All at once, during a Bill Moyer interview with Jon Stewart, I have had a realization.
For over a week, I have been struggling internally with the lack of grief I have felt in regards to the shootings at Virginia Tech. Up to this point, I have not even expressed my confusion over the numbness I have felt about this situation. But suddenly it is clear to me why I have had this feeling (or rather, this lack of feeling), and so now I feel the need to talk about it.
On the day that 33 people died at Virginia Tech, at least 150 people died in four bombings in Iraq. Thousands of people starved to death because their countries are too wrapped up in war or paying back odious foreign debt to provide food for their people. Millions of people lost their lives to diseases that could have been prevented or treated if only health care was treated as a right instead of a privilege.
These things happen everyday. These are the numbers that roll around in my mind every night. The incident at Virginia Tech was a tragedy and the media treated it as such. But the tragedies of the every day, they are so often treated as sub-news: headlines scrolling across the bottom of the television screen, sentence fragments placed on the sidebar of news network websites, incidents mentioned in passing by newsreaders at the top of every hour.
In a world of 24-hour news networks (Plural! That's more than 100 hours of news each day!), tragedies should be reported with the weight and respect that they deserve. Time should be given for the audience to get to know the victims and to allow for the immensity of the issue to sink in. People need time to process violence, tragedy, and death in particular. For that reason, I believe the shootings at Virginia Tech were handled well by the media. But why, with hours upon countless hours available for reporting the news, are other incidents not given the same time? Why do we allow time for the people of the U.S. to process and grieve over the passing of its own youngest and brightest, but we do not allow time for the same people to process and grieve over the passing of others'? We all belong to the same world. We are all each other's people. Nations be damned. We're all in this together.
I have feeling of ambivalence about Virginia Tech because I give myself time to process and grieve over every loss. And in the wake of the thousands and millions who I grieve for every day, dealing with the deaths of a few dozen college students (with whom I may have shared a mutual acquaintance) just doesn't take that long, doesn't take that much energy, doesn't make me stop and cry out in pain.
A few years ago, I became hyper sensitized to tragedy. I gained the ability to feel the weight and the pain of millions who I have never met. I did this by going out and exploring the world and discovering that although I cannot always see these people that they are out there, that their lives and decisions impact the world just as much as mine.
After such an intense ordeal and period of growth, I find myself experiencing the flip side of hyper-sensitization: desensitization. But I have not been desensitized by violent films, by violent video games, or by violent news programs. It was the violent world that did it to me. It's happening to you, too.
Friday, April 27, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Some Crazy
For those of you who missed it, this past Thursday was my birthday. (This is your cue to feel guilty.) It was an absolutely fantastic 48 hours of madness. I planned my little celebration for Friday, when I met a bunch of friends at the Harris Grill for beers after work. After a couple hours of free brewskies (thank you JK, Freshman, Nathan, Emme, Anna, Brendan, Texas, and whoever else I am forgetting) Texas took me under her wing and agreed to drive me to Oakland (for more friends and but no more beers).
Between the Grill and the car, I had a mad chocolate craving, so I bought some Whoppers at a convenience store. I used the Whoppers to bribe a yard full of students to let me join their game of Beer Pong (I think I played for 5 seconds, then got distracted and wandered inside). Whoppers are good for making fast friends and soon I was squished on a couch with a half dozen other people watching baseball on a big screen TV.
Texas and I finally got to Oakland around 10:00, I think. Along the way I called a handful of friends. (If you are one of them, you're welcome for the free entertainment.) Several hours and stops later, Brewer drove me back to my flat in Friendship. As she parked her car, an ambulance -- sirens ablare and lights flashing -- pulled up along the curb in front of us. Abruptly, it made a U-turn in the middle of the street and drove away. We got out of the car to hear the yells of a man from across the street. We called out, "Are you okay? Was that ambulance for you?" "No, I'm not okay -- she's having a baby!"
After trying to exchange glances with Brewer in the dark and confirming that my instinct was appropriate, I called back, "We'll drive you to the hospital!" Within minutes, the four of us were on our way back to Oakland to Magee Women's Hospital. Along the way, I learned that this was their second child. Big Sister was 3 years old. Baby would be named Cadence. Mom was named Celeste. Her water had broken several minutes before they had called the ambulance, and her contractions were just a minute or two apart. Both Mom and Dad were pretty panicked (who wouldn't be after being abandoned by an ambulance?!).
We pulled under the big red sign that reads "EMERGENCY" and I ran inside. I frantically explained my desperate need for a wheelchair, and quickly Celeste was wheeled inside. I looked at Brewer. We were alone in the dark, outside a hospital, veins full of adrenaline.
Everything that happened after that was a blur.We got back to my apartment. We ate some Trader Joe's honey nut Os cereal. We talked about traveling and life and who knows what else. Adrenaline is the strangest drug.
A friend of mine, in a moment of wisdom, once said, "NOOOO MOOOOORE BABIEEEEES." I agree. That was some crazy!
Between the Grill and the car, I had a mad chocolate craving, so I bought some Whoppers at a convenience store. I used the Whoppers to bribe a yard full of students to let me join their game of Beer Pong (I think I played for 5 seconds, then got distracted and wandered inside). Whoppers are good for making fast friends and soon I was squished on a couch with a half dozen other people watching baseball on a big screen TV.
Texas and I finally got to Oakland around 10:00, I think. Along the way I called a handful of friends. (If you are one of them, you're welcome for the free entertainment.) Several hours and stops later, Brewer drove me back to my flat in Friendship. As she parked her car, an ambulance -- sirens ablare and lights flashing -- pulled up along the curb in front of us. Abruptly, it made a U-turn in the middle of the street and drove away. We got out of the car to hear the yells of a man from across the street. We called out, "Are you okay? Was that ambulance for you?" "No, I'm not okay -- she's having a baby!"
After trying to exchange glances with Brewer in the dark and confirming that my instinct was appropriate, I called back, "We'll drive you to the hospital!" Within minutes, the four of us were on our way back to Oakland to Magee Women's Hospital. Along the way, I learned that this was their second child. Big Sister was 3 years old. Baby would be named Cadence. Mom was named Celeste. Her water had broken several minutes before they had called the ambulance, and her contractions were just a minute or two apart. Both Mom and Dad were pretty panicked (who wouldn't be after being abandoned by an ambulance?!).
We pulled under the big red sign that reads "EMERGENCY" and I ran inside. I frantically explained my desperate need for a wheelchair, and quickly Celeste was wheeled inside. I looked at Brewer. We were alone in the dark, outside a hospital, veins full of adrenaline.
Everything that happened after that was a blur.We got back to my apartment. We ate some Trader Joe's honey nut Os cereal. We talked about traveling and life and who knows what else. Adrenaline is the strangest drug.
A friend of mine, in a moment of wisdom, once said, "NOOOO MOOOOORE BABIEEEEES." I agree. That was some crazy!
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Humbled
Some days are humbling. It might because something awe-inspiring takes place. Other times the immensity of humanity or life or the world strike chords of humility in my soul. But then there are days that are just filled with reminders that I am simply not as great as I like to think I am, as I want to be. Today was one of those days.
It's not that I fancy myself a failure or fail to appreciate the worth of my being on Earth, it's just that I had a day full of moments that made me think, "I need to work on that," and "I should have done that better," and "I can't believe I've made that mistake 1,723,454,577,563,206,863,723 times without realizing it."
Oh a change of pace will be nice. A new place to live. A new place to work. A new circle of people to try to understand. That will all be so very nice. I'll start over, make an infinite number of new mistakes, and it will all be cool. The petty things that bugged me today will be truly put in their petty little place in history. That is one thing I love about moving forward -- it puts the past in perspective.
But will I have to move to a new continent every time I need a fresh perspective? That could get crazy.
It's not that I fancy myself a failure or fail to appreciate the worth of my being on Earth, it's just that I had a day full of moments that made me think, "I need to work on that," and "I should have done that better," and "I can't believe I've made that mistake 1,723,454,577,563,206,863,723 times without realizing it."
Oh a change of pace will be nice. A new place to live. A new place to work. A new circle of people to try to understand. That will all be so very nice. I'll start over, make an infinite number of new mistakes, and it will all be cool. The petty things that bugged me today will be truly put in their petty little place in history. That is one thing I love about moving forward -- it puts the past in perspective.
But will I have to move to a new continent every time I need a fresh perspective? That could get crazy.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Two Things
1. On Monday night, former NBA star, senator, and presidential candidate Bill Bradley graced the Daily Show's hot new set with his presence. He was personable, idealistic, honest, and down right inspiring. So inspiring, in fact, that I on Tuesday I went right out and bought his new book, The New American Story. It tells the "old" story, that is, the story that the conservatives have been telling the nation since the mid '60. Then Bradley dissects the story, and piece by piece points out the flaws. I'm already a good bit through it. It is great. I recommend it to all of you, regardless of your political views. It's well written, optimistic, and truth seeps from its pages like jelly from the sides of your PB&J.
2. Kurt Vonnegut passed away last night at the age of 84. He was my favorite writer. He still is. RIP -- and I hope his passing serves as a reminder to everyone to reread (or explore for the first time!) Slaughterhouse Five, Breakfast of Champions, Galapagos, Cat's Cradle, or any of his other masterpieces. His writing has done more for me in terms of providing accessible, understandable perspective on war, environmental destruction, and human nature than a half a dozen high school and college history and sociology courses ever could.
In case you're wondering, the literary connection between these two topics was completely accidental. But see, everything is interrelated!
And on that note, why not include one last piece of literary advice? Check out BookMooch, a revolutionary way of sharing and discovering new books. I've been using it for a few months, and every experience I have had has been stellar. It's a great way to get connected with other literature-loving folks, empty out your bookshelves, collect some new titles, or contribute to worthy charities like Books Through Bars, which provides reading material for incarcerated individuals.
2. Kurt Vonnegut passed away last night at the age of 84. He was my favorite writer. He still is. RIP -- and I hope his passing serves as a reminder to everyone to reread (or explore for the first time!) Slaughterhouse Five, Breakfast of Champions, Galapagos, Cat's Cradle, or any of his other masterpieces. His writing has done more for me in terms of providing accessible, understandable perspective on war, environmental destruction, and human nature than a half a dozen high school and college history and sociology courses ever could.
In case you're wondering, the literary connection between these two topics was completely accidental. But see, everything is interrelated!
And on that note, why not include one last piece of literary advice? Check out BookMooch, a revolutionary way of sharing and discovering new books. I've been using it for a few months, and every experience I have had has been stellar. It's a great way to get connected with other literature-loving folks, empty out your bookshelves, collect some new titles, or contribute to worthy charities like Books Through Bars, which provides reading material for incarcerated individuals.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
A Big Move
With little fanfare but much nervousness, today I told everyone at the Union Project that I will be leaving on July 13. And not only that, but I'm leaving Pittsburgh. Yikes.
I've been offered a job teaching English in Tehuacan, Mexico starting August 18. I've also submitted an application to the graduate program at Simon Fraser University's School of International Studies in Vancouver. Today I got offered a place in a volunteer program in Granada, Nicaragua helping to build low-cost homes.
I don't know the details of the Nicaragua thing. I don't know if I will be accepted to the program in Vancouver (or if I am ready to go back to school). I don't know where I will be come September. But I know where I won't be -- the United States. Some other country is gonna get me before the summer ends, just which is yet to be determined.
I'm so ridiculously excited for this summer -- Deep Creek, Cooperstown, Lewes, and some international destination yet to be determined. It's going to be a big transition; saying goodbye to this place I love and the people I share it with will be one of the hardest things I have ever done. But it's time for me to move on. This departure isn't final in any sense. The door is wide open for a return to the Steel City at some point down the road. I will take so much with me when I pack up my Corolla, roll down the windows, and whisk myself through the Squirrel Hill tunnel for the last time in the foreseeable future.
I was going to make a list of the things I will take with me, but there is no way it could ever be complete. What the hell, here's a feeble attempt:
-love for the Steelers
-pride in the invention of the aluminum beer bottle
-appreciation for the damage that can be done by 6 inches of rain in 24 hours
-the ability to navigate an city of curving, hill-kissing streets, none of which bear even a remote resemblance to a grid
-memories of walking more than 30 different miles of city streets
-an obsession with Dave & Andy's ice cream, and the way it can make even a statistics class at the top of a monstrous hill on a hot day seem worth it
-the incapacity to pay more than $1.50 for a beer without feeling cheated
-hope that UPMC and PNC Bank use their ridiculous power responsibly
-a habit of putting french fries on my salads
-a wish that every 4th of July can be spent on the Fort Pitt Bridge, wrapped in the arms of loving friends
-the tendency to speak words like "dahntahn"
-a complete intolerance for anything other than Heinz ketchup
-a belief that Central Oakland really only exists between Forbes and Fifth Ave
-the need to growl whenever the Pitt logo is shown on TV
-the knowledge that SoCo mixed with root beer tastes like bubble gum (Thank you, Brendan. And to answer you question, maybe I don't remember because I was full of Soco and freakin' root beer. My goodness... Steve!)
-absolutely no ability whatsoever to walk through South Oakland without tripping over the sidewalk
-parallel parking expertise
-the keen eye of a yinzer when it comes to finding the silver lining in every season of Pirates baseball
I've been offered a job teaching English in Tehuacan, Mexico starting August 18. I've also submitted an application to the graduate program at Simon Fraser University's School of International Studies in Vancouver. Today I got offered a place in a volunteer program in Granada, Nicaragua helping to build low-cost homes.
I don't know the details of the Nicaragua thing. I don't know if I will be accepted to the program in Vancouver (or if I am ready to go back to school). I don't know where I will be come September. But I know where I won't be -- the United States. Some other country is gonna get me before the summer ends, just which is yet to be determined.
I'm so ridiculously excited for this summer -- Deep Creek, Cooperstown, Lewes, and some international destination yet to be determined. It's going to be a big transition; saying goodbye to this place I love and the people I share it with will be one of the hardest things I have ever done. But it's time for me to move on. This departure isn't final in any sense. The door is wide open for a return to the Steel City at some point down the road. I will take so much with me when I pack up my Corolla, roll down the windows, and whisk myself through the Squirrel Hill tunnel for the last time in the foreseeable future.
I was going to make a list of the things I will take with me, but there is no way it could ever be complete. What the hell, here's a feeble attempt:
-love for the Steelers
-pride in the invention of the aluminum beer bottle
-appreciation for the damage that can be done by 6 inches of rain in 24 hours
-the ability to navigate an city of curving, hill-kissing streets, none of which bear even a remote resemblance to a grid
-memories of walking more than 30 different miles of city streets
-an obsession with Dave & Andy's ice cream, and the way it can make even a statistics class at the top of a monstrous hill on a hot day seem worth it
-the incapacity to pay more than $1.50 for a beer without feeling cheated
-hope that UPMC and PNC Bank use their ridiculous power responsibly
-a habit of putting french fries on my salads
-a wish that every 4th of July can be spent on the Fort Pitt Bridge, wrapped in the arms of loving friends
-the tendency to speak words like "dahntahn"
-a complete intolerance for anything other than Heinz ketchup
-a belief that Central Oakland really only exists between Forbes and Fifth Ave
-the need to growl whenever the Pitt logo is shown on TV
-the knowledge that SoCo mixed with root beer tastes like bubble gum (Thank you, Brendan. And to answer you question, maybe I don't remember because I was full of Soco and freakin' root beer. My goodness... Steve!)
-absolutely no ability whatsoever to walk through South Oakland without tripping over the sidewalk
-parallel parking expertise
-the keen eye of a yinzer when it comes to finding the silver lining in every season of Pirates baseball
Monday, April 9, 2007
The First Post
Welcome to Small Wonder! First and foremost, I want to say that this blog is really more for me than it is for any of you. I've been keeping a journal (with a varying degree of regularity) since I was 7 years old, but given the somewhat nomadic nature of my life, the shortage of trees on the planet, and the sheer weight of dragging all my journals from home to home, I have decided a digital version would really suit me best.
I began journaling electronically a few weeks ago. I simply email myself in my Gmail account. All of my entries are searchable by date or content, easy to find wherever I am, and conveniently paper-free. The sheer joy I have gotten from being able to look back on my writing so easily led to a moment of inspiration. I thought, "Wouldn't it be cool if all my travel writing, public reflections, and random appeals to humanity were consolidated in one place too?" Blogging seemed to be the answer, with the added benefit that I might reach a few more souls and make a couple new friends.
I decided to call my blog "Small Wonder" for three main reasons:
I believe in the whole "if a butterfly flaps it's wings..." theory, and I believe in Six Degrees of Separation. I believe that what I did yesterday affects what I will do today. And more than anything, I believe that what I do today will affect what someone else does tomorrow. While the connections aren't always obvious, they are always there. So good luck finding them in these posts, in your life, in history. And if you don't feel like searching for them, that's okay. I'll point some out from time to time.
So this is it. This is my blog. Welcome all.
I began journaling electronically a few weeks ago. I simply email myself in my Gmail account. All of my entries are searchable by date or content, easy to find wherever I am, and conveniently paper-free. The sheer joy I have gotten from being able to look back on my writing so easily led to a moment of inspiration. I thought, "Wouldn't it be cool if all my travel writing, public reflections, and random appeals to humanity were consolidated in one place too?" Blogging seemed to be the answer, with the added benefit that I might reach a few more souls and make a couple new friends.
I decided to call my blog "Small Wonder" for three main reasons:
- "Small Wonder" is the name of one of my favorite books. A love for nearly everything Barbara Kingsolver is something I seem to have inherited from my mom. This book is composed of a series of essays describing things that inspire wonder in the author.
- The driving source of joy in my life, the majority of moments I recall with fondness, and the excitement I feel when I look to the future are all derived from isolated, inherently simple, tangible entities: a fire red sun set, delicious fudge shared with a friend, a tickle fight, spring's first flowers, a clean warm breeze, a soft blanket placed on sore skin, sweet smelling cocoa butter, a kind act by a stranger, a loving hug... I could go on, but I hope you get the point. These are all small wonders.
- "Small Wonder" is a reference to myself. I'm short (small) and I'm awesome (a wonder to many). Plus, I really try to provide "small wonder" moments, as described above, for the people in my life.
I believe in the whole "if a butterfly flaps it's wings..." theory, and I believe in Six Degrees of Separation. I believe that what I did yesterday affects what I will do today. And more than anything, I believe that what I do today will affect what someone else does tomorrow. While the connections aren't always obvious, they are always there. So good luck finding them in these posts, in your life, in history. And if you don't feel like searching for them, that's okay. I'll point some out from time to time.
So this is it. This is my blog. Welcome all.
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