The middle of the bridge

I have a childhood memory, or maybe just a strong memory from a dream, of standing on the middle of a bridge over a river that formed a state line, one foot in each state. I'm kind of like that now. I've been here for about four weeks, and I have about four weeks to go. "Here," by the way, is a Catholic Worker House in upstate NY. I'm living and spending most of my days serving here, in the somewhat odd position of a staff member without much authority or her own shifts.

It's been wonderful so far. I have learned so much here about so many things, including a lot of insights into myself. It's incredible. I'm journaling as much as I can so I won't miss anything, and I know that I'll also come to understand more stuff when I get home and have some time to reflect. There are ups and downs and big bundles of crises that make us think the house is just falling apart, but there are also a lot of ways to learn peace and patience. Most of the time, when thinking about the house, I just sit back and marvel. It's incredible (I know, I've already used this sentence once in this paragraph, but it is so true). I know I'm not getting into enough detail now to satisfy anyone, but I'm still in the middle of it and truly stepping back to analyze where I'm at is hard. Basically: nobody worry about me, my summer is beautiful.

The times that it's difficult to be here are not what I thought they would be. I was all worried about missing friends and family and special events back home. I was a little homesick at first, especially my first day when the prospect of eight weeks in a strange city where I didn't know a soul was just a lot to handle. But really, that wore off pretty fast. What's been hardest has been learning how to balance being compassionate with protecting myself. Everyone, during my first week, told me to remember to give myself free time away from the house or I would burn out. But it's also all to easy to isolate myself and not let myself be present with these women through their pain. How much easier it is to read a book at night than to listen with full attention to the difficulties our guests have faced during their days. At first I was writing letters, reading, and journaling every night. Now I try to make time for journaling before falling into bed. My time belongs to them while I'm here. I take my breaks when I know that I've become too self-centered on my own inner problems to be able to be fully attentive to them. It's a continual struggle to be passionately compassionate. To listen with all of my mind and heart is the greatest gift I can give these women who are so often sidelined and quietly ignored.

So that's where I am. I won't lie, I will enjoy being home in an environment that is much more secure and supporting than being here, but I wouldn't leave here until I have to for the world, and I will cry when it's time to say goodbye. I am home in such an irrevocable way. I hope everyone is doing well and taking care of themselves! Love you guys.

With Donna, the awesome/insane/brilliant lady who directs this place with the rest of the staff, at a hermitage near a Benedictine monastery about 2 hours away.

I'm off for my eight weeks of service learning in the morning. Happy summer, everyone! I'll be back in July.

Notes from my perch on the eve of final exams week

In one week, I will be home and done with a year of college. In two weeks, I will be in New York and starting a whole new adventure.

This is supposed to evoke feelings of excitement.

I'm ready to leave, but not ready for eight weeks of service. Mostly, I am worried about missing things. I knew some things would have to be missed: my brother's twelfth birthday, my pastor's fortieth anniversary of being a priest, and the ordination of my favorite seminarian. Now I'm also missing the last Gold Award ceremony for my circle of Girl Scout friends and a weekend in Charleston with high school friends.

Blasted Facebook. The invites will continue to come in for events. Pictures will be posted from things I never even knew were happening.

I have a jealousy problem. I know this. Being left out, then finding out about it later, always hurts. Facebook is excellent at showing me, as soon as I log in, photos of my friends out together. Inevitably, I end up questioning my priorities. If I had gone to more club meetings instead of studying, would they have invited me? What if I had been more present instead of needing to leave to go to bed on time? Have I been too preoccupied? It's hopeless, really, and kind of absurd. Facebook photos are going to cause me to slowly die from stress.

Fortunately, I will limit my online time this summer as much as possible. The way to reach me will be through the house's phone if it's urgent, or letters if it's not. Cell phone voicemail and email will be checked max of once a week. I'm looking forward to the freedom. I just hope it won't be too lonely.

So I'm waiting outside of my Spanish classroom to take my oral final. I've stared at my notes for too long and they're starting to run together. The caffeine at my side isn't helping much. Today's something of a marathon for me- almost worse than finals. After I take my oral exam, I turn in a term paper for my next class (International Relations). Then I have a break to eat. In English, I'm giving a presentation instead of turning in a term paper. My partner and I have sort of written a skit/ conversation between two characters from works we've read this semester. I'm Emi from Tropic of Orange, if that helps anyone. Should be interesting. Then I'm turning in a semester-long project in my last class, Peace Studies.

But it's all good (prepare yourself for mushiness) because tonight I will be swept off my feet and taken to some exciting dining location. Yes, my dears, today my boyfriend and I have been together for eighteen months. Life is beautiful.

Just Thoughts

Things like projects, papers, and finals are pulling at the edge of my attention, but I'm too far away to settle down to that. Little things preoccupy me- did you know that preocupado means "worried" in Spanish? So maybe little things worry me. Confusion and trepidation and something like silent hysteria. Maybe it's because I'm finishing my first year of college in two weeks, and who knows what that means. Maybe I feel no wiser or stronger or in touch with myself. Maybe someone from my past wrote something just the right way to make me think back and sigh. Maybe I can't get the sound of the shuffling of an old man's feet out of my head. He moved his cane an inch, then his feet, step-step. Maybe I'm thinking of the thunderstorm that broke furiously five minutes later, and wondering if he made it to shelter. Maybe I'm thinking that in three weeks I'll be in New York, and good grief what was I thinking. Maybe I'm thinking of the robin perching on the handlebars of a bike yesterday, singing with all its might and breaking my heart. Maybe I think too much.

Why does life so often feel like something to get through? If I just write these papers, finish these projects and presentations, study for these finals, pack this stuff, drive this car back home, then I'll have time to actually live. But I never have the time.

Yay Spring.

Gun Control

A blog I follow posted a rather moving argument for more gun control today, here. On this topic, I have three things to say that summarize my feelings:

1. I'm not sure where I stand on using the current VT situation to further political agendas. On one hand, it feels irreverent. On the other, it makes sense to use the public outcry to get reforms that have needed to happen for a while.
2. Rather than making an argument for more gun control based on statistics, I will merely say that the scariest moment in my life thus far was when I was in 5th grade, and a shooting occurred at a high school near my house. I went to grade school 30+ minutes away from home, so I was in no danger, but thanks to the widespread policy of educational institutions to not tell their kids what's going on, I lived in complete terror all day, not knowing if the shooter had been caught. My parents' office was very close by the school, as was my house where my beloved babysitter/adopted 3rd grandmother and baby brother were. When my mom came to pick me up from school at the end of the day, I sobbed and sobbed out of relief. I'll never forget that feeling of desperate fear. Better gun control could have kept a gun out of that kid's hands.
3. Joey, and other boyfriends I might have in the future, have been/will be strictly informed that should they marry me, they will not, under any circumstances, be allowed to keep a gun in my house. I made this decision the day after the shooting when I was in 5th grade.
   

Peace Studies Professor George Lopez: Class, what happened between 1950 and 1960?

Class: um...

PSPGL: BABIES!!!

I love peace studies.

So here's a thought: I'm going to try to write a blog entry in which I don't go on about my busy-ness and commitments. Because really, one can only do that for so long before it gets really irritating, and I think I passed that point a few months ago.

Instead, I'm stealing a blog idea from my blogging friend Tia over at Living Deliberately, who today wrote about simple pleasures. I thought about her attention to simple pleasures while going about my business today, and it improved my mood dramatically.

Simple pleasures I noted today:

• Paved, not carpeted, sidewalks. My job at the music department involves dragging around a huge lime green suitcase full of recording equipment, and it really is much easier to pull it on pavement than carpeting. Well done whoever came up with that idea.
• Raisins- they are really very delightful little morsels. I'm a fan. Also good for keeping up blood sugar in the middle of the day.
  
• Deserted student center lounges on Saturday nights. It makes me happy to feel like I have my own space.
• Thick gloves in chilly wind. I'm not a fan of numbness.
• The "change language" option on Blogger. Tonight I switched my language to Spanish, put my latest composition for Spanish class in an entry, and ran a spell check. Very helpful in finding where I missed accent marks.
  
• A website that provides links to places where tv shows and movies have been uploaded to the internet. I finally got around to watching Breakfast at Tiffany's- what a crazy, heartwarming, adorable movie.

Feel free to join me- we could all use more causes for cheerfulness :-)

Geez.

I guess I have been pretty awful about taking time to write here. I'm not dead (Linda, O Leaver of Desperate-Sounding Comments, you should know that, you saw me last week). I am, however, exceedingly busy. This semester doesn't feel worse than last semester work-wise, but it is. Hello, real college classes with real college finals (i.e. cumulative and no study guides). I'm also working, not a lot, but some, and those hours have to come from somewhere.

Next semester isn't looking much easier, but I think that's good. I was elected Membership Chair for Right to Life, so I'll have all sorts of officer duties and things. I made it on the Experiential Learning Council, so I'll be helping with the service learning seminars through the Center for Social Concerns (I went on one over Christmas, the Urban Plunge, and I'll be going on one this summer called the Summer Service Learning Program). I have declared a PoliSci major and a Catholic Social Tradition minor, with a Peace Studies supplementary major to follow as soon as I get the form signed. I'm official, as it were. All of that is in preparation for course registration, which is turning out to be quite the headache as no one can agree if I'm currently a sophomore or a freshman. Silly bureaucracy. I applied for a grad-research-in-undergrad sort of program through the Kellogg Institute for International Studies, and I'm hoping that I get into that. I'd work with one of the fellows next year on his research and then do research of my own, eventually writing a thesis. I'm also going to keep my job at the Music Department through next semester, with the hope that, if I got into this research program, eventually that would become my work-study. I also want to get back involved in Amnesty International and maybe take swing dancing lessons. I'm still deciding whether I want to work with Take Ten, a conflict resolution education program in area schools, next semester, but I've enjoyed it this semester. I also need to decide if I want to work with leading some of the freshman programs through campus ministry that I've been involved in this year, such as freshman retreats and freshman peer leaders. Lots to do, not enough hours.

That's where I am. Crazy, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities popping up all around me all the time. Good times.

English class exercises

My English teacher wants us to write one crisp, descriptive, "shining" paragraph about our lives every day for the next five days. Here is my first one; I might post the others as I write them. This one is about a violence-prevention program I teach to middle schoolers called Take Ten.


My face furrows in a frown in the midst of a lecture on Carl Shmitt (he was a Nazi, you know, but his logic is everywhere in the speeches of the most unlikely politicians). I have let my thoughts escape the classroom and dwell upon the events looming in my schedule. A commitment has just resurfaced in my memory, and I grieve for the time that it will consume. I perform time management calculus in my head. Because of the lost three hours, my homework load will anchor me to my desk and keep me from another lecture I had hoped to attend tonight, on a topic far more interesting to me than political theory. But there is no escaping it; my afternoon is destined to be spent in a room full of children, trying to read, sing, and laugh my way into their hearts, so that they might accept the message I have to offer. I want to show them (not tell them) that no matter what their role models might do, engaging in violence and intolerance is no way to live a life (after all, we only have one life to live). My frown now is directed at the clock, whose hands are keeping me from giggles and shouts, proudly-held jaws and folded arms.

My second "living will"

The first was when I agreed to put the "donate organs" icon on my driver's license. The second, which I just electronically "signed", says this:

"I hereby declare that should I die as a result of a violent crime, I request that the person or persons found guilty of homicide for my killing not be subject to or put in jeopardy of the death penalty under any circumstances, no matter how heinous their crime or how much I may have suffered."

The fuller version is here.

Want to sign too?

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Honey, I'm home

I feel moderately guilty that I'm not going on a mission trip to Appalachia (like my friends Alicia and Kristi) or Guatemala (like my friend Michael) or on a class-based/ educational trip to Rome (like John) or London (like Christine). Instead, I am home, sitting in my chair in my room. I intend to relax, see friends, get a lot of course reading done, and spend excessive amounts of time doing what I want, when I want. Selfish? Maybe. But also good for the soul. And in the absence of the funds necessary for the adventures my friends are having, this was probably my best choice of spring break plans.

So this is what being a peace studies kid means

I rarely cry in movies. When I do, it's just a tear or two escaping my eyes.

Tonight, I sobbed into my boyfriend's shoulder, not just once, but several times.

We went to go see Casino Royale. He'd seen it and liked it, I had heard it was a decent Bond movie. $3 a piece through the student union board. I'm so glad now that none of our friends could come with us.

Throughout the first 2/3rds of the movie, the violence seemed excessive, but I could handle it. I wasn't enjoying myself, per se, but I was still chuckling at the jokes. Then Bond gets captured. The torture scene was the most graphic one I had ever seen. Even now, it's replaying in my head, and I'm crying again. The way he slumped in the chair, the moans. The fact that he was naked and stripped of his dignity. I know he wasn't really being hurt. I didn't even like his character that much. But I just finished reading The Human Security Report 2005, which gives as detailed statistics as we know them about things like torture. It didn't bother me severely to read it- I was more just trying to get through the raw data to be able to use it in a paper. It's different to get a visual and audio representation of a little bit of the suffering you've been reading about for a semester.

Anyway, I lost it. I cried the hardest I've ever cried in a theater. And then I couldn't handle the rest of the violence in the movie, either, and it didn't help that the ending message was something along the lines of trust no one but yourself, love doesn't work as an alternative.

O God, hear my voice and grant our world your peace.
Hear my voice,
it is the voice of the victims of all wars and violence;

Hear my voice,
it is the voice of all children
who suffer when we put our faith in weapons and war;

Hear my voice,
for I speak for those in every country
and in every period of history
who do not want war and are ready to walk the road of peace;

O God, hear my voice and grant our world your peace.

Send us your Holy Spirit,
instil into the hearts of all people
the wisdom of peace,
the strength of justice
and the joy of fellowship

so that we may respond
to hatred with courage and love,
to injustice with dedication to truth,
to suffering and need
by the compassionate sharing of ourselves,
to war with the non-violence of Jesus,
who brings hope and peace.

O God, hear my voice
and grant our world your peace.

Amen.

from http://www.carmelite.com/prayer/peace.shtml

Whoa, I'm taking care of myself?

I was just thinking about my study habits recently. I'm in the midst of the craziness of midterms. At one point, I had two exams and three papers in three days, but now one of those papers has been moved to Monday. My schedule for the week now is Intl Relations exam Wednesday, Continental Poli Thought paper due Wednesday (already done), and Peace Studies paper due Wed (also done). I had a Spanish midterm this morning. Granted, I lucked out that my English paper isn't due until Monday (along with a Spanish composition and a major Peace Studies paper), but I'm actually on top of things. And I relaxed while working really hard, which is the amazing thing. I went to a basketball game and a concert on Saturday (both of which were fabulous!) and to a hockey game friday night. Since when do I give myself that much time off? Go me! Oh, and I worked 16.5 hours last week, so maybe I might start making money now!

Sometimes a pat on the back or two is necessary for sanity.

Ups and Downs

So the day started off very well with me getting a lot done and then Joey bringing me Chickfila for breakfast midway through the morning. He now has a trump card when I'm annoyed with him ("but I brought you Chickfila"). He had to brave two cab companies, both of which took advantage of him. But the food was good!

I've been working hard trying to get everything out of the way. I wanted to go to a basketball and a hockey game today, but I ended up just going to the bball game. I've got an extremely busy week ahead of me, so the more I can get ahead, the better.

I lost thirty bucks today, fresh from the ATM. I don't know how. I was more than a little unhappy, so much so that I missed the first ten minutes of the bball game to go back and look. It was really windy though, so any hope of no one picking it up was dashed by the fact that it would have been blown away. It's not that huge of a deal. I am pretty short on money right now, but seriously, it's not like I have to worry where my next meal is going to come from. I just hope that my $30 makes it to someone who needs it. P.S. the basketball game was awesome.

In other news, life is sometimes very difficult to bear with patience. You do everything right and you still end up in a bad place. Nothing can fix that. You deal and try to ignore it when it gets to be too much. Sometimes that's all there is left to do. In the end, you remind yourself that things will get better, people do care about you, and no one can take away your smile unless you let them. And on your way you go.

lenten thoughts

Lent doesn't start until Ash Wednesday, of course, but my lovely seasonal black book has already started as of yesterday. Every little (insert liturgical color) book starts off with a page urging you to examine your goals for the special Church season. Then the rest of the book has daily six-minute meditations on appropriate scripture for the season, plus a page of tidbits and trivia.

In thinking about my goals for Lent, the usual suspects came to mind. Give up Starbucks! (With, as my boyfriend pointed out, the ulterior motive of saving money). Give up chocolate! (with the ulterior motive of eating more healthily, which I need to do anyway). Joey is very good about pointing out the shortcomings in my shortcuts. So tonight I sat still for a bit and thought about Lenten goals for real. Let me tell a short story first so my thoughts make more sense.

Last Sunday I worked my first recital for the music department. The audience filed past me into the auditorium, taking a program each. One was an old man wrapped in many layers of mismatched winter gear. I couldn't figure out from looking at him if he was homeless or just a little eccentric. Another worker told me that he'd been warned that this guy comes to most, if not all, recitals.

The performer had ordered two vases of flowers, one for the stage next to her and one for the back table near the entrance. The man kindly took a program from me and continued on, but drew up short at the sight of the flowers. "Real flowers!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to bury his face in them, breathing deeply. The joy on his face was heartwarming, even if I was a bit shocked by his behavior.

While thinking quietly tonight, I realized, I want that kind of joy. The joy at things as simple as a vase of flowers in the middle of winter. Not only do I want it for myself, but I want to be able to transmit it to others. I struggle a lot with finding ways to love certain people in my life, especially when overt gestures of love are harshly criticized. The key, I concluded, is prayer. Prayer for them can only help our relationships, and prayer can deepen my appreciation of little gifts and ultimately lead to joy.

I tend to sideline prayer. In a life in which everything is mentally scheduled, prayer just doesn't make it very often into my daily routine. It's hard to find a spare moment, especially when I have the energy to focus. I also struggle with feeling fulfilled in prayer, like I'm holding a conversation with someone who loves me, not just a wall. So maybe I don't try because I don't want to feel so inadequate. I don't want to face nagging doubts about whether God is really there. It's much easier not to try.

But as I've seen, I miss out on so much without a good relationship with God. So, my Lenten goal is to try. Not to feel better, not to necessarily find joy, but just to try.

Happy things

Sometimes you just need to make a list of everything that's going right in your life to remind yourself that life really does rock.

• friends calling and text messaging to offer love and support
• a boyfriend who takes such good care of me
• Rector and RA who genuinely take an interest in my life and want to help
• lots more events during weekends on campus this semester- Ragtime, Chinese New Year Celebration, Brazilian carnival
• (slowly) learning how to dance and look good while doing it
• pierogi at the dining hall
  
• throwing my first party (dedicated to happiness and love, not drinking)
• feeling like the songs I'm playing for guitar class are actually sort of pretty
• having enough self-discipline to sleep at normal hours and not waste weekends sleeping
• lots of apples-to-apples playing
• random memories about special people in my life (Mr. Bird making fun of the afternoon announcements girl, who liked to yell into the microphone and scare him)
  
• singing the salve regina when no one's in my room
• feet of snow, and jumping in huge piles of it
• Joey finding a latin translation attributed to our deceased and dearly loved latin teacher on a polish website
• lovely pictures sent via cell phone from my mom
• quiet library space and time to get work done.

Yeah, life is good.

to be humble

I'm finding that humility leads to being trampled on and used, which makes me think that I've got the idea of humility wrong. How do you put others first while still taking care of yourself?