaalllly people? First off, Africa is not one coutnry, which I feel that everyone knows but seem to forget a lot, instead lumping it all together. It's a continent, over 50 nations with incredible variety in culture, history, language, relgion, and all the jazz.
So let's avoid looking at this trip as me going to help people. I'm going there to learn, and that's what I'm excited about (I know, I'm kinda a huge nerd) Clearly, I'm a big fan of humanitarian work, but to apporach this trip in a that way would be so so wrong. It makes it sound like I have all the answers and have so generously come to share my wealth, knowledge, and general awesomeness (still true on that last one) with these "poor African people."
And speaking of helping people, I just finished reading these two books...one by Peter Singer titled The Life You Can Save, and also Dambisa Moyo's Dead Aid. One sentence summaries: Singer thinks people should give a large and significant portion of their wealth to NGO's in order to end extreme poverty. Moyo is very critical of aid---she looks at the ways aid to Africa has destroyed local economies, created more debt and poverty, and that there are better ways to develop Africa. I can't say I have a definitive opinoin right now.
Ahhhh, yet again, this post has become increasingly more soap boxy and intense than I originally intended. I promise I don't only think about these kind of things!! Fun stuff occurs often, I promise. Ha, it seems that a lot of things lately have made that unexpected turn...next time I vow to discuss something more light hearted---perhaps some re-telling of Taylor's cross dressing experiences, a discussion on how tights are not pants, a list of Ways Caitlin Fails At Being Cool (suggested by a great friend...thanks) or hopefully! some incredible stories of the celebrations of Caronlina Basketball after Monday night!! Go Heels!!!!
I wonder why this is. Do people not know enough about parts of Africa to mention all the amazing things I might encounter, and can only think to tell me about what they know about malaria medications? According to the US Dept Consular info sheet (gotta love this site by the way...without their sagely and Jack Bauer's 24 level of paranoia, there might be more people trekking across the world) Anyways, according to them, Italy--a common country for the student traveler--can boast of occasional episodes of anti-American violence, letter bombs, bombs outside public buildings, and a "moderate rate" of violent crime directed at tourists. (Another side note...what the hell does a "moderate rate" of violence look like?) Travelers are victims of rape and beatings, laced drinks, and carjackings. Did you know that?? Yeah me neither, that's why I looked it up and was pleased to find (I guess...) how well it made my point. Yay violence.
Because I mean, Italy sounds like a pretty dangerous place now, right? Somewhere people might be concerned for your well being and personal safety. But this is Italy!! So people will tell you how fun your trip sounds, to make sure to take lots of pictures, drink fantastic wine, see lots of amazing art, and fall in love with an Italian boy.
In the same way, I went to Washington DC this weekend--did you know it's the 5th most dangerous city in the WORLD? But don't worry, I took lots of pictures, drank fantastic wine, saw some incredible art...all the stuff you would have asked me about, right? (no Italian boys though, but thanks for your interest in my love life)
So I wonder why this worry and negative outlook on Rwanda...
The other thing I've been struggling to answer in a "polite" way is, "so how are you going to be helping the people in Africa?" Now, I understand the good intentions and general interest that this question is coming from, but reeeeaaaaalllly people? First off, Africa is not one coutnry, which I feel that everyone knows but seem to forget a lot, instead lumping it all together. It's a continent, over 50 nations with incredible variety in culture, history, language, relgion, and all the jazz.
So let's avoid looking at this trip as me going to help people. I'm going there to learn, and that's what I'm excited about (I know, I'm kinda a huge nerd) Clearly, I'm a big fan of humanitarian work, but to apporach this trip in a that way would be so so wrong. It makes it sound like I have all the answers and have so generously come to share my wealth, knowledge, and general awesomeness (still true on that last one) with these "poor African people."
And speaking of helping people, I just finished reading these two books...one by Peter Singer titled The Life You Can Save, and also Dambisa Moyo's Dead Aid. One sentence summaries: Singer thinks people should give a large and significant portion of their wealth to NGO's in order to end extreme poverty. Moyo is very critical of aid---she looks at the ways aid to Africa has destroyed local economies, created more debt and poverty, and that there are better ways to develop Africa. I can't say I have a definitive opinoin right now.
Ahhhh, yet again, this post has become increasingly more soap boxy and intense than I originally intended. I promise I don't only think about these kind of things!! Fun stuff occurs often, I promise. Ha, it seems that a lot of things lately have made that unexpected turn...next time I vow to discuss something more light hearted---perhaps some re-telling of Taylor's cross dressing experiences, a discussion on how tights are not pants, a list of Ways Caitlin Fails At Being Cool (suggested by a great friend...thanks) or hopefully! some incredible stories of the celebrations of Caronlina Basketball after Monday night!! Go Heels!!!!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head
...There's something cleansing about the rain that umbrella carriers will never understand. A rain-soaked joy cannot be recreated...
That's it. I heart rain, it all its forms. I have good memories of rain, one of the many memorable ones had to be this summer with Miss Lauren during what could only be called a monsoon at BTLI. It was one of the last days when we were waiting to have our exit interviews and we couldn't contain ourselves. (and I think we loved the idea of showing our total irreverency of the BT admin by showing up to our interviews completely drenched were extra points) So fun.
yep so thats it. love rain. the end.
That's it. I heart rain, it all its forms. I have good memories of rain, one of the many memorable ones had to be this summer with Miss Lauren during what could only be called a monsoon at BTLI. It was one of the last days when we were waiting to have our exit interviews and we couldn't contain ourselves. (and I think we loved the idea of showing our total irreverency of the BT admin by showing up to our interviews completely drenched were extra points) So fun.
yep so thats it. love rain. the end.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Can you watch my stuff for me?
I am sitting in Caribou, which has certainly become my second home, and a girl just asked me to "please watch my stuff while I run down the street to the bookstore." I know this isn't an uncommon request; I've been asked the same question in libraries, the Daily Grind, the Union, and even at a bar. But I've always wondered what these individuals expect me to DO if someone came by, grabbed their shit, and ran. I'm pretty sure my response would be the same if they had asked me to watch their stuff or not--I hate to admit it, but I'd probably do nothing. I would like to think that if an opportunity arose for me to show my awesome athletic skills and good Samaritan ideals, I would chase down the bastard and safely return the prized laptop or purse before the owner returned from wherever they peaced out to, but realistically...
When I'm a world-famous and incredibly wealthy psychologist (notice the sarcasm...) I want to perform an experiement which tests this theory of human nature. Half the subjects would be aksed specifically to watch their stuff, and the other half wouldn't. Then someone would come by and obviously steal the person's stuff. I wonder how many people would do anthying? There is a theory that says that if you assign responsiblity to a specific person, they will feel responsible and do something (aka counteracting the "bystander effect") This is why all you lifeguards and EMS people know you tell a specific person to call 911 in an emergency rather than just shouting it out to the crowd.
Ok, the girl just came back, so my duties as watchdog are over. I'm really glad I was here to protect her stuff from the multiple armed bandits that came by here, really wanting her laptop and chocolate chip cookie.
When I'm a world-famous and incredibly wealthy psychologist (notice the sarcasm...) I want to perform an experiement which tests this theory of human nature. Half the subjects would be aksed specifically to watch their stuff, and the other half wouldn't. Then someone would come by and obviously steal the person's stuff. I wonder how many people would do anthying? There is a theory that says that if you assign responsiblity to a specific person, they will feel responsible and do something (aka counteracting the "bystander effect") This is why all you lifeguards and EMS people know you tell a specific person to call 911 in an emergency rather than just shouting it out to the crowd.
Ok, the girl just came back, so my duties as watchdog are over. I'm really glad I was here to protect her stuff from the multiple armed bandits that came by here, really wanting her laptop and chocolate chip cookie.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Everything shouldn't be so serious :)
I found these online (yay stumbleupon!) and made me laugh outloud...in the library.
Nursery Rhymes we didn't have as kids
Mary had a little pig,
She kept it fat and plastered;
And when the price of pork went up,
She shot the little bastard.
Mary had a little lamb
Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
Between two chunks of bread.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To have a little fun,
Stupid Jill forgot the pill
And now they have a son.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the kings' horses,
And all the kings' men
Had scrabled eggs,
For breakfast again.
Hey diddle, diddle, the cat took a piddle,
All over the bedside clock.
The little dog laughed to see such fun
Then died of electric shock.
It's Raining, It's Pouring.
Oh shit, it's Global Warming.
Georgie Porgy pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry,
And when the boys came out to play
He kissed them too 'cause he was gay.
Nursery Rhymes we didn't have as kids
Mary had a little pig,
She kept it fat and plastered;
And when the price of pork went up,
She shot the little bastard.
Mary had a little lamb
Her father shot it dead.
Now it goes to school with her,
Between two chunks of bread.
Jack and Jill went up the hill
To have a little fun,
Stupid Jill forgot the pill
And now they have a son.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the kings' horses,
And all the kings' men
Had scrabled eggs,
For breakfast again.
Hey diddle, diddle, the cat took a piddle,
All over the bedside clock.
The little dog laughed to see such fun
Then died of electric shock.
It's Raining, It's Pouring.
Oh shit, it's Global Warming.
Georgie Porgy pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry,
And when the boys came out to play
He kissed them too 'cause he was gay.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
All That Jazz
Although its kinda cheezy, I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'm thankful for. And it stems from the things I think we're all thankful to have--friends, family, a place to live, and all that jazz.
For me, these few things have become such an automatic response that they have kinda lost their meaning. I don't think I can, or ever will, fully understand the importance my family has had on my life up to this point. I take so many things for granted--the fact that both my parents are actively involved in my life is a big one. I was talking with a friend recently about what "family time" was like when we were younger. My mind instantly jumped to family game nights--Risk, Monopoly, ping pong--anything that involved a clear winner was fun in our competitive family. Of course it made me smile ot remember when Tay was little and used to cry whenever he lost, but the fact that our family did things together is something that i definitely took for granted. Even now at UNC, I am still reminded how much my family is involved in my life--sometimes its not always welcomed, like my father's test messages during State-UNC games, or the "friendly reminders" about how the last 2 weeks of the semester are crucial for maintaining all those straight A's I don't have.
I joke a lot about my extended family--the Nascar bunch from Y-Vegas--but there is something incredibly comforting about the familiar and steady reminder about where you come from.
And I think where you come from reflects where you are right now. I am thankful that I was able to grow up in a safe community and my family was able to provide for me--good schools, big comfy house, my lovable dog, vacations, sports camps...you know the deal. But more importantly, I am thinkful that I grew up in an environment where I was taught the importance of giving back and how unimportant material goods are in the end. While I grew up in great affluence, I am incredibly grateful that I have been able to learn from people of different circumstances--socioeconomic, racial, nationalities, political viewpoints, etc. It's pretty safe to say that I'm obsessed with poverty issues and finding solutions, and I have to give at least partial credit to my childhood and the values my parents tuaght me from the first day I remember.
Why is this important to me? Because it frustrates me to no end the amount of apathy, arrogance, and gluttony I see in America (Yes, this is probably gonna sound soap-boxy) I think everyone needs to take a step back and evaluate what you really value and if your actions are saying the same thing.
For me, these few things have become such an automatic response that they have kinda lost their meaning. I don't think I can, or ever will, fully understand the importance my family has had on my life up to this point. I take so many things for granted--the fact that both my parents are actively involved in my life is a big one. I was talking with a friend recently about what "family time" was like when we were younger. My mind instantly jumped to family game nights--Risk, Monopoly, ping pong--anything that involved a clear winner was fun in our competitive family. Of course it made me smile ot remember when Tay was little and used to cry whenever he lost, but the fact that our family did things together is something that i definitely took for granted. Even now at UNC, I am still reminded how much my family is involved in my life--sometimes its not always welcomed, like my father's test messages during State-UNC games, or the "friendly reminders" about how the last 2 weeks of the semester are crucial for maintaining all those straight A's I don't have.
I joke a lot about my extended family--the Nascar bunch from Y-Vegas--but there is something incredibly comforting about the familiar and steady reminder about where you come from.
And I think where you come from reflects where you are right now. I am thankful that I was able to grow up in a safe community and my family was able to provide for me--good schools, big comfy house, my lovable dog, vacations, sports camps...you know the deal. But more importantly, I am thinkful that I grew up in an environment where I was taught the importance of giving back and how unimportant material goods are in the end. While I grew up in great affluence, I am incredibly grateful that I have been able to learn from people of different circumstances--socioeconomic, racial, nationalities, political viewpoints, etc. It's pretty safe to say that I'm obsessed with poverty issues and finding solutions, and I have to give at least partial credit to my childhood and the values my parents tuaght me from the first day I remember.
Why is this important to me? Because it frustrates me to no end the amount of apathy, arrogance, and gluttony I see in America (Yes, this is probably gonna sound soap-boxy) I think everyone needs to take a step back and evaluate what you really value and if your actions are saying the same thing.
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