Did I Ever Mention...

...That I'm running a half-marathon? Yeahhh, I'm running the San Francisco half-marathon on July 26. My story, "A Lost Soul Running Home" from my fundraising page (I'm fundraising $1500 for the marathon's beneficiary, Youth Run4Fun, an inner-city youth running program. So far I've raised $1338! https://secure2.merchantcart.net/runsfm/MyWebPage.cfm?CFID=5576429&CFToken=e7d2489b5aa758f-82E17745-65B8-C82F-8B1462ECF16DBCAF):

A Lost Soul Running Home

Recently I have found myself in an existential-coming-of-age-life-crisis. What is my purpose? What are my passions? What is reality beyond what I believe to be real, and thus what is the point? These questions became most pertinent in the demanding, high-pressure setting of college life. I asked myself - Why write this paper that I am not inspired to write? There's a simple formula I can follow to write this paper, get an A (or at least almost), get a good grade in the class, graduate with honors, all so that I can get a job doing... what? What do I want to do with my life? Granted, I know I'm young and certainly too young to have the answers to the rest of my life - we're never quite old enough for that - but these questions left me quite without motivation. Needless to say, my grades this past semester (while not horrific) did not prove my potential, but rather all that I am capable of NOT doing. Not willing to waste everyone's time, LOTS of money, and a great opportunity (and a few more reasons) I decided to take a leave of absence. So now I'm home. To read about my wanderings and rantings you can check out my blog http://loveinvincible.blogspot.com. But on to the marathon... I was inspired to run a marathon by a family friend. A sophomore in high school, she just decided she would do it. I figured, hey, sounds like a good idea... I guess I'll run one too... ...Well, I mean, it's more than that. Running a (1/2) marathon is a challenge akin to writing that A-paper (on a small scale) or the college process (on a larger scale), but it's a challenge that I am choosing to take on rather than a paper that has simply been assigned to me. It gives me a chance to push myself physically and even more so mentally. It makes me happy and boosts my self-esteem as I see the progress that I am making. It gives me a clearly defined goal that I am working towards, which is a very stabilizing structure in my life of current uncertainty off "the beaten path." The direction and purpose of running, and the vibrancy of inspiration tingling in my head and lingering in my body as I push towards the finish line are so satisfying. As I head back to my car after a good run - curly hair blazing out around my flushed, red face, shaking out sore limbs and stretching tight calves, light dim with the decision of night and February mist - I never fail to find clarity and a profound feeling of being a little more settled.

*****

I wrote that around the beginning of March, after I first started training. This is the latest update from the training blog that I've been writing for the San Francisco Marathon Training Program:

The Race Approaches

And as it does I run on my own… I particularly haven’t been making the effort to go to training recently. I’ve been finding a lot of enjoyment in my runs, a very simple enjoyment. I don’t really realize that I’m running a half-marathon in a few weeks. I have not really wrapped my head around a “training” mindset, a pressured and directed mindset with a very specific goal in mind.

As I’ve run, when I’ve run, I’ve thought to myself, Running as a mode of transportation or, Running as a mode of adventure and observation (I’ve been running on trails and in new neighborhoods). With that mindset – running both as a way to move myself and to explore and enjoy my surroundings – the process of running has been much more enjoyable for me. I’m not racing, I have no particular goal or destination, the journey is the whole point. I am not training, I am simply roaming on my feet. Running allows me to discover and appreciate.

I like this mindset, it’s a way of living.

I’m not sure, however, how this will work out for me to actually run a half-marathon.

Cesaria Evora and a Foggy Day

Hmmm... And isn't the eternal question where to begin, for where is there ever a beginning or an end? Life, existence, reality, being, I believe it all to be a spiraling cycle through time, and my pain, my love, my experiences, they are not mine. My pain is an ancient, ancestral pain, one that has been passed down through generations. In the words of Brett Dennen and Lara Mendel, we are all interconnected, we're all intertwined, through all of history, through the web of time... And that's the TRUTH, Ruth. Thank you Samuel L. and Spike Lee. And that's some more interconnected shit right there, everyone trying to Do The Right Thing for themselves, not realizing that the right thing for themselves is the right thing for EVERYONE. All they did was spread the violence, the poison. Haha, I know at least a couple of people follow that.

All of that being said... I'm finally sitting down to write and I don't know where to start, so I guess I'll just start somewhere aroundabouts where I left off. MOSAIC. M is for mutual respect, don't put me down and don't hurt me. O is for openmindedness, see me for who I am and don't judge me. S is for self-respect and A is for attitude, you gotta love yourself and stay positive. I is for individuality and C is for community, when we come together in the places we live. Or maybe its we gotta come together. COME TOGETHA. riiiiiight now. ova me. Those are the Mosaic values, and they are certainly values to live by. There's so much to say about it, it's one of those things where so much happened that trying to somehow capture it with words seems so defeatingly meaningless. I guesssss to sum it up: amazing people, magical woods, beautiful children that SERIOUSLY exhaust you, peace is possible, glitter and bubbles and appreciation of weirdness or rather "individuality," mixing it up. Basically just everything good and true and whole and beautiful about the world buzzes around on the backs of the fairies that drift about in the magical mosaic woods and you see it all in the reflection of childrens' eyes. But don't get me wrong, that shit's HARD. It is a weeklong therapy session and a lot of these kids have been through.... fucking shit.... in only 9 or 10 years of living. And so they start off making your life hard, miserable, but you know that you've done something SO meaningful and profound, you've actually made a difference when you see those kids opening up, their shell cracking, you see that sparkle in their eyes, they hug you or hold your hand for the first time, cry when they say goodbye... And then you notice that you've changed and opened up and started sparkling. All of that positive energy and love and support washing over you fills you up and makes you stronger and you wanna pass that on. Because the world truly IS a beautiful place.

And after three weeks at Mosaic I had a profound personal breakthrough.

And then I left for France. I left for sunny days with Sam in the south of France, cobblestones and dresses, beautiful people and beautiful fruit and produce, fresh bread, small cars, accents, winding alleys with planters overflowing with blooming flowers, divine wine, adorable children, a crazy scooterer, 40-year-olds and soccer players for lovers, pubs with friendly bartenders, fountains, jellyfish stings, a night in the cheapest hotel in Cannes, train rides without tickets, the most amazing field carpeted with red poppies, the beautiful 10 place de albertas, making friends through conversations of broken French mixed with English and Spanish and hand motions, delicious food, and an overall splendid time for about a week. And then several days in Paris. If you're looking for a hostel in Paris I HIGHLY recommend staying in St. Christopher's Inn, it's super cool and nice as far as hostels go. For those few days on my own I literally just walked all over Paris. More rambling streets and beautiful people. Great metro system. But what I loved most about Paris was the art. There's art everywhere! Soooo many posters up for art expositions or music shows that are themselves pieces of art. So much tight graffiti and street art. And SO much music! From the old-timey group playing Sam Cooke outside of the Notre Dame, to the Bolivian and Peruvian guys playing indigenous, meditative flutes in the Metro station underground, to the FREE 3-day rock, pop, electro concert down the canal from my hostel, to the Mexican dude who started singing me love songs in Spanish on the Metro train, to the mirthfully girthful woman belting out French ballads accompanied by her accordian and friends over wine on a sunny Sunday afternoon, to the Norwegian bands Borko and Sin Fang Bous I saw perform at the sweet "center for artistic dynamics" Point Ephémère, to ALL of the posters for upcoming concerts... So Paris defines cool, but in many ways Paris also defines music.

And now I'm home. After a week of (sort of) relaxation I begin working at camp on Monday. I'm housesitting for most of the summer starting Wednesday, woohoooo! So now I transition into a totally new and different phase of life - work, living on my own, and training like crazy for my half-marathon on July 26. Speaking of which, I'm fundraising $1500 for the marathon's benficiary Youth Run4Fun, an inner-city youth running program. So far I've raised %88, just over $1300! But I still have just under $200 before I reach my goal and I would so appreciate any donation you could make. To donate go to my fundraising page: https://secure2.merchantcart.net/runsfm/MyWebPage.cfm?pID=375145&CFID=5576429&CFToken=e7d2489b5aa758f-82E17745-65B8-C82F-8B1462ECF16DBCAF

Make new friends and keep the old

Ummm, so I wanna talk about friends. And I wanna talk about pushing my comfort zone. Because the past week in particular I feel like I've really pushed my previous comfort zones and made new friends. There's a certain security and self-assurance, maybe even a strength, that I have found recently and that have allowed me confidence. There was a festival at People's Park in Berkeley last weekend celebrating its 40th Anniversary. After a lovely South Berkeley Sunday morning with a good friend visiting from school (he's from Berkeley) I headed to the park to check it out. While I had called up a couple of friends I ended up being there on my own. And I should say here that I have considered myself shy. I'm actually really outgoing, but in new social situations or when I find myself uncomfortable I get really quiet. I also used to be too nervous to ask the waiter for more water at restaurants. But I ran into some folks I went to Mosaic Project training and I again realized their age. To be a staff at Mosaic you have to be at least 21 and so I'm a cabin leader, mostly with high school students. Now that I'm TWENTY (something I've been somewhat freaking out about... I know I don't need to, but seriously, in my twenties, what?) to be surrounded by 16, 17, and 18-year-olds is BIZARRE. I ran into my sort of aunt (only sort of because in Ethiopia pretty much everyone's related...) and her hippie husband. I ran into a girl I know, I'm not really friends with, and sat down with her. When she left stayed there with her crazy friend from Tehran. Was introduced to a Norwegian traveler by some girl I don't even know. And his name is Leif. And he's fabulous. And we went on a hike, and I brought him home for dinner. And if I don't see him tomorrow I might never see him again. And that's beautiful. I am another friendly face he's found somewhere on the world and I wonder if he'll remember my name. So that's bittersweet, but it's just the way things are. We still connected and have shared a very real and simple friendship. And if I hadn't finally gotten to a place where I felt comfortable venturing into an unkown space on my own (albeit, a festival in People's Park is a very warm, welcoming, and receptive space) then I wouldn't have had the wonderful experience of meeting Leif. In fact, this week I feel like I've really made five new friends, at least one of whom I think I'll remain friends with for awhile. All of this is simply to say that something about this time off is going really right. It's healing. I've also really used others and their friendship as a crutch for my sense of fulfillment, so finding this personal strength, capability, and sense of self is really empowering. So push your boundaries today, go outside and mix it up, talk to a stranger, engage a smile with that old woman on the corner and maybe shake hands with the dude always selling newspapers. There are so many people to enjoy. Make a new friend.

Friends

Ummm, so I wanna talk about friends. And I wanna talk about pushing my comfort zone. Because the past week in particular I feel like I've really pushed my previous comfort zones and made new friends. There's a certain security and self-assurance, maybe even a strength, that I have found recently and that have allowed me confidence. There was a festival at People's Park in Berkeley last weekend celebrating its 40th Anniversary. After a lovely South Berkeley Sunday morning with a good friend visiting from school (he's from Berkeley) I headed to the park to check it out. While I had called up a couple of friends I ended up being there on my own. And I should say here that I have considered myself shy. I'm actually really outgoing, but in new social situations or when I find myself uncomfortable I get really quiet. I also used to be too nervous to ask the waiter for more water at restaurants. But I ran into some folks I went to Mosaic Project training and I again realized their age. To be a staff at Mosaic you have to be at least 21 and so I'm a cabin leader, mostly with high school students. Now that I'm TWENTY (something I've been somewhat freaking out about... I know I don't need to, but seriously, in my twenties, what?) to be surrounded by 16, 17, and 18-year-olds is BIZARRE. I ran into my sort of aunt (only sort of because in Ethiopia pretty much everyone's related...) and her hippie husband. I ran into a girl I know, I'm not really friends with, and sat down with her. When she left stayed there with her crazy friend from Tehran. Was introduced to a Norwegian traveler by some girl I don't even know. And his name is Leif. And he's fabulous. And we went on a hike, and I brought him home for dinner. And if I don't see him tomorrow I might never see him again. And that's beautiful. I am another friendly face he's found somewhere on the world and I wonder if he'll remember my name. So that's bittersweet, but it's just the way things are. We still connected and have shared a very real and simple friendship. And if I hadn't finally gotten to a place where I felt comfortable venturing into an unkown space on my own (albeit, a festival in People's Park is a very warm, welcoming, and receptive space) then I wouldn't have had the wonderful experience of meeting Leif. In fact, this week I feel like I've really made five new friends, at least one of whom I think I'll remain friends with for awhile. All of this is simply to say that something about this time off is going really right. It's healing. I've also really used others and their friendship as a crutch for my sense of fulfillment, so finding this personal strength, capability, and sense of self is really empowering. So push your boundaries today, go outside and mix it up, talk to a stranger, engage a smile with that old woman on the corner and maybe shake hands with the dude always selling newspapers. There are so many people to enjoy. Make a new friend.

WOMANIST

My best friend from childhood sent this to me in an email this morning. I like it.

Alice Walker's Definition of a "Womanist" from In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens: Womanist Prose Copyright 1983. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich

Quote

WOMANIST
1. From womanish. (Opp. of "girlish," i.e. frivolous, irresponsible, not serious.) A black feminist or feminist of color. From the black folk expression of mothers to female children, "you acting womanish," i.e., like a woman. Usually referring to outrageous, audacious, courageous or willful behavior. Wanting to know more and in greater depth than is considered "good" for one. Interested in grown up doings. Acting grown up. Being grown up. Interchangeable with another black folk expression: "You trying to be grown." Responsible. In charge. Serious.
2. Also: A woman who loves other women, sexually and/or nonsexually. Appreciates and prefers women's culture, women's emotional flexibility (values tears as natural counterbalance of laughter), and women's strength. Sometimes loves individual men, sexually and/or nonsexually. Committed to survival and wholeness of entire people, male and female. Not a separatist, except periodically, for health. Traditionally a universalist, as in: "Mama, why are we brown, pink, and yellow, and our cousins are white, beige and black?" Ans. "Well, you know the colored race is just like a flower garden, with every color flower represented." Traditionally capable, as in: "Mama, I'm walking to Canada and I'm taking you and a bunch of other slaves with me." Reply: "It wouldn't be the first time."
3. Loves music. Loves dance. Loves the moon. Loves the Spirit. Loves love and food and roundness. Loves struggle. Loves the Folk. Loves herself. Regardless.
4. Womanist is to feminist as purple is to lavender.

Justice Now!!!

The Obama Administration has released reports within the past week, the latest being within the past 24 hours, that specifically detail and prove the Bush Administration's use of torture as interrogation to elicit information from detainees regarding an association between Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaeda in order to INVADE and start a WAR in Iraq:

Rachel explains it very well - thoroughly and clearly. I highly recommend watching this 13-minute clip: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26315908/#30356488

There are also many articles to be found online: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/22/us/politics/22report.html?fta=y

I, for one, am ENRAGED!!!

Here are some facts:

a) The same torture interrogation techniques were being used in the military and the CIA, despite the fact that they are separate governmental structures.
b) This is because they both respond to the top - that big, white house.
c) In other words, these commands were coming Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, etc.
d) They had lawyers try to redefine laws in order to somehow make it OK to torture people.
e) They wanted to find a connection between Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaeda. After failing to find a connection they called for new tactics - TORTURE - in order to persuade prisoners to confess to that connection so that they could invade Iraq and start a war.
f) Some of the "interrogation techniques" they used were based off of torture techniques used by Communist China and in the Korean War in order to get a false confession from prisoners of war and supplant their own propaganda.

In other words, the Bush Administration really did LIE their way into Iraq.

They did not just invade Iraq based on false pretenses, but they COMPLETELY FABRICATED those pretenses!

So many people have DIED because of their agenda.

And just - WHAT?!?! asldkf;alskdjf;aklsdj;klja;?!?! How can you sleep at night knowing that you are ordering someone to brutally torture another human being in order to get a false confession in order to invade a country?!

Or just bottom line, how can you order someone to brutally torture another person, regardless of all of that other shit?

That is CRIMINAL. EVIL. APPALLING. DISGUSTING. HEINOUS.

And wanna know the irony of it all? These memos were released from the JUSTICE department. That's some 1984 bullshit right there.

Those government officials should be TRIED, CONVICTED, and SENTENCED TO PRISON FOR LIFE!

Feelin Young, Feelin Fine

Came down to UCLA to visit friends this weekend. It was glorious.

Cleve Jones.
Animal Collective getting me down Hwy 5.
Lucas Habte.
4/20.
Sunshine.
World Arts and Cultures.
Love.
Spending time with old friends and meeting their new ones.
Inspiration.
Self-realization lake shrine.
Running hills.
College.
Hopping fences.
Deep conversations.
Mari-ja-wana.
Love.
The view from an empty lot in the hills of Bel Air.
Freedom.
Lying on the grass – careless, free, without stress.
West African dance with Lisie.
The bombest blues club and soul food.
Good music.
Sweat.
Cultural loving.
Love.

Those are things that stick out. I think that I'm going to write a poem soon.

But first I have to get home.

oh, whoa, weird, today's the 16 and the last post I wrote was ALSO on a 16. It's been exactly 4 months since my last post...

Guess Who's Back...?

Ok, oh man, where to begin...

I suppose first, my sincerest apologies for not writing. I don't think that I was ready to write, to open up. Since I've come home I've slowly decompressed and gotten stronger.

My first week home I lived in the same sweatpants and shirt. I think I changed my underwear, but I'm not positive. I showered once or twice, maybe. I spent two solid days lying on the couch, eating, and watching movies nonstop. It was gross.

After that I started to shower semi-regularly. I started leaving the house and wearing "real" clothes, even if I wore the same pair of jeans for the next three weeks. I unsuccessfully tried to find a job, I had a sort-of internship interview. I started my marathon training.

The next month I started doing bikram yoga. If you don't know, it's a series of 26 postures in a heated room, about 95 degrees. You SWEAT, but afterwards you feel so cleansed. I started cooking a lot.

Mid-March I started going on adventures. I went to Anza-Borrego desert with my mom to see the wildflowers bloom. It was only a few days' trip and we drove the 10 hours to get there, but the whole journey was amazing. That part of California is like a whole 'nother world. And the desert, man, the desert is where you will find truth. My best friend Sam came to visit over her spring break and it was a glorious week being children of the sun, playing all over the Bay Area. A couple of weeks later some friends from Harvard flew out and we road tripped the California coast. We stopped at a winery for wine tasting and a bottle for our sunset dinner on the beach, we hot tubbed deep in the forest under the starry sky, we stripped off our clothes and jumped into a river after a short hike in Big Sur, we shared our music as we drove, we played soccer and drank beer and made musi on the guitar as we soaked up the sun, we had a 6-person RAGER in Santa Barbara, we were positively young :)

Now my life is beginning to fall into place... This past week I began doing some volunteer work with East Bay College Fund, which I will continue for the next couple of weeks. The organization is small and fairly new (the last few years) and gives college scholarships/mentors to underprivileged B students (the A students tend to do pretty well at getting the scholarships they need). Both of my parents are mentors to kids in their senior year of college. I've been doing fundraising work for them so far, basically looking up various grants that we can apply to. I also work on other random projects. This weekend I'm going to UCLA to visit friends.

The following 3 weeks of May: Volunteering as a cabin leader at The (Fabulous) Mosaic Project (www.mosaicproject.org)! In a nutshell it's a diversity education program for 4th and 5th grade students, but it's more than that. The kids come up to the camp with their classes and they come from varying socioeconomic backgrounds. It reallllly intensively opens up a dialogue about stereotypes, prejudice, and discrimination in order to create a space of understanding to eradicate those issues and work towards peace. The program is REALLY well designed, is filled with people who are super passionate, and has been very successful in terms of opening kids up. Sooooo I'm basically helping to save humanity and create world peace. No big deal.
Next couple of weeks: I'll be in France with my lovely, darling friend Sam and her gracious, generous parents! I'll be in the south of France with them, we will spend a night in Paris, and then I'll remain in Paris on my own for a few more days.

a lil less than 2 weeks unplanned...

mid-June to late(?)-August: Workin at Monkey Business Camp again (this'll be my 3rd summer working with them in one way or another and the name is still so silly). Anyway, it'll be all summer, full-time M-F, running around with crazy kids in the sun, anxiously anticipating the weekends by Monday afternoon. It'll be an exhausting summer, but also revitalizing - camp is still fun, bein around kids all day allows me to "connect with my inner child," and I'll be working with some really cool folks. I'm planning on throwing in some camping trips, beautiful hikes, weekend excursions, etc. on weekends.

my cousin's getting married over Labor Day Weekendddd!!!

and then my travels begin... mmmm, early/mid-September, probably the weekend after Labor Day I'll FINALLY head to Maui to do WWOOF! The farm I'm planning on goin to is supposed to be suuuuuper chill, and I hope that I don't get much rain! The farm generally has a minimum stay of 3 months, but seeing as how Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday I'm hoping to come back home after 2 months at the end of November in order to celebrate with my family. And HOPEFULLY my family is going to Ethiopia this winter! We've been talking about it quite a bit and my dad says there's a pretty good likelihood that we will be going, so WOOOHOOOOOO!!! We'd probably be gone for about a month, leaving sometime in mid-December and returning mid-January. Besides I'm planning on being back at school at the end of January. The thing is, I've been dying to go to Le Festival Au Desert, a 3-day music festival (really more like a musical gathering) in the desert in Mali outside of Timbuktu showcasing traditional Taureg music, as well as Malian, African, and other international world artists... Le Festival Au Desert happens in the beginning of January and I believe in 2010 it'll be January 8-10... So basically I'm tryina go. Hoooopefully I have the money - the festival is a few hundred dollars, so it all depends on airfare from Addis to Bamako. Even if we don't go to Ethiopia maybe I can make it to Mali. It's a stretch, DEFINITELY a lofty dream, but I bet I can make it happen :)!!!

At the end of January I should be back at school. Studying anthropology. I already know which classes I wanna take :)

Sooooo that's the plan as of now. Pretty much packed and set through when I go back (unless I don't end up going to Ethiopia, meaning I'll have the month of December at home...). I think that I'm going to get better at updating my blog.

ALSO I've been asked to write a training blog for the San Francisco Marathon Training Program! To view that blog: http://tsfmtp.wordpress.com/ and ALSO I'm fundraising for the marathon! I am raising $1500 for the marathon's beneficiary Youth Run4Fun, an inner-city youth running program. So far I've raised $838! To donate or to learn more about my inspiration to run or Youth Run4Fun: https://secure2.merchantcart.net/runsfm/MyWebPage.cfm?pID=375145&CFID=5576429&CFToken=e7d2489b5aa758f-82E17745-65B8-C82F-8B1462ECF16DBCAF

Really Living

...do you ever think about just... going? Not going anywhere in particular, but going wherever's next.

Just packing a bag, the things that you need, and getting up and leaving? Drop everything, leave it all, and disappear.

Sometimes I just want to head outside and walk, or get in my car and drive (that's more complicated because it requires a good amount of money) and not come back. Sometimes I just want to leave everything I know and wander. Subsist. It would be adventuring and exploring (which I love to do and don't do enough), but I think really it would be more like experiencing. Just living. Really living.

A Letter for my Parents

January 16, 2009

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm hoping to go to DC for the inauguration! I wasn't planning on it, but last night a couple of people who I know marginally well and wish I knew better invited me to come along with them. We obviously wouldn't actually have tickets to be THERE at the inauguration, but I think that it would be incredible to be in DC since it's such a momentous occasion. I have no reason not to go since I'll be done with all of my exams, and even though it's not suuuuper close it's a hell of a lot closer to DC from Boston than it is from California. I figure one day my kids and my grandkids will ask me things like, "Do you remember where you were and what you were doing on the morning of 9/11?" ...and I do remember... I was in 7th grade, it was at our old house. I woke up and no one was in the kitchen, so I went upstairs. The television was on. People were screaming and running and very afraid. I crawled into bed with you. They kept shrieking and sobbing. I went to school and all day long TVs were on in some classroom or another, bawling and blaring destruction and despair. There was an assembly to offer words of support. And there was a really long moment of silence. I cried with Ms. Nguyen.

So when my kids and grandkids ask me, "Where were you when Barack Obama was inaugurated as president? The first black president. The first multi-racial president, like you and like me. Someone who stood for making this country and this world a little more human," I want to be able to tell them that this time I was there embracing the hope and change and progress, basking in the jubilant energy and soaking up the ecstasy on the streets of DC. This time we were screaming and cheering and laughing together as a country united by the prospect of peace, not by mourning. This time we were crying tears of belief and joy and release. This time we were not afraid, but rather our hands were linked in courage and faith as our smiles spread from sea to shining sea. This time we - I you they us them single married divorced adopted orphaned only-child shopping cart-pushing mansion-dwelling green card status Mayflower descendent gun-toting vegan-eating midnight blue translucent ivory, and EVERYTHING all-around and in-between - this time we were merging, not at a point where we vainly try to understand our differences, but where we simply come together to begin healing our country's pain, from the scarred backs of slaves to the scarred New York skyline.

Being human is powerful. From the vast mystery of the mind to the expansive ability of the soul, we are capable of creation - of the future and the past, of ideas and realities, of life and of knives, guns, gases, poisons, bombs, rocket launchers, tanks, missiles, fighter jets, of death and of destruction - of normal peoples' lives at a bank robbery a few blocks away or in a small village under attack in Gaza, of a country, an ethnic group, a chance, a smile. And whatever reality is, whatever this is, within it the ability to not only be aware but also to remember is profound. I want to go to the inauguration so that when I am a wrinkly bag of frizzy gray hairs, a broken hip and forgotten memories, they will still remember. I want to go to the inauguration so that those babies, themselves still wrinkly from the warmth of another’s womb that remembers the secrets of my existence - and, by extension, yours mom, and yours dad - can one day be told that their grandma (great-grandma... or, dare I say, great-great-grandma?) witnessed a moment of human evolution. Not the point at which Barack Obama became a viable candidate, won the democratic ticket, or won the election, but the moment it became real: when enough of us triumphed over Hate, Prejudice, Racism, and Ignorance that we changed the face of America forever. In a country and a world where a natural and deep-seated tendency towards oppression, exploitation, and segregation has reigned, we have now made remarkable strides towards equality, freedom and peace. The inauguration of Barack Obama as the 43rd President of the United States of America is a symbol of the power that we are capable of. So I want us all, connected through time by a web of wombs, to remember that every day we evolve into our humanity, but also to never become complacent and to never forget.

This is a true story that we all live. It should be remembered. And so it is.

I love you THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS much and will see you in less than two weeks! Can’t wait.

Love Always,
Samra

Nevaminddddd

I basically taught myself a CS50 class and played with the html language to get all of my formatting right. Yayyyyy!

A Truth

Some of the culmination of my class on Continuing Oral Traditions of Native Americans... You might recognize a little bit from my earlier rant. I definitely didn't put enough effort into it and want to go back to it relatively soon and make it even better and bigger, but I'm happy enough with it to post it here. Maybe a bit trite, and definitely á la Broken Bridges. Please post comments with any questions/confusion (some things allude to things that we discussed in class and thus won't make sense without an explanation). Also, this wouldn't let me format it exactly the way it's supposed to be (such as at the zig zags) so it's a little off. Nonetheless, enjoy!

A Truth: A RANT
By Samra Girma
Folklore and Mythology 126
January 9, 2008


Dear Justice,

What happened? What went wrong? Can’t you just tick time backwards so that none of this ever happened?

---

I am an emotional being.
A living, dancing, loving, laughing, talking, drawing, cooking, singing, writing being.
I am because I feel, not think… Unless thinking is daydreaming,
that rambling, romantic-thinking
where your imagination takes your hand and explores.
What is reality
when I am aimlessly enjoying
these potential futures?
Keith Basso’s place-making is more than
recreating the past; it is also
imagining the future.
Daydreaming.

…Or maybe I think because I feel.
Because reading Keith Basso’s Wisdom Sits in Places
so resonated with a softness somewhere deep in my soul.
Because I know,
as our guest speaker knows, that
“I never feel better except in the places I belong to.”
Because when my airplane lands
in Oakland Airport tonight this
flash
of vulnerability in my eyes will fade and this
unease
whispering,
mildly throbbing
at my temples or maybe the back of my throat
will s c a t t e r
as I spread into the easy warmth of my home –
those green hills
and that beautiful, sparkling bay.

So, as I said – I am an emotional being…
And a bit long-winded and self-concerned.
Honest?
But my point is that I react,
so that I help these words
curve and swerve on the heels of my thoughts,
bringing to life these ideas that are sown or
suddenly sprout,
all because Keith Basso made me feel.
No, no, not just my bff Keith –
also the German tourists (or were they French?)
clicking snapshots with the Injuns at Plimoth Plantation
– that’s with an “i,” not a “y” –
to take home as souvenirs!
And look at me, German or French – what a hypocrite!
Fasten your seatbelts and snuggle up,
crawling around my mind there are

sharp zigs

and hard zags

and a harder

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH

to a stop
when my heart just wants to
YELL and
SCREAM and cry
WHY?!
Why is there so much
HATE and
CRUELTY and
PAIN?!
Why is there so much INJUSTICE in this world,
and why do we – them, you, I –
just exhale a world-heavy, shoulder-drooping sigh –
lie: no, I’m sorry, I don’t have any change
– quick, empty, unintentionally patronizing shrug –
and then keep walking?
Without looking back.

Why am I proud to be a Californian?
How am I allowed to love this land that was loved long before me?
I choose to be far from my home,
snug and secure in the knowledge that it will be there,
and I will return,
and it will again embrace me in its comfort,
allow me the safety to recharge my spirit and remember my balance,
but what about
Those Who Came Before?
They did not choose to have their land
stolen, yanked from beneath their feet so that
– press pause –
they are

suspended

in the air,
dislodged and uprooted.
Now they are outsiders, a minority in their homeland
– what does that do to one’s sense of identity and belonging?

And then America has the AUDACTIY
to propagate these images of Native Americans,
to so horrifically misrepresent the people
whose blood still stains its hands?!
War-whooping,
“ugh”-grunting,
tipi-creeping,
human-eating,
filth-living,
war-mongering,
oversexualized heathens.
Can you say anything besides, “How!” you dumb Squaw?
Put on some clothes besides your moccasins and headdress, chief!
Uncivilized, primitive, savage, you’re like an animal, a beast!
And you’re not so “brave” anymore are you,
viciously running around scalping innocent people with your tomahawks?!
No, you’ve been pacified –

you’re just my mascot,

you’re my Jeep Grand Cherokee,

you’re rowing a canoe on my box of Land O’Lakes butter.

Shattered dreams,
no hope,
a vanishing history (if you even have one).

The cowboys ALWAYS beat the Indians…

And what kind of Indian are you, anyway?

Where’s your tipi?

Why aren’t you having a powwow?

Where’s that phallic feather sticking up between two braids?

Why do you stink of alcohol?

You redskins are worthless,

why can’t you all just die already?!
HA!
You think your “medicine man” doing some drugs in a sweatlodge is gonna help?
You think your ghostdance or your fire-burning-steady dance
– whatever bullshit, stoic metaphor you use – means anything?
We all know that No Indian is as Good as a Dead Indian.
DUM dum dum dum, DUM dum dum dum…
d-do you hear that…?
You will inevitably disappear.

And aren’t those other images of “real” Indians just as bad,
the exalted Indians of hobbyists and counterculturists?
Peaceful, noble, calm,
hospitable, friendly, handsome,
courteous, innocent, simple.
At one with nature and the land.

The noble savage is no better than the vicious warrior.
They are both racist and oversimplified.
Idolizing and playing the “good” Indian
is arrogant in its cultural supremacy.
By turning
Native Americans into ethnographic objects
one is essentially objectifying and dehumanizing them.
They are a mystery,
something strange and foreign,
objects to be analyzed and observed.
Who are we – again them, you, I –
to deem Native Americans as worthy of interest?
And who are we to claim that
these particular attributes
create a real Indian, a good Indian?
As Philip Deloria states in his book Playing Indian,
when hobbyists and counterculturists “play Indian”
they project an image of what it means to be Indian,
creating an identity out of scraps of movies, books, and media.

And what is this generalized “Indian” anyway?
This umbrella term references thousands of societies, cultures, and tribes.
So many different “Indian” languages are spoken
that two different “Indians” might meet each other
and have no idea what the other is saying.
Indian and Native American are akin to European,
but while we will often distinguish between
French and Croatian,
most people have never heard the words Miwok and Anishinabe before.

No. No. No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no! NO.

There are many things that I’m not sure about in life (no) there is so much that I (no) don’t know and (no) will never learn but there is a certainty within me that (no) is always there, scratching, it lingers there, whispering… noo!

Call me young and silly, ignorant and naïve.
Tell me that my faith in the world
will soon fade into a jaded acceptance
as those world-heavy, shoulder-drooping sighs become a burden so big that they

will no longer fit on my
beaten-down
heart.

Still I say no.
Because one thing that I do know
is not something I ever learned
in school, at a desk, or from a teacher.

I just… know.

Somewhere beneath the center of my collarbone,
nestled deep in my chest,
below the base of my throat,
there glows a Truth.
Sometimes it’s right beneath my breasts.
It is pure honesty, it is certainty, it is essence, it is one manifestation of God.
It is a feeling – I am an emotional being –
and when I want to yell and scream and cry why,
it is because that Truth is telling me

no,

that is not right,

that is not fair,

that is not just,

that is not ok,

that should not be happening.

---

Can I tell you something?
Honestly?
Maybe I’m a phony…
I have a dreamcatcher and I went on a sort of vision quest.
I believe in nature
and its revitalizing, regenerative, restoring powers.
I believe in a universal power
pulsing through everything on this planet
– the tree, the ground, and the person all planted the tree in the earth –
I believe in the power of peyote
and other hallucinogens to reach ancestral spirits or some form of greater Truth.
Well, I think I do.

So perhaps his words
I am a thirteenth generation survivor
resonate in my mind
because after a massive massacre
of his people and many more,
an American genocide,
I fear that I perpetuate a bastardization of his culture,
and keep him struggling to survive.

---

My Transition-Into-Adulthood-Existential-Crisis

Monday, January 5, 2009

So. I’m leaving.

Where to? …well, actually, that’s sort of the problem… I’m lost.

Stagnant. Motionless.

So I’ve just been listening to this song on repeat.

And isn’t that ironic? Don’t know where to go, so nothing changes, and eventually that becomes normal.

Can being lost become your normal state of being? Are we ever found?

I think that this is going to be a long one…


So. I’m leaving.

Well, not actually leaving, I’ll be coming back – at least at this point of time, I’m planning on coming back – but I’m going away for awhile. I’ve (almost) made it through three semesters at Harvard, but it’s time to go. Get away. So I’m taking a leave of absence this spring.

I’ll be home working for the first few months, not entirely sure what I’ll be doing yet… waitressing? Internship with a social justice organization? Internship at a law firm? It’ll figure itself out… During this time I plan on doing extensive yoga and meditation, going on many hikes, backpacking trips and nature adventures, and beginning training for the San Francisco Marathon at the end of July. I want to learn how to play the guitar. I will do a good deal of gardening with my parents and I will create more art pieces for the garden. I will begin pursuing photography. I also have a pretty long booklist to begin tackling…

In May (hopefully) my adventures begin… I want to work a few weeks at the Mosaic Project (www.mosaicproject.org), go down to UCLA for jazz/reggae; in June I either head off to work on an ecological education schooner in Puget Sound (www.soundexp.org) or do Humanity in Action in Europe (www.humanityinaction.org). Home for 4th of July and then off to WWOOF in Hawaii for a couple of weeks (www.wwoof.org) and back to run the SF Marathon on July 26th. Here’s where shit gets tricky… If I study abroad in Buenos Aires this fall I might be leaving at the end of July, pretty much right after running the marathon, and I sort of want to have August because…. The first weekend of August is Reggae Rising, a meditation retreat the 10th through the 16th with a week-long backpacking trip either the week before or after.

Ok, and why?

Well, several reasons… My own demons, my continued discontent with Harvard, but I think mostly I just can’t be in school right now… I can’t focus. And I don’t care. I’m not motivated, I’m not making any effort. Going through my classes this half-heartedly is a waste of everyone’s time, LOTS of money, and a great opportunity. I love to learn and I love to be challenged and I love to be engaged, but I’m not excited about school right now. Instead I just feel stifled. And more than that I’m just questioning, and I don’t see the value in structured education. At least not for me, not right now.

My grades will certainly be the lowest this semester than they have been ever before. I keep thinking how furious my dad would be with me right now (will soon be) – it’s 3:30 in the morning, I have a 10-page paper due tomorrow at 5 p.m. that I have written 0 pages for thus far, and instead I’m writing a blog… I am not fulfilling my potential. My grades will not at all reflect what I am capable of, but rather my disinterest with school. By following a simple formula I can write an A-paper: well in advance of the due date read the instructions, gather the necessary resources, read them and take notes, begin formulating ideas, write a draft, send it to the teacher one or two weeks before it’s due, revise according to the feedback received, and chances are I’m good to go… Much of the work that is approved of is either regurgitation or bullshit. Very rarely am I given license to harness my imagination and creative abilities and make something that is my own (although according to Schutz and various other phenomenologists, what is really my own when everything around me is socially constructed… see, I’m learning something…). So if I wanted to put in that effort, I could – the thing is, I don’t see the point, I don’t feel that I gain anything from it. It might solidify my understanding of a certain topic, but for how long… how much will it really impact my life ten years from now? And I just don’t want to write this paper! It does not excite me at all, I don’t care about what I’m writing about, I’m just doing it because I have to! The only thing that writing this A-paper will teach me is how to follow those rules, how to think within a certain box, to how produce the desired results within the desired framework. Fuck that.

And then what?

I asked if we’re ever really found – we spend all of this time traveling or being lost, but how often in life are we ever really found? Ok, so I know that this whole rat race thing is a little cliché, but what is the point of it all? To get a good job I need a college degree in order to prove that… I can sit down, shut up, and follow directions. I should write a whole bunch of A-papers at Harvard so that I can get a good job so that… I can work. And I work so that I can have the resources to enjoy life, but then I’ll be too busy working to have the time to enjoy. And I’d rather spend more of my time enjoying than working. So you get a job that you enjoy, and to get the good jobs you need a college degree…

But I have no idea what I want to do.

There are so many ways to learn outside of the classroom that we don’t take advantage of. And no, I don’t mean engaging in tons of extra-curriculars (to boost your résumé). I think that I actually mean learning how to be human and learning how to be alive. We have become so cut off from our bodies and the earth. Many of us don’t really use our bodies – we spend so much time sitting at a desk, driving a car, running on the treadmill, all very static and artificial. We are afraid to fall, we are afraid to get dirty, we are afraid to touch. We have all of these boundaries, these buffer zones, up around us.

What does it mean to be found? What are we working towards?


As many issues as I have with this whole game of structured education and, I guess, life, I still can’t help but feeling like a failure. Or at least that I’m failing. I am unable to buy into this, but it has been so institutionalized and normalized that I feel like by straying from it even while disagreeing with it I am somehow messing up. Perhaps because if everyone believes it to be true and accepts it then it must be right. Right?

More than that, I’ve always been guided. There’s always been a path to follow. By following that A-paper formula I know what I’m doing, I know what I’m working towards. By being in school I know that my goal is to graduate and then get a job and then… By straying from that I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Perhaps I will end up at the same place as everyone else – there are many roads to Rome, whatever Rome may be? I sure hope not though…

I have come to a realization regarding my tenuous, complicated, tension-ridden relationship with this place:

There may be days when I smile and laugh and truly feel good.

There may be classes or institutions that put forth ideas which spark an excited passion within me.

There may be (many. in fact most) days when I'm running around, occupied, too busy to even call my parents.

I may attain some degree of "social success" - final club, lots of sort-of-friends... a boy who graduated last year exclaimed in wonder, "But weren't you voted one of the fifteen hottest freshman?!" when I told him I had a rough freshman year. I guess we just have different values.

I may live day to day absolutely content.

BUT

I will never feel completely at ease here.

I will always be on edge, anxious.

AND

My heart will never gush, overflow, and simply spread into the same, warm, comfortable smile that it does while I'm home.



Even when things are fine here, I'm doing well, I will still be and AM still writing about how alienated my soul is here. In other words, I'm doing fine, but I could be doing great.

Wear Sunscreen

I'm posting this until I get my act together and put up another post (this could be tonight, who knows...). Anyway, it's great - youtube it and watch the video.

Everybody's Free
(to wear sunscreen)
Mary Schmich
Chicago Tribune

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of '97... wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be IT.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are NOT as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts, don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.
Don't waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.
Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't, maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't, maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself, either. Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else's. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance. Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they'll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography in lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you'll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

By Special Request, For You

So, as my title eludes, this post is for you (you know who you are, xoxo), by special request. And thank you for prompting me, because you're right, I definitely do have thoughts to share.

a) A quick follow-up to the election.
b) Final clubs at Harvard

I begin writing this in the Winter Garden in CGIS North, one of two (I think) very modern buildings dedicated to the Center for Government and International Studies (thus, CGIS). Here's a link to an article on it... I haven't actually read this article... http://www.news.harvard.edu/gazette/2005/11.10/05-cgis.html. Anyway, in the spacious library on the bottom floor of one of the modern GIS buildings there is this Winter Garden, a small, dim room with couch-lined walls, each couch separated by a plexiglass divide to allow for privacy, and in the center of the room, ferns and a fountain. This little Zen (well, sorta) garden is SO random and unexpected and I love that it's here.

So speaking of the Center for Government and International Studies, OOOOOBBBBBBAAAAAAAMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Tuesday night after he was elected it was CRAZY! I was in the Cambridge Queen's Head Pub watching the election coverage with the rest of the black community here at Harvard. While I am not active within it, I am SO happy that I was there. That experience, sharing that moment of watching America elect its first black president with other hopeful, ambitious black students was very profound. I left around 11:20, and walking through Harvard Yard was RIDICULOUS! Mobs of people were running around, climbing on John Harvard... there was even a boy in a Borat thong suit merrily dancing around! I ran into a friend who told me that the Spee (one of the male final clubs here at Harvard) was having a dance party in the street, so we headed down to Mt. Auburn together, and sure enough it was going strong! Cars honked joyously, declaring their support as they drove by... at least I'm pretty sure that's what was going on, not that they were honking for us to get OUT of the street! One cab driver even kept circling around so that he could continue to celebrate with us. AND one car even stopped and the people got out and started dancing with us! Now, imagine if McCain had been elected, the reaction would have been SO different. Instead of celebration, joy, dancing, tears of happiness, and HUGS EVERYWHERE, it would have been somber, depressing, and tears of sadness and worry. So as my oh-so-optimistic mother says, it's a new day; now let's just keep him alive.

So, moving on to final clubs... this is a HUGE topic to tackle. I've been wanting to write on this for awhile, but because it's so touchy it's something that I have to be very tactful about. In fact, I don't think I'm ready to post what I have written yet... I want it to be clear and concise, and accurately portray final clubs. Until then, Wikipedia has a pretty good explanation: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Final_club.

The Morning of the SortOfApocalypse...

I've been itching to write something... Technically I should be writing this response paper for my class, but this is more important. This is huge.

My dad has called me politically apathetic before, and there are times when I've felt that way. There's so much that I don't know when it comes to politics, so much that I don't yet I should. The thing is, a lot of it goes over my head, these terms that sound like some foreign language and this history of political hobnobbing that I just don't know! But I'm not apathetic, just somewhat ignorant. And I do care, especially as I'm getting older, I care about my voice within my country and my ability to affect change. As I've said before, I'm a feeler not a thinker, and so when it comes to issues on peoples' rights such as gay marriage - I am certainly not apathetic (Vote NO on Prop 8 in CA!).

And when it comes to this election, today, I am excited and nervous and scared, but I am not apathetic. My absentee ballot is in. It's funny how this day has crept up on us. It's sunny out in Cambridge as students walk to class, and I have Kuumba rehearsal tonight from 7-9. Birds are chirping and the wind is blowing and it looks and even feels like any other day, but it's not. Today is an Apocalyptic-like day. Hopefully NOT the Apocalypse, I don't mean this in any negative sense, but today has that same potency on our future. Today is HUGE. This is an election that so matters in determining our country's ability to move forward from our history of hate, and in re-establishing ourselves as a democratic nation. Today we will see how far we have come as a people, how much we have evolved from stubborn, narrow-minded animals. Today we will see how much we care about healing together, as one community and within this world.

So many people are proudly walking by with their "I VOTED" stickers on their chests. This election has inspired and ignited and actually has a physical, tangible presence in the air. Today we are already living history.

Mind Your Own Business!

There is an article in the NY Times today about religious conservatives pouring time, energy, and money into battling against the legalization of same-sex marriages in California (http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/27/us/27right.html?_r=1&th&emc=th&oref=slogin).

I DON'T understand these people. I quote from the article below:

“This vote on whether we stop the gay-marriage juggernaut in California is Armageddon,” said Charles W. Colson, the founder of Prison Fellowship Ministries and an eminent evangelical voice, speaking to pastors in a video promoting Proposition 8. “We lose this, we are going to lose in a lot of other ways, including freedom of religion.”

....are you SERIOUS homie? Are you really about to say that allowing gay marriage in CA will lead to a loss of freedom of religion? We may very well have a black president here in America, and after that the gays might take over, and after that the non-believers. It's Armageddon, the world's coming to an end! Quiver and quake in your boots! While it seems that the world is becoming increasingly secular, and in response to that increasingly conservative religiously, that statement is NOT ok. Your whole point is that you should have the freedom to express yourself and your religion - ok, great, go ahead and do that. But YOU do that, don't try to impose your own religion and beliefs on others. By allowing same-sex marriages, no one is trying it outlaw your religion. Just as you should be allowed to practice your religion, others should be allowed to practice their own beliefs.

The classic: If you don't want a same-sex marriage then shut up and don't get one!

Sometimes I just get really sad. Usually, like right now, it happens when I'm sitting in Lamont Library trying to do reading. This small, cramped, very unaesthetic (don't know if that's a word) building gives my thoughts no room, my head has no room to breathe. I feel squeezed into this building with low ceilings surrounded by many other Harvard students chugging away. And then my mind begins to roam, and it inevitably goes back to home and summer, and in my mind's eye I am reliving wonderful moments - a delicious dinner with my whole family on the deck on a balmy summer night, a friend's smile as we're walking down the streets of Berkeley on a sunny day, a profound and gentle kiss leaning against his car late at night under stars...

I often wonder if I were in a small, cramped, very unaesthetic library at Berkeley would it be any easier for my thoughts to find their space? There is a question of the importance of place that has come up often in my Folklore & Mythology class on Continuing Oral Traditions of Native Americans... many people are not aware of their physically spiritual connection to a place, a location, but who we are is inherently tied up with where we came from and where we are. For Natives, and I cannot ever speak with complete authority on this topic as an outsider, their cultures are greatly tied into setting and landscape, their stories stretch into beings from them, they are very much a part of the land. And now they are outsiders? On land that was initially theirs? What does that do to one's sense of identity and belonging? Many Native people do not consider themselves American, they are of a different nationality and believe to have autonomous states, but their land, their territory was stolen from them - again, what does this do to a person's sense of self? Their nations are not recognized, they have no land of their own. Ok, this is tangential and a rant, but it's frustrating, it's unfair, and it will never be righted.

Life has been incredibly busy the past couple of weeks. On top of midterms and papers there have just been lots of events, which means late nights, which means not enough sleep, which means I'm getting sick, which is not good. And it's all been SOOO much fun, I've been having a great time, and I'd rather be busy than bored, but in the midst of chaos such as this I often begin to feel a little empty. Which is why now I'm writing about being homesick and ranting about Native land issues.

There's that cliché idea of feeling alone in the middle of a big city, and I think that best describes how I feel amidst this busyness and fun - somehow I still feel a little lonely and missing home. Maybe this is when it creeps up on me most, right when I'm getting into the swing of things it just decides to pounce and remind me that this is not my home, this is not where I can draw my strength and find my balance.

I think my issue is just that I need to find my missing piece. The root of my loneliness is the lack of a significant other to pour my excessive amount of love into.

In other news, it's a beautiful, sunny day in Cambridge, MA.