Blind Date

Tonight I helped a good friend get ready for a blind date.

To prepare for this occasion we went on a wondrous adventure to the land of Sephora. Now for all my Sex & the City girlfriends a trip to Sephora or the MAC counter is as common as a trip to the grocery store. But for my dear friend who, like my mother, had never worn a pinch of makeup in her life, this was quite a foreign concept. Such a foreign concept in fact that this lovely 35 year old when inquiring about which brush was used for which purpose asked if she could use a small eyelid brush to apply her foundation and blush. To which the oh so gay and fabulous makeup artist giggled and responded politely "Technically you could use that brush, it just may take a couple hours. And I'm not laughing at you, it's just that that's quite possibly the most adorable thing I've ever heard."

Yet another classic moment in life.

Here was this amazingly accomplished woman who I can barely keep up with in daily conversations, absolutely left in the dust conversing about politics, public policies, or anything anthropological (she holds a PhD from Yale in Anthro) and yet she was over the moon excited about me taking her to Sephora! Precious...just precious.

When I think about having money I think about these moments and how I would spoil all of my friends. I know, I know, I'm trying desperately to consume less...but if you'd seen my friend's face as she left Sephora with her little black bag of beauty 101 essentials, dear god, you'd wish you were freakin' Santa!

Thinking about this too much makes me despise money. I despise it because I don't have it. But I don't want it just for me - I want it to replay moments like the scenario I've just described. I want to go to dinner with friends and as we chat about the economy being in the shit hole and how work sucks I sneak my credit card to the waiter and tell him to inform my friends 'the bill is on us tonight'. I want to take my girlfriends who work so hard at being incredible mothers, wives, friends, and sisters out for manicures, pedicures, and a massage. I want send my parents on the trip to Italy they've been promising to go on for 20 years. I want to finally buy my Bed n' Breakfast and host fabulous dinners and parties for all the people I love.

Giving is the greatest joy and it's my favorite expression of love.

So Lord, since it's better to give than receive, would you mind taking care of my $50,000 of student loans and giving me a rich husband so I can spoil all my friends? Thanks Jesus, you're the best. xoxo

An empty seat.

Riding the subway yesterday I couldn't help noticing the perfectly feng shui placement of people sitting in every other seat. Granted the subway is a bit old school and the seats haven't been updated to accommodate our large luscious American booties, but would that really have made a difference? The seats in most airports around the US (and I've been in most) are pretty spacious and yet when choosing a seat people meander around looking for additional empty seats...often choosing in the end to stand.

Why?

Why do we avoid the empty seat adjacent to a stranger? Seems we've become so accustomed to our personal space that we avoid infringing on others. In a world of connecting via electronics are we losing our ability to connect, to touch, to see, to be a part of one another's lives?

Flying over the winter holidays is shear insanity - I do it every year with the promise of never doing it again. This last year I was held up in the DC airport with thousands of others due to weather conditions. As I walked around the airport, trying to pass the time away, I noticed a woman trying to place a call at the payphone. I actually had forgotten that payphones still existed. Seemed utterly unnecessary for this poor woman to pay for her call. I approached her and offered my cell phone. She explained in a familiar accent that the call was international. "Not a problem, I have Skype".

As I set my computer up for her to access Skype (yes I realize if I had an iPhone this would've taken less steps) I started inquiring about her story. She was from South Africa - a place I knew fairly well as I'd lived there for a period of time. She'd been in America on business, was heading home when her flight was cancelled, and had been trying to reach her husband for hours to let him know she was stuck in DC. She was exhausted, sad, frazzled, and felt completely out of her element - helpless and losing hope.

I love moments like these - simple human connection through a simple gesture.

After making the call to her husband and sending a few emails to co-workers explaining her situation she thanked me profusely, offered to buy me coffee (to which I declined as I'd just filled my mug with tea), and parted ways.

From this one seemingly insignificant moment my spirit was instantly lifted. I no longer cared about waiting in the airport. I began chatting with people around me and tried to ease their minds about being home for the holidays. I felt like skipping, throwing daisy peddles, dancing a jig - joy, pure joy, resounded through me.

What do I make of all this?

I'm not exactly sure.

In simple terms I now see an empty seat as an opportunity - an opportunity to connect, to touch, to see, to be a part of another's life.

Ladies, Lets Go There!

One of the most honoring aspects I've experienced in my friendships with women is their trust to disclose deep, personal, serious, hilarious, and/or embarrassing issues, struggles, and/or stories with me. Authenticity attracts authenticity! So, in the words of my girl Emily, 'lets go there'...and as we ring in this new year I'd like to dedicate this blog to all my ladies in hopes that this will start the conversation n' ya'all with add to it!

Topic #1 - Scary Hairy
The good Lawd giveth and taketh away…He gave me a great head of hair and then didn’t stop there. I have been in a constant battle/all out war with body hair since the third grade. I distinctly remember one day at YMCA day camp some lil’ jackass junior high boy attracting attention to the hair on my legs. Humiliated I was determined to rectify that issue by marching straight home, locking myself in the bathroom, and taking my mother’s old lady razor to my dry hairy legs. Needless to say, this was not my most brilliant moment. However, it was not the most brainless either. No, my most idiotic attempt at hair removal would be the day I bought an Epilady – I know, seriously who even remembers these horrible torture devices? After screaming my way through 5 seconds of Epilady’s vindictive agony I begged my mother to return the devil device that I’d spent my entire month’s allowance on!

Since these futile days of vain conceit, I have shaved, plucked, waxed, and just recently underwent laser hair removal. I’m really in no financial position to keep up with these treatments but I will share that laser hair removal has been my most successful attempt and when I factor in the $70+ I spend each time waxing…well, it may be worth it to once and for all be finished with hair!

Thoughts...stories...feedback...Feel free to weigh in…

Topic #2 - The Glories of Being a Woman
Warning: information in this post may be TMI for those of the male species!

Ask a woman about the first time she got her period and you will undoubtedly have some great material for a stand-up comedy set.

"I thought I was dying"

"My dad found my pad"

"My mom made a special family dinner"

Classic.

My period has always a mind of her own. I 'started' when I was 12 and then Aunt Flo went on vacation for about eight years. Concerned that her extremely non-sexually active 20 year old daughter may have complications 'down-the-road' getting pregnant my mother urged me to go to the gyno. Dr. Pap, convinced that I was lying about being a virgin, recommended I go on birth control to regulate my periods.

Bad, bad, bad advice!

Doctors often seem to leave out nuggets of information...

For instance, had I known about the excruciating pain I would have to endure getting my period for the first time after eight years I would have opted for the roller ball surgery (Hysteroscopic Endometrial Ablation). And why did no one warn me about the possibility of gaining 20lbs or having my boobs swell from a pleasant B to a painful and unruly C?!?!?!

Needless to say, I changed my doctor and learned about getting second and third opinions.

One fabulous invention I have grown to love is the Diva Cup (http://www.divacup.com/). After reading an article about how some tampons actually contain fibers that make women bleed more so that they need to use/BUY more tampons, I decided there had to be another solution. Completely eco-friendly, the Diva Cup may take a little getting used to and is probably not for the squeamish. Of course you should ask your doctor about it - but from my non-doctoral opinion, the Diva Cup is the greatest invention since peanut butter and chocolate!

Waiting for Peace

Before making the decision to go to grad school I remember having a few conversations with friends about 'waiting for peace' before making huge life-altering decisions vs. the methodology of weighing pros/cons. I had stood by 'waiting for peace' for my entire life and felt that's what the Divine would want me to do - wait for His peace. Now after stepping through two life-altering doors that didn't have 'Peace' written on their threshold I have to wonder - how does 'waiting for the peace of God' fit into making decisions?

I struggled in grad school when shit hit the fan and I couldn't rest on the reassurance that God had given me peace about this decision. It was unnerving. I hated it. I kept wondering if I'd 'gone against His will', if perhaps He had a different plan and I moved forward because there literally were no other options. Well, that's not true, there were other options - but I strongly did not have peace about them - even a Personal Assistant position for $75000!

Similarly, in deciding to accept my current position as the Traveling Student Advisor for the International Honors Program I fought like a two-year old temper tantrum against it. I'd applied for numerous positions at universities in the states - something stable, something long-term, something that would set my career on a path. Instead the only open door was IHP - 6 months of traveling, 6 months of a job and then back to square one, 6 months...the end. I wanted to settle down, find a community, a man, stability. Now as I near the end IHP has turned out to be the most incredible season - full of adventure and constant opportunities for growth and learning.

What should I make of this?

In hindsight, though neither decision 'felt' peaceful and I cried my way traveling across the country to SIT and cried after accepting the position with IHP, I think those tears were quite selfish. I wanted to stay in LA, I wanted stability, I wanted some fragment of a 'normal' life. I didn't want to go into $50,000 of debt, move to VT, take a position that only lasted 6 months, and travel out of a suitcase again. I wanted what I wanted so badly that perhaps I didn't allow myself to 'feel' peace or accept the out of the ordinary.

As mentioned in my last post - my life has been anything but ordinary and it's been a struggle to not feel embarassed for not having a stable job, home, husband, kids, life. I've lept into the unknown so many times that I feel entitled to stability.

Now that I'm back to looking for a job and wondering where/how my life will unfold I'm not sure how to proceed. Wait for peace? Weigh the pros/cons? Just see what unfolds and know it'll all work out in the end no matter what door I choose? At this point I have no option but to wait...

Entitled to be Thankful

I went with my roommate from Jeffreys Bay to her 'Ladies Bible Study' where they're reading through a book called 'Lies women believe' - the chapter they were on spoke about 'Rights' - aka many women feel they have the right to have their husbands help with the chores, the right to a day off, the right to be listened to by their children. Well I didn't really resonante with the word 'Right' but the word that did come to mind was 'Entitled'.

Since I was in high school my 'elders' have always told me that some day God would give me a wonderful husband - that if I'm patient, wait on His timing, and don't settle for anything less than His best that He will give me the 'desire of my heart'. The interesting thing is that for the millions of times people have used the 'desire of my heart' as a consultant agent for single and lonely hearts, it's actually not scripturally accurate.

You see the verse is actually quite tricky - it says 'delight yourself in Him and He will give you the desires of your heart' - can you see it? Do you see the circular catch-22? If we delight in Him...meaning the promise is not that He will give us the desires of our heart...the promise is that He will give us Him! If we delight in Him than He WILL be our heart's desire.

So clearly I understood that never has God actually promised that I'd have a husband or a family. He has always promised Himself and that He would be enough if I sought my identity and fulfillment in Him.

With the scare of uterin cancer this last summer I was forced to accept that bearing children wouldn't be possible - and I actually came to peace with this. Though it has since been confirmed that the cancer is merely precancerous cells outside of my uteris, I've been left with a lot to think about. I used to write letters to my unborn children (yeah I know, it's a bit creepy!) What I once thought was always a choice and something I would definitely have, something I was entitled to have, something I was even supposed to have, I now have no idea about.

How is it that I once believed I was entitled to children, entitled to a husband, entitled to some likeness of an easy-going life? None of it is true...none of us are actually 'entitled' to have these things...at least according to scripture.

I told my mom the other day that my life has been one of coloring outside of the lines - nothing conventional - I've never had a full time job for more than a year, I didn't date til I was 26, I've moved from east to west coast countless times, I was completely debt free at 28 and then $50,000 in the hole by 30 when I decided to attend a no-name graduate school, I've traveled all over the world and still at nearly 31 am still traveling, and I'm still single. I've spent a lot of time thinking 'other' people will judge my life - will wonder why I move around so much, will judge why I'm single, etc, etc...but truth is I've come to love my life. It's been this incredible 'choose your own adventure' with tons of laughter, wonderful friends, lots of falling flat on my face, sticking my big foot in my mouth, falling off horses, and always having to get back on again and ride that damn thing into the sunset. It's been a wild ride and all I can do is be thankful.

Thankful for my family, friends, acquaintances that I've met for brief moments and their faces remain ever present in my fondest memories...thankful to travel, thankful for seasons of ups and downs, thankful that so many people have touched my life and others so deeply. I am thankful for my unconventional, coloring out of the lines life, and I'm thankful that everything God has promised me has always come true.

India through the lens of an auto-rick

How many people can fit in an auto-rick?

This question became quite a laughing matter for our group as we piled people on top of people, bargained, maneuvered, and navigated India by way of the popular yellow and green auto-rickshaw. Beyond a good laugh, however, the auto-rick became a fitting metaphor for the city of Delhi. Who operates an auto-rick and who utilizes it? Where can one catch an auto-rick and where are they scarcely to be seen? What does it mean to bargain and what does it mean to get ripped off? Delhi through the lens of an auto-rickshaw illustrated the choreographed chaos and the rhythm, the interconnection and the individual, and the unseen stories that we experienced throughout India.

One inspiring thought that propelled our group through India was that ‘chaos can be structured’ - in fact, often chaos is merely another form of order. At first glance, Delhi seemed completely and utterly disorganized, dirty, and disjointed. We were convinced that none of the roads had been built for six lanes and yet auto-rickshaws, bicycle-rickshaws, motorcycles, buses, and private cars consistently manipulated their way through traffic creating entirely new lanes. Pedestrians crossing these six-lane masses of insanity had better move quickly, have keen peripheral vision, and advanced street wit. We soon learned that locals rarely batted an eye at having to make their way on foot through traffic. There was a rhythm, a balance, a place, a time to make one’s break across the road and once we were able to read the beat, we were able to cross the street.

Delhi, what’s to say? I got off the plane exhausted and completely disoriented…It was nice to get out and walk around today. The colors are beautiful and the market is full of life…the modes of transportation are numerous and looking down on the street it just looks like confusion with no structure. On the plane ride to India I had the chance to watch a traditional Bollywood film.
The opening scene took place in Delhi – brilliantly depicting the everyday hustle and bustle of the city. The main character quickly stated,
“Everything here is happening at the same time, yet there is some kind of balance”.
I would have to agree after having my first ride in an auto-rick.
I kept joking that it was like a rollercoaster with no safety precautions…
lanes are completely disregarded by drivers and I didn’t understand the relentless and ever constant honking between drivers. It just made no sense to me why anyone would want to honk a horn that much. Over the past few days, and several auto rides, I’ve come to learn why the drivers honk: that’s how they audibly communicate with each other to ensure that they don’t crash.
The honks are our versions of blinkers!
IHP Cities Fall ’09 Student

Making our way through traffic was obviously quite a mission but making our way through the city during monsoon weather was an entirely new story. Monsoon season was supposed to be over by the time we arrived in Delhi, but apparently it held off long enough for us to experience it as well. Though we hated the rain for drenching us as we braved our first auto-rick journeys from our homestays, we learned a great deal about its effect on the city. For starters, it was nearly impossible to catch an auto-rick when it rained. The city itself seemed to halt to a standstill. It was explained to us that street sweepers were paid daily to sweep garbage out of sight (and consequently that meant into gutters). Needless to say, when it rained all the gutters, which had been clogged with garbage, became futile. Rickshaws and other autos were forced to navigate back roads and alternative routes – making everyone late to their destinations. As sopping wet students we were willing to pay any amount for an auto-rick’s haven away from the rain. However, most people in Delhi weren’t so fortunate to have such an escape.

The entire east periphery of Delhi (housing the slums) was created on a lower plateau than the city’s center. The slums became the city’s drainage and wasteland. What it must do to the human psyche to not only be part of society’s lowest caste, the ‘untouchables’, but to also physically live lower than upper-class society. It was a constant struggle to witness, and grapple with the poverty and caste segregation of India. At every traffic jam and traffic light our green and yellow auto-rick would draw a crowd of children. Encountering children begging on the street was one of the most difficult challenges we faced in India. We were told to ignore the children and to never give them money. We were warned that any money given to children would most likely be taken away by the adult who controlled, managed, monitored, and manipulated the child.

How could we ignore children?

Many of us started disliking who we were becoming – cold, callous, and unwilling to humanize or face the inescapable poverty which encroached around us. Then on one hot and humid afternoon we visited an organization which was operated by and for street children. Over 50,000 children in India take to the street to earn an income. Chetna is an organization with about 5,000 members - solely run by street kids who advocate for their rights, safety, and education. Suddenly, the vague faces of street children had names, stories, wisdom, joy, and life. We sang with, danced with, listened to, loved on, and were loved by some of the most intelligent and strong children we’d ever met. The children left us with a bit of advice when encountering beggars – don’t give money, but don’t ignore; acknowledge them as human, after all, each of ‘them’ has an individual story.

Meeting the street children of Chetna was a real turning point for many of us. We now had more peace of mind and confidence to embrace and interact with the overwhelming amount of marginalized and displaced people all around us. We started learning how to bargain, interview, and interact with street vendors and auto-rick drivers more respectfully. As we began to ‘suspend judgment’, individuals’ faces and stories emerged right before our eyes.

Yesterday was our Market Day…if anything, this visit taught me that looks can be deceiving. The somewhat shabby looking store was actually several decades old and full of history. The owner himself had opened the shop and had created his line all on his own. He sat us down and showed us pictures of when he first began selling the rickshaws. We learned of the chain of events for how a rickshaw ultimately comes into being. He gives materials to a ‘wheel and spokes’ man who builds the wheels…then puts in a request for the wooden box to be built.
When these parts arrive, he gets the men in his factory to assemble the bike together.
When all of this is through, the man is able to sell the requested rickshaw.
IHP Cities Fall ’09 Student

From the very creation of a rickshaw we experienced the web of interconnection among individuals. The creation and planning for the city of Chandigarh was similarly designed to intersect individuals, as well as their body, mind, and souls.

In Chandigarh we observed and analyzed how one of the most planned cities in the world was fulfilling its original vision. Le Corbusier created a very specific plan for Chandigarh before it was built and then built the area to become the capital region for the state...we learnt about Le Corbusier’s vision and design and investigated how this was carried out into the reality of the city. How had things followed the plan? What was different? How has current development adjusted to these plans? What works?
IHP Cities Fall ’09 Student

What we found was that despite Le Corbusier’s efforts to design a holistic and unified city, Chandigarh predominantly catered to the wealthy, to those owning and operating autos, and displaced the poor to the periphery of the city and out of main sight. As many of us began thinking ahead to our own careers as urban planners, anthropologists, professors, social workers, advocates, and activists we realized how imperative it will be to know fully the history, the culture, and to work alongside locals in order for efforts to be sustainable and equitable to all. As we experienced India’s inequalities of caste, class, race, beauty, and gender we then had to face and question our own ideologies of equality, safety, and privilege.

The most difficult experience I faced in India was finding bed bugs in my hotel bed in Agra. It was the first time I’d ever had anything crawling in my bed. I am so picky about my bed back home that I really flipped out and didn’t know how to react. This was a hotel and I was a paying customer - I had the right to complain about the service…right? The front desk was really nice and apologetic but then the next room I went into also had bed bugs!
The guy who helped me move from room A to B wanted me to stay in room B.
My response was ‘No. Would you sleep in this?’
(pointing to one of the bugs on the bed).
He replied ‘yes’.
Whether he actually understood me or not wasn’t the point…
it was his answer that I’ve reflected on.
I have come to realize that the idea of having a bed is a blessing…
shelter itself is a luxury that not everyone has.
The ‘right to complain and demand service’ was rooted in privilege.
IHP Cities Fall ’09 Student

Undoubtedly we will spend a lifetime reflecting on and shaping our ideologies of equality and privilege. India forced us to redefine poverty and opened our eyes more to the inequalities that exist throughout the world. In the words of Kalyani Menon (our esteemed and brilliant country coordinator) “the reason ‘they’ are poor is that we are not”. Now we must try to understand how we fit contribute and respond to the displaced, marginalized, and overall injustice which exists in the world. From all we have heard about South Africa we expect that we will continue to analyze and deconstruct our own and others’ ideologies of power, equality, race, gender, justice, privilege, and freedom.

The simplest of things...

It is amazing how the simplest of things like placing a food order over the phone, asking for directions, taking a shower, or crossing a street can completely unnerve and dishevel ones' graspe of adapting to a new place.

India in so many ways will be the most 'unknown' destination of our trip around the world. I hear from so many students their desire for the familiar of space, moments, feelings, tastes, sounds, or surroundings. It is quite difficult to find any of the familiar here in India. To some extent it is refreshing to know the west has not completely penetrated and annhilated all of India's pride for India. How do we move and exist in this space which is not our turf? How can we soak in the completely 'other' and 'unknown' and embrace it for what it is?

Our time here is so short that it seems insensitive to desire familiar sensations of home - and yet even with all the traveling I've done I understand that desire (dare I say the need) to have a bit of familiar to catch one's footing in order to embrace all the other unknowns.

The simplest of things can unnerve...and yet the simplest of things can recapture steadiness...like google chatting with friends, having skype dates, have a coffee at a lovely cafe, or finding common ground with the unknowns which surround us...there are more than we think.