| (no subject) |
[Dec. 8th, 2003|10:54 pm] |
i bought thich nhat hanh's book "peace is every step" on sunday.
it's beautiful.
john read the first 40 pages while using the bathroom, and told me that it was an easy, fast read.
i don’t think it is.
i think it is the hardest piece of writing i've read in a long time, mostly because it is a reminder of the person i wanted to become these past few years but never really did
looking back at my journals from October, i realize how angry and negative they sound; i don’t want to be an angry or negative person, but whenever it seems i have the chance to sit down and write, i am always in that dark mood, always wanting to cry or yell or hit something, when in reality, i am the happiest i've ever been in my entire life
happy because as each day passes i realize more and more how lucky i am to have found john; this awkward boy that i met when i was just a sophomore (who i never imagined being close to) has become the person i love most in this world, the person I want to see and go everywhere with, the person I want to make plans for the future with, my partner in life and in love.
Happy because of Tara, that we’ve become so close this semester, and for the first time in four years, she seems to be genuinely happy.
Happy because of Christine; I never could understand why my mom used to cry whenever she would talk about her freshmen year college roommate, and what it was like to receive an invitation to her wedding. Now I know because at Christine’s bridal shower, I was the first one in tears.
Happy because of my sister, that she learning how to do the things she wants to do, and perhaps is finally understanding how to live outside the group of friends from high school who haven’t allowed her the opportunity or ability to grow
Happy for the chance to always meeting new, amazing people, but always being able to go home and be with those friends and family who make up the fundamental parts of who I am and will always be
Happy to know that resistance still exists, and that communities of amazing people continue to spring up in the streets and abandoned building in places like Miami, in spite of the harsh consequences (prison) of such devotion
Happy to be in dc, to be moving into a new house, for the chance to try to make it through the next few months without john (with the hopes of coming through the experience understanding myself and our relationship better….), to have had the opportunities to work with activism on campus….
Happy because even though my journal entries sound angry and negative, I don’t honestly feel that way; aside from Georgia, I don’t have that pit in my stomach, my mind can rest at night, all that sadness and angst I felt in high school has for the most part entirely disappeared
Thich nhat hanh writes:
“my joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.
My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
So I can hear all my cries and laughs at once,
So that I can see that my joy and pain are one”
Today, when I came home from the grocery store, for the first time all semester, both doors to the house were locked. I kept walking around the house, my feet frozen with only my converse on, finally finding a window to climb into. As I was trying to wedge myself inside, I saw the most beautiful DC sunsets ever- the DC equivalent to those sunsets over the Namib desert or a beach on the Caribbean coast of costa rica. I understand, and one day hope to truly practice, a path of mindfulness in everyday life. Thich nhat hanh writes about how washing dishes, for example, is an unpleasant idea only when a person is not actually doing the washing; when one uses the time available to wash dishes, and transforms this chore into a time and space to meditate and reflect, washing dishes no longer seems as unpleasant. When I got home today, with the snow, hands full of groceries and shoes not even fit for summer time, I was so frustrated that that one of my housemates had decided to lock the doors. Once I was able to stop and see that beautiful sunset, all that frustration and anger left me, and I was only able to feel grateful for that moment, for that rare chance to find beauty in a city of ugly politics and run-down neighborhoods masked behind postcard-like images and worldwide (mis)perceptions of where power and peace originate. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 1st, 2003|05:33 pm] |
These headaches won’t stop
It’s so hard to concentrate on anything anymore,
But I guess it’s not just the headaches that are to blame…
I feel more stressed out right now then I can ever remember feeling
I haven’t started the process of enrolling/settling the graduate school thing
There’s an endless list of NCOR related things that need to be done
India requires so much attention and time that I just don’t have
CASJC doesn’t exist except on paper
Don’t have any place to live stating January
I am behind in schoolwork
Haven’t seen any of my friends since before the 17th or done anything fun outside the realm of activism
And I am just fucking burned out
Those moments when I stop and think about what all needs to be done
I freak out, it’s too much, way too much that needs to be accomplished in these next two weeks, and I feel so sick and disconnected
Wishing I was in Africa
Wishing I was anywhere else but here
Not because I don’t want to be here in DC
I just want to be here doing different things
It just makes you wonder what is the point of trying to be involved in anything; why am I doing so many others things and not focusing on the people in my life
I am sick of organizing, I want to start living |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 29th, 2003|05:37 pm] |
My parents and I drove by the remains of my dad’s restaurant today,
The only remnant being the "Art’s Place only" parking sign out front.
They are starting construction for some gas station is a couple of weeks.
I know my dad is hurting,
30 years of his life demolished in a less than a day,
Years of sweat, tears anger and grief put into making that place survive
But in the end, being bought out by an offer that no fifty-four year old with chronic backaches, headaches and two children in college could refuse.
And all he says is “well, so much for the restaurant,”
As he takes his foot off the brake and drives quietly home. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 28th, 2003|10:45 pm] |
My sister and I watched a law and order marathon tonight,
Possibly part of that whole “I’m home now, I don’t want to exert any energy,” thing.
Mostly, though, I think I am trying to distance my mind from thinking about my experiences in Miami and Georgia,
Partly because thinking about it makes me anxious and scared
But also because thinking about it makes me want to just curl up tighter into a ball, with my mom washing my clothes, making dinner, confronting me;
A relapse into childhood where I am not responsible for being responsible for myself.
The feeling of nausea and nervousness leaves for a minute, those times I catch myself singing along to a radio song with my sister, joking with my mom about her excessive Christmas decorations, making vegan pumpkin pie with john.
But then I close my eyes,
And that pit inside my stomach returns.
I feel stupid for being so worked up about all this,
Thinking about what other people go through on a daily basis,
How does my arrest and awful weekend compare to the suffering of others around the world?
Suffering is relative, I try to remind myself, and I have never quite been able to deal with the bad/hard things
Always too sensitive I guess
But when I think about it more
The loss of freedom anywhere resonates with people throughout the world
Being stopped, threatened, held and arrested for mistakenly driving onto a military base…
We were in Georgia,
Not Palestine.
That’s why my parents don’t believe that our driving onto that base was an accident, because in a democracy kids don’t get arrested and threatened with jail time for making a mistake.
Obviously the law is not flawed, we are.
Our mistake was different in that we were privileged enough to make that mistake; for us white college kids to take time off to drive down to Georgia to protest; people elsewhere do not enjoy this kind of freedom. But within the context of the society that the five of us were born and raised, what happened to us should not be tolerated by anyone; sadly, I am sure, I know, that our arrest in Georgia was not the anomaly my parents believe it to be; in this so-called democracy, anomalies happen all the time.
What I feel the worst about is andew,
The fact that he had to spend two nights in jail, while mark, timmy, tara and I did not.
They were not an easy two nights;
Racked with guilt,
Scared to sleep,
Desperately wanting time to pass, to get out of that fucking city.
Mark, tara and I did not stay because we felt we had more responsibility to Andrew than did the rest of the group; it is hard not to feel bitter toward the people so anxious to build a community but so quick to leave part of that potential community inside the confines of a prison in order to make it back to Monday morning class. It makes me so frustrated that people didn’t stay in Georgia to wait for Andrew out of need, but out if want….i’m sure that my decision to stay and wait for Andrew was swayed by the fact that I was with him in that car, but I’d like to think that it wasn’t the only reason. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 23rd, 2003|11:45 pm] |
letter from me in georgia to maggie in india
i am using the internet in columbus georgia, so this email won't be so long, but after receiving your email i felt really compelled to write to you now....
i can't explain why i haven't written/contacted you this semester,
i know i said i would, that we would write a lot;
but once you left i began to feel so bitter and angry, that i knew
whatever i would have to say to you would be abrupt and not thoughtout.....christina
also advised me not to write, that "you were trying to figure things out" and that i would probably mess things up, and so i have waited,
i dont know what for,
but i have…..
to be honest, i am very scared/nervous about seeing you again
mostly because i think i 've come to terms with the fact that things are
changing/things are different between us, and come january, i am afraid
that you will come back and instead of trying to incorporate me into
your life, you will dismiss/be bitter towards me....
i hope we'll be able to establish some semblance of peace between us, i
want the awkwardness to be erased, but i guess we'll just have to wait
and see what will happen
i dont mean this email to sound bitter, i am just not in a good place
tonight....
i left last tuesday to drive down to miami for the ftaa demonstrations,
and although it was an empowering experience, it was also terrifying and
violent... after spending 12 hours watching people being tear-gassed, shot with rubber
bullets, watching retired union workers with canes being mulled over by
riot cops, watching fellow activists being clubbed/tasered, being chased
17 blocks into the ghettos of miami, i think dustin said it best when
saying all he wanted to do was to go back to dc and spend the rest of his life drinking beer and watching tv
(you know just that feeling when you've realized that you have spent 16
hours driving somewhere only to be surrounded by riot cops; that your
protests and cries are not being heard by the media or the world or anyone outside of those on the street for that matter, and that you could have stayed home, played it safe, focused on school/friends/anything other than the negative effects corporate globalization has on the world and its people ).....no one in
our group was hurt or arrested…
I know I live in a privileged society, but I can’t help thinking about how these past few days were the most violent and bloody scenes I have ever personally witnessed
we drove from miami to soa, for what i thought was going to be a weekend
of music and group bonding, only to have accidentally taken a wrong turn
onto fort benning, causing mark, tara, timmy, andrew and me to be
arrested. after being intimidated, insulted and shackled with wrist,
ankle and waist chains, the military police let four of us go....tomorrow
morning (monday) andrew is being arraigned on charges of trespassing of
federal property. tara, mark and i have stayed behind to help Andrew post bail,
constantly answering the calls from dad calling about andrew's status
we headed back to the hotel
only to find out that the marshalls that arrested us
(one of whom took a polaroid only of tara for "personal
reasons") are staying in our hotel.
hopefully we will be able to get
andrew tomorrow, but we have no idea what is going to happen.
the worst thing about this whole experience was the division that occurred,
that the four of us were let go, having to
watch andrew sit all alone
knowing that the hours we spend in this hotel
room, he is sitting in a jail cell simply for taking a wrong turn.
Any of us could have been driving, but andrew is the one facing
severe consequences.
i dont know what to do with this knowledge except cry;
I can’t sleep
I feel too nervous
I know my anger is misdirected, but I hate the south |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 6th, 2003|04:02 pm] |
This week has been a little strange.
I haven’t had as much to do in terms of time commitments, yet at the same time, I’ve gotten less done.
I’ve been having these horrific headaches lately,
The pounding is incessant,
I can’t hear or see straight
Can’t comprehend what people are saying or even walk right.
My mom sent me some of my dad’s pain medication, which I know is probably not a good thing considering I am even less able to function after taking them.
Even more so, these headaches scare me into thinking that maybe as each day passes I am becoming more and more like my father, to the point that one day, I will be so socially incompetent because of these headaches that I no longer have any friends or family close by.
Today, on top of that, I have some how gotten a cold of sorts, one that didn’t enable me to get out of bed until 1:00.
I took my lipring out yesterday and although this was such a big thing for me, no one noticed, not even john. This is going to sound really stupid, but it’s become a part of who I was these past two years, and has been instrumental in shaping so many encounters: like causing my grandmother to break down and cry in front of me, inciting more than one argument with my mother, and making me into quite the spectacle in both those tiny villages we visited along the Angolan border and within my host family in Namibia. I never could understand how a piece of metal so small could have such an impact on the relationships in my life. It’s strange how although it caused such a commotion in my family and my life two years ago, taking it out has had little effect- by little I mean no one has noticed it. When I mentioned it to john- that no one noticed I had taken it out and that I found it strange because I feel like I am always paying attention to things like that about other people, he said that I pay too much attention to people’s appearances; I think I just pay more attention to people in general.
Last night, mark, daniella and I lead the teach-in for this year’s SOA trip. Although I had talked about it over and over again to anyone that has some insight into this, it’s still amazing to me how few freshmen there are involved this year- from activism to religion. Mary thinks it’s because people don’t feel as lost: the last two years, with September 11 and the Iraq war, there was more that ample time and opportunity for people to get involved in politics, activism or religion because their lives were consumed by understanding to make sense of the world and their place in it. This year, the freshmen class has yet to be heard from…the other night, kat, Andrew, Emily and I had dinner and talked about CASJ and activism and everything of the sort, trying to understand what has happened to the activist community here at AU. We came up with a lot of scenarios and proposals, from the fact that all of us involved in organizing live off campus to simply that there are no interested freshmen, but we still didn’t come up with any solution. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 4th, 2003|07:25 pm] |
It has been absolutely beautiful these past few days; listening to the weather forecast and hearing about the upcoming possibilities of cold and rain, however, makes all those little kid desires of playing outside quickly fade…. Maybe it’s good that this wonderful weather will soon be gone soon, as I am finding it unusually difficult to concentrate and to get anything accomplished. But I don’t think the weather, in reality, has anything to do with it. It’s November already, and it is terrifying to think that this semester is almost gone….not gone in the sense that there is still a month and a half of classes and exams, but seemingly disappearing because I know that for the most part, this next 40 or so days will be consumed with writing papers, reading until my mind goes numb, planning for SOA/FTAA, driving to Miami and Georgia for these demonstrations, getting things ready for India, NCOR, that brief interlude known as Thanksgiving (where poor John will finally have to meet my intensely insane extended family) and then exams. All of this I think I could handle, but in combination with the anticipation of hearing about grad school, coming to terms with the fact that somehow I have decided to stay on in school and the idea of john leaving and not seeing him for seven months seems to be too much to handle. Instead of focusing my energy/time on schoolwork or activism, all I want to do is to stay in bed and stare at him for days.
Which is hard because I want to so be independent from (the idea) of him, I want him to be able to go and have his time abroad, yet at the same time, we are too attached to each other to even talk about this being easy. We spent last fall apart, but things were so different the- not just because we weren’t in love at that point, but (selfishly) because I was the one who was gone. I took on too many responsibilities this semester, and next semester I want to rectify this. Yet, at the same time, I have this stinking feeling that I will want time to pass as quickly as possible. I am also at this amazing point in my life where although the combination of nice weather, the prospects of graduate school and a boy could distract me, I feel really, truly grounded. I feel happy here in dc, my mind isn’t wondering anymore, drifting off into some alternate reality- I feel full and alive and at peace at my core being, which is something that I hadn’t really found before. I know a lot of times I write about being sad or mad or confused or angry, but for the most part, these feelings are temporary; I am at peace.
I am starting to have doubts though, about this whole starting graduate school thing, mostly because in the grad classes I am taking, I feel young and inexperienced. I guess with having PhD candidates and founding members of the International Solidarity Movement in a class can be intimidating, but it seems difficult at this point for me to believe that next semester, with a letter of acceptance and a new degree to pursue, that I will feel any more comfortable in these classes. It’s one reason though that I am dying my hair back to its normal color and thinking about taking out the lipring; as much as john and I debate it, I think maybe he is right- that in the end, conforming (ie minus the red/blonde/black hair and piercing) will allow me more legitimacy.
Two nights ago, I had a dream about Shakira, my host sister in Namibia, except that her name was now Bernice and she was dead.
The night before that, John had a nightmare and woke up at 4:30 am, ripped all the sheets off the bed and lifted up the mattress, in order to make sure there were no beetles underneath.
Last night, after I dosed off into that in between sleep-still fully clothed and without starting any schoolwork, I awoke in a panic, fell off the bed and landed on a glass, shattering it into a million pieces and cutting myself.
I really hope that this new prospect of living in Mount Pleasant works out…
I know I have moved three times in the past year,
But I still think I need a change. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 2nd, 2003|06:39 pm] |
it's finally come, that day i've realized what kind of world i want to be a part of.....
it happened last night at NCOR.
we started going through those 90 plus proposals we've received,
monica in a good mood for once,
jenna and kate both looking sad, both because of the boys who have come into their lives and taken more than they've given over these past few years,
lelia in the place of ellen, creating this strange presence,
making us all realize that there is definitely going to a large gap left in ellen's absence, one that not even the presence of someone like lelia could begin to fill,
christina not there,
her absence not as obvious,
elliott, in his rambling about his past lovers, his current lovers and awkward/endearing connection to EVERYONE on this planet.....
we spent five hours shifting through only about 30 or 40 proposals,
and it's amazing what I have learned through this process about myself, about this collective i've become a part of and about my passions/desires/dislikes/annoyances/ignorances.
we got all these (10!) hippy-dippy proposals from the twin oaks commune, and i found myself repulsed by each one, of the notion of selfishly escaping the world into this make-believe, perfect (un)reality, where tofu is made in abundance and children have three or four parents and “everyone else” is overly-severely criticized for living life outside of the commune model.
ellen said before, and i say again now, where are the workshop proposals about group housing and communal living in cities????
i can't pretend i am interested in building alternate cities, worlds- living in polyamorous relationships, making my own pads, spending my day trying to maximize my happiness, when violence and hate continue in the world i am currently living/existing in.
my white skin and my passport give me great privileges,
privilege to life,
and water,
and food,
and education,
and a house,
and a car,
and clothing,
and travel
and the ability to be radical, and not worry about being killed/suppressed by a government that doesn't like my belief/actions.
but they certainly do not entail me to be able to escape reality, to spend a semester living with a bunch of americans on a commune in india, learning how to build community!!!!
it's not difficult to build community when you have a bunch a white kids with money willing to spend four months living together in order to be labeled as radical.
it's hard building community in war torn, violence ridden societies,
places like south africa,
where ten years after apartheid rule came to an end,
violence and injustice is more apparent in a society
“where white and black is no longer the dividing line.”
it's hard to build community on a campus of apathetic self indulged twenty years, and harder to build community living in a house with four other individuals who only have in common the fact that they live together!
of course most of this is fuelled by the gradual and more than final realization that maggie is not perfect and that her flaws run deeper than most people i know, that our relationship was built misconceptions about what we each were/are, that we never knew each other, and that the person she is and wants to become is the completely opposite of what i am and want to become.
but it's more than maggie.
it's even more than myself.
it's about spending three years in washington dc and watching so many different grow and change and discover some sort of social consciousness and then loss it again.
i've been watching nik.
seeing how at one time he was so full of life and energy
and how nowadays,
this passion is somehow fulfilled by sitting on a couch, watching movies and smoking pot.
WHAT IS HAPPENING TO EVERYONE?
Why am the oldest person going to movement meetings?
It’s not that people have moved on and found other things/ more meaningful ways to supplement their existences or that they are even doing social justice in a different way.
But they are not;
They are simply dropping out. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 26th, 2003|11:39 am] |
This weekend, my parents came into town. It was good to see them, it always is; I think that the most interesting part of the weekend, however, was Saturday, particularly because my parents participated in their first demonstration.
For years, my parents and I have debated, cried and fought over my politics. The worst incidence being one time when I was away in Africa…over the phone, we began to fight about Iraq, with me crying and shouting at my mother, while the phone card I was using ran out before I was able to say goodbye. Although we have long since argued about politics, this time was difficult, mainly because my mother was now an ocean away and it took about a week before I was able to get another phone card and call her to apologize. I know my parents love and support me; their doubt and worry concerning my activism grows out of their desire to protect me from any and everything…
After witnessing the Kent State shootings 30 some odd years ago, my mother has told me that she desperately regrets her inaction at that time, while at the same time, it is the basis of her concern for my actions and beliefs. I think participating in this march on Saturday gave her some sense of vindication, some sense of finally participating against injustice and a chance to see how the marches and demonstrations I participate in are nonviolent for the most part.
For me, it was just another march through the streets of DC that probably wouldn’t garner much media or public attention; a march, like all others, forces me to reflect upon why I took to the streets and why after so much injustice I am still committed to nonviolence.
For me, nonviolence is a part of my everyday life. From recycling to veganism to social activism, I live a principled, pacifist existence. I see the importance of uniting the means with the end in order to eliminate inequality. I realize the necessity of not only confronting direct violence but also structural violence, especially that which is promoted through the state apparatus. I believe that an adherence to nonviolence is revolutionary since most of history is constructed upon the violent oppression of different groups of people. In today’s society, violence is widespread whether it is expressed through state violence, domestic abuse, hunger, poverty, neglect, animal exploitation, environmental degradation, or simply through the divisions and stereotypes we place on others.
Nonviolence is controversial. Violence is mainstream.
Although most religions and many great leaders are dedicated to nonviolence, most common people either do not fully understand it or are threatened by the idea. For evidence of this, one can simply observe how those advocating for a peaceful solution to the conflict with Iraq were portrayed by the media: as unpatriotic, as crazy, as unrealistic in their pursuit. The idea of violence is so ingrained within our culture and way of life that it is next to impossible for those not really exposed to the concept of nonviolence to embrace it. Within the realm of American culture, most of us were raised on violent diets and exposed to violence at a young age either at home, on the television or on the street. Ours is a culture full of hypocrisy. Many of us listen to our religious leaders tell us that we need peace in the world, we pray for peace, we try to follow in the footsteps of peacemakers like Jesus and yet at the same time we blindly support the slaughter of innocent Iraqis in the name of ‘state defense.’ The goals of government and religion are irreconcilable when one supports violence and the other denounces it.
In contrast to the general apathy displaced by the American public, I remembered the three paths I learned about in one of my peace courses describing how people who are conscience of social inequality chose to incorporate nonviolence into their everyday lives. By either withdrawing from society and all structures capable of perpetuating violence, involving oneself in constant philosophical debate and personal contemplation about the subject matter or participating in direct action, people all over the world invoke their adherence to nonviolence through so many different channels. For me, although I have actively withdrawn myself from corrupt institutions and protest those that perpetuate violence, I have not, and could not, withdraw myself from society, for it is the people from which I draw my strength and desire to pursue justice for all. Instead, I focus my time on contemplation, especially by reading and taking courses dealing with peace, and through direct action. The thought that “the essential spirit of nonviolence springs from a deeper, inner realization of spiritual unity in one’s own self” is applicable to my everyday life and my belief in nonviolence. I think that nonviolence needs to be expressed on a personal, spiritual, communal, interpersonal and international level and in order for change to occur, and for a holistic conception of nonviolence to be embraced.
Although I do not have a religion, I believe in the idea of spirituality. I believe that one’s inner goodness and need to see equality on a worldwide level is expressed through one’s spirituality, and I believe that people working for justice are connected by their shared awareness of how the plight of the environment, animals and people are entwined.
Saturday’s march was nothing out of the ordinary.
It was a beautiful day that I was able to spend with my parents, marching through the streets of DC all the while demonstrating my disapproval with the U.S. foreign policy in Iraq and witnessing my parents’ final acceptance of my activism. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 20th, 2003|11:38 am] |
I had more caffeine today than I have had in weeks.
Before going to, and leading, both the CASJC and Alternative Break meetings, John made this coffee that was way too strong, and in a rush to make it to school on time, I drank it in a hurry. Not only were my hands shaking and my chest broken out into hives, I was talking a mile a minute.
And that feeling of never being able to stop, not being able to slow down, returned….
But more than anything these days, I hate running into friends and saying/thinking, we really should talk one of these days, or simply being to busy to focus on spending quality time with people whose company I enjoy. Even more so, I don’t like being accused of only responding to email/phone calls when business, i.e. NCOR, is the topic needing to be discussed.
I never realized how difficult friendships had the potential to become, how demanding they are, and how certain individuals have such high exceptions that need to be met in order to satisfy some sort of friendship requirement. I do not want the people I care about to become trivial acquaintances, yet at the same time, I do not see how it is possible to live up to everyone’s expectations.
There are those days when I am truly happy and at peace, but most often, these days only occur when I am with John, when I am able to be open and honest, to cry and to laugh and feel and talk without worrying about disappointing him/not living up to some preconceived notion of what a friend or lover should be like or should act. It’s those days when I am able to stop and breathe, looking at this boy who loves me more than anyone ever has/could and who allows me to be real and open with him in ways other friends, family and acquaintances never could. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 18th, 2003|09:08 pm] |
Today was absolutely beautiful…
The leaves were beginning to change colors, yet there wasn’t really a trace of that fall chill in the air. Instead of staying inside all day doing the work that has long been neglected, John and I went to Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia with my housemate Paul and his girlfriend Shira.
It was such a nice drive up, we walked around Harper’s Ferry for a while and saw all the old sites from around the times of John Brown’s rebellion, and got some warm apple cider.
It’s a beautiful, haunting place, a ghostown of sorts.
We climbed up this mountain, to an overlook where the Shenandoah and the Potomoc Rivers meet, and watched the sunset from the old, decimated graveyard.
It was such a good day, when we left we saw three deer grazing in front of Paul’s car.
It’s those days like that, up in the mountains and far away from the confines of DC, that are so inherently peaceful.
Even better was spending the day away from sitting in front of a computer screen….
I never wanted to be that girl in a relationship
That girl in love, pretending that forever was really going to happen for her.
I never wanted to be confined within the constructs of the relationship with one boy, never wanted to give up any bit of myself to satisfy the demands of a healthy relationship.
I always thought I would be alone, the thought of which never made me feel lonely, only made me feel free.
It’s difficult to realize how much of an impact one person can have upon your life, how different your life would have turned out at this point without his presence; how you wouldn’t be living in the house you are now living in, surrounded by a different crowd of people than normal (surrounded, most times, by no one other than each other), how you probably wouldn’t even consider grad school or staying in DC…not because the idea of remaining here in this life is so difficult to conceive without him here, but because it wouldn’t feel right staying in this place without a reason.
I feel old these days, settled, but not complacent;
Happy and grounded, not anxious or nervous.
My mind and my spirit are relaxed in ways I never quite I envisioned feeling at this point in my life- 21, one month away from graduation.
For some reason, it’s this feeling that only Tara seems to understand these days…the reason she is hesitant about dating mark because “he is so angry inside, so young” probably the way we were two years ago, before running off to mexico, to boston, to Africa, to Costa Rica, before understanding that running, “trying to find something” will not make me happy, that no matter where I am, I will never be happy in that place unless I am happy with myself.
When I told my mom about going to India, she cried.
Why do I always want to be so far away from her, she asked?
After crying, but before wanting to hear my explanation, she says, “well, I hope you find whatever it is you are looking for in India.”
And I say, mom, that’s where you’re wrong. Don’t you understand that this is the first time I am not running away from anything? That I am not trying to find anything? That is the difference with this; I am going to India because I want to see and understand India, not because I am running away from DC or my life here. Because I am happy here, I just want to see India.
Maybe she understands, but probably not.
She tells me over and over again that I am the girl she wanted to become,
And that if she hadn’t settled down, married and had children, that perhaps she’d be doing what I am.
She tells me that she will see the world through my eyes, and her travels will be through me.
I tell her that it is not too late, that she can to/see/feel all that she ways.
And she just smiles, and says I know, and waits until that next phone call to hear about my latest plans. |
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[Oct. 17th, 2003|11:37 am] |
Tonight I went over to Tara’s apartment, and spent the night with Tara, Christina and Liz. Whenever I am with these girls, it’s hard not feel some sense of nostalgia in their presence- especially with Christine: my first friend in Washington, DC. We have developed quite a history in these past 3 ½ years, from Room 132 of Letts Hall to Southern Africa, Christine has been this constant, present force in my life. We have seen each other change so much, and have still been able to remain close; from her tough New York act to becoming a born again Christian and by next June, a wife, I feel so fortunate to have one of those people who have seen her transform. It’s that Ani song I can’t get out of my head after I’ve seen her:
“Strangers, they’re exciting, they’re mystery never ends,
but there’s nothing like looking at your own history
in the faces of your friends.”
Whether or not we wanted to remain close over these years and through many difficult and strained times, we have, and it is through this closeness that I have been better able to understand her, myself and to come to terms with the fact that after this June, when she gets married and travels far away to start her new life, a part of her will always remain within me, no matter how different we, and our lives, will become.
It’s funny how different people and able to come into our lives, for brief and for longer periods of time, and how in some cases it is easy to accept this brief role an particular individual will play, and at other times, difficult. For example, Christine has played an important role in my life, yet through the years we have both changed enough to make it easy to stay friends while at the same time allowing us the ability to realize and accept that soon our lives will take different paths. Once we graduate, I do not think we will feel any sort of obligation to one another, any need to stay in touch: it will be enough for me to know that she is happy and to hear from time to time that she is well. For other people, like Maggie, it is not as easy. We were at one time inseparable, yet spending the summer and fall alone forced us apart; forced us to develop new friendships and desires and dreams apart from each other. Others lives are no longer as intertwined as they once were, yet for the past ten months, neither of us has been able to come to terms with this…before she left for India, we existed in this state of awkwardness, neither being able to connect on the level we once did nor being to accept this reality. And as a result, our friendship has suffered. It was/is hard to find peace with her, and in her absence, with her being away in India, I have grown more and more bitter to the idea of her and at the pain and confusion she has caused me. |
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[Oct. 13th, 2003|11:35 am] |
It’s the first full week back from Fall Break; once this time of year hits, the rest of the semester seems to disappear. This semester has been entirely more frustrating than it has been rewarding; after spending last fall in Southern Africa, it seems strange to be here. It’s funny talking about Africa with those who were there to experience it with me; talking about how easy, yet how trying our semester turned out to be…on one hand, waking up every morning with the sun, not having to, for the most part, worry about figuring out what to do each day (everything was so planned out for us!), or schoolwork or about maintaining and building friendships or one’s appearance or activism or trying to save/change the world….everyday came so easy, with such a sense of welcoming and ease. Everything was new, everyday so different and every night filled with anticipation for what was to come. Easiness arose with this ability to experience everything in the purest form, not having to be rushed- never feeling that time was running out.
It was a hard semester all the same, like never feeling entirely comfortable in one place, longing to see my mom and my sister and John, thinking about what I would have been doing if I were in DC….. it was difficult living with a host family with whom I couldn’t fully communicate, living in a city where violence occurred on a daily basis, where walking across the street was threatening, where for the first time in my life, my skin color no longer gave me privilege but rather opened me to attack, and constantly being challenged over what my perception of what Africa was/should be/is…
My time in Africa, a year later, seems to be this distant experience that was both incredible and challenging.
Back here in DC, I have begun to understand how these things I found so easy being away are so difficult here, and what I found so hard there, I now take for granted.
Coming back last spring, feeling isolated and alienated from the activist community at AU from which I no longer wanted to/could identify with, I spent the semester trying to make sense of my time abroad. The semester went by slowly…a combination of a long winter, few commitments, a reoccurring illness and hours spent trying to reconnect with a boy I spent seven months apart from helped to stretch time.
Slowing I found my way back into the life I left, finding it challenging to fall back into activism while watching others whom had spent time abroad gradually growing more and more distant from the movement.
This semester, my last semester at AU, I want nothing more than to become as involved as possible, feeling like in some way it would make up for the past year when I was either physically or mentally gone. It didn’t take long to understand that taking a full course load, working three jobs, organizing both NCOR and an alternative break, volunteering in the CASJC office, and trying to maintain healthy relationships with my family, friends and boyfriend was not going to be easy.
The freedom I felt last fall has been quashed, the happiness, the aliveness I experienced has been lost to fulfilling commitments and maintaining a schedule. In the process, I have found myself frustrated, lost, overwhelmed, constantly tired and addicted to caffeine.
It’s not that I don’t like doing what I do; I love that I have the opportunity both to organize this trip to India and NCOR. It’s the feeling of never having time, and never being able to find time to enjoy myself and those people who are important in my life that is frustrating. It’s hard not to focus on the fact that in December, about four people who have been instrumental in shaping my college career will be graduated, and gone from DC. Even harder to think about the fact that John will be in Nicaragua next semester, and that another seven months will be spent apart from each other.
I am not afraid of change, I am OK with the fact that my experience in DC is going to be severely altered in the coming semester. What I am not OK with is the feeling of being left behind…with the decision to stay for graduate school in DC, I cannot help to feel like perhaps I am missing out on something that the rest of my friends will be experiencing in terms of finishing school and having the ability to go/do whatever.
Maybe I’ll be able to learn how to transfer my energies off campus, something I have wanted to do for awhile. The difficult challenge remaining for me at the moment is trying to find some sort of balance between commitments I have made, friendships I desperately need to maintain, and finding time settle down, and rediscover the sense of aliveness that I found in Africa, but have been unable to locate here in DC. |
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