Quote of the Week

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"We did not change as we grew older; we just became more clearly ourselves.

 -- Lynn Hall

Quote of the Week

Harvard University: Cambridge, MA

Education does not make us educable.  It is our awareness of being unfinished that makes us educable.

---Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of Freedom 

30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She’s 30

******i'm still in my late 20s, so there's still time ;oP******
***things i've done, have/had, and already know are in bold***

By 30, you should have:

1. One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come. ("Imagine going back to," however, does not mean "am going back to.")

2. A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.

3. Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.

4. A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.

5. A youth you’re content to move beyond.

6. A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.

7. The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.

8. An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.

9. A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.

10. One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.

11. A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.

12. Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.

13. The belief that you deserve it.

14. A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.

15. A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.


By 30, you should know:

1. How to fall in love without losing yourself.

2. How you feel about having kids.

3. How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

4. When to try harder and when to walk away.

5. How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.

6. The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.

7. How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.

8. How to take control of your own birthday.

9. That you can’t change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.

10. That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.

11. What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.

12. That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.

13. Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.

14. Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.

15. Why they say life begins at 30.

Finding Andromache

Leaving the familiar to go into the unknown is as alluring as it is daunting. The thought of my loved ones not being a short train or plane ride away scares the shit out of me. Alone at bed at night, sometimes I am filled with doubt and am convinced I should stay in the U.S. and "settle down". After all, I have opportunities here that a lot of people could only dream about. American Privilege. Sometimes I start to believe other people who say that I am a smart woman who has made a foolish decision to move to Turkey for an indeterminate amount of time for no reason other than answering "a call from deep within". It is an adventure, but an uncertainty nonetheless. 

And yet despite these doubts and looks of disappointment, I cannot give in to fear and doubts. I can no longer continually try to fulfill expectations that people have of how I should be. I cannot fall into the trap of complacency and safety. I need to let go…have and want to let go of these safety nets that weigh down my wings. I need to fall—or at the very least experience the sensations of falling—so that I can pull myself up and fly. I need to live and not just go through the motions of living. I need to live for myself instead of be a vessel for other people to live out their dreams. I have to make my own mistakes and not spend a lifetime trying to avoid making the mistakes that others have…mistakes that have defined them into the people that they are now. This lifetime is short enough to spend it worrying about reliving other people’s past, and it is long enough to spend it defined by regrets.

At times I feel like I’m too old for this “finding myself” bit; after all, I did it for a couple of years after high school. But logically, I know that it cannot be true, for since the dawn of time, people have struggled to find themselves. Some have spent a lifetime doing so. Age is irrelevant, as “self” itself doesn’t truly age. 

The hardest part about trying to live up to legacies is that in so doing, you could easily lose track of who you are. To follow in other people’s footsteps more often than not entails setting aside your wants until you just wake up one day and realize that you don’t know what you want. You’ve felt it for so long that somehow, you now believe that your wants have ceased to matter. 

Who am I without my so-called intelligence? Would I still be me? Would I be less of myself had I been more acquainted with the letter grade C than A? Would I still be the golden (grand)child had I chosen writing over game theory, and creativity over pragmatism? What if I believed in kindness and in humanity more than I do in prestige and profits? 

Maybe at the end of this journey and adventure, I'll come back to where it all began. Maybe I already have whatever it is I'm searching for--whatever I feel is missing in my life but have yet to be able to name. Or maybe, just maybe, whatever I'm looking for is on the other side of the world...waiting to be explored. Perhaps in searching for Hector, I'll end up finding Andromache. 

So I'll keep walking, no matter how hesitant my steps. No matter how many times I falter or fall, I will get up and keep walking. I can feel the sun even as I feel uncertainty. I just gotta keep facing forward. 

My Momma's Eyes

The adage goes, “Behind every successful man is a strong woman.” Seeing as I myself am a woman, I would like to re-word that and say, “Beside every strong woman is an equally strong woman.” Luckily for me, God was being benevolent when He assigned children to mothers the day I was born: He sent me to my mom. 


Like most little girls, I fell for the Disney fairy tale version of love: singing birds, red roses, declarations of undying love whilst sitting on a magic carpet. But in 2001, all that changed when my dad had a cerebral aneurysm that led to a stroke. He was in a permanent vegetative state—much like Teri Schiavo—for almost two years. My mom stayed at the hospital—and later the skilled nursing facility—every single day, from the time visiting hours began until the staff politely yet unyieldingly told her to leave and “get some rest.." Without words, she stripped me of my love-as-a-Disney-fairytale blinders about love and showed me its meaning, its essence: love is the overlooked, small details in life—as simple as brushing bangs from a sweaty forehead—that when added up, create a lifetime of memories that transcend death. My mom loved my dad and saw him, not the bed sores, gaunt face, or the tracheotomy and feeding tubes. In his frail hands that she held in her own, mom felt the strength of a man who was her first date, first kiss, first love, first everything. And because so much of life is created from memories and my dad no longer had them, she whispered a re-written version of the vows she made years ago: “I will love, honour, and cherish you for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, even if death do us part.”

My mom also taught me about worth, and of sacrifice, too. After my dad passed away, we hit a rough patch financially. We were  born into privilege, sheltered, and were always taken care of. But that was then, and mom understood our new reality. My mom went from being a housewife and a mother with a degree in teaching, to a minimum wage worker. She’s intelligent enough and has the education, but unfortunately so many in society judge other people’s abilities superficially. My mom’s accent has been a hindrance in other people seeing past the ethnicity to get to her capabilities.

It’s not just from strangers that my mom had to assert her worth. My mom bore the brunt of insults from my dad’s family, as well as faced ridicule from her own sister, who scoffed at her minimum-wage employment and told her that she shouldn’t reach for the skies by sending me to college. And yet even at the face of this indignity, my mom held her head defiantly and told naysayers, “My daughter has the brains and she can do it. I believe in her. I know her worth.”

“I know her worth.”

I think it’s ironic, actually, because sometimes I wonder if my mom knows just how beautiful and strong she is...how worthy she is. I know it’s difficult for her to remember how we used to be, and to watch other people live out her dreams—teaching. Because of her sacrifice and because her eyes are a daily expression of her faith in me, I am a strong woman who believes that the word “impossible” should only exist in theory, but not reality. I have learned that though society is a collective, it is not an accurate judge of a person’s strength, beauty, or worth. Both can only come from within, and is most truthful when viewed through the lens of love. And wouldn’t you know it? With my mom, I can see crystal clear.

Let's all contribute to grant Sierra Cooper's Christmas wish for her family

21-year-old raises money for her funeral

Her final Christmas wish

Updated: Tuesday, 22 Dec 2009, 11:08 AM EST

Published : Monday, 21 Dec 2009, 6:12 PM EST

* Amanda Jarrett

CLINTON, Ind. (WTHI) - Just days before Christmas, a young woman with muscular dystrophy is planning her own funeral, so she won't leave the burden behind for her family.

Sierra Cooper, 21, has battled muscular dystrophy her entire life, then she received another blow: Being diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. Now, Sierra faces a grim outlook and doctors said she has little time left.

"If it was up to me, she'd have another 30 to 40 years and she'd bury me," Sallie Cooper, Sierra's mother, said. "You're not supposed to bury your child."

Sierra may only have weeks left. This Christmas, her wish isn't under the tree this year. She's asking for donations to help pay for her funeral.

"I love my parents and I don't want them to be struggling when I'm gone," Sierra said.

Sierra isn't eligible for life insurance. Every day is a struggle for the 21-year-old, as she's hooked to a pack of oxygen and medicine. That's why her mother wants to give her the only thing she can: A proper funeral.

"She'll never get a wedding, so I want to do something special for her," Sallie said. "She's been planning her own funeral, so of course I want to give her the funeral she wants."

While she's planning for her final days, Sierra said she's found peace.

"I'm going to be with God and I'm going to be pain-free, no oxygen, no pain pump," Sierra said. "I'm going to be normal for once and be able to do the stuff you guys take for granted."

For now, she's living life one day at a time. Sierra prepares for a final Christmas. She's hoping for help as she leaves her family behind.

If you'd like to help the Cooper family, you can make donations to the Sierra Cooper Benefit Fund at any First Financial Bank location . Contact First Financial Bank at 812-238-6000.

First Financial Bank

PO Box 220

Clinton, IN 47842

Harvard Lecture, free and open to the public

Here's an interesting upcoming lecture sponsored by my alma mater, to be held in January. Entitled Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human, Richard Langham's lecture posits cooking as a significant marker of human evolution.

Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human

When Wed., Jan. 27, 2010, 6 – 7 p.m.

Where: Harvard Museum of Natural History, 26 xford St.

Type of Event: Presentation/Lecture, Science, Social Sciences, Special Events

Organization/Sponsor: Harvard Museum of Natural History

Speaker(s): Richard Wrangham

Cost: Free and open to the public

Lecture and book signing with Richard Wrangham. In his latest book, Harvard biological anthropologist Richard Wrangham puts forth a bold theory — that our Paleolithic homo ancestors tamed fire and began cooking 1.8 million years ago, much earlier than conventionally believed. Wrangham will discuss how the cooking kick started a revolution in human evolution — driving whole scale changes in our physiology, behavior, and cognition that define our species to this very day.




New York Times book review after the cut:

The Twitchin' J-U-N-K-I-E Confessions

Addiction.

Now that is such an interesting word, eh? It reeks of decadent debauchery, drama, and yes, eventual decline and downfall. At least it appears that way if you keep up to date with the Jon Gosselin escapades (as told through the eyes of TMZ.com or Perez Hilton).

Applied to me, however, the word addiction becomes…well, boring. And weird. Definitely Enter the Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits kind of weird. Like Busta Rhymes hanging out with Martha Stewart weird (which DID happen!).

Anyhoo…

I am addicted to books. Mangoes, Moleskine artist journals, fountain pens, shoes, Red Velvet cupcakes, and Earl Grey tea, too…but mostly books.  Books. Literature. Seems innocuous enough, eh?

Ha! Not according to my bank account.

So I (finally) gathered all my receipts, bank statements, and balanced my checkbook from the last  2 years, and as it turns out, I spent roughly  the same amount of money for 'reading for pleasure' books as I did for 3 semesters of required textbooks! 

It could be worse.  I mean, I could be hooked on drugs (and twitch like a ferret and have runny nose and bloodshot eyes) or the bottle (and therefore smell like the love child of St. Paddy’s Day and Red Sox/Pats/Celtics/Bruins Dynastynation after winning The Championship).Or I could be addicted to Botox and Restylane, then have plungers for lips and a face that is as immovable as a 600 lb. sumotori. So my little addiction is harmless, right?  

I say nay, for book addiction can be equally disconcerting. Granted, my arms may not bear the sign of track marks, and my liver may be fresh instead of ashy, BUT I do occasionally hear these voices in my head screaming BUY! BUY! BUY! each and every time I set foot at the Coop, Borders, B & N, Waldenbooks, Harvard Book Store, Schoenhopf’s…And I swear that those tomes on the shelf have puppy dog eyes that just beckon to be bought and taken home. And the scent! Goodness me! Be they fresh-from-the-printers-and-newly-arranged-on-the-bookstore-bookshelves books, or dusty and hidden little buggers on the farthest stacks inside the uni library…they all have this scent that enraptures my senses. Beguiled doesn’t even cover my state of being in the presence of the written word. 

My name is Dorky McBook, and I am an addict. It has been ten minutes since I last read a book.