Category: family

Are We Doing Enough?

rufusdespacito1 Comment

Are we doing enough?

Truly, take a moment to think about this, I’m not rushing you. I really want you to think about it.

Have you ever thought about those in other countries who carry barrels of water up to their communities that are engufled in deep or even extreme poverty?

Or have you ever thought about how some parents wake up at four in the morning, dress in their culturally traditional clothes, and walk miles, barefoot, to try and sell their country’s knick-knacks in the hot, crowded streets just to make enough to put the bare minimum amount of food in their children’s mouths?

 

Photo Credit: borgenproject.org

 

Well, on the trip that I took to Peru last week there were many of these women, these strong women, who dealt with the hardships of living in poverty, working ruthless jobs, and supporting a family most likely larger than yours.

When people think of Peru, what comes to their mind is almost definitely Machu Picchu, this is what came to my mind too, before I was able to experience what it was really like and how much I had gone my whole life without knowing.

Though the culture and history of every single city in that unique country is beyond stunning, and the intelligence of the Incans in incomprehensible, there is so much more to the country than meets the eye.

The levels of poverty in the city make Peru the third poorest country in South America, as poverty consumes up to a fifth of the country that hosts up to almost 32 million people.

Women sell handicrafts on the street, while men leave their families to work in the mines, in order to help support the ones they love. The houses are made out of makeshift materials all leaning up against each other, and the children bake in the hot sun and swim in puddles when the rainy seasons come, without even a pair of rubber boots to help them.

Though many people struggle to live like this, they are okay. They are happy. Their smiles grace their aged faces as they accept you into their community. The meaning of family extends to anyone in the community, and everyone takes care of each other.

 

Photo Credit: peruempireofhiddentreasures.files.wordpress.com

 

The happiness is far greater than that you see in the United States, with spoiled children presenting their parents with scowls signifying them not receiving the gift they had wanted.

These Peruvians live off of barely enough to get by, but they are happy, while we are here wallowing in our own pity with enough money to share.

So I ask myself, “Why are we not helping them and others in the world?” “Why are we not putting more effort into decreasing the levels of poverty throughout the world?”

I ask myself,

“Are we doing enough?”

NYC Memories

maydaygaskarthLeave a comment

Contrasting the small, quaint towns where I’ve grown up in California, New York City was a breath of fresh, exciting air with life awaiting at the end of every corner walked.

My first night in New York was magical. I arrived around 10 at night, and looking out the window I was in awe of all the city lights illuminated in the distance. I couldn’t see all of them yet, but I knew they’d be tall and magical.

The cab ride was no different. With the hood of the roof of the taxi cab rolled back, I felt small as I saw the bright city lights tower over me, skyscraper after skyscraper appeared for the whole hour of driving until we arrived at our Airbnb in Greenwich Village.

At 12:30 we finally headed outside for dinner, and every restaurant was open. At TWELVE THIRTY at night, every restaurant was open, while in Santa Barbara anywhere but a bar is usually closed by 10 pm at the latest. You’re lucky if anything is open in LA.

But New York City is just filled with amazing life and even more amazing food. Every single restaurant I went to had artichokes, and I love artichokes. It’d be a miracle if I found them at a restaurant excluding Sea Fresh and Cheesecake Factory in California.

But that’s just one food item. We ate at a different restaurant every single night. From small vintage American diners playing 2000’s throwbacks to luxurious, high-end Italian restaurants or steakhouses, every place was delicious.

But one place that sticks out in my mind is BlackTap. The small, bar-seated burger place only fit thirteen people. The place had an hour long line, but when we refused to wait and came back a calmer day, we finally understood why the place was so popular. The food was phenomenal, but the true wow factor of the place was their milkshakes.

Photo Credit: thebrunchboys.com

The milkshakes were insane. From cookies supreme to the birthday shake, these shakes towered over the cups they were put in with overdoses of sugar and sweetness. I had a cookies & cream shake which left me in a sugar coma for the rest of the day.

Though most of my memories of NYC occurred in a restaurant, there are so many more that they’d be difficult to count on my fingers and toes, but I’ll name a few.

The Saturday after we arrived, I eagerly ran over to Washington Square Park from the place I was staying to participate in a massive pillow fight on National Pillow Fight Day. Hundreds of people piled into the park with pillows in their hands and grins on their faces in a fight to the “death” in a friendly, but intense, pillow fight. It was one of the purest experiences I ever had the privilege to take part in. Feathers exploded into the air, laughter silenced the playful screams, and pillows were thrown.

I did many more things in New York City. I walked around the city so much that my feet had blisters that hurt to the point that I’m still limping now (it was worth it), I visited three universities and absolutely fell in love with NYU, and I explored every inch of Times Square. However, by far my favorite were the three broadway shows I went to.

First I went to the Book of Mormon. I wasn’t sure what to expect because I didn’t listen to the soundtrack prior to going, but the performance exceeded my expectations. First, it was the most hilarious show I had ever been to. It was completely satirical about the Mormon faith, but it was executed perfectly with amazing acting, and catchy songs that are still stuck in my head. However, the musical is highly offensive so I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone highly religious or offended easily by extreme stereotypes, but it’s definitely worth paying the money to go see.

The day after I went to go see Kinky Boots. The night before I had a midlife crisis because my NYU tour and Kinky Boots show were planned at the same time. I shouldn’t be melodramatic, but when my aunt told me that they’d just go see Kinky Boots without me, I almost died. I had been excited about that show for months, and I had been dying to go see it since Brendon Urie starred in it. Thankfully, we were able to exchange our tickets for the night performance and I was able to experience the magic of Kinky Boots. I had heard nothing but positive reviews, and when I went to the show I left happier than ever. It was original, unique, and just saying, those men walk better in six inch heels than I ever will.

Photo Credit: thegreenspace.org

Completely last minute, my Aunt and I headed into Times Square and snatched last minute seats to The Lion King. Somehow ending up in the seventh row of the center orchestra, I was ready for three hours to experience one of the most iconic shows on Broadway. I was shocked how much effort was put into the show. The costume design was crazy. I didn’t know where to look during the opening number when people dressed head to toe in animal costumes walked down the aisles singing the Circle of Life while walking onto the stage. Everything about all these shows was amazing.

I could go on about my trip in New York for hours, but this is just a glimpse of it, and I am dying to be back there soon.

Homesick

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

I haven’t really been homesick since my fourth grade field trip. But lately, for some reason I can’t make out, I miss my home more than ever.

I miss my mom, and watching her in the kitchen, perfectly slicing vegetables for whatever masterpiece she’d be about to create for dinner.

I miss my dad and his weird ways, and how much more excited he gets about our dog than about us, but that’s okay because I miss our dog, too.

I miss my friends, being able to walk to their houses after dinner and watching Germany’s Next Top Model with their family, sipping way too sweet hot chocolate.

I miss the trees above our house and the lake nearby. I miss the smell of pretzels wafting from the restaurants as I walk my dog past them, trying my best not to let him snatch any food.

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I really miss being able to spend hours and hours in the barn, riding and taking care of my horses, taking them on long trail rides until the sun sets and it gets chilly.

There are many things, however, that I don’t miss. I don’t miss the people I used to go to school with, their constant judgement and disapproval. I don’t miss the ugly, gray parts of Germany, and god, I don’t miss not having air conditioning in the summer.

I guess being homesick is something natural, and in a sense I like how much it connects you to home. But gosh, I wish it would just stop.

Imagine

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

Imagine if you could do anything you wanna do, be anyone you wanna be, go anywhere you wanna go.

Where would you go? What would you do?

You always hear parents saying to their children,”you can do anything you want, you just have to believe in it.” My parents never told me that. I’m glad they didn’t. I wouldn’t have wanted them to lie to me.

credit: dressage-news.com

I can’t do anything I want to, that’s simply not plausible. I’m not brave enough to become an astronaut, that’s for sure. I don’t have the time and endurance to practice enough to become a Grand Prix Dressage rider. I definitely don’t have the voice to become a singer, and I’ll never fit the standards to become a model.

But if I could, if I had all these possibilities, what would I do?

I would do everything I know I can’t do. I’d hike up Mount Everest, because why not? I’d ski the Olympic Super-G, race to the podium just for the heck of it. I’d start a band and travel around the world to perform our music to millions of obsessive fans. I’d create the most beautiful paintings of life and beauty and ugly love, so stunning that they’d immediately be displayed in the Louvre. Honestly, I’d probably successfully bake a cake for once, because I don’t see that happening any time soon with my striking lack of talent.

credit: cpr.org

There are so many things in this world, big and small, that I would love to do or achieve or become in my life, and I know most of those things will never possibly happen. Though I’d obviously love to become a world famous artist, that’s not what I need. Of course we need equal rights for everyone, the same opportunities. But it is good that not all of us have the same talents, the same passions, sometimes it is good that we can’t be anything we want. After all, that makes up our individuality.

Home

whynotstayinLeave a comment

Home is a loose word, I often find my mind and, in turn, my spirit in other places. Sitting wrapped in a blanket I’ll physically be here or there but, in truth, I’ll be far, far away. Henry David Thoreau once wrote, “At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house.” House or home or somewhere in between? A trivial question when one is hunting for a place to rest one’s mind.

Photo Credit: hotelroomsearch.net

My tangible home will always be with my family in our small “faerie home,” surrounded by an unruly garden that seems to compete with the urbanity of the asphalt road and the ever shrinking street light (or perhaps I’m the one growing). Home with its boarding of white and blue, with a hand built white picket fence; home with a stylized and cohesive found object collection inside and hand painted walls of a whimsical forest land further from reality than the closest galaxy. Tangible home will be with my dad’s music blasting well above the sound threshold of his earbuds, shuffling in the Paint-Shack. Tangible home will be with my mom, picking up conversations we never started mid-way through a sentence. A home fit for part of my heart and part of my body.

But my true home, home for my mind, my spirit, the rest of my heart and body, that’s much harder to pin down. I’ve lived too many lives, I’ve walked the halls of Hogwarts and thieved the streets of Ketterdam. I have run through the Overlook Hotel and traveled the world in the Leviathan. I am inclined to call all these places my home despite the threat of horror and danger and pulse-stopping fear. But then again, I am just as inclined to call a solitary cottage at the edge of humanity surrounded by piles and piles of mugs and books my home.

When I was much younger I believed home would be among the pyramids and mummies of Egypt, studying a culture older than I could comprehend, dinosaur hunting while bouncing from continent to continent in search of the next great dinosaur find. Now I find myself lost, filled with wanderlust. Do I return to Ketterdam, Hogwarts, Brakebills? Do I follow the dust and jewels and bones of ancient history? Do I find my library tower with an endless supply of tea, coffee, pastry, and more books than I know what to do with? Do I find my corner of a city and people watch for the rest of my time?

Photo Credit: enlighten.pk

Maybe, what I’m getting at is I won’t find one home, there is no way to make that which is plural singular. I’ll always be hunting for the next city to make my heart beat faster and my lungs dance, the next country, the next world, the next universe. My home will be that glimpse of color disappearing around the corner, just slow enough for me to go skidding into the alley and see it go around the next corner. My home will be a sturdy pair of boots, one hell of a scarf, and a bag with an undetectable extension charm. My home will be that trip around the world finding the best food there is and then traveling to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Home will be that rare dinosaur in the middle of nowhere. Home will be Nefertiti’s tomb. Home will be finding that portal to Fillory, Hogwarts Ketterdam, Le Cirque des Rêves. Home will be the pens and paints I bring with me; home will be the countless notebooks of dreams, adventures, and future worlds.

Home will be the next great adventure. The never ending circular promise: the next place will be the place, the next place will be home. Part of me will always belong to the first home though, my little blue and white cottage in the forest of pavement and cars, but the rest of me? The rest of me is restless. Home will always be one step ahead of me, patiently waiting for me to catch up, always waiting for me to leave a little more of myself on the path.

An Agreement to Disagree

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

I think we can all agree that, for the most part, politics suck.

When I was younger, I think I just sort of fell into agreement with my family’s political views; one, because I didn’t pay any attention to what was happening, and two, because it didn’t matter to me at that point in my life anyway.

Now that I try my best to stay up-to-date with news, I can actually comprehend what it means, and I feel the effects of the things that are going on in the world around me. Now that I can form opinions for myself, they’ve begun to differ from what I grew up with.

For the most part my parents are very open to discussions and they do their best to give me unbiased responses, but some others in my family aren’t so supportive.

I try to stay away from discussing politics with these members of the family, but sometimes things come up unintentionally. For example: tonight at dinner, I began talking about hopes for my future, such as what I want to study and where I want to go to college, possible careers, where I want to travel, etc.

When I mentioned that one day I want to join the Peace Corps they sort of laughed at me. That’s when our conversation took a turn. Instead of discussing my hopes and dreams for my life ahead of me, I was bombarded with questions like, “Why do you want to join the Peace Corps? Why don’t you intern at Wall Street?” and “Don’t you care about money? Well you will once you have to provide for yourself.”

Image via Bubble-Jobs.co.uk

As a result of those responses, I have a message for the family members in question: Since I decided to keep my larger opinions to myself after the dinner incident, here are a few things that I hope you will someday understand.

First and foremost, I am fully aware that for my entire life I have been financially secure and I haven’t had to worry about anything involving money. I know that this is a result of a lifetime of your hard work, and I am incredibly thankful for that.

Although some of our opinions are quite different, I still respect yours; your opinions are valid.

I’m not sorry that my views differ from yours, but I’m sorry that you completely disregard them. It really doesn’t matter to me that you have different values, so long as you don’t tell me that my own are wrong.

While you are probably correct in that a lot of my opinions are somewhat influenced by my peers, that doesn’t mean that I can’t think for myself.

It’s fair for you to be disappointed that I don’t agree with you, but it’s not fair for you to be disappointed in me as a person. The way I vote does not determine who I am, nor does it determine my character.

Half of my relatives just give away their vote and let someone else decide their views for them. Shouldn’t you be happy that I can think for myself? Shouldn’t you be happy that I don’t believe everything I’m told and that I know what is important to me? Shouldn’t you at least be happy that I believe in something?

Please don’t disregard what I say to you. Please don’t blame my opinions on my age. Please don’t brush off my contradictions with “Oh, she’ll come around one of these days.”

Please don’t look at me differently because of what I think. Differences in opinions should be accepted, not criticized. If our minds were all the same, nothing would ever go anywhere.

Diversity, whether it be found in people, in life experience, or in beliefs, is a wonderful thing.

Dearth

localdreamerwithapenLeave a comment

“Fight fire with fire.”

Despite everything that is going on in the US lately, I highly doubt this phrase was ever supposed to refer to gunfire.

There have been over 30 mass shootings in the US since the beginning of 2018. There have been at least 12 school shootings within the past two months. That means, on average, about 1.5 times a week this year children had to literally fear for their life, run, hide, and not make one noise because that could mean their death. Over 20 people have died from school shootings. More than 60 people overall were killed from mass shootings this year. More than 60 souls.

And you still want to convince me that we need guns to protect ourselves? I understand that the second amendment allows Americans to bear arms, and it is in your patriotic pride to protect that right. But until 1865, slavery wasn’t against the law either, and we managed to change that, too. Times change, bad things happen, that’s how we’re supposed to learn.

In 1999 the Columbine shooting happened. We still talk about it, we study it in school, we still send our prayers and wishes to the victims’ families and friends, but god forbid we actually do anything about it, god forbid we learn from our mistakes.

Nineteen years later, no rules have changed, the same tragedy keeps happening, over and over again. February 14th, Valentines day, Florida. 17 people were killed. Prayers were sent. Nothing happened.

Photo Credit: Don Juan Moore/Getty Images

Now, a “brilliant” idea to arm the teachers has come about. Because that makes more sense than not making guns accessible to literally anyone and everyone? “If you want to give a gun to your son or daughter or you want to sell it to your neighbors and friends, there is no background check required,” said Sen. Jon Tester, D-Mont., during the Senate floor debate. Anyone, really anyone, can easily access a deadly weapons these days, and  still, many don’t see the flaws in gun laws.

It would be unreasonable to forbid gun ownership entirely, that’s not my point. But I don’t understand why there are barely any qualifications for purchasing an object that is literally designed to kill. I don’t understand why we have to watch shooting after shooting, watch children fear for their lives when going to school, watch families mourn after their dead brothers and sisters, and still decide to keep everything the way it is, just because that is how it’s always been.

There are many things in this world that I don’t quite understand. But this. I don’t understand a bit of it.

I am Grateful For:

whynotstayinLeave a comment

I feel like I’ve been ungrateful lately and since it’s a new type of New Year here are the things I’m grateful for:

  1. My family, who I am always thankful for but don’t tell them often enough.
  2. My friends, I’m not the easiest person to be around and often stray into absolute boringness. Thank you for putting up with me.
  3. My bed, which serves as home base and happiness the more stress there is.

    Photo Credit: tinyrayofsunshine
  4. My grandma, for showing me how to rally in life.
  5. All the books, self explanatory really.
  6. Nice pens, for making taking notes feel like fun.
  7. Music, self explanatory.
  8. Cheese, for providing me with a diverse array of happiness.
  9. Fuzzy Socks, self explanatory- fuzzy + socks = warm happy feet.
  10. Dear Unknown, for letting me take a load off of my heart and mind, and be selfish.
  11. School, for forcing me to wake up and do something with my time and dig deeper.
  12. The color gray, for being happy, sad, and beautiful.
  13. Snacks and study breaks, which go hand in hand.
  14. The bruises I earned.
  15. The days that I feel productive.
  16. The days that I feel okay with myself.
  17. The days that I feel happy.

There is so much I could put down, but for now this is what I’ll share. There is too much in life that I take for granted, there is too much that I don’t thank you for. So this is my big “thank you” for the things and people in my life that don’t hear it enough.

Thank You.

Pool toe

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment

When we were kids, we spent the entire summer in the pool.

We would bounce around in the water for hours on end, using our feet to push off the sides so many times that we would get blisters on our toes. By the time we got out, pruned and sunburnt, our feet would be bleeding from scraping them on the concrete so much. But we didn’t care. Mom called it pool toe.

I remember how we used to eat breakfast as fast as we could, and then we would play rock-paper-scissors to see who got to jump in first. We swam from morning until night, only pausing for a lunch break of watermelon and pretzels.

Photo credit: Resources2.news.com

Your hands always shriveled up faster than mine did. You used to tell me it meant we were turning into fish, and I was convinced it was true. You also swam faster than I did, but sometimes, if I was lucky, you’d let me win some of our races.

Whenever there was a breeze it would get too cold in the water. To warm up we’d haul ourselves out of the pool and lay with our stomachs down on the concrete deck, like lizards on rocks.

I remember my tangled, sun bleached hair, and the smell of the special shampoo Mom made me use that prevented it from turning green from the chlorine. I remember family commenting on how bloodshot my eyes were, but I wasn’t bothered. I didn’t mind if my eyes were a little bit red and sore, so long as I could avoid the inconvenience of strapping on goggles.

We had changing lights for when we swam at night. I would stand on the diving board, staring down into the water below. The green water meant there were alligators lurking; so I obviously couldn’t jump in, for danger of being eaten. Blue meant sharks, so once again there were some risks. But when the water was pink, it was clear of all man-eating creatures, so it meant I was free to dive in.

When we were kids, we thought days like those would last forever.

I miss it. When we didn’t care if our fingers were shriveled up like prunes, or if our noses were bright red and peeling, or if we had pool toe.

 

 

Distance

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment
Image via Shelovesmagazine.com

All I’ve ever wanted is to be close to you.

I used to think we were, but I also used to think that you told me everything. I thought you trusted me. It wasn’t until recently that I found out I was wrong.

I’ve always been aware of just how different we are but that never mattered to me. I would do just about anything to relate to you. The older I get the more I understand that we are different people.

Your friends are nothing like my friends and for the past four years it seems like you would rather be with them than with me whenever possible. Why do you choose to be close with certain people, why do you try so hard to be like them?

Sometimes I feel like we’re making progress, and then the next day I feel like you’re more distant than ever.

I want you to care about me. I want you to like me. And I know that you do, but you show it so rarely that I almost always forget.

So when you do little things like not inviting me places or blocking me on social media – things that normally wouldn’t bother me coming from people I don’t care about – it feels like betrayal.

Even when you are so unkind and when you act like you don’t care, I always forgive you. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to forgive, but I want you to accept me so badly that I pretend not to be bothered.

Sometimes I think you don’t have very good judgement and it scares me. I worry that you don’t take care of yourself. I worry about you more than you know.

When you let me in it means the world. When you shut me out it makes me feel like I don’t matter. And you don’t even realize it.

Maybe it will be better when we’re older. Maybe I’ll just have to accept that we’re different people, that we have different goals and different views. Maybe I just care more than you do, maybe I shouldn’t care so much.

But I do care. I always will.