Not posting has almost become the norm it appears. I only remembered the blog because my gmail account generated a reminder about how long it had been since I had posted. Embarrassing, really. I considered abandoning the blogging entirely, but I actually enjoy the process of keeping up to date, writing about travels, bakings, and all the myriad academic things that fascinate my brain. I'm preparing over the next 18th months (don't scoff, it takes a long time to prepare the appropriate research materials) to go to grad school, the applications mostly being due a year from now. I thought writing on a more regular basis might help me get back in practice, especially to self-edit, and to make my sentence structure more coherent.

With that in mind, I'd like to chat about today: Boxing Day. Despite heavy misconceptions (mostly I think, on the part of Americans) it has nothing to do with pummeling other people, and the fact that it is largely used as a day to return unwanted gifts to various retail locations is mostly coincidence.

December 26th historically originates as St. Stephen's feast, one of seven deacons for the original church. The deacons were ordained by the apostles to take care of the "work" of the church; caring for widows and orphans, feeding the hungry, caring for the sick, etc. Of course, there is some disagreement about whether or not St. Stephen's feast day belongs on December 26th, as the Eastern Orthodox adheres to the Julian calendar, putting St. Stephen's day on December 27th, which would actually catapult the day to January 9th on the Gregorian calendar.

But enough of the esoteric nonsense. Sorry.

Traditionally in Britain, the servants of the wealthy and nobility would have worked on Christmas Day, and their employers would have given them the day off right after Christmas. It is also said that in various British organizations, there would also be a wide spread "switch", in which those normally at the top of the infrastructure would become the bottom, and vice versa, but this seems to be highly uncorroborated, and I can't manage to find actual research to prove that idea.

In the modern era, Boxing Day is actually a legal bank holiday in England, Scotland, Wales, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and various Commonwealth entities. Ireland still recognizes St. Stephen's day, and in Germany, Austria, the Netherlands, Lithuania, Poland, and the Scandinavian countries, there is a "Second Christmas Day".

I hope you feel thoroughly enlightened.

Welcome Back

What you say? That's a post? You're actually posting on the blog you've neglected since just after graduation? What crazy happenings will go on next?

Yes, it's true, I'm back. Think of the past three months as my summer break from blogging, one that was much needed, because if I had tried to blog before this, the anger/sadness/bitterness that I was experiencing would have bubbled up, out, and over, and no one would have gotten anything out of it. This isn't to say that I'm finished with those feelings. I still battle anger/sadness/bitterness, and probably will for awhile. But for now, God and I are walking a little closer together, and I'm giving myself space in Him to work through those emotions.

I had even started a cooking blog, to help process some of the work-a-holic-ness that came from Mom having cancer and my wanting to take care of her. I found even writing down recipes and sharing dietary tips for the chemo patient was WAY too hard. Between Mom's diagnosis and Jenny dying, mixed up with the post-graduation blues, basic tasks became harder, and I realized focusing on getting through my life day by day was much more important than anything else.

I think working through Jenny's death was probably the hardest thing I did this summer. I found no one could really truly relate to the pain and grief I felt, the absence of her presence in my life was bigger than anything my college friends had been through, and almost no one could comprehend how someone in her sixties could be so close to someone in her twenties. What eventually got through my brain was that only God could comfort me in the loss of what was the closest non-family member to me.

The problem I battled consistently for the first two full months (and then some) was waking up and thinking "I should call her, it's been awhile, I'm neglecting her" and then the wave of grief as it would hit me, almost brand new every time. Once I finally worked through that, and then the last vestiges of anger (although by this point the fight had sort of gone out of me) I was just sad. For me. It was a totally selfish feeling.

August 16th was three months since she died. I happen to not work on Tuesdays, so I just disappeared for the majority of the day. I sat in a coffee shop and drank a latte the way she and I used to do. I went and walked around the cemetery where she was buried and laughed at myself for being so sentimental. I sat near where she was buried and just "talked" to her. Despite how insane I'm sure I looked, I finally felt like I had said goodbye. I think what's bothered me is that I never really felt like I said goodbye. Oh, I was in the hospital with her every day right before she passed, but she was barely conscious of my being there, I couldn't talk to her, couldn't share what was on my heart. Funny enough, I walked out of the cemetery as it started raining and just felt less weighted down with my grief.

My birthday was hard, I didn't even want to celebrate it, but realized in the end she would have smacked me for that kind of behavior. Jenny always made such a big deal out of my birthday, she would always get me flowers and take me out for chinese food. While the chinese food thing is still hard (I'm too sad in most chinese restaurants, although I did finally start craving it the other day) a couple of friends took me out downtown, and bought me flowers. It made it a little easier to slip through the day without getting depressed.

I guess I'm still working on it, even two weeks after all that. I'll keep working on it for a long while I think. But I also know Jenny would be upset if I kept myself from living life (and writing on the blog, she did like following my blog) so I'm giving myself a fresh look for the blog, a fresh post to get all the nonsense out, and then we'll pick back up where we were. I've got some awesome gluten-free reviews to do, some great scriptures to talk about, and some awesome pieces of music to share. I suppose in my mind, living fully is probably the best memorial to her that I could ever pull together.

A True Friend

I assumed my first post after graduation would be dedicated to the feelings of being a graduate, etc. Well, actually, small news flash: it's not that different. But today, my thoughts are somewhere else, and I'd like to ruminate on them.

One of my dearest friends in the world went home to be with God last night. She was in a tremendous amount of pain, and I'm so happy to see her suffering at an end, but I also know that I'm going to miss her like nothing else in this world. I went to see her the other night and while she laid there and struggled to breathe, I struggled to entertain her, my idea being to reminisce with her about all the cool things we had experienced together. What I found was that my hour of babbling about what the two of us had done and where we had been became far more about comforting me, and far less about entertaining her. Jenny was an extremely faithful friend, and highly influential in my life, she opened my eyes to certain things, and taught me a love for other things. So here are a few of the things she influenced the most in my life.

•  Jenny loved to be active. She didn't know how to sit still, literally. She would tap her foot or jiggle her leg because she just couldn't handle sitting still, she had too much energy coursing through her at all times. I know both of my parents are overachievers and I take after them, but some of that surging energy I learned from Jenny. 
• She loved art, almost all forms. She and I used to field trip almost monthly to the Nelson-Atkins museum here in KC all through my teen years. We would wander to our favorite rooms, and try to fit in at least one new room each time. We especially loved the English painting from the 17th/18th centuries and the Chinese art rooms, including the temple that came from a hillside in northern China. She did hate all forms of modern art with a passion though.
• That woman could drink eight pots of coffee in a row. She made me look mild on my caffeine addiction, right up to this last year, she could still tolerate more coffee in a day than I can in a week. It was rather impressive in an odd way.
• A great tradition she and I had was to go explore something (Nelson Atkins, Independence Square, etc) and then go eat lunch. We favored the Red Dragon but we also tried several fun sandwich shops and loved getting ice cream in the summer. Our other favorite treat was to get chocolate cherry cokes (say that three times fast) at Sonic during the summer and then to go to a park. 
• Jenny grew up in Liberty, and was a fascinating source of information for all things historical in Clay County and KC in general. Her family was here for more than one or two generations and she had memorized a large portion of interesting material, not the boring dry information you read on plaques, but she would tell engrossing stories about her high school years, and about spending her childhood with her uncle, an artist who knew and worked with Thomas Hart Benton. 
• One thing I have definitely picked up as a learned habit is a dislike for phone conversations. All conversations for the phone should come with outlines to keep them short. I'm not sure we ever spent more than 30-60 seconds on the phone with each other, and those went something like this:
• Jenny: "Let's go to the museum on Friday"
• Karen: "Okay, I'm free until 2:00, so maybe we should grab lunch afterwards?"
• Jenny: "Great, pick you up at 8:30"
• *click*
• Jenny could kick anyone's rear end, thoroughly, completely, entirely. She, my brother, and myself studied T'ai Chi together for a couple of summers when I was still fairly young. My brother, being his normal self liked to smart off a lot about how he was sure he could take her. He generally ended up flat on his back a little stunned after uttering these things. That was especially hilarious for me, because that never happened to Matt in my experience.

• Jenny loved her church, and God dearly. We prayed over every meal we ate together and talked about books and music and Christianity and the church all the time. She also taught me that it's okay to question, it's okay to be unsure, and it's okay to not know 100% what you believe, and most importantly that it's okay to wait on God to give you answers in His time. 

It's all downhill from here ...

So now here we are, finished with classes as an undergraduate. Ready for the last flurry of rehearsals, recitals, and exams. I've finished 3/6 of my senior projects, two of those being biger than the rest of them put together.
I've carried off a 35 minute piano recital, and a 45 minute composition recital, things people told me I could never do. I thought I would feel accomplished when I finished, but all I really feel is drained.

What's next? I'm not really sure. I'm hoping to find a job (aren't we all?) and to do some great volunteer work, as well as train to run three 5K's before Christmas this year. I hope to be more involved with my church, spend quality time with my family, and to not lose contact with great friends.

This point of life sort of feels like a precipice, I'm standing on it, and graduation is the pushing off part.

Everyone's so ready to memorialize "my last day of classes", "my last rehearsal", "my last performance". I'm not so ready because as burned out as I feel, I'm not so ready to get rid of the last four years of memories.

Stay tuned, job hunt coming soon.

Rants of a Composition Major

Well, this is similar to a previous post, I've been having problems with recital preparation again. A few of the ridiculous things I've heard in the last week:

• "One musician to another", I'm going to start asking for credentials before I listen to anything beyond this sentence...
• "I just assumed I didn't need to show up to rehearsal" ... I mean, really? Are you THAT good?
• "Do we need to rehearse?" Well yes, I would like us to not look ridiculous in eight days time. 
• "Should I stay for the rest of the recital?" , No, no, please leave, that would be great. *sarcasm*

Yes, it's a colorful week in my world, hopefully musicians won't keep me from finishing my degree.

PS - I love you all, you just frustrate me sometimes.

Why Pop Sociology/Feminism is wrong about Beauty and the Beast

I love to read Sociology and Feminist blogs. They challenge me to think in ways I haven't before, they make me quite thoughtful, and on some days, they help round out my liberal arts educated point of view on a subject. No, I don't always agree with what they have to say, but I do at least take the view into consideration.

I also love to read blogs about trying to take our younger girls' minds back from Disney. Stealing back the younger generation as it were. While Disney has fun songs, it can be a little obsessive, especially as the Disney corporation has chosen to market certain gender socializing toys, books, and games, that can socialize girls to be passive instead of active.

But... I have a problem. A serious problem for my little psyche. Most of these blogs villainize Beauty and the Beast, one of my two favorite movies, and my absolute favorite Broadway show ever. Most of these blogs have at least one post about how the only thing girls will ever garner from this show is that abusive spouses should be put up with and will change over time. Obviously, this is a dangerous idea, if this is indeed what girls could garner from Beauty and the Beast. But this idea has been turning in my mind and bothering me for some time now.

I've always seen Beauty and the Beast as a story of redemption. He has problems, she has problems, people are flawed in general, I've never met a Cinderella personally. Belle is so real, she loses her temper, she's feisty, she's in your face. I don't think I ever came away with the idea that I should stay with an abusive partner, but that I should challenge the status quo.

It's not like Belle loves him unconditionally or blames herself for the Beast's bad temper. Nope, she's happy to stick it to him, to fight with him, to get angry back, to fight back for herself. And yes, the Beast is redeemed through the course of the show, but from my Christian perspective, that's the changing power of love. He could have left Belle to the wolves, but instead rescued her. He was changing long before she decided to stay with him. Maybe it's the proof of that change that made her stay?

In the end, it's not HER love that changes him, it's the MUTUAL love that changes BOTH of them. Because we are all flawed, and we all need redemption. Those are the lessons I've always taken away from this show. I hope I challenged you to see this show in a different way. Because the ruminating has been good for me.

Berlin, bike rides, and crazy hostels

Looking at the TV tower, near my hostel

As my previous post stated, a visit to the concentration camp Sachsenhausen was what I chose to do with my first day in Berlin.

 I really only had two days anyway, so I chose to do something astounding that would enable me to see everything, or at least close to everything:

 I went on a bike tour.

I chose Fat Tire Bike Tours since my brother worked for the walking portion of that company in Paris. The tour didn't start until 10ish, and I really didn't want to hang around my hostel, as cool as it had been (it was hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy themed!) so I set out a little early and walked around East Berlin by myself for awhile.

\

The tour took us by all of the expected sites,

Especially moving for me was the Berlin wall. To think of an entire society that kept it's people locked up behind a large stone wall, merely because they were afraid of another society, is astounding, and I have trouble understanding why people doubt that sort of abuse of power today. Don't even get me started on people who don't believe the Holocaust happened. 

The bleakness of certain portions of the wall really got to me. But then it would be juxtaposed with something like this:

But then it would be followed by something like this. So it was a definite high highs, low lows tour.

I really enjoyed the tour. I wish I could tell you more about it, in detail, and be witty, but I really can't. Oh well.

 Very Soviet apparently. No clue what that really means.

 The scaffolding sort of ruins it, doesn't it?

PS - isn't this a cool photo? 

1 in 133

Just found out about the 1 in 133 campaign, and I'm super excited about it. A challenge to change the FDA food labeling laws, specifically to demand gluten-free labeling!

Click here to help!

Why I Rotaract

A group of us were talking about community service recently. I laughed that community service was the reason I love Rotaract so much. Someone else in the conversation argued that I seemed to love Rotaract for Rotaract's sake. Ok, that may be true, but here in a few neatly summarized points, is why I love Rotaract, community service, and all things Rotary. And not just because of my Dad either... promise.

During a recent Rotaract presentation, we talked about Why We Serve. The reasons listed, altruistic, faith-based, humanist-based, or just a basic guilt for having a good life, were dependable and expected. Nothing wrong with expected, hey, I'm sure mine's expected to.

I serve because I think humans share a bond, we're all part of the creation, and I think we need to not be afraid to help other parts of the creation. This means finding a way to make sustainable change in a manner that is friendly to the local culture. Long-lasting effects are what I'm interested in, not a short term good feeling.

So I Rotaract because I believe the change that Rotary/Rotaract/Interact are trying to bring about is long lasting change, e.g. the End Polio Now campaign. Not only has polio been eradicated from most of the world, but they're still fighting to get it out of places where politics or the population density holds up progress. These things impress me, that tenacity is something I'm interested in, and I believe Rotary (and the other groups through them) are interested in tenacity, making a real difference and not giving up until they do.

Inbetween

I'm in this weird phase right now where I'm in between.
Between:

• The piano recital and the composition recital. 
• There's an odd amount of anticipation and an odd sense of remorse all mixed together. It's weird. All I know is that next time around, I'm not doing anything on Friday that I don't have to. You can't make me. Nyah. 
• Midterms and finals. 
• I'll soon be taking my last exams for undergraduate work. That's terrifying and exciting all at once. 
• Adulthood and childhood (/young adulthood, college-age adulthood, whatever you call it, it's not real life)
• I don't have a job, I don't know where I'm going (KC vs. the rest of the world), I have no idea what God has in store for next year, and the suspense is killing me right now. 

It's a weird place I'm in right now. I hope it doesn't last much longer.

Just a little city I love

Oxford. 
Every time someone mentions the name I stop. I can be fifty feet away from the persons speaking of this city, and I still stop and try to insert myself into the conversation. This obsession has concerned me at times, because I can't tell why I'm obsessed with one location. 





I have a wanderlust problem. I don't sit still well, and I don't stay in one place well. So normally I'm just thinking of anywhere but where I'm at (I apparently also have a problem with contentedness), but when it comes to this year and last, I was almost always perfectly content to be in Oxford (roommate issues aside), and this year, I consistently want to be there. Not just anywhere else. There, a specific location.
That's never happened before. 

I left for an international trip the first time when I was six. Canada. Again when I was nine. England and Scotland (my first taste of Oxford). Again when I was eighteen. (Italy, France, England (Cambridge this time). Again at twenty-two. (My year abroad). So I've got this wanderlust thing figured out.

wanderlust - (wan-der-lust) 
ˈwändərˌləst
noun
A strong desire to travel, e.g.: consumed by wanderlust.


Like I said, I'm a pro. 









What I can't decide is, do I miss the place?

Do I miss the friends? 


Do I miss the activities, the fun, the history, the libraries, the independence? 





Or is it more than that? Was being there a time when I felt so intrinsically myself that I'm having trouble recreating that personage? I know I was freer there, but was that because I was content with my place and my person, because I wasn't worried about the future, it would take care of itself, because I felt safe? 


Or have I (gasp, heaven forbid), idealized this year, this place, this time, to the point where it looks much better in my head than it really was? Have I taken what I learned and accomplished during a year, and said, "Well, if I managed this there, think what I could do if I went back!" Is this the reason I'm discontent? 

Or do I just have a lot of questions that don't really have an answer. I'm leaning toward this one right now. Yes, I idealize my year, but I'm not entirely sure it doesn't at least partially deserve the idealism. Yes, there were bad things. Of course there were bad things. But I would take all of those bad things back: housemate issues, cultural barriers, even that infernal rain and my perpetually wet feet, just to be back in that place right now. 

I've never thought of myself as a sentimental person. But if we talk too long and too nostagically about Oxford, I get teary sometimes. Right after I was back, during the fall mostly, when someone would mention a particular aspect of Oxford, I would feel this physical pining within me. 


Emotions are powerful things. Don't doubt them please. If I have an emotional connection to this place, I'd be wrong to tell myself I shouldn't have that connection and to "just move on with my life" as some tell me I should.

All I know is this:

Oxford: I'm coming back. Don't worry, I'm not gone for long. 

What do we really want?

When in the course of our lives we start thinking about wants, needs, desires, do we ever stop to think "Oh hey, maybe what I want isn't the same thing as what God says I need"?

I want a job next year. But a friend of mine reminded me life is about desiring God, not earthly pleasures, and that maybe just because I want a job (so I can pay my bills) is not a sufficient reason for me to have a job.

I want to pass my classes. Okay, I want to do better than pass, I want to excel. But maybe that's not in the books either.

I'm trying, very hard, to stop saying "I need to do this" and say instead, "I want to this, but I acknowledge that it may not be what I need".  I mean, it may not work, but trying is better than sticking my head in the sand.

Rants of a Pianist

While the subject line may sound like I'm upset, I'm not, I'm just amused by a few things, all piano related.

1. Tendonitis, while preparing for a recital, is not a laughable subject, no matter how much you personally enjoy the "irony", or "oddity" of it. I am not amused, you shouldn't be either.
2. Just because the piano lid to the piano in the recital hall was left open does not mean it was done by a pianist. I don't know if the powers that be ever notice, but non-pianists use the recital hall, and the piano within. And this includes professors.
3. Calvin's office is not a toy. It should not be used by those who are not piano performance majors. And those planning recitals should get preference. 
4. In addition to this, if you are a non performance major and use his office, please be sure to leave the office as you found it, i.e. with the lights OFF. This is why custodial keeps locking his office thus locking out the piano performance majors in the early morning hours. They get suspicious when the light is left on. Go figure.
5. Please do not eat at any piano. Not only is this gross, you are a college student/faculty/staff and should know better by now. Some of us are tired of sterilizing the piano every time we use it.

Thanks for reading, and behave better on those pianos!

Too much to do, too little time to do it in

This is my manta right now  ^

Between all the exams, hearings, papers, nervous breakdowns, there has to be some relief, right? Well, I'm not finding it.
Yes, yes, yes, Rom 8:28 - For we know all things work together for the good of those who love Him.

But? Is it so easy to remember that when your OCD complex is completely overwhelmed and all you really want to do is let out a scream (preferably primal) at the top of your lungs?
Well, maybe not.

Let's switch subjects

After such a long and rather depressing post on Sachsenhausen, I thought perhaps we should change it up a little. Okay, maybe a lot in actuality.

Here's ten things that are on the ground right now for me:

1. Americorps finally contacted me. Now granted, it was about a new program I had applied for, but it's still super exciting to be going through a formal application process. This particular program requested more material from me, a sample of my writing style, two more references, a resume with cover letter, etc. I'm really excited, and already have my new references lined up, so life is looking good for the next few days. Maybe I'll have plans within a couple of months!

2. My internship is going awesome. It's lot of data, and number crunching right now, but I'm just loving the logistics of everything. I also love the fact that what I'm doing could have a lasting effect on the way things work at William Jewell. That may be the most exciting thing for me.

3. My piano recital is in T-six weeks! I'm faltering a little on some of the line up in repertoire, we're just the slightest bit short right now, but I may have figured out a solution to this problem, so check back in. I'll be announcing the date formally in three weeks, but the unofficial date is March 10th, at 5:30 pm.

4. If the piano recital is six weeks away, this means I only have 13 more weeks in which to write, assign, and rehearse everything for my composition recital. On that front, things are coming together slowly, but surely. My quartet has been assembled (yay, thanks Peter for agreeing to be my tenor!) and I have high hopes for the choir to come together soon. I have a reading for my strings piece two (three?) weeks from now, and we're *this* close to being ready to turn things in! I think my next composition lesson should take place over coffee. I plan to suggest this to him. No more stuffy classroom. :)

5. At the end of the second week of classes, I've switched my art history to pass/fail, which has lightened my homework load. The professor for this class tends to uncommunicative on my research topic choices, but that's okay, there's not as much pressure.

6. Speaking of that homework load, I think I've settled into the rhythm. Most of my classes have a fair amount of homework, which is slightly worrisome for my sanity, but if I just don't fall behind, ever, at all, with no exceptions, then I should be fine. Uh-oh, I think I'm already behind....

I think that's all for now, but it's enough. I'm still muddling through. Check back soon for final plans on the recitals and further travel updates!

Sachsenhausen

If you were following my previous blog: The Year in Oxford you'll know that I left off on my travel updates right after Salzburg during spring break. As we are nearing spring break this year, I thought it might be fun to go back and reminisce about some of the trips I took last spring that I haven't posted on. I know it seems an odd starting place to go back and pick up sort of right where I left off, but I couldn't figure out a way I liked better than chronological.

I'm skipping Munich for the moment, because it was merely a 16 hour stop over  (some of those spent sleeping) to break up the trip to Berlin, and I did very little there, I made it to the Residenz and the English Gardens, but that was all.

No, I'm going to pick up my trip again, right after I arrived in Berlin. My first day there I went to Sachsenhausen, the first concentration camp from World War II.

The day was bleak and grey, which seemed to fit the mood of visiting a place where so many suffered and died. On my way to meet a walking tour I debated with myself about the idea of taking photos at the concentration camp. Was that a disrespectful thing to do? After much debate (which continued through the train ride and walk to the camp), I came to the same conclusion my friend Megan did when she was at Auschwitz. I took the photos, because I needed to never forget the human suffering that happened, the absolute sheer brutality and cruelty that took place in an organized orderly fashion because eugenics and politics willed it be so.

Taking a walking tour, having a guide, made it so much better in terms of comprehension of the magnitude of everything. Part of the site is still standing, but a large portion has been burnt out, and if you do not have someone with you the likelihood of you understanding everything is greatly diminished.

First we met our guide and gathered while she told us some of the history of Sachsenhausen. It was first opened in 1936 and officially closed in 1945 when the Soviets liberated the area. It is also known as Sachsenhausen-Oranienburg. After taking a quick regional train out to the area, and a brisk walk, we came upon this building, the main governance offices.

I suppose I was dumbfounded by the next photo. We were just walking along, and coming upon the gate really drove home for me what I was seeing and experiencing.

We then toured one of the restructured and reinforced barracks, where many had taken the opportunity to leave small memorials inside the building. This particular barracks that we toured originally housed Jewish men.

The next place we went was the underground crematorium, and even though it's mostly a burnt out shell, I still found myself moved entirely to tears at this point. Inside the crematorium area, there is another memorial as well, also laden with flowers. I also learned at this point, that most of the crematoriums at German concentration camps were not built until later in the war period, because the original belief was to keep the blood of people such as the Roma, the Senti, and the Jews, outside of Germany. So Sachsenhausen was a work camp, not a death camp, such as Auschwitz. That said, it was still horrifying. 

We went through a brief museum after this point, made from another restructured barracks. Within this museum, they had remnants of a few leftover uniforms, where once again, I felt myself tearing up. Looking at the different triangles, and remembering the fact that these men were reduced to being merely a number and dehumanized systematically, just because they were seen as different, or outside the system is a horrific idea to my personal ideals, and especially to my religious beliefs.








The last few things of note, were that during the period of Nazi control, there were many medical experiments that were started here at Sachsenhausen. They went on at other places too, but many of the eugenics experiments were started at Sachsenhausen.







During the Soviet period the camp operated from 1945-1950 as NVKD Special Camp no. 7. Horrifying all around, from all sides. In 1950, the Soviets closed the camp and erected this memorial.







The memorial is typically "soviet" according to our tour guide, in it's construction, the orange colored brick, and the sizing of the statues as "large, robust" figures. the orange triangles, should actually be red, which was the color for political prisoners indentification badges.

Americorps Essay

Part of my application to Americorps requires an essay, or "personal statement". Most of the time I hate that  sort of a thing, but after mulling it over and talking it through with several "academic" types of people, I think I'm ready to write the statement. 


"We would like to understand more about you and your reasons for applying to AmeriCorps. Take a few minutes and consider those experiences that have made you the person you are today. Please share with us one of these experiences and how it sparked your interest in community service."

Right before my nineteenth birthday I chose to take what is referred to as a gap year and put off pursuing a university degree for this period of time. I was working as a nanny at the time and the mother of the family was pleased enough at the prospect of having me work for her for another year, that she was willing to give me time off throughout the year so I would have the ability to travel. The first trip I took was the biggest, I went to Italy and France for two months to couch surf at my sisters and at my brothers. While I was traveling through Southern Italy, my eyes were opened in a whole new way to the poverty of the world. I had grown up in a comfortable middle-class family and I had not  seen face to face the needs that are out in bigger world. I had always been involved in community service, with my parents, from a very young age, but for the first time I was confronted with true absolute poverty, people begging to have one more piece of bread. I felt my heart break inside of me. I would continue to labor under the misconception that this was simply a European problem until I came home and began traveling in my own country. For the first time I saw all around me people who were in a far worse place than myself, and I was astonished. When I did pursue a university degree I found myself wishing there was a way to be purposeful and organized in service work, and I ended up pursuing, and founding, a university-based Rotaract International chapter. That organization is the true pride of my undergraduate career, not my grades, honors, performances. What the organization now does is reach into the international community, where my eyes were first opened, raising funds, and serving as much as possible in the local community. 

Why must I conform?

I told a group of people last night that I wanted to travel the world and get too many degrees. It may not be the most practical plan, but I was entirely serious. They took me seriously all for a moment, and then most laughed and said variations of this sentence: "well only until that special someone comes along, then it's all marriage and babies".

Hm, why is that always the answer in a girls life? If I want to have the aspirations to not get married and have babies, why is that considered odd, and something to be laughed at?

Now I'm sure the people who made these remarks did not mean them in a mean-spirited way, but I was slightly confounded for a moment. I'm not saying I'm trying to close my life off from what God has in store for me (please don't misinterpret it to mean that!) I'm merely saying, at this point in my life, I think God wants me to travel and study. I don't think I should be viewing my life plans through the filter of "eventually" getting married and having lots of babies. Right now I'm not looking for that special someone, I'm looking for what God's plan for me is, and right now, I think that plan has nothing to do with a special someone. Or babies. Because one assumes one requires the other.

What if: there is no special someone? Then I make all of my life plans based on the idea of eventually settling down only to be bitter and disappointed at a later date? What if: there is a special someone, but there's no babies? What if we spend the rest of our lives together traveling and working and having adventures? Why is there this idea of one path? We all think that way, the American Dream a mythical ideal is alive and well it would appear.