Temples of Angkor

The early wakeup call was a theme that we established early on. Today, we were up at 4:30 am to catch sunrise at Angkor Wat. We took a tuk tuk to go watch the sun s-l-o-w-l-y rise from the outer moat of the complex. Due to the humidity, we didn't see the best sunrise. It was definitely worth the try!

When the sun had fully risen, we sat at one of the many restaurants surrounding Angkor Wat and munched on our four types of bread and an equal number of bananas provided by our hotel. Then it was at last time to go inside. I was real antsy by this point. Visitors littered the grounds, but as a result of the vastness of the temple, it didn't feel overly crowded.

We spent about three hours touring Angkor Wat and learned a wealth of information (very little of which I remember). Our tour guide, Mr. Ti, was a walking fact book. Husband listened while I frustrated myself trying to capture the scope of it all. The position of the sun (and my aging camera) greatly compromised my artistic ability.

This is a little about what I do remember, specifically regarding Angkor Wat: This UNESCO World Heritage Site is the largest religious monument in the world. (This marks my second 'seven world wonders' after visiting the Great Pyramids in Spring 2008.) The modern name, Angkor Wat, means Temple City in Khmer. Angkor Wat was built in the first half of the 12th century. The estimated construction time of the temple is 30 years and was commissioned by King Suryavarman II. The temple was originally constructed as a temple to the Hindu gods, but was transformed into a Buddist temple at the end of the 12th century, which continues to present day.

On our visit, we walked in through the west gate and out the east where our tuk tuk driver was waiting to transport us to Ta Prohm, the Jungle Temple. Ta Prohm was particularly crowded during our time. The "jungle" has likely made this temple popular with tourist like ourselves (not to mention it being featured in the Tomb Raider movie). The temple was much smaller than Angkor Wat, with lots of tight spaces between the crumbling corridors and large tour groups posing for pictures. Unlike most Angkor-ian temples, Ta Prohm has been left largely un-restored with the trees slowly pushing their way between temple walls to reclaim the jungle as their own.

The temperatures as we toured were incredibly hot and humid, only made worse by the beating sun. Wearing the temple-appropriate clothing - covered knees and shoulders - was pretty miserable. There were plenty of ill-dressed Tourasians, loud Americans, and Eurotrash. The disrespect these people displayed was disappointing!

Though Ta Prohm was largely untouched, it was an exception and throughout the Temples of Angkor, there are constant preservation and restoration efforts. Given the age and the ornate detail of all the temples, the need for continuous conservation is easily understandable.

Lunch was next of the docket. We dined at a slightly nicer restaurant because Mr. Ti highly discouraged our street food habits. We had chicken amok and fat noodles - both were good, though continued the trend of overly-sweet-should-be-savory-food. The fans and restrooms, part of the upscale dining experience, made the prices of this meal quite a bit more than the standard we'd been paying.

With full stomach, we were back to temple-ing. We closed out the afternoon as part of the Small Circuit tour visiting Angkor Thom, literally "Great City," which is comprised of multiple temples. We visited the Terrace of Elephants, Phimeanakas, Baphuon, and Bayon.

The Terrace of Elephants was used by Angkor's King Jayavarman VII as a platform from which to view his victorious returning army and welcome visiting dignitaries.

Phimeanakas is a Hindu temple in the shape of a three tiered pyramid. The colors of the stones on this temple were beautiful. This was also one of the more evident examples of the steep stairs leading to the top on two of the sides. The steep staircases facing east and west and were ceremonial and only meant for the use by the gods. The north and south facing stairs were to be used by the kings and the people.

Baphuon is a three tiered mountain temple. And it sounds crazy, but the higher up we climbed, the hotter it got. The extreme temperatures were almost unbearable but the views were incredible! We learned about quite a bit about the custom of converting between Buddist and Hindu temples over the centuries depending on the preference of the current king. This particular temple had a Buddist face carved in the walls when it was converted in the late 15th century. The statue is huge - sitting nine meters tall by 70 meters long on the west side's second level. In other temples the desecration of the former religious idols were more evident in the removal of Budda heads or conversion of Hindu goddess to something more Buddist appropriate.

Bayon temple's distinctive feature was the 216 serene and smiling stone faces on the towers which jut out from the upper terrace and cluster around its central peak. These stone carvings depict the face of the king and a message of spiritual worship. This is a place where the teachings of Buddhism and Hinduism co-exist in a unique spiritual balance.

Mr. Ti was also a big fan of pictures and had us posing in several of his favorite, very specific places.

And with that, our 17 kilometer temple tour was complete! In much need of decompression and downtime, I convinced Husband we were due for a walk around the dusty roads near our hotel. We grabbed iced coffee with milk, a meat pie from a bakery, more crispy pork belly - our snack of choice - from a roadside stall, and toured a more authentic local shopping center.

Do I even need to say it? After all this activity and the early rise, we were off to bed at sundown.

Feeling Charitable

When it comes to donating to charities, I have an established protocol. I am very passionate about "my" charities, usually donating only to those. I am unlikely to donate to random organizations, though I do try to budget to support the occasional friend's passion (e.g., the Light the Night fundraiser K.D.S. raises money for each year). If the cause is near and dear to a friend's heart, I can easily find room in my own heart. I do, however, in both instances demand knowing where each penny of every dollar goes before I'll even consider writing a check. After Peace Corps, I'm particularly stern on this; the mismanagement of money is worse than you can believe. My last rule of thumb: I donate during summer, when donations are generally at their lowest.

Lately though, send me a brief on someone in need and I am in. All in. I’m feeling quite charitable lately.

(I hate to say it’s unlike me because I don’t necessarily think that’s true.) 

In addition to the spending I witnessed in Lesotho and through Team Mathias, I'm more inclined to donate to local (and/or small) organizations, where overhead spending does not play a huge role in costs. To my knowledge, Team Mathias funds have gone directly to help cover medical costs for Mathias and support childhood cancer research. I can buy in to that!

These are some animal, children, and illness-related "organizations" I might consider learning more about going forward. If it's not based in one of the above or Africa, my interest is quickly displaced.

• Chocolate Bar – This story of a six-year-old helping his friend battle a rare liver condition, Glycogen Storage Disease Type 1, through the publication of Chocolate Bar, appeared as a follow up to an earlier airing on NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams. I was almost brought to tears by the story. It's simple and heartwarming, and something this world could use a whole lot more of. The success of Chocolate Bar is rooted in the BIG idea of one six-year-old, and a bunch of people standing behind his idea and mission to cure a rare disease. Wow. 

BIG news: After years and years of waiting, I finally received my first free set of address labels! They came from a nonprofit I had previously been unfamiliar with. My parents receive thousands of these each year. Even during the "on-the-move" period, address labels magically found their way to the mailbox. I’ve always wondered how it happened. Though I'll continue to wonder, I'll do so less now that the magic has been bestowed upon me. After having Boyfriend check The Children's Inn charity rating and approving, I made a celebratory donation. 

• The Children's Inn at National Institutes of Health (NIH) – A "place like home" for sick children and their families to stay for free while receiving groundbreaking medical treatments at the NIH.

My new running habit led me to the untimely purchase of not one but two pairs of shoes. After more than a decade of running, I'm a firm believer in rotating shoes. This led me to my local running store for a fitting, where I decided on two pairs shoes. If I'm going to continue running this mileage, I'm not going to do so on shredded shoes. I purchased one of the two pairs at market price to pay my thanks.

In my hunt to find a new perfect fit, I was real picky. I wound up trying on at least nine pairs of shoes. In high school and college, I relied on a retired line of Asics. Those shoes became dead to the world when the new "minimalist" movement moved in. Sigh. For the marathon, I went with Mizuno Wave Riders, a line from the old track days. The Wave Riders underwent an unfavorable upgrade from 17 to 18 during the previous months. Wouldn't it be convenient the newer version mimics a model prior I haven't run in and rubs my outside big toe in an unfavorable way?

(How much didn't you want to know about my running shoe saga? All of the above, I'm sure.)

Enter eBay, to my quest to be a bargain shopper. As I was checking out with my Brooks PureFlows 3, I was asked to donate to the Blind Cat Rescue and Sanctuary.  

• Blind Cat Rescue & Sanctuary –  If there are blind cats in this world in need of rescuing, I'm here to be of assistance. Well, financial assistance. I don't actually like cats. Not even a little. But the idea of blind cats was the saddest thing my little mind could fathom on Sunday afternoon so, of course, I made a donation. And no, I didn't check to see if said organization is a real thing. Later, I found their website where the slogan Help Blind Cats See a Future resided. Hello puns, one of my favorite things. So if only five cents goes to help a blind cat, I'll find comfort in my good intention. Animals--including cats--and puns, I'm sold. 
• Note: This was my first eBay purchase and will likely be my last. I'm on a budget and I hardly made out well, when I take into account the price of my shoes after the donation and the time spent both researching running shoe steals and later blind cats. Oy.  

• Ellery's Life – Another child battling another rare disease--Primary Ciliary Dyskinesia (PCD). Ellery is managing PCD with music. Her story, told through her mother, is one of patience, perseverance, discovery, and reclaimed life. I'm willing support Ellery's dream and her efforts to raise money for PCD research and awareness in the process.

This has been (and hopefully will continue to be) a nice regrouping with my wannabe humanitarian ideals. 

An Affected Life

The New York Times is writing an article about recent Peace Corps volunteers. These journalists are currently collecting data on the broad topic: How Did Your Recent Peace Corps Service Affect Your Life? I'm someone who believes in processing and understanding and learning from; naturally, I opted to answer the call. I'm doubtful that anything will become of it. I'm hopeful an article on this topic will be published at all. After challenging myself to respond to two questions with strict word limits--100 and 150, respectively--I thought I would share my answers here.

Why did you extend or not finish your Peace Corps commitment?

While celebrating the "Close of Service" of fellow volunteers at a hotel in Maseru, the capital of Lesotho, my friend and I left the event to walk back to the Peace Corps (PC) Training Center, a quarter mile down the road. On our return walk to the hotel, my closest volunteer friend and PC neighbor was shot and killed. I was then sent back to the US for medical attention. PC eventually decided it was unsafe for me to return to Lesotho with a suspect at large. I restarted my service in Ghana and was medically separated shortly after.

How did your service affect your life after you left the Peace Corps?

First and foremost, I lost a friend while serving in Lesotho. As a result, the depth to which Peace Corps (PC) still affects my life today is in almost every way. There isn't a day, there's hardly a moment, that passes where I'm not reminded of my service. Through PC I experienced my highest highs and lowest lows. These highs, whether listening to my host sister share her story in broken English or planting gardens for orphans, showed me the brightest side of life. They've given me hope, taught me kindness, and instilled patience within me. Losing a friend, among other lows, ignited my courage and strength. These darkest times taught me to fight and to believe in myself. We as humans may not be able to control the unpredictability of life. But these moments--high and low--inspire me to live a life outside of myself.

Peace Corps recruits with the slogan, "Life is calling. How far will you go?" After serving in the Mountain Kingdom, I promised myself I would find my calling in local charities, often just as in need as the foreign nationals I served amongst. There are people fighting illnesses in need of blood. There are puppies at shelters in need of cuddling and walking. There are underpaid workers at the fire department that would love a plate of homemade cookies. There are underprivileged children in need of tutors and positive adult role models. There are soup kitchens that need servers. Through writing today, I realized my own needs have been elevated above the many deserving individuals in my community. If I want to be the best version of me, I need to answer these calls.

Will you join me? Let's serve.   

Stand Up 2 Cancer

Today began rather insignificantly. It's a working Friday, so I assume thoughts of the weekend were floating through my head. In a chain of emails with D.D.M., a coworker and old neighbor, Gabriella Miller came up. Gabriella Miller, another (old) neighbor, was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor last November; at age 10, she's fighting cancer for her life. I hadn't heard the latest. I honestly hadn't followed Gabriella's updates too closely since last December when I participated in the Make A Wish with Gabriella campaign by writing a letter to Santa. Macy's turned these letters into dollars contributed to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

This is the latest, heartbreaking update from Gabriella's mother:

Mark & I started our day at a cemetery looking for a burial plot for our ten year old daughter. We had to make a decision as to which funeral home we wanted to use. Our day ended with Gabriella asking us if she was going to make it. She wouldn't use the word die. We held her hands & looked her in the eyes & told her that there were no other options to help her. We had to reassure our Sweet G that she was going to be alright. That our love doesn't disappear, it goes with her. Gabriella asked us how much time she had left. With Mark & I sobbing & Gabriella hyperventilating & crying she shoves her lovey - a stuffed animal, Baby Turk from Tarzan - at me & says she wants me to have him. This is her stuffy that always makes her feel better. She wants ME to have it!

Oh, God, I HATE cancer! We, all of us, have failed our children so miserably. It is criminal that our beautiful, innocent children are going through these out-dated & tortuous treatments with such bleak outcomes. No child & parent should have the conversation that we just went through. Devastated beyond words.  

A few months back--late this spring--I fell for Gavin Rupp. Mathias Giordano, Latte Woman's son,  shared Gavin's story with me. Through early summer, I read everything I could about this Northern Virginia Cancer Warrior until the ugly disease took Gavin's life on July 30, 2013. After a three year battle. I never met Gavin and yet he inspired me. And I wasn't the only one he inspired, not even close--he was touted as "a hero" of Bryce Harper's (on his Twitter account) after they met.

And then there is my superstar--Mathias, battling osteosarcoma, and demanding the majority of my heart! Before clicking for a status on Gabriella, I stopped off to read the latest from Team Mathias. I scrolled down to a day-old post from Latte Woman.

Her stark words caught my attention:

I have entered this "cancer club" all my news feeds are cancer related,  families fighting cancer, talking chemo, radiation, clinical trials, hospital stays, surgeries, amputations, relapses, hospice, beautiful kids gaining their wings... 

This is insane. Kids should be kids! Kids should be at school, play sports and just live a carefree life. I want that for Mathias, I want that for Gabriella, I wanted that for Gavin... I want that for all the kids that are fighting. This is not fair. We need a cure and we need it now. What is wrong with our society, why are we "accepting" that childhood cancer is the number one killer of our kids? How are we ok with that and how are we not doing anything to change that NOW.

So now that I'm a sobbing mess, I'm passing some of the responsibility to you. These parent's are right--cancer is unfair; we all need to stand up. These three children of extraordinary qualities come from a first-rate community. But this is not the only community with a story; children everywhere are fighting. And each one of them deserves to be heard, to be rallied behind. 

I personally feel helpless. What can we do to make a difference in the lives of these children? In the life of each child fighting from his or her corner. I spread childhood cancer awareness through Mathias' story each chance I receive. But I can't stop there. 

I know I should do more. We should all do more. I'm consumed by this illness, almost paralyzed--scared. Gabriella and Mathias battle right through their fears. And Gavin battled through his too.  

In November of last year, I hosted a blood drive in honor of Mathias. And while the turnout was a great success, my efforts were thwarted by the Red Cross. There were so many wonderful, willing donors last year. Should we give again--through a better, more organized service--to show we believe there is hope? Because there is hope. A lot of hope. And donating blood helps save lives! Their lives. 

A few weeks back--during the furlough days--I strolled through my parents' neighborhood early one morning with Latte Woman. And while I think about her all the time, despite seeing less and less of her (after moving out of the neighborhood); the time together revived me. She is a wonderful, wonderful being. I can't speak highly enough of her, of the courage she's shown her son. She is an unstoppable force. This woman, my dear friend, spent the majority of our walk listening to my woes and worries when all I intended to do was give her my fullest attention. She wouldn't even speak of herself or Mathias until she heard my story. That's right, my story. I had updates to share, but they were trivial in comparison. I fought through my hard time, and while there are still rough days, I was pulled out of the weeds by my community. It's my turn to give to hers. 

When I realized how insignificantly today began, it made me feel awful. These children do not have--they are not allowed to have--insignificant days. They rise and fight for their lives 24/7. Through agonizing treatments, with reduced strength because of medication, these children are fighting battles we can't fight for them. We can--together--fight for a cure. And we need fight that battle now. These words are woefully insufficient. But at the end of the day, my heart wants more for these children. And I know yours does too.  

Links I Like

This is called procrastination. This is called I'm losing my sanity piece-by-piece with each day the Government remains shutdown. This is called laziness. I still have unpacking to do,  I'd rather write though. I could write about my summer vacation or closing the chapter on Lesotho, but procrastinate further, I will. I would like to share with you two polar opposite but equally fascinating articles I came across on the World Wide Web. I'm by no means an internet wizard. I stick to what I know--email,  perusing the New York Times and Twitter, and blogging--and beyond this scope, family and friends alike keep me in the loop with article forwarding. This is how I ended up at BuzzFeed Sports reading about the joys of being a Kansas City Chiefs fan.

The first article: 11 Reasons You Should Start Loving the Kansas City Chiefs 

If you're not a football fan or don't have a team to pull for, this might lure you to my favorite franchise. No. 10 had me recalling fond childhood memories, while point 11 made me sigh Chiefs amongst a fan base that has weathered it all. Boyfriend fell for the Chiefs at seven--the story of Eric Berry's fear of Warpaint; he's shared the story with all ears as soon as the news broke sometime last year.

The second article: Moose Die-Off Alarms Scientists

This is an extremely sad piece of writing. It's no secret that my heart is in Montana. I absolutely love the way the animals roam freely. And while my biggest passion is for the wolves--snow-covered baby buffaloes being a close second--there is something indescribable about moose; it's a see-it-to-believe-it phenomenon. So winter ticks, brain worms, liver flukes, snails, heat, pine bark beetles, and hunters be gone. Yes, hunters. There are people obtain hunting licenses to kill moose. Would you conceive it?! I do not believe that is necessary, no not one bit. And wolves, be kind to the moose. For you know what rapidly declining populations are like.

In Minnesota, there's an ongoing study monitoring dying moose. Jim Robbins of the New York Times quotes Dr. Bulter, who leads the study, in his article, “If the heart stops beating, it sends a text message to [Dr. Butler's] phone that says, ‘I’m dead at x and y coordinates.’” It's just all so terribly tragic.

I Love You Through and Through

Have you read the book I Love You Through and Through by Bernadette Rossetti-Shustak? It’s a childhood gem. And also the theme of the baby shower I attended to celebrate S.J.M.’s soon-to-be third baby. 

The honoree, the host(s), the attendees – everyone – agreed a baby shower for the third born was over the top. Even still, we had to party. I’m delighted we did. It “forced” me to block off my calendar and – when the time came – allowed me to spend a morning with the neighborhood gang after not seeing them for oh so terribly long. In lieu of gifts, there were donations collected for the Loudoun Abused Women’s Shelter. This is actually the second collection held by this group this year; S.J.M. gathered donations in June during one of her “hormonal episodes” after learning the number of struggling women and children in Loudoun county – the supposed richest county in the nation according to Forbes. To continue this effort, S.J.M. intends to hold biannual, off-season donations to help the shelter because, as we all know, Christmas is often the only time of year do-good organizations are provided any relief.

Aside from doing a hare of good before football on a rainy Sunday, there are few things more perfect sharing brunch, including a crepe and cappuccino bar, with friends in a sweetly decorated home to celebrate new life. 

Summer Heat in October

Somehow summer weather made its way back to Washington, D.C. around Wednesday of last week. And the 90-degree temperatures lingered into the weekend. My heart melted a little as I pulled tank tops from the bottom of my dresser drawer.

Friday I was essentially furloughed... so I seized the day! I rode the metro into the middle of the city and had coffee--blissfully alone--at M.E. Swing Co., a coffee shop I've been eager to try. One that has unfortunately restricted its opening to business hours, when I've commuted far from the city. There I sat and read chapter after chapter in my book. I thought about heading home after I had slurped down my final drop. Then decided, rather brilliantly, to do the opposite of what one is probably supposed to do on your unpaid vacation--I walked over to Georgetown for shopping. I hit up Gap, Banana Republic, Anthropologie, and J. Crew. I was on a mission for a properly fitting, work appropriate pair of jeans. This has been ongoing hunt for several years now. I always procrastinate until I no longer need them. I thought Friday would be the day. I ultimately ended up with a well-priced jean jacket and a pair of red shorts. The shorts paid for themselves as I proceeded to wear them all weekend; my normal shorts repertoire wound up at my parents house after my bi-annual clothing switch. (I might have been preemptive in that move.) Once I had all the shopping I could handle, my walk continued to Dunkin Donuts for a lunch of champions--a pumpkin donut, then home.

Following a showered, I headed toward Bethesda, MD to meet Boyfriend at The Barking Dog for a Leukemia & Lymphoma Society fundraiser held by K.S.D., my roommate. There we sipped adult beverages and watched the Atlanta Braves hold off the Los Angeles Dodgers in Game 2 of the National League Division Series. Tired, we were in bed promptly at 11:00 pm. When morning came, Boyfriend and I were up early for no reason as is always the case on the weekend. We took advantage of the quiet streets with a morning walk that became more focused on food and less focused on exercise with each step. The first stop was Brooklyn Bagel for egg, onion, and cheese bagels. From there, we headed over to the Court House Farmers' Market.  We struck it BIG. I purchased beets, the most beautiful--vase worthy--rainbow swiss chard, and kale. In the seasonal department, I got a loaf of pumpkin bread and pumpkin yogurt. Then I might have gone back to Dunkin Donuts for another pumpkin donut and been convinced (by Boyfriend) to instead go with 50 munchkins (for the weekend). I clearly have no willpower; it's an issue.

From there, sweaty and hot, we changed clothes for Oktoberfest at The Village at Shirlington in Arlington, VA. This was something new and totally different for me and ended up being an awesome spontaneous date. I truly enjoyed the peak into Boyfriend's world; it was really fun to step aside and bear witness to him in his element--watching his nerd fully bloom. See image, note--the lanyard with an attached glass holder, the paper, and pen. He was clearly prepped for the ample note taking. This being my first beerfest, I had no idea that took place after each pour. Also, he later had me run to the grocery to purchase pretzels for stringing to his lanyard. I'm not sure if he was hungry, trying to impress or embarrass me, or clearing his palate between samples. I do know he received several compliments on the pretzel necklace. Bizarre.

Then I had all these ideas productive indoors ideas, since I could not longer tolerate the outdoor temperature, but those lost out to the superior plan of sitting on the couch watching football--Go Clemson Tigers! Georgia Bulldogs! Michigan Wolverines!--the rest of the afternoon. There might have been a late nap that wound me up until well past midnight.

Sunday morning was an easy one... until convincing Boyfriend we should walk to Buffalo Billiards in DuPont for the Kansas City Chiefs/Tennessee Titans game. He wound up getting more out of the Chiefs game while simultaneously watching the Green Bay Packers/Detriot Lions game than me. H.M.O. and I could not be bothered as we caught up on all things this and that. I left the bar and relished away the rest of the day in the fashion I began the weekend--alone. There were NO roommates. There was NO Boyfriend. I bounced around from the reading on the balcony. To wishing both Tony Romo and the Denver Broncos could lose the same game. To walking around my neighborhood. To writing. To deciding the Braves would lose and ultimately settling in to bed before 9:00 pm. That was a winning decision last night; it will absolutely not fly tonight.

This was the kind of weekend that gave me a chance to catch my breath before another week hits me with high sports drama... and life.

Superstorm Sandy - 7 Months Later

There are so many voices on the internet and I know mine is not among the powerful. This is why I have a blog devoted to me and my life. And sometimes the happenings of my people. This is my area of subject matter expertise. But I was recently challenged to write about something beyond me. This isn’t to say I haven’t tried before; I have – countless times – following Hurricane Sandy, the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary, the Boston Marathon bombings, etc. My words about ‘big world’ devastation feel void and far from cohesive, so I usually settle for not posting… and simply appreciating the process of processing. But, this weekend, I traveled to the Jersey Shore, specifically Seaside Heights, and gained a bit of perspective. For those of you unaware, Seaside Heights is home of the iconic Hurricane Sandy – ‘roller-coaster-in-the-Atlantic-Ocean’ – image. This weekend was about my friend H.C.O.; her bachelorette weekend brought me to New Jersey after all. But while celebrating, taunting me was the remaining damage and destruction surrounding us.

After only seven months, there was life on the reconstructed boardwalk. And the clubs came alive at night. To my eyes though, much seemed missing (or unavoidably still present). There were empty lots. The sand was brand new. The beach smelled not of the salty Atlantic but instead radiated scents of fresh wood (from rebuilding of the boardwalk). The roller coaster has not been replaced. The dunes were completely flattened. Though businesses had reopened, each one sold “Restore the Shore” paraphernalia, in what seemed a desperate manner. Hotels were not full – much of the town seemed rather ghostly.

The damage in New Jersey – months later – was nothing like the Louisiana I witnessed six-and-a-half years after Hurricane Katrina. So while the road to recovery will be less treacherous, or appeared that way from where I stood, it was still a blatant reminder of how small this world can make me feel. The damage done to the shore (and the gulf… and most currently, the wildfires threatening California) are entirely beyond my capabilities. How can I contribute? How do I let people know I care? How do I show I haven’t forgotten? Who’s to say another hurricane isn’t brewing? (Or this wildfire won’t devastate Yosemite National Park?)

Of the few pictures from the weekend, I was fixated on the destruction. I’m weird like that. Locals and tourist alike commented as I snapped pictures of the boardwalk where the Ferris wheel once stood. These, of course, aren’t the printable vacation pictures I’m typically after. But they are real life – late Summer 2013. I never saw the before. This was my first trip to the Jersey Shore, and could likely be my last. I was challenged in the course of my ordinary days to look for those who need to be reminded they aren't alone. Together, we just have to hold on and hang in there. There will be days of joy and peace ahead.

Remembering December, Week 3

December 15 -

• Nothing like sleeping in on Saturday.
• Cracker Barrel for lunch. This has evolved into some sort of date-ish tradition. Nothing like gluttonously good fried food.
• Then there was time with friends at Lights at the Zoo. With a mix of Baileys and hot chocolate in hand, we walked aimlessly around the zoo for quite some time. After last year, I was prepared this year for no real animal spotting (aside for the stand-alone donkey)... however there were lots of lighted animals to been photographed.

December 16 -

• J.P.B. and I dined outside for brunch at Brooklyn Bagelry. While I am anxiously awaiting a white miracle, I could not pass up an outdoor eating opportunity in December.
• There is a lot I could say about the short afternoon window of time. But if you want the skinny, J.P.B. and I spent the 1 – 4:00 pm window watching NFL football at Union Jacks over a dose (or four) of Bloody Mary. To begin, I had no idea how hard it would be to find a seat at a bar for watching football on a Sunday here in our Nation's Capital. When we set off to our preferred bar, I figured the energized Washington Redskins had first priority… but literally, it was not until we went to a fourth bar, come the end of the first quarter, that I understood the real challenge associated with securing a seat in front of a television broadcasting the 'team of choice'. This led to a bit of tension. Mature. Truly. In spite of watching a team--the Packers--with a "guaranteed" win at hand, I spent the majority of time decorating our paper table cloth with scenes of winter wonderlands. I even created some table games, that remained unfinished because of the competitive spirit of both parties. Awesome. Truly. Then come 4:00 pm, about the time the 2-11 Chiefs were kicking off, J.P.B. was ready to head home. Charming. Truly.
• I took a nap to recover from the afternoon of sitting motionless. 
• We made grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner and watched 60 Minutes, in light of the recent tragedy in Newtown, CT. 

December 17 -

• It was a foggy day, from sun-up to sun-down. And I was OK with that, once I learned no flights were leaving from Baltimore/Washington International airport... which granted me a bonus night with my favorite person. Yippee Team Mother Nature. 
• In ordering a slew of Christmas gifts, I learned I have my credit card number memorized. I am frightened by this discovery. 

December 18 -

• For the first time in my professional career, I was in meeting from arrival to departure. This is the normal for the upper management, no matter where you work. I am not sure when tasks are accomplished in a schedule slammed with meetings...

December 19 -

• My day at work was frustrating, to say the least. Around 4:00 pm, I found myself firing off a third "well-crafted" hate email, each regarding a unique 'road block' with a different coworker. I might also add, this was not only the third 'road block' I encountered this week, this was the third 'road block' that merited this sort of response in my time at Company Crazy. The fact they all came in one week, the one right before the holidays, was just an added bonus. To my satisfaction, Boss Man told me he hopes to stay off my 'Bad List' in fear of my articulate emails.  

December 20 -

• Cube Neighbor Girl, a co-worker all of nine-months, gave me a bottle of Layer Cake for Christmas. I was dumbfounded by the thoughtfulness of this gift. She remembered Layer Cake is my wine label of choice from a seemingly insignificant grocery-store conversation the two of us shared shortly after I started in March. I wish I had been the giver of such holiday generosity.
• H.C.O. stopped at her halfway point--Washington, D.C.--for nine hours on her journey from Boston, MA to her hometown of Myrtle Beach, SC. We popped open the Layer Cake and blabbered on and on... far longer than we should have, considering her 3:00 am departure time.

 December 21 -

• The new recruiter brought Dunkin' Donuts into the office. There were more donuts (24) than people (16). That provided me with a good laugh.
• The office ordered pizzas for lunch. There were almost as many pizzas (12) as people (15, after one early departure). That provided me more to laugh about.
• I closed shop at 2:00 pm. 
• I attended Sweet Neighbor's Holiday Party. From her salad, to the homemade minestrone soup, to the honey baked brie, and molasses cookies... there was enough food to feed a village. And if you want to know just how much I overate, I will leave you with a comment from J.T.L., "You downed some food, enough for me to believe you came right out of the African bush!" These days, with the relocation, I rarely indulge in samplings from N.J.M.'s kitchen. So provided it is the holidays, and her food was so eloquently presented, I allowed myself to over-indulge.    

Remembering December, Week 2

December 8 -

• I could not motivate myself to do anything. Not a single thing... until about 2:30 pm when I decided taking a four hour walk from Arlington to Georgetown to the National Mall with a friend was a good idea. Apparently not seeing her for a week, merited this much talking time. Another weekend day with perfect weather drew quite a crowd to our end destination--the National Tree

• I crashed at 9 pm.

December 9 -

• I woke up after 12 solid hours of sleep, at 9 am. Bliss. And I thought I had lost my sleep-in powers.
• I met A.J.S. and her co-workers for a pancake breakfast at the Eastern Market. It was not until I stood up that I realized how much I had over-consumed. This "decision" to join the clean plate club was worth every bit of the hatred my stomach imposed on me.  
• I walked the seven miles home. This was my third extended walk of December. I anticipate many more to come. Not only am I learning the city (and taking cheesy pictures along the way), I am getting "exercise" and "outdoor" time. 

December 10 -

• It rained, again, for the bajillionith time this falinter. (Falinter, noun:  the conjoined season of fall and winter, comprising in the greater Washington, D.C. area the months of September, October, November, December, January, and February.)
• This was a slow day at work. P-A-I-N-F-U-L-L-Y slow.
• I received a message from Santa, courtesy of his elf, R.D.S. It was definitely the greatest thing that happened all day. If you have not experienced Portable North Pole, I highly suggest you proceed there immediately once you are done here.

December 11 -

• Boss Man has 904 business cards. Today I collected my eighth for sake of comparison. He "neatly stacks" them in a drawer, the one above the 4207 Starbucks napkins, in his desk. And he absolutely will not let me alphabetize them for him they way I have my own contacts. It hurts my sole to go in his office, knowing those disorganized cards are lurking beneath the surface. 
• In other news, my fancy business meeting today--the one where I collected business cards seven and eight--was all about cabling. And you thought this girl just did science, now she speaks beginner tech!

December 12 -

• I received a Christmas card (with picture) from K.K.S. and her adorable brood. I am such an adult. 
• M.E.V. sent me a coffee mug for my birthday. My birthday is many, many months away so this  was quite a surprise. A pleasant one at that.  

• I stayed up late to pick my favorite person up at the airport.

December 13 -

• I worked. Gee, imagine that. On a Thursday, I worked. I got to work from home. And that was great. So great. Except the part where I had to work.
• Since the weather remains mildly cold, J.P.B. and I were able to walk to Guajillo--a Mexican dining establishment--to meet M.E.K., her husband, and brother-in-law for a late dinner. There were many fabulous parts of this night: 1) Walking to and from dinner. 2) Delicious food. 3) Experiencing a new local restaurant, for the fourth time this month. 4) Ample "catch-up" time with the M.E.K. 
• As J.P.B. and I nursed our food comas, we watched Elf, my favorite holiday movie, to celebrate the season.

December 14 -

• Another work from home day. Another day of analyzing a mega huge scanned document.
• Before the end of the day, most everyone had learned of the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary. Unspeakable emotions coursed through my mind as I tried to comprehend the reality that children were murdered at school. 
• I squeezed in a quick nap post exercising my brain. 
• The highlight: Of Montreal played at the 9:30 Club... and I was there. So... after years of waiting... I have FINALLY seen Of Montreal. It was every bit of weird excellence I was hoping for, and more.  

• After the show, I got a few minutes with my little brother, C.A.H. since he was also in attendance. He happens to find Of Montreal every bit as great as I do. He also might be responsible for introducing me to this band. 

Giving Life

I cannot compose an essay with enough second grade adjectives--fantastic, awesome, totally fun--to convey to my abundant audience the extent to which I enjoy my job. I am of the lucky few who wake up, albeit exhausted, looking forward to spending a third of my day behind a computer, in a cube. You get it. But do you? The job presents challenges for me to grow both individually and professionally. Allows me to work with people just enough, to the point right before the incompetency has my skin crawling. Has me attending oh-so-important meetings. And knocks each bit of entitlement out of me, leaving me right where I belong.  Enough, enough about my crazy cool contracting job. Unless you are wannabe me for hire in Atlanta, Denver, or Odgen? Then we should continue this conversation elsewhere.  

At the end of the day, circa 5:00 pm government time, my job is not very fulfilling. And I do not think I realized this until I was in the throes of spearheading a blood drive in honor of my neighbor recently diagnosed with osteosarcoma. It should have hit me long along… but did not. This... this feeling is OK, especially for now… since I have this project. I can still love my job. And find satisfaction outside the office. When this blood drive has come and gone, I need to remind myself to take on some volunteering efforts. Maybe I could go work at a puppy shelter? Or read to elders? Or organize another blood drive? I do not know. I will think of something. I might not be making what I consider to be a difference in the workplace but this certainly does not limit me for having a positive impact on the planet and people beyond the office. I can still be the humanitarian I dream of being.

My meeting with a wonderful woman from the American Red Cross put life in perspective for me. While this blood drive effort is a large task, as a not full-time job, it is serving. And I thrive on it. When I send emails/make phone calls to the Red Cross, when I research the pros and cons of a 501(c), when I work with others on a common goal of making the difference in this 11 years old life, I feel something. I cannot pinpoint one emotion. It is an overall 'this is where my passion lies' mental state. This is what I want to be doing. This is who I want to be doing this for.

The goals and ethos I set for myself have not been obliterated. My job is not my life. It is a means to a life. My accomplishments on the job are not my accomplishments in life. 

I will close with a quote by one of my favorite men: "It's easy to make a buck. It's a lot tougher to make a difference." (Tom Brokaw) 

Earth and Birth Day

"The earth has a skin and that skin has diseases, one of its diseases is called man." (Friedrich Nietzsche)

I thought I would start by making you aware of the significance of today with an uplifting quote.

Retry: Happiest of Earth Days--to you and yours! This is like the best day of the year, a day to totally embrace our dying planet. A day that passes with so little recognition, this nature Nerd (yes, that is "nerd" with capital "N") almost forgets to celebrate. I often--as was the case this year--get too caught up commemorating the birth of my no longer little brother, born 23 years ago today. Yep, after 19 previous Earth Day events, my parents decided upping the population was the way to go as far as celebrating was concerned. They quickly planted a tree to offset his carbon footprint--even in the late 1980s, those two were aware of the impact C.D.H. would have on this planet. You are uplifted, right?

Final try: Happy Earth Day--to the Earth Day babies. C.D.H., please know on April 22, in honor of you, I repeatedly (year after year) neglect the earth to sing your birthday praises. That way you get ONE FULL DAY of attention... and I feel less pitiful disregarding you the remaining 364 calendar days. Keep your eye out for the untimely and environmentally damaging card, present, and phone call--each one will arrive a wee bit later than planned. I know, I am the favorite sister.

I failed to inspire you to care, much in the way our planet is failing to capture our attention. Sad Day. 

Lesotho Care Package

This package from Lesotho awaited me when I arrived home from New Orleans, Louisiana. I could hardly contain my excitement--ripping it open before I snapped a photo of the yellow, duck-taped package itself. Awhile back I sent my friends "homestretch" packages... full of American goods for the final months of service. Three of them came together to reciprocate.

Package contents:

• Stickers: 
• Kaiser Chiefs F.C.: One of two, and my preferred, Republic of South Africa football team. The team is based in Nasrec, Soweto--outside Johannesburg, South Africa and plays in the Premiere Soccer League. 
• The Lesotho Flag (with a Phacks Motor Spares of Hlotse advertisement embedded on the sticker): Awesome! 
• Peace Corps Logos: "For sticking or burning!" 
• Seshoeshoe Bracelet: When "traditional" clothing is spoken of, it usually refers to Seshoeshoe (pronounced: se-shway-shway) fabric, the Basotho blanket (sold at an Anthropologie store near you!), and the conical Basotho hat. The British still have their fingers in the country, as the Seshoeshoe material and the Basotho blankets are manufactured in the United Kingdom for sale in Southern Africa. The Basotho do not seem to mind, as they take great pride and ownership in these pieces. Seshoeshoe fabric is the last thing most foreigners would associate with African dress--it is a stiff, heavy fabric printed in intricate designs. This fabric is usually tailored into dresses that are reminiscent of British colonial dress, with wide skirts, tight waists, and puffy sleeves. Never during my service did I see anyone wearing a Seshoeshoe bracelet, H.J.W. apparently had a ton made--I am glad there was an extra for me!
• Mini Basotho Hat: The only locally produced item in the "traditional" dress is, however, the Basotho hat. My 'real' hat, a gift for completing training, never made it home. I actually have no use for a hat that large... so I am quite thankful for my mini replica. The functionality of this gift-- "A keychain? Hamster hat? Car rearview mirror decoration/distraction?"--was noted by J.P.B. in his 'content index.' These are all viable options. 
• Maps (of Lesotho): Because maps are fabulous!
• Lesotho Highlands Development Authority (LHDA) Pamphlet: For planning my next visit, duh.
• Nik-Naks: I might have a reputation for eating multiple packs of these a day. They are laced with crack, no lie. I downed two packs the minute I opened the package. I promise these are good for you... and definitely vegan. (There are two brands... and these volunteers, knew my preference. Mad props!)
• A Flash-drive: Filled with Famu, Gospel, and House--music we listened too on full-blast at bars and in cars. Terribly music that is terribly missed. 
• Lesotho Chronicles: My clan of Education '10 Volunteers (Peace Corps Lesotho) are utter blog failures, I am constantly harping on them for Lesotho stories. Someone needs to document the day-to-day(!!!). The biggest surprise--J.P.B. hand-wrote a 54-page book entitled Lesotho Chronicles, Volume I filled with tales related solely to Lesotho. After having been reunited with M.E.V. and K.A.B., I am much too emotional to dive into that yet, but the idea Volume I implies there will at least be a Volume II, hooray. 

And all this time you thought Lesotho had nothing to offer America. Lesotho is accepting apologies now. The two-grand plane ticket is worth an eight-cent Nik-Naks experience.  

Thank you H.J.W. Thank you J.P.B. Thank You K.A.B. 

Idealistic to Realistic

At one point my need for purposeful friendships and community was huge. My passion and devotion to the environment was almost as much. To temporarily wrap up my series on 'where I am at today' I thought I would hit one last note--my cynicism. Where to begin.

Throughout a large portion of my being, my affinity for Earth and my belief our planet could be saved defined me; I poured my heart and soul into protecting the environment. I changed my diet. I properly disposed of waste... and did not let food become waste. I carried one of my four Nalgenes everywhere I went. I never ever used plastic bags. I used alternative modes of transportation for the to and from school commute and carpooled--automobiles, buses, planes, and trains--whenever possible. I learned first hand the importance of water conservation while living in Africa. I quit washing my hair to avoid adding toxic chemicals to our earth. I read non-fiction earthy literature (on my Kindle) and participated in 'Students for Environmental Awareness' throughout college for fun. You get the point. (For the record, this establish lifestyle continues, very much intact.)

Raised in a half-hearted environmental house where the basics--recycling, leftover eating, composting, two-sided printing, growing vegetables--are covered, college brought first-hand exposure to the ignorance in America. I had the energy and desire to tackle the insurmountable war ahead. I started by educating my roommates on the basics of recycling. If you want to tell me that wasn't a big deal... I'll fight you. Somewhere along the way, encountering a debacle with the university over campus recycling, particularly at football games.

I wanted the earth I cherish to more than last... I hoped my generation could make it flourish. Each new hurdle became a conversation... another battle to overcome. I was an idealist--one person can make a difference. My intensity increased, just knowing together we could solve this mighty problem, reverse the done damages.

Then, through my experiences, I became overwhelmed with the need and injustices in the world...

and the word 'population' kept coming to mind. Population grows until a certain point when it uses up all the resources, and then it dies off. This is the understanding I was left with after pursuing a degree in the 'science of life and living matter' at dear ol' Clemson anyway. The only hope for this planet, is us finding another planet. And, of course, we cut the NASA program.

I am cynical--our planet it doomed; I truly believe this.

The environmental fight is not over, this is the beginning, and I'm altering my mission. In a gigantic universe I am only a spec; instead of paralyzing myself with angst, I will keep my focus self-centered. Though my environmental flaws are many, I do the best I can within my knowledge base, means, and skills. I am constantly researching ideas for simplifying and living a more sustainable life... and this alone will be enough (for me). I will forgo chastising people for their 'ignorance is bliss' behavior from here on out. 

Defending our planet is a tireless job. There is no way to get used to the it, the longer and harder and more effort exerted, the more it eats away at me. I can live a meaningful life, valuing the people and planet I care about, without playing an all-consuming role.

We are entitled to one life... and it's up to my internal editors to decide what to do with it. My time is precious--I want to spend it with intent. And if intent is working that job where I get to leave my positive mark on our planet in an office or field of equally passionate people, I would be happy. But it might not--it might far less meaningful, but necessary, say answering phone calls and filing papers or building block towers with children. A job is not a life, it's part of one.

Pets Over Children

In all areas, sans shoes, I have self-control when it comes to shopping. When I hopped off my parents payroll for the big wide world of independence I learned the true price of materials. Hooray for "making it on my own" and being responsible! Yeah--not so much, or at least not all the time. I quickly began translating everything to hours of human-sitting.* At this point, my career was well underway--I was making eight whole dollars an hour, 13.3 cents every minute. Parents don't be late.

*I prefer this term to babysitting because in this age of the helicopter parent, with half my life of experience, I am rarely trusted with actual babies. By the time I am left in charge, they are hardly children--they're tipping on the verge of teenagers. More excellent than making money for being a (topnotch) big sister is landing the mother's friend, ahem mother's helper, gig. There is nothing is more fulfilling than having Boss Mommy ignore my loaded resume--equipped with positions from full-time nanny to camp counselor to normal human-sitter to after-school-care-worker to church nursery experience to academic tutor. As a matter of fact--I am incompetent; there is only way to prepare Cascadian Farms Organic Cinnamon Crunch Cereal for Johnny's mid-morning snack. I have certainly ruined the chance of any future human-sitting employment. No? I am still for hire, if you want to pay me--I'm yours. To the original point, each age class--whether mother, teenager, child, or baby--can be safely categorized into the 'human' group. Let's agree on that too.

As I sat down to write this post I had a clear direction: arts and crafts. And now I am 280 words deep, having wrapped up my rambling, urg ranting, on the proper terminology for watching mother, teenager, child, or baby while parent(s) stay in or go out. Instead of admitting I have lost my voice--I will change direction to equally fascinating, semi-related, realization. 

The going rate for pet-sitter is higher, much higher, than that of human-sitter. This says a lot about our society. That is all.

Catch-22

In my writing yesterday I touched on the challenge of modifying friendships. There is more to say...

I am on the mind of several people of importance to me--the continual emails, offers for me to visit, phone calls, and text tell me this much. I know many of them are sincere and willing to listen or discuss anything I want, but I have this impression--it's sincerity until a point. (Although I am aware of what happens when one makes an assumption, there is adequate evidence to validate the statement.) When I don't bring anything up, neither do they. My guess is various friends and even my family are in a rotten situation. They recognize the hurt and messy emotions and see I am stuck in a rut, while assuming I am not ready to talk about it (topics from previous post) with them, and that I may never be. It's a catch-22 I am responsible for placing them in. They can't bring it up and talk about it, but I want them to acknowledge this happened. So both sides act like everything is normal and nothing happened, and just ignore the giant elephant in the room. 

This is the reason very few are let in to see what is actually going on. When I answer phone calls, I give no indication that anything ever occurred. I appear the exact same me from November 2009. But I have changed. How could I possibly be the old me? Shutting out people and putting on an act, especially for my friends, is absurd. Maybe I should open up, like not talk about everything, but also not talk like everything is fine. Few people have seen through the shield I have held up for the last year. This has been a protection mechanism; I am not sure what side I am protecting... odds on them. I would hate to make anyone uncomfortable. Though I have faith, if they ever realized this, several of them would hate themselves... feel like bad friends for "allowing" that. They want to be here for the me I am today. Least of all, they would like a chance to try.

Problem being the root of much of my hurt is my inability to bring it up, not knowing where I would begin or how I could ward off the tears. Hashing out all the emotions to the virtual world has been the best therapy; writing as opposed to vocalizing is the easier route. There is nothing that can be said to amend the reality. I went to Africa and witnessed the unexplainable, from my day-to-day life to the murder. Before I left, and confirmed when I returned, a friend told me she was most worried I would have trouble finding joy in the routine America after living in Africa and being exposed to this unique culture and lifestyle. These extenuating circumstances, no one could have predicted or controlled, brought out a side of humanity I never wanted to experience. The worst of humanity robbing the best of humanity--of life.

I am here as a 24-year old, college educated, adult living at home in a world where everyone, frequently--me included, pretends September 3, 2010 and the incredible months before never existed. My Peace Corps adventure was a dream, and T.C.M. is a long-lost friend.

This past weekend the change was blatantly obvious, and for the first time, everything felt right. 

I relied heavily on many of these friends to get me where I am today. For our time together I am infinitely grateful. At the same time I am confident in my remodeled self and my ability to continue to mold new friendships.

I in no way intend to write off old friends. I want to ask for patience--not hasty emails and voice mails. I want you to acknowledge this time period is part of my history, acknowledge the fact there are nights I still can't sleep because I hear gun shots fired at my closest volunteer friend and me. Ackonwledge your advice is not always merited. And in the meantime, I will understand that no one will ever be able to relate, to comprehend this experience from the grave loss to being a volunteer to the bureaucratic procedures of our government.

The test of time and trials exemplifies which friends are true.