Unanswered Prayers.

I'm sick. It's been a miserable three days, and I'm still not completely better. I don't think I have ever taken this long to recover from any sickness - besides the ten days I spent in the hospital in 1988, recovering from pneumonia - but that was so long ago it doesn't count.

With so much time on my hands, and the complete lack of ability to do anything with it, I have been thinking a lot. Most recently, my thoughts stumbled upon a song I heard the last time I was driving in the car; Garth Brook's "Unanswered Prayers." In the song, he talks about how he thanks God for unanswered prayers - particularly the prayer he prayed in high school to marry the homecoming queen or whatever.

This got me thinking about how I used to pray to God every night in middle school that he would let me marry Jonathan Taylor Thomas - Home Improvement hottie and pre-teen idol extraordinaire of the mid-90s. I prayed so religiously that I still remember the exact words of my prayer: "Dear God, please let me live a long, long, happy, happy, healthy, healthy life. Please bless mom, dad, Megan and Caitlin, Grandma and Grandpa, everyone else in my family and everyone else in the world who needs help. And please, please, let me marry Jonathan Taylor Thomas. Thank you, Amen."

See, I used to pray "please let me live a happy, healthy, long life," but then I felt that I really needed to emphasize that prayer by saying those three words twice. That's a side note however.

Anyway, I would like to take this time to thank God for not answering my prayer to marry Jonathan Taylor Thomas. For one, he's probably gay at this point or something, and two, he's like 5'4, and three - there are many other reasons. So, thank you God, for unanswered prayers.

Whew, writing that took a lot out of me. I am going to lay down for a bit and try to get the energy to shower for the first time in days. It will probably take an hour nap or so to motivate my will, so here I go. Amen.

Marley and Ollie's Christmas Duet

My mom's goldendoodles sang a duet for us on Christmas Day. It takes about 20 seconds to get going, but then, it's hilarious.

Avatar

Last night I somewhat unwillingly acquiesced the request of seeing the new, ultra-hyped movie Avatar. I definitely had my doubts, but all in all, it wasn't too bad. I would say it was a mixture of Ferngully and Dances with Wolves on steroids. The message was essentially a blend of the two. I mean, the indigenous people were dressed as Native Americans. James Cameron wasn't exactly subtle about the similarities.

We went to the 10:00 movie. So by the time 12:30 rolled around and the movie was still going, I'm not going to lie (again!), I was ready to go to sleep. Perhaps, though, I would have felt differently had it been another time. The special effects in Avatar were nothing short of amazing. I still don't know how they did the scenes where the humans and Avatars were holding each other. And, even though I became a bit bored towards the end, no one else with me felt the same. They all loved it.

Apparently it's playing in 3D at select places. Not going to lie, that sounds like motion sickness waiting to happen. Ugh. Though you would have a pretty sweet experience before throwing up so maybe it would be worth it.

So, my uneducated movie review: pretty good. I wouldn't see it again, but I feel like most people would disagree with me.

What Matters Most

Hello!!! Five more days of school left. That means I am wasting more time online than ever. Perhaps this will benefit others because I am also finding more cool stuff online than ever. Like this ebook I stumbled across. It's cool. It has lots of interesting contributors. It is about answering the question, "What Matters Most."

Back to surfing the net.

America the Beautiful

I just finished watching the most disturbing documentary - disturbing in a good way. It's called America the Beautiful and it's about America's beauty obsession. Some things I learned:

- The FDA doesn't really protect you from unsafe beauty products. It's banned seven ingredients, the EU's administration has banned 450.

- Plastic surgery=scary! So, in 1977, Congress passed a law saying that anyone with an MD could call him/herself a plastic surgeon. Many of the plastic surgeons today, aren't actually board certified and were trained as Obgyns or something. Additionally, most people who die from plastic surgery, don't actually die from the surgery, but from anesthesia.

- Model sizes really aren't normal. Like, really, they aren't. One of the reasons designers want them so skinny, is so they don't waste expensive fabric. A size four, is way cheaper to produce than a size 10 when you're dealing with high-price lace and cashmere.

- Women learn from their mothers. Never insult or complain about your body in front of your daughters.

- America's beauty ideals are seriously messed. We all know this, but now, I really know it. Yet, we're caught in this viscous cycle. Men see beauty ads/porn/whatever, expect women to look like that. Women want to be wanted by men -- not only by men -- but other women, so we spend and do all we can to conform. We get suckered in by those stupid mascara ads that promise to ad worth to our lives by adding length to our lashes.

- In a completely non-egotistical way, my body is great as is. I have recently been lamenting about gaining a few pounds and perhaps a size. But, now, I am asking, why? What's so great about a size two? A size two isn't normal if you're 5'7. I am normal and unique and normal and unique is great. And every woman I know is beautiful so don't get plastic surgery, because after watching this video it's clear if you do, you just might die...(da da duuunnn).

I realize this post got a little cheesy there in the end, but I'm feeling a bit emotional after watching the disturbing ideologies presented on my screen. It's a good film. Everyone should definitely check it out. Until then, don't go on any unhealthy diets. Good advice from me, once again:).

Money, Sex and Happiness

I think my blog's content is going to consist more and more of random things I find online --- since I'm being a lazy writer lately. I read this blog by Penelope Trunk, and the latest post I read was about money and happiness. Apparently, once your basic needs are met, researchers have found that more money does not make you happy. Social relations, on the other hand, are key determinants to happiness. Here I will begin the P. Trunk quote:

"And by social relations, most researchers mean sex – with one, consistent partner. So consider giving your career aspirations a little less weight than you give your aspirations for sex. For those of you who like a tangible goal, David Blanchflower, professor of economics at Dartmouth College says, 'Going from sex once a month to sex once a week creates a big jump in happiness. And then the diminishing returns begin to set in." He adds, to the joy of all who are underemployed, 'It’s true that money impacts which person you marry, but money doesn’t impact the amount of sex you have.'"

Interesting. I am particularly intrigued by the "one, consistent partner" part.

The things you learn.

Back to my book review presentation.

Redeeming Love

My friend who worked at HEAL Africa in Goma, Democratic Republic of Congo just sent me this story. I thought it was heartwarming thus, wanted to post it. Ta da:

This is the picture that gave me most joy today! She is one of our patients from Masisi territory from 2004. I remember finding her one evening in that horrible UNICEF tent you may remember. She had just arrived after walking for days and then riding on a rotten road from Masisi to Goma. She was far from term, with a baby conceived in terror and violence. Not surprisingly, she had gone into labour that evening. She nursed her baby in the incubator for 6 weeks. This is the baby! What else is this but redeeming love?

Ishara Lyn and her mother (Ishara means Miracle).

Darfur Relief Beads

So I haven't been blogging lately because I've been lazy, but I wanted to give Darfur Relief Beads a quick shout out. My roommate showed me these bracelets she bought from Patina. Apparently, the purchase of one bracelet provides two months of education for a child ($13), and the purchase of five can save the life of a malnourished child. So if any of you are looking for stocking stuffers, you might want to check them out. Here they are at Patina:

On an unrelated note, did I mention I'm going to India in January?! Yeah! Look forward to some killer blogging from Spice country.

Ma Salaam.

Poor Grad Student Shares Money Saving Secrets

Though I do have a pretty good tuition deal, as a graduate student, I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. As a result, I make it a point to dig for deals in any and all of my purchases.

Apparently, my reputation for garnering good deals proceeds me. There have been several requests for me to post some of my money-saving tips on my blog (ok, maybe more like one request, but there should have been several:). So if you want to save some money, read up! Here are some of my favorite sites for the thrifty-at-heart.

The best site ever was recently brought to my attention by Anne, my internet informant. Seriously, it's awesome. www.gomusicnow.com is a Russian music site (in English!) that sells entire albums for around $1.50, and single songs for 9 cents. Take that iTunes! I'm not paying $1.29 for a single song. You can pretty much find any album you want on this site. PLUS, albums are released a week earlier on this site than they are in the U.S. The only catch (which is not really a catch) is that you have to put $25 on your account at first. Then, the site acts like a debit card, subtracting from you account as you purchase albums. As soon as songs are downloaded, they go directly to you iTunes player. Anyone who doesn't take advantage of this site is kind of weird.

Speaking of music, another great way to save money on music (without downloading from those illegal sites) is to share music with friends through Dropbox.com. You can just create a folder with a friend, and share music by dropping your mp3s in the dropbox, and downloading ones that were dropped for you.

When it comes to more tangible products, such as makeup, all I can say is ebay, ebay, ebay!!! Seriously people, NEVER pay full price for makeup. Whenever I need something, I head straight for ebay and usually get it for at the very least, 25% retail prices. My latest steal was six pigment eyeshadows from L'oreal, that retail at about $10 each. What did I pay for them? $8 for ALL. Score. Usually, these deals are possible because individuals will sell items on ebay at wholesale prices. Other things I usually nab on that site are lotions, Crest white strips, and just recently a North Face jacket for $70 off. It's sweet.

OK I have to start working on my homework. I don't want to. Go save some money!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNE

That's all. I hope your six-year anniversary of 21 is fun.

Belated Halloween Post: Blackface. Halloween Fail.

It continues to amaze me that people don’t get that dressing up in blackface for Halloween is not okay. Most white people my age, they have never even heard of blackface, so when I suggest that it’s highly offensive, they are often like, “yeah, whatever.

Hey, I didn’t make the rules – and neither did you. You can’t just say it’s not offensive, and then expect no one to be offended by it. Unless you want to go back and chnge historyand I haven’t met anyone with those capabilities yet. It is arrogant to assume that you, a white person, can decide that something doesn’t matter anymore. That’s as arrogant as the white people who decided to play blackface in the first place – because blacks weren't good enough to represent themselves.

Now I know many people just don’t know about the history of blackface. If you don't, Wikipedia it. Wikipedia=the answer to everything. Anyway, I found out about blackface my junior year of high school. We were in a Native American unit in history class, and had to do some group project on Native Americans. I don't remember the point is us doing this, but our group decided to make a video portraying stereotypes of Native Americans. So, some of the guys painted their faces red/brown, and pretended to drink a lot of beer.

I look back and wince. Needless to say, our history teacher was quick to gently point out the inappropriateness of our portrayal --- and the reason behind it.

In conclusion, if you still don't believe me that blackface is offensive, google how many news stories there are about some witless white person donning it on Halloween and creating a ruckus. This year, the ruckus was centered on a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, who decided to be Lil' Wayne. It didn't work out too well for her, as you can imagine.

The end.

Lady Gaga is Crazy

But, highly addictive. My personal gossip columnist/J-school colleague Melissa informed me of Gaga's latest creation this morning, and it was stuck in both of our heads for the rest of the day. Check out her new video and you too, may be strangely fascinated, and singing "bad romance" all day long...

Bad Romance, Lady Gaga

Deep Thoughts on the Next Decade

I feel bad for people who are going to graduate in this upcoming decade. Not because of jobs, or air pollution or whatever, but because it's going to be awkward saying their graduation year.

This enlightening thought popped into my mind as I was crossing the Washington Ave. Bridge this afternoon. I noticed a sign that read "Help welcome the class of 2014." I then realized that this year's graduating class was the class of '10. The class of '10. That sucks. You ask someone when they graduate and they say "ten." Ten what? Ten days, ten months? Just think about saying, "I'm the class of '11." The class of 11. It just doesn't sound right. The number is low enough where it sounds like there are eleven people in your class.

In addition to feeling sorry for the upcoming graduating classes, I began to realize how old I am becoming. Whew! Oh well. To quote Oscar Wilde, "What is youth but an unripe time?" I am much happier now than I ever was in my early twenties. Granted, I'm not actually old yet but whatever... I'm choosing to believe that life gets better with age.

Plus, the class of '05 doesn't sound awkward. Sure, I graduated in a decade that no one could decide what to name (the Ots? 2000s? Tens?), but at least the individual years sound good. That's more than the "teens" decade will be able to say.

A Lesson on Aspberger's

The other day, my ever-so-in-the-know roommate Molly asked if I’d heard of the writer Penelope Trunk. I had not, so I decided to google her, and the search brought up a plethora of results. Apparently, she’s been in the a lot of reputable newspapers, and currently writes a blog called the “Brazen Careerist,” in which she gives career advice--particularly to individuals in their twenties. I was relatively impressed with her writing, and was half-way through her most recent post, when Trunk casually mentioned she had Asperger’s Syndrome.

I was confused. Asperger’s is a mild form of Autism. Usually, people living with Asperger’s lack social skills needed for career success. That was my impression anyway. So, I asked Molly—who happens to be an Autism specialist thanks to her job—how someone with Asperger’s, like Trunk, could be so successful.

Molly’s reply was very educational. Your insight into the realm of autism will double, perhaps even triple, after reading her responses below. Note: This conversation was over gchat. The modern way to socialize.

Autism Gchat Convo. 101.

me: how do you function in society with Aspberger’s? I mean, be successful? That would explain why she broadcast her miscarriage on twitter I suppose

Molly: I have a staff who has it, and yes that would explain it. Autism is weird because you can move from having "severe autism" to Aspberger’s in some cases with the proper interventions. Some kids also start out without having any diagnosis, are developing typically and then begin to lose all language and social skills and are diagnosed with autism, this happened to a client at age 14, regressive autism its called I believe.

Strange, isn’t it? That’s why everyone is so concerned about the epidemic. One in every 150 kids is being diagnosed on the spectrum!

me: Wow that sucks, 14! So this trunk woman, can she function normally then? I mean, if she's successfully giving people advice?

Molly: Well, she's probably gone through a TON of cognitive-behavioral therapy and still does it, probably a lot of things she does seem off to most people, but they probably can't quite put their finger on what it is. For example saying exactly what she thinks.

me: Yeah. I suppose. It's just strange because I always thought you need good social skills to be in a field of career advice and journalism.

Molly: She probably has a really hard times in loud, bright places and needs a lot of breaks, its probably all stuff that is manageable now, but was super difficult to control. People with Aspberger’s usually go through intensive cognitive behavioral therapy and do social skills groups where they learn what is appropriate and what is not. They may understand life as more scripted than you or I, because that's how their minds function. They can for sure do it; they just have to learn it differently than other kids

me: It's more like, live by laws...rather than by relationship…I just subscribed to her blog, it's good.

Molly: Yeah, to some degree, but its not to say that there's no emotion, because there definitely is, it’s just difficult for them to process through it.

me: Perhaps I will have to turn this informative gchat into a blog.

Molly: YES! Success! You should interview me more. I am informative. ...On the ground!

Editor's Note: The "on the ground" references was to a SNL digital short you must google. Now.

Rain Rain Go Away & Halloween Blues

What's going on here? Do I live in Seattle? It's been raining for like, all of October. I don't think I've ever kept my umbrella in my schoolbag before. I just sounded like a second grader when I said schoolbag. Oh well.

Ok, let's transition to Halloween. I have always been really annoyed with Halloween. It takes so much effort to come up with a costume, and I'm forced to once a year. Usually, I just throw something stupid on the day of, but this year, I feel obligated to think out my false persona for once.

How do people come up with good costume ideas? I have no idea. Everything I think of either requires too much money, too much effort, or is really lame. Last year, I was an ex-pat. It was kind of stupid. My friends came up with killer ideas. Four of them were the perfect representation of John and Cindy McCain, and Sarah and Todd Palin. I had a colorful sheet wrapped around me.

Something's gotta give. Perhaps it will this year. I have plans to attack the Salvation Army downtown tomorrow, in hopes to find Halloween costume gold. Wish me luck.

A Seminar For Teaching Assistants...

Hahahaha. I just received an e-mail from the University of MN Center for Teaching and Learning (because I'm a TA), advertising its upcoming seminars.

I'm sure all of you armed with degrees from big schools remember constantly complaining about not being able to understand your math professors. Well, it looks like someone finally listened.

An upcoming teaching seminar for University teachers (as copied from my e-mail):

Fine Tune Your Accent

Mondays, 1-2 p.m.
In this workshop series, international faculty, scholars, and graduate students will uncover the nuances of English pronunciation that matter most for conveying meaning effectively in U.S. academic settings: fluency, emphasis, and tone of voice. Participants will learn and practice research-based speaking strategies to enhance classroom teaching and conference presentations.

* Oct. 26 - Fluency
* Nov. 23 - Emphasis

* Dec. 21 - Tone of Voice

Hahaha, oh this is so funny to me for some reason. I wish my math teacher would have taken this. Maybe then I would have actually understood college algebra. Actually, I highly doubt it.

Happy Hour and Mindball

It's official, I cannot relax to save my life. My uptight norm was proved today during a strenuous game of Mindball at the Bakken Museum (a electricity museum founded by Earl Bakken, creator of Medtronic). Mindball is a fascinating game. You sit across from another person, you both put these headbands on, and then you try to relax. There is a ball in the center that moves with your brainwaves, so, whoever is more stressed draws the ball towards them, and loses. I lost hard core. No competition. My roommate, Molly, however, surprisingly beat numerous people. I had no idea she was so relaxed!!!

The reason we went somewhere as geeky as the Bakken today, is because we wanted to check out its "Bakken Night Out," which happens every second Tuesday of the month. It was sweet actually. We had buy one get one free coupons to get in. Thus, it was $2.50 to go, and once you got in, you got free wine and appetizers, plus free reign of the museum. So we played Mindball and watched a play about Mary Shelly -- the author of Frankenstein. It was pretty interesting. Do you know, Frankenstein is actually the creator of Frankenstein (Victor Von Frankenstein), and who we call Frankenstein today was actually called "The Monster" in the novel.

Who knew?

Only those who have actually read the book --- or those who, like me, go to science museum's for happy hour. Hey, sometimes, you just gotta live a little.

Suburban Revolutionaries. Yuck.

You know what bothers me – well, besides my ridiculously slow and irregular internet? White Americans that get all revolutionary about Palestine. Well, I should say, about giving Palestine its independence.

I have no qualms about Palestinian independence. Believe me. In fact, you might even say that I am an advocate of Palestinian Independence and the good ‘ol two-state solution. However, this does not mean I will wear a PLO (Palestinian Liberation Organization) scarf to Arabic class. Why? Because I grew up in Hastings. I am not Palestinian nor am I part of the PLO. NOR do I really realize what it would be like to be a part of the PLO. So I will not wear the scarf! I will also, not wear a t-shirt that says I (heart) Palestine when my hair is blonde, roots are German and my hometown is Edina.

There’s this girl in my Arabic class, who is, by all means, a very nice girl. She’s been to the Middle East once to study abroad. She’s painfully American. But everyday she wears this PLO scarf to class, and once, she wore the "I heart" t-shirt I was complaining about. I mean, how did she come to be so personally passionate about Palestine? I guess every cause needs its advocates. At least she’s passionate about something.

However.

It is a bit ridiculous. European-Americans passionate about Palestinian Independence could be compared, perhaps somewhat, to suburban teenagers who wear Che Guevera shirts.

Che Guevara? Really? You’re not a revolutionary. You love Target, and if not that then at least iTunes. If socialism were forced upon you, you’d complain about it. So go sit down, take off your Guevara shirt and put on some Hollister.

Really people. OK. End of rant.

Mall of America: Worse than Lady Gaga

Everyday as I stand waiting for the bus, I see a bus pass by with a Mall of America ad plastered to its side. I would just like to take this moment to say that I hate Mall of America ads, because they shamelessly promote unadulterated consumerism worse than Lady Gaga.

The ad I saw today pictured a woman holding a gorgeous purse, and said, "Is that a new purse, or did you just get more interesting?" Horrible! However, that one is nothing compared to the one I saw yesterday, which stated something like, "You can always get better looking." Alluding, of course, to the idea that 1) you should get better looking (duh), and 2) MOA clothing and accessories will make you better looking.

I hate these stupid ads! Especially, since I look at them and think - "oh, sweet, I need that new purse it is so cute. The one I'm carrying sucks!" I am easily swept up into the material world. This is not a positive character trait that I want promoted by Mall of America.

Whew. Okay that's all. I just needed to rant. Because I'm still dreaming of that quilted, black, Coach purse that swept by via a Metro Transit bus this afternoon...

International Right to Know Day

I sometimes write for the local news source, Twin Cities Daily Planet. I just wrote another piece for them about International Right to Know Day. Check it out below:

International Right to Know Day

Thank you for your readership:).

We Got Money. A lot.

So I'm taking this class entitled World Development Problems on Wednesday nights, and on Monday afternoons I'm taking Human Rights Advocacy. Between the two courses, the incredible privilege I live in has really been brought to my attention. I know we've all heard it before, but just sit down and really think about it for a second. I don't care how broke you are right now --- if you're reading this post you are most likely in the top 1/5 richest people in the world. You are wealthy.

I was reading this chart today in my world development class. The chart was on the living styles of the world's three major classes: overclass, middle class, and underclass. Right away, my assumption was, "oh, I'm definitely middle class." Then, I read the descriptions. I've copied them below for your reading pleasure, they are circa 1992:

Global Class: Overclass
Category of consumption overconsumers (1.1 bil)
Income per capita over USD$7,500
Diet meats/packaged foods
Calories consumed too many
Transport private cars
Materials throwaways
Shelter spacious/climatized
Clothing image conscious

Middle:
Category of consumption: moderates (3.3b)
Income per capita: $700-7500
Diet: grain, clean water
Calories consumed: about right
Transport: bicycles/public tranport
Materials: durables
Shelter: modest/ext. family
Clothing: functional

Category of consumption Marginals (1.1)
Income per capita: less than $700
Diet: insufficient grain/ unsafe water
Calories consumed: too few
Transport: foot/donkeys
Materials: local biomass
Shelter: rudimentary
Clothing: secondhand/scraps

So according to this chart, I am swimming in it. You are too. It's just strange, because we are all surrounded by those who have just as much -- so we never think we're rich. We think other people are rich. People with Mercedes and huge homes. We complain about being broke and poor.

Broke and poor? Please. If I'm hungry with no money... well wait, that's never happened to me. It probably never will happen to me. I have my own car, my own room. That's apparently more than four billion + people have on this earth. That's crazy. We are privileged beyond belief. To say that we are broke is an affront to the people who actually are broke. Instead of not being able to buy those Seven jeans, they can't buy their dinner.

Sorry, I don't mean to get all preachy here. I'm just awed by this myself as it all starts to sink in. I'm not sure what to do about it, except for try to give where needed--- to the extent that I'm able. As Spiderman discovers time and time again...with great power comes great responsiblity. I'd like to say that I will be responsible with the privilege I have, by somehow making a dent in the seemingly undentable scales of global inequality. Perhaps I will begin...by curing AIDS. Jk. I'll let you know my mode of operation for using my responsibility as soon as I figure it out.

Keep on Trucking--A TV Series

Sometimes, I wish this blog was anonymous so I could actually talk about all the crazy-weird stuff that goes on in my life, without giving away anyone's secrets or offending anyone.

I just had to say that.

On a side note, my roommate and I recently came up with an idea for a new T.V. series. It will be based on the corporate world of trucking. Characters will include a young HR recruiter, a pregnant lady who smokes, a woman who often gets confused for a man and clips her nails at her desk, several grimy truckers who hit on the young HR recruiter, and maybe we'll throw an ex-con in there for good measure. Stay tuned. You may see it on a major network fairly soon. Especially since the series will be based on the tales of the young HR worker -- who recently got a job with a more reputable institution.

Next time I write in here, I promise to have something substantial to say. Until then -- this is all I got.

I'm Back!! But Journalism, Is Not

Now that school has started up again -- and my face is more often in front of a computer -- I think I may start blogging again as well.

So, I will begin my comeback blog with a rant. Journalism, is in serious trouble and we need to do something about it. Yeah, I get it, everyone knows this, but I'm still frustrated with it. It's just that journalists (pullitzer prize winning ones) are being laid off left and right, research budgets are being cut, and I'm finding typos in the New York Times for crying out loud. All of this wouldn't be so bad, except the implications go far beyond a light, sub-par Sunday newspaper.

The implications are about our freedom. I'm not even being dramatic.

Think about. The health of a democracy is DIRECTLY associated with the health of its free press. In the words of Helen Thomas, journalists are watchdogs of democracy. They dig up information, keep governments, corporations in check. I mean look what happened to Nixon people! If no one is charged with digging up covered secrets --- well then secrets will be kept --- and we all know that government secrecy breeds power. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. (Great phrase - I don't care if you think it's overused.)

We don't want to end up like the USSR people. Or even (although I say this with hesitancy) even Russia -- where 792 journalists have been killed since 1992. That is a lot of people for a developed country. Or any country.

Point is, we need to fix this problem. We need to start paying journalists, paying for a news. It does a whole lot more than make us smarter, and give us random facts to impress our friends with. It maintains our democracy. Not to mention, the disintegration of journalism will leave me without the job I actually want upon graduation. Boo. Now therein lies the real problem...jk.

Support journalism, seek a solution. In the long run - and even in the short run - our freedom depends on it.

Retiring in Chimp Haven

They spend their whole lives eating and playing, don’t save a dime for retirement, and yet they get to spend their later years living lives of leisure in warm climates. No, I’m not talking about Connecticut blue bloods, I’m talking about American Chimpanzees. That’s right, Chimps.

I just finished listening to an episode of This American Life (a lovely Chicago Public Radio production) discussing this phenomenon of chimp retirement homes. I found it relatively crazy. Apparently, there are around 2,600 captive chimps living in America today—kept around for research, entertainment or even companionship purposes. The amount of research chimps in the U.S. skyrocketed with the onset of AIDS. Originally, researchers thought chimps held the keys to understanding the virus. It is now widely known, however, that they definitely do not.

Chimps live quite a long time; the oldest American chimp is around a whopping 75 years old. Yet, their usefulness as performers or scientific guinea pigs only lasts so long. So naturally, they need somewhere to grow old. Enter retirement homes such as Chimp Haven in Shreveport, Louisiana. Chimp Haven is an active living community for retired lab chimps. It can house up to 900 chimps at a time and has a bunch of sweet features. I guess it’s like this $30 million complex. Chimps get to watch T.V., drink banana smoothies and play in the woods for as long as their little hearts are beating.

I’ll bet a lot of human senior citizens would stop playing bridge for a chance to live that good. Chimps live the life – and they only had to work for like, five years. And I thought dogs had it good. Man, was I wrong.

I'm From Minnesota, Land of the Cold Air

Until this past winter, I’ve always thought Minnesota winters were fairly normal. Perhaps a bit colder and longer than elsewhere -- but not by much. Consequently, I assumed residents of other states were simply ignorant or ridiculously wimpy for fearing Minnesota’s annual chill.

I was wrong.

Well, perhaps not on the wimpy part -- but definitely in my assumption of others’ ignorance. Minnesota’s winters are not normal. A two-week visit to the Pacific Northwest last January revealed the harsh reality that winters outside my beloved state are much, much, warmer.

Today, Ann(i)e, my friend with too much Portland pride and not enough for the MPLA, sent me CNN Money’s list of the coldest cities in the nation. Minnesota dominates the list. In fact, thirteen of the top fifteen cities on the list are located in Minnesota. The only other towns to make the cut are Anchorage, AK at #4, and Sheboygan, WI at #11. Hastings, MN – the town that raised me well – is at a solid #7 on the list. How sobering.

Sobering it may be, but the reality of Minnesota’s colder-than-thou climate also gives me more reason to brag. I'm tougher than everyone else. So take that Portland and your tire chains!!! (JK Anne.)

I still have Minnesota pride. I'm from Minnesota, land of the cold air. I stole that line from Atmosphere, so I may as well continue with the theft. To all those who don't like Minnesota: "It sucks that you think where I’m from is wack, but as long as that’s enough to keep you’re a** from coming back!”

Go MN.

Editor's note: quotations are from Atmosphere's homeland-raving jam “Shh." Check it out.

The Heart of the Matter: Forgiveness

Editors note: This was written Monday, and I forgot to post it until now. Oh well.

Last night I went to Upper Room for the first time in a really long time. I knew the church was having a guest speaker who had appeared on PBS – so I was intrigued by what she may have to say. The topic of the evening was forgiveness, and apparently the woman speaking had severely struggled with this topic for a good part of her life – having been abducted, raped and tortured as a teenager.

When I arrived at the service, they introduced the night’s guest speaker as Debbie Morris. Ms. Morris’ story is more widely known than I thought. It turns out her abductor was Robert Willy – the man Sean Penn portrays in Dead Man Walking. The night Debbie was abducted she was 16 and was in her car eating ice cream with her boyfriend Mark. Robert Willy and another guy put a gun to her head, brought them to some undisclosed location, tortured her boyfriend and left him for dead. Debbie was raped and tortured for 30 hours before she persuaded them to let her go. During the time Willy and Co. held her captive, Debbie realized they had been responsible for the murder of 18 year-old Faith Hathaway just a few days earlier. Amazed she had not been murdered like Faith; Debbie rushed back to her family to explain what happened. Miraculously, Mark was found alive – though he was paralyzed on his right side for about six months.

Anyway, so Debbie is a Christian, and at Upper Room, she spoke about her journey of forgiveness. How she had to forgive Robert Willy and his sidekick, and how hard it had been, but yet how freeing it was at the same time. She kept saying how forgiveness wasn’t for him – her perpetrator – but rather it was for her. I thought it was so amazing how God worked to heal a pain as deep as hers. She said that for her to stand up and speak about the situation with no pain was indeed a miracle – and just a testament to how truth and obedience can set you free—even if it seems impossible. She also spoke about Sister Helen – the nun Susan Sarandon portrayed in Dead Man Walking. Debbie said she hated Sister Helen at first, she didn’t understand what they were doing. Finally, she decided that if Sister Helen was indeed doing God’s work, then it would not only be good for Robert Willy, but it would be good for her as well. Debbie called Sister Helen up one night to see if her motivations were indeed pure (motivations for not only guiding Willy, but writing her book about it). She said they had the most wonderful conversation, and they are now dear friends. They even speak together about the situation on occasion.

Point of the above few paragraphs is this: It’s amazing what God can do when we obey him even when it hurts, and even when it seems to go against human rationale. If Debbie hadn’t forgiven her captors, she would still be in their captivity. However, she followed the truth of forgiveness—even though it must have been harder than I can even fathom—and that truth set her free

Summer 2009: I Love My Life

My roommate came home today early, to work from home. It was around 2:00 p.m., and I, as usual these days, was sitting around "twiddling my thumbs," as they called it back in the day. My roommate, Molly, casually asked me what I was up to this afternoon. I replied, "Welp, I'm just waiting for my iPod to charge so I can go for a run - and then I think I might go to happy hour."

She started laughing. "You know," Molly said, "the other day I was talking to my co-worker about your life right now, and how you have it so easy because you're being essentially paid to take a class four hours a day and have nothing else to do."

Apparently, Molly's conversation with her co-worker arose from an e-mail I sent out the other day. "We're all really stressed at work right now," she continued, "so I started laughing when you sent out an e-mail asking if any of us had seen the new 'quick dry nail polish' you had just bought and now couldn't find. If only that were the biggest of my problems."

I started laughing. A lot. Because she's totally right. I have it good right now, thank you God. Molly forgot to tell her co-worker, however, that not only is my Arabic class the only commitment on my agenda this summer, it is also a class I have pretty much already taken and thus necessary study time is minimal. This means that I get to spend a lot of time reading and twiddling my thumbs. And going to Jordan and happy hour. Ah, if only this life could last forever.

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end. Thus, I'm sure when the craziness of school begins in September I will be wistfully longing for summer days gone by. Right now, however, I'm living them. Glory glory hallelujah. Don't worry though, I'm not completely wasting my time. My Arabic is getting pretty dang good. Well, at least when it comes to reading sentences that involve words about family, school or the weather. I'm hoping my abilities will go beyond that by the end of the summer. If they don't, well, with my schedule, I guess I don't have any excuse. Ah.

Ok, back to charging my iPod - my main activity for the day :).

A Revelation, Thanks to Michael Jackson

In these past few days following Michael Jackson’s death, the number of times I’ve heard “Man in the Mirror” has most likely doubled the amount of times I’ve heard it in my entire life. Despite the song’s overwhelming repetition, I’ve not grown tired of being pressed to “make that change,” again... and again. In fact, after hearing it on the radio, I’ve often purposely pressed play on iTunes for just one more listen. I'm even discovering live renditions of the song I've never seen before – such as MJ’s live performance at the 1988 Grammies. A performance TIME magazine calls “the best use of a Gospel choir in a pop song…ever.” I would agree. Jackson bears his soul and inspires awe in that "Man in the Mirror" performance. It's pretty much unforgetable.

Although “Man in the Mirror,” along with other MJ songs and performances, have been inspiring me since Thursday - Michael Jackson’s memory has also left me dismally uninspired. Reflecting on his life with the help of multi-media memoirs, I've come to realize the world of pop music has miserably fallen since the days MJ graced the stage. Today’s mainstream pop is completely void of musical/performance greatness. We have no one close to Michael Jackson to entertain us, no one close to the great performers of the past who wowed and inspired audiences in every sense of the word.

Though I was too young to remember Jackson’s musical feats live– as a child I remember being in wowed by amazing stars of the 90s – as much as I was just wowed by MJ’s 1988 onstage magic. Stars like Mariah Carey (who, although she came back, is definitely not as great as she used to be), who left me in tears after singing “One Sweet Day,” with Boys II Men at the Grammies in 1996. Both artists helped write the song, and performed it was passion and grace. Even the Britney of ten years ago outperforms any pop starlet of today – despite her lip-syncing tendencies (see “…Baby One More Time” performance at 1999 Grammies).

Yes, evolution is a fallacy my friend, at least when it comes to pop music. After greats like Mariah, Whitney and, of course MJ, what do we get at current Grammies? We get people like Rhianna (although I do like her, and she couldn’t make this year’s ceremonies due to her loser ex-bf’s anger management problems), who lip sync a song someone else wrote and have no great moves to make such fakery worth it. In fact, Rhianna’s songs sample ones Michael Jackson wrote, way back in the day! (See “Please Don’t Stop the Music”). SAD.

Cookie cutter pop stars that can’t put on a show dominate mainstream melodies du jour. To be fair, there is some true talent out there – like Taylor Swift – but she only has great songwriting skills, not the whole singing/dancing/writing/awesomeness package. The only contemporary star to come close to MJ’s greatness is Justin Timberlake—and as much as I love him, his songs still have nothing on MJ.

I want to see talent. I want to see a performance so amazing that it makes me stand in awe of God’s ability to create such talent. I want that 80s/90s greatness back! I want music like MJ’s to replace superficial, manufactured songs currently congesting Top 40 airwaves. Perhaps listeners should demand more than tunes violating our ears with lyrics like “do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips.” We are settling for raucous noise when we could have inspiring melodies. There’s got to be talent out there today – right?

I’m clinging to the hope that there is. Perhaps the passing of the King of Pop will wake the music industry up a bit as well, and we’ll start seeing performers with actual skill. I have a dream. We need to heal the world of pop, and make it a better place – for you, and for me, and the entire human race.

Just like a certain Jackson did with his music back in the day. R.I.P MJ.

Biking: Not for the Faint of Heart

Franklin Avenue and I spent way too much time together today. It was quite the annoying adventure - thanks to my bike's inability to function. Leading up to this adventure was my decision to bike to Arabic class. Today marked the first day of my four hours a day, four days a week intensive battle with the language. I thought a little exercise in the morning would stimulate my mind to meet this looming challenge. So I dragged my hand-me-down cycle from the basement, strapped on my aqua blue helmet and began pedaling to my day's destiny via the Greenway.

About half way through my ride, however, I noticed how difficult this bike trip had become for me. It was taking ridiculously long, and I was sweating and breathing far too heavily than any casual biker should. "I must be ridiculously out of shape," I thought. "Biking to school is way too much work. This was a bad idea. Tomorrow, I'm buying a parking pass." A few meters later I was barely closer to my destination and even more frustrated with the difficulty of my task at hand. It was then I recalled the words of my roommate the night before. "You better check the tires before you go tomorrow morning," she said. "A lot of times they'll deflate over the winter."

I look down. Sure enough, the back tire was like a pancake when it hit the pavement. Dangit. I gave it a few more spins and decided to get off the bike before breaking it further. I walked my bike the remainder of the distance to school - and by sheer blessing was only 20 minutes late to my first day of class.

Class was a bit boring. If there's one part of Arabic I know - it's the alphabet. Or, the Alif Baa - as it's called in Arabic. You'd think that I would have used my time in a boring class to come up with ideas as to how I was going to get home. Especially since I had no cash and no phone. Yes, you would think. However, apparently I had better things to woolgather about, and thus strategies for getting home weren't pondered until the proverbial bell rang.

I don't think well in crisis situations. These are things I could have done. I could have gotten cash, hopped on a bus, strapping my bike up in front. I could have taken my bike to the bike shop across the street from. With all these great options before me, what do I decide to do? Walk my bike home. Yes, from the West Bank to Uptown. Dumb.

It took me about three blocks to realize Uptown was a lot further than I thought, and that bikes with flat tires don't exactly roll light-heartedly as they are pushed down the street. I locked my bike up at the nearest rack I could find - which happened to be on Franklin Avenue, and decided to try my luck on foot sans bicycle. I knew the distance was long, but it was a nice day, and at least I'd gotten rid of my dead weight.

You would think that after eight years of living in the city, I would know my way around Minneapolis. Let me just say that I was perturbingly surprised when six blocks after ditching my bike, I discovered I had been walking in the OPPOSITE direction of my intended destination; home. I managed to trudge down East Franklin for SIX blocks before discovering this mistake. How? Sweaty and mad, I paused to reflect upon my options. I had no phone, no cash, no bus pass. However, I did have my cash card - thank God. After walking a few blocks in the right direction. I decided there was no way in hell I was walking the million or so blocks back to my place. My galavant, green efforts had failed me. So I walked into the Holiday Station across the street, took out cash, bought some pretzels to get change and charged towards the nearest bus stop. I hate the number two bus, it's the slowest line in the world, I'm sure of it. Yet, it seemed a far better option than walking at that point. So I hopped on it and 25 minutes of Franklin Avenue travel later, I was a mere two blocks from home. I made it.

Things I have learned from today's "adventure," include: Always check your bike tires, think of your options before attempting your task, and, buy a summer parking pass.

My bike's still locked up to that rack on Franklin Avenue. I've already considered how to get that home though. I'm going to go get it right now and shove it into my car. Then, it's going straight to Re-Cycle across the street for a new tire. Not that I plan on using it tomorrow, but still - should the moment arise when I need it - I'd like to have its use as an option.

Jordanian Fame, Courtesy of the Jordan Times

I didn't get the chance to mention that our journalistic envoy to the Middle East was famed in the Jordan Times on the second day of our visit. That's right, we made the Jordan Times - Amman's largest daily newspaper. The first day of our visit we made the paper as well, however, we actually got a picture the next day. Woohoo.
I can only read part of this headline - the part that says "American Journalists," but that's all I need to know really. We were featured in a story discussing our trip, specifically our meeting with the Prime Ministry's spokesperson - which is pictured in the paper. You can see the back of my curly head, second person on the left. I am famous.

I feel the strong urge to start singing "King of New York," from Newsies right now, but I feel that only about a 1/3 of my loyal readers (so... three people) will understand my reasons for reciting the song. So, I will refrain.
Well, that's all the exciting news I have at the moment. More info on Jordan will surely be posted in the days to come. Until then, I am back in the U.S. of A., safe and sound. I forgot to mention that I received a scholarship to study Arabic this summer at the U, so keep checking back for more thorough translations of this newspaper story. I may be able to read it by the end of the summer. Salaam!

Chopping Tabbouleh with Brazilian Soap Stars

The thing I like most about traveling is the randomness of it all. You know, finding yourself in strange situations that lead you to inquire, “How is this my life?” Thursday night definitely qualified as one of travel’s strange incidences, as I found myself cooking dinner in the Middle East with Brazilian supermodels. I’m not even kidding.

After hiking through the seriously breathtaking hidden city of Petra, our group headed out to the Petra Kitchen for dinner. Petra Kitchen is a restaurant that gives you the chance to cook Middle Eastern cuisine, and subsequently enjoy the fruit of your culinary efforts. I made tabbouleh, a popular Middle Eastern salad that seems to be consumed at all Jordanian meals. Although it’s relatively tasty, I’m glad to be back in America and exchange it for Chipotle for a while….

Anyway, at the Petra Kitchen, you cook in groups, each group making a different part of the meal. Besides our group, one other group was scheduled to help out with dinner that night—and they were annoyingly late.

We waited for more than an hour after chopping and dicing our part, for the other group to show up. I kept myself busy by sampling Jordanian red wine, but was getting hungrier by the minute. Finally, the group showed up. They were equipped with cameras, lights and really good-looking people. One woman with the group came up to apologize for their lateness, and I began inquiring about their presence in Jordan. They were Brazilians; here to shoot a soap opera in Petra, and tonight they were filming a little “things to do in Jordan,” promo with the soap stars. Apparently, the three really good-looking people talking on camera were big stars in Brazil – actors and supermodels. To us however, they were simply really tardy dinner-mates. Eating dinner with supermodels makes a good story though, plus, I didn’t really mind their lateness because the restaurant gave us a free drink as an apology.

An additional plus is they interviewed one member of our group, and filmed the rest of us in the background. So, if you happen to be in Brazil and find yourself viewing some soap opera named “Viver la Vida (hmm…sounds close to a popular song I know…) with an actor named Thiago cooking up a mad lamb/rice storm; look for a few American faces in the background. From what I heard of the soap opera’s plot, it seems like we may be the most exciting part of the show.

The Promised Land

Today I saw the Promised Land. And no, I’m not talking about Minneapolis, Minn., although that comes in a close second. I’m talking about the Biblical Promised Land — the one Moses led his people too but never actually got to enter himself. Mt. Nebo is located about a half-hour outside of Amman, Jordan. It’s the mountain from which God showed Moses the Promised Land, and where Moses subsequently died. We visited the mountain today and were able to see the breathtaking view of the Promised Land. Back in the day, the land was very green – the land of milk and honey says the Bible. Today however, it’s dried up quite a bit, but is still amazingly beautiful. Looking out atop Mt. Nebo, I could see the Dead Sea, specks of Jerusalem, and the ancient city of Jericho resting on the golden valley that stretched before me. It was amazing. There is an ancient church atop Mt. Nebo as well, which is currently undergoing renovation.

Mt. Nebo is located in Madaba, Jordan’s city of mosaics. There are beautiful mosaics found in the church located atop Mt. Nebo, and in a 6th Century church located at the bottom. The mosaic in St. George’s – the church below the mountain – dates back to the 500s and depicts an ancient map of the Holy Land. It’s crazy to think of how long these lands have been around. Even back in the 500s, the map shows the city of Gaza and Jerusalem, both still standing today (although sadly, we all know Gaza is not in such good shape). We get to learn so much cool stuff about the sites we see, and the lands we pass because the embassy hired a really good guide who has been traveling with us and explaining a lot of history and culture the entire time.

Right now I’m in our trusty van heading to Petra, where we’ll be staying for a couple of days. It’s so funny, I feel like I’m in one of those made-for-TV Jesus videos, or the Bible videos they used to show you in Sunday school. The land looks just like the scenes in those programs; the rocks, the fig trees, the olive trees, the deserts – not to mention the sheep and the camels roaming randomly throughout. The gas stations and coke signs everywhere don’t really fit in however, neither do the King Abdullah pictures that pop up randomly by the roadside. Oh well, close enough.

So like I said we’re heading to Petra. Petra is three hours away from Amman in the south of Jordan. If you haven’t heard of it, google it right now. It’s amazing. It’s an ancient city carved into the side of cliffs – and it was lost for more than a thousand years before being discovered in the 1800s. It’s probably Jordan’s biggest tourist attraction. I am pumped to see it. Today started the laid-back portion of our trip. No more meetings with important people. I’m really excited about that because even though the meetings are interested, I really don’t think I can handle anymore. This morning, before we left, we met with a Greek Orthodox priest to talk about interfaith initiatives in Jordan and Christianity. He heads an interfaith organization, and it was really encouraging to hear from him. People over here consider America to be a Christian nation – thus they believe that everyone in America is Christian. That is so far from the truth. So I asked him if American media or policies tainted Arabs perception of Christianity. I mean, Madonna dancing half naked in front of a crucifix could very easily give people the wrong idea. He got excited and said, “Yes! You Americans make it so hard for me! I have to tell people that’s not Christianity!” I laughed at his reaction, even though it’s somewhat sad. He went on to say that slowly however, people in the Arab world are beginning to realize not all Americans represent Christianity. Godspeed that process.

One more thing before I end another long post. Everyone over here is obsessed with Obama’s speech in Cairo June 4th. It’s a really big deal, and its impact will be huge – either in a negative or positive way— so watch the speech if you get a chance. It’s important to be in the know, America, more than ever, is not isolated. One thing I’ve realized during my brief visit to the Middle East is that what happens in this far away land impacts American communities more than we really know.

Day Two: Flutes, Lamb and Government Officials

Today was packed. I’m exhausted. There’s no way I could capture everything I experienced/learned today in one post – but for my pleasure I’ll provide a summary.

Morning: Bringin’ it to the Prime Ministry
The day began with a 9:30 a.m. meeting at Jordan’s Prime Ministry with the country’s official government spokesperson. This was probably the most interesting meeting of the day. The spokesperson, Dr. Nabil Al Sharif gave us an overview of current issues facing Jordan today, and initiatives the country is currently prioritizing. We then had the opportunity to ask questions. A major focus of both our discussion was the Palestinian/Israeli peace plan. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to directly ask questions to a government spokesperson regarding Hamas and Gaza and the whole Palestinian plight in general. I’ve only thus far been able to read responses in the news. Anyway – too much info to talk more about that subject. We also discussed Palestinian and Iraqi refugees living in Jordan. Jordan’s been great about taking in refugees. I found a couple of things about this discussion interesting.

First, apparently Jordan does not call Iraqis “refugees,” because of the implication of that word. They are labeled “guests,” as they are expected to be returning somewhat soon. Second, Palestinian refugees here are given full citizenship. They are given Jordanian passports, access to the country’s health care benefits and public education. Additionally, there are not really Palestinian refugee “camps,” per say. Rather, the Palestinians live in particular settlements throughout the city. This is really unusual, particularly the fact that Palestinian refugees are given full citizenship. That never happens.

News: Amman Style
Enough about the PM, this is going to get too long. After the ministry we visited a local newspaper – Al Dustour. The assistant editor-in-chief discussed media in Jordan, and issues such as freedom of the press, etc… It was a great meeting, although I wish I could have asked more questions because I found some of their stances on things hypocritical. For instance, they said you know, they wouldn’t publish things like demeaning their prophet, or Christ – anything that would incite religious violence. However, I feel like I’ve seen plenty of things in the Arab press that seem less than loving and objective towards Jews. I don’t know though, I guess I’d need to talk to them more before making a judgment.

Lamb and More Lamb
From Al Dustour we went to lunch at another ridiculous restaurant. Our guide says, “Jordanians eat with their eyes.” He’s not kidding. The display of food here is eye candy. It’s beautiful. We had hummus and lamb and chicken and pitas and lots of stuff I forgot the name of. Yum. I think in the following week, I will eat more lamb than I have eaten, or will eat, in my entire life.

Roman Ruins and Dead Sea Scrolls
When we had stuffed ourselves yet again (I didn’t even mention the amazing breakfast), we piled back into our convenient van and drove up to the Citadel in Amman. The Citadel is an ancient Roman ruin overlooking a gorgeous view of Amman – a city made almost entirely of ivory limestone. Next to the Citadel was an archeology museum, which housed some of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Crazy.

Jet-lagged Diplomacy
By the afternoon, I was being seriously weighed down by jet lag. There was no time to rest though, for we had a meeting scheduled at the U.S. embassy here in Amman. We met with the U.S. Ambassador to Jordan Stephen Beecroft. Though he was really interesting, I had to fight to keep from rudely yawning mid-meetings. It had been a long day. You know, a typical day in my life, no big deal (yes, that was obviously sarcastic). The ambassador was the third person and final person we met with today - a good end to a series of unique meetings.

Obama, and Other Funny Tales:
Two particularly funny things happened today. At the Roman Citadel, some Arab visitors spotted us Americans roaming about and got really exicted. I believe they were Palestinians because they asked if I knew Abbas (Fatah’s president). When the spotted us, they came running up yelling, “Obama, Obama!” I gave them a fist-pump in the air while laughing. Then, they gathered around us and had us take a picture with them. Ha! The only one who wouldn’t was a woman with them and one of their sons – who at age eight was ridiculously embarrassed of his parents. His father, however, was ridiculously proud of him. He kept telling his son to come talk to us, while at the same time, telling us about his son. “My son, he is in American international school! Please talk to him so he can practice. His textbook was made in 2003, in California!” What? Ha. The man continued, “He gets good marks, (to his son), come over here!” I spoke to his son in English, “you get good grades?” I asked. Embarrassed he was like, “yeah….” And trekked forward with his head down. Poor guy. Hilarious dad.

Funny incident number two was receiving a free flute today after dinner. We went to this restaurant Kan Zaman, which means “Once Upon a Time,” for dinner, and went to some surrounding shops after. One of the men running the shops gave me a free wood flute because he said I “had the most beautiful smile.” I feel bad, he disappeared and I went to the bathroom and didn’t thank him. Oh well, at least I have a free wooden flute from Amman… I’ve always wanted one of those. Ha. It was a nice gesture.

Oh, another thing – I’ve never seen so many pictures of a leader in my life. The people here love their king. There are pictures of him up everywhere and the government installs pretty much none of them. Private citizens pay to put King Abdullah on billboards. Funny.

The End. Finally
Welp, it may be 4:00 p.m. in MN, but it’s 11:00 p.m. here and tomorrow is another jam-packed today. Sleep is intensely calling my name. Ciao.

Day One: Arab Luxury

I may have taken a year of Arabic, but as I arrive in Jordan, one thing is now clear: I do not know a lick of that language. I seriously cannot understand an Arabic word out of people’s mouths here and it’s super disappointing. I can read like, three or four written words on the signs, but other than that I may as well be illiterate. A year of flashcards for nothing!!! Thankfully, everyone speaks English here – for the most part – and most signs are written in Arabic and English. The proliferation of English in the world is both a privilege and a handicap, in my opinion anyway. While it’s nice to be able to get around on one language globally, it also prevents native English speakers from ever really learning another language. Consequently, most Americans are hopelessly monolingual – while our friends in other nations have two, three languages under their belts.

Anyway, after waking up and eating breakfast on the flight to Amman, we touched down in the country, and walked outside to see that it was evening. That was a strange time-lapse experience. Even though I’ve only been up for like, five hours, I’m still exhausted. So far, we are getting the royal treatment. I feel extrememly unqualified to be here. You should see the hotel room I’m writing in right now. I get an entire room to my self at the Royal Jordanian Hotel – one of the nicest hotels I’ve ever stayed at, hands down. I was fairly taken aback by the amount of security we had to go through upon arriving at the hotel; metal detectors, baggage scan, just like an airport. I thought it was pretty strange – considering Amman’s not even that dangerous. I mean, can you imagine having to go through a metal detector before entering a U.S. Hilton? No.

As I swung through my hotel’s bold glass doors, I caught a glimpse of the Hyatt looming next door. The Hyatt triggered my memory, and suddenly, the security made sense. Back in 2005, terrorists attacked three hotels here in Jordan – including the Hyatt across the street. Around 50 (I think) people were killed. The Jordanians called the incident “their Sept. 11.” Undoubtedly, intense security procedures at Amman hotels are a direct response to the 2005 bombings; the hoteliers here aren’t just baselessly paranoid. I’m happy their security procedures are preventing another such attack from taking place while I’m in the country. Terrorists: don’t mess with me.

After I freshened up in my (awesome) hotel room, we went down to eat at this ridiculous buffet. Lots of stuff I had never seen before – most of it really good. I only choked once after consuming this beef-like food and mentioning that it was good. “What is this?” I asked, “Oh,” replied one of trip-mates, “that’s liver or kidney I believe.” All of a sudden, it did not taste so good anymore. I pushed it aside and went for the tiramisu.

Ok, time for bed on day one, or two, I don’t know my timing is messed. I gotta get up early to go meet Jordan’s foreign minister at its prime ministry five minutes down the road. Until later, masalaama.

Arabian Nights

I leave for Jordan in two days. I am SO excited you have no idea. I'm going to Jordan on this "Sixty Years of Friendship Press Trip" sponsored by the Jordanian embassy here in the U.S. It's kind of like a public relations stint; the embassy wants U.S. journalists writing about Jordan so Americans don't continue to think it's full of Jihadist bombers, etc... There are ten of us going - six are undergrad kids - but the other four are adults so that's good. We are totally getting the royal tour - the itinerary for the trip is amazing! I will share a few highlights from the trip, out of my own personal excitement:

Day 2: 10:00 AM Meeting with Government Spokesperson

11:30 AM Meeting with Editorial Board with Ad Dustour Newspaper

Afternoon Tour of the city of Amman, with a trip to the Citadel and the Archeology Museum, which houses some of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

Dinner will be at Kan Zaman restaurant perched on a hilltop in the outskirts of Amman. Be entertained by talented musicians and singers and enjoy the best “hubbly-bubbly” water pipes in the city! After dinner, visit the artisans at work on the grounds of the restaurant. Painters, silversmith, wood carvers, carpet weavers, sand bottle makers and potters are all there to show off their craft to you.

Day 6: Mount Nebo, Where Moses Saw the Promised Land. Sixty years of excavation on the hilltop of Mount Nebo, where Moses viewed the Promised Land and is said to be buried, revealed a basilica church and one of the most magnificent mosaic floors in the world. From the platform in front of the church, you will have an inspiring, breath-taking view across the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea to the rooftops of Jerusalem and Bethlehem. You will see what Moses saw and what Pope John Paul II saw most recently: The Promised Land!

Day 7: Petra. This is the day that you will never forget. As you thread your way between the cliff walls that soar to 650 feet on your way through the narrow gorge to the Treasury, you will pass inscriptions in ancient languages and rock-cut chambers carved into the whorls of sandstone. Indiana Jones in “The Last Crusade” charged through this desert gorge to the Treasury in search of the Holy Grail. Jordan abounds in archeological riches, but few sites in the world can rival the Nabataean city of Petra, carved out of these rose-red rock cliffs!

And this is just some of my itinerary. Plus the biggest bonus: they pay for everything (well, minus alcohol - but that's to be expected:). I can't even think about it because I have two more days before I get to go. I should start packing. I will do that now - time to get ready for some Arabian nights...

Harper is Famous

I was already extremely impressed when my friend Harper showed me the e-mail correspondence taking place between her and Nick Kristhof - the awesomest New York Times columnist ever. I don't even care that awesomest is not a word. So I kind of flipped out when she alerted me to the cover of his new book - which will be hitting shelves everywhere in September. Take a peek:
Yep. She's on the cover. Third row, second from the left. The only white girl who made the cover:). I have a famous friend. This is very exciting. I don't know a lot of famous people. Harper I expect you to bring me to your first red-carpet event. Your boyfriend is in Congo he probably won't be able to make it. I will be a great replacement.

If you want a closer look at the book search for it on Amazon. Ok that's all for now. Peace.

Back At It!

Ah. I am thoroughly enjoying the sweet ease of summer. Everyday this week, I have awoken at 11:00 a.m. and thought, "What shall I do today? The world is my oyster." Or, something along those lines.

My answer to this mid-morning question differed a bit each day. Yesterday, I began thoroughly cleaning my room (although it still doesn't look great), and took a nice long run that left me with unbelievably sore legs. Then I drank wine on the porch with friends. Today, I took a good non-academic book and headed over to Spyhouse to read and drink iced lattes in the sun. Divine I tell you, divine.

Also today I've dabbled in a new business that may flourish this summer:). Selling old books on ebay. Ha. I've listed like ten books for $3 hoping to get someone who, for some odd reason, wants to read them. I am thinking of naming my store, "Great Books." Original, no? Really, it should be named "Sucky Books I Don't Want to Read," because I'm keeping all the good books. No one has bought my books yet and it's been an hour. This is not looking good. Anyone want to read, "Listening In, a History of Radio?" Come on, it's a goodie. Only three bucks plus shipping!

Random note, but today at SpyHouse, the lady next to me was giving her friend instructions on how to see the colours of auras. Weird. Ok I'm going to scavenge the web looking for regional estate sales - I figure I can find some more good stuff there to sell on ebay. I am quite the electronic enterpreneur.

Crazy

How am I twenty-six? It seems so surreal.

Where does time go? This is so weird. 25 was so.... ideal.

Perhaps though, 26 will be too.

Here's to Good Friends Who Get You Through Catatonic States

I am lucky to have a really great roommate to get me through/put up with me in this brief dysfunctional time of my life. Living with me at the moment, is probably comparable to being a caregiver at one of those group homes. I am super out of it and unusually emotional. This may or may not be due to the impossible amount of work that must get done by the end of this week. I am going to go with it may.

So, my roommate Amy has done a really good job taking care of me and making sure I don’t you know, drop a few developmental levels. During the past few days, I've either neglected the arduous task of eating, or have subsisted on the animal crackers currently next to me in a bucket on the floor. Last night, I had what one could call a slight emotional breakdown—catalyzed by the 9:00 hour approaching on the clock of doom, and the realization I was nowhere near done with my paper. It would be another all-nighter. And after that, I would still have two more papers to go. The tears began to flow.

Feeling bad for me in such a helpless state, and knowing I would probably not think of eating, Amy made me breakfast the next morning. Yeah! I actually didn’t eat it until 4:00 p.m. today because I was busy (yes after it’d been sitting out all day), but it served the purpose of dinner. Right now, I am so annoyed with hunger. I don’t have time or money to eat. It really bothers me that we are physically required to eat. It is a pain in the you-know-what to have to eat during times like these.

Anyway, back to my roommate. So then, after providing me with sustenance, and knowing I would most likely be finishing my paper up until the last second like usual, she offered to drive me to school. Every minute counts my friends, every minute counts. It was awesome. I think I got like, five more accurate footnotes in because of the ride. As I was leaving, she also saved me from going catatonic in frustration of my ever-elusive keys. I could not find them. Again. I shouted out the window, "I can't find my stupid keys." She's like,“there in the bathroom.” I went into the bathroom, and what do you know, there they were. Peacefully lying on the counter after I had violently trashed my room in a desperate attempt to uncover them. I think the ability to know where your keys are is a spiritual gift. That would be a great spiritual gift to have. Even better than um, prophesying.

So anyway, props to Amy for keeping me alive during the volatile life stage I am currently undergoing. Hopefully, it will be over by Friday. So it’s like 5:50, and I still haven’t slept a wink since I awoke Sunday at 11:30 p.m. No time. I kind of want to make it rain one giant snowstorm with all my stupid homework and readings I have to do right now. Plus, I think I am seriously coming down with carpel tunnel from typing in an extremely ergonomically incorrect position for about…. hmmm…. 18 hours straight. Not even kidding. Bllaahhhh. Oh well, I guess I'll raise my Diet Coke to another 24 hours of carpel tunnel, exhaustion and avoidant behaviors. It's the little things that make life worth living:).

Our President the Nike Model

Looking at the BBC homepage today, it seems that Obama signed a killer modeling deal with Nike, or Adidas or Puma. I mean, look at him, he's working hardcore amidst the snowfall in a David Beckham-Esq post. Perhaps this is just the start of Obama's modeling career. Or maybe he's thinking of using Nike's slogan to guide his leadership style. Send more troops to Afghanistan? Just do it. Deal out trillions? Just do it. Give starving grad students a year supply of Chipotle gift certificates? Just do it. Sweet!

Anyway, he totally has the athletic model pose down. Way to go. Next stop: the runways of Paris! Ooo la la.

I know I Said Three Weeks But....

I know I said three weeks, but I just have to briefly relay what my grandmother said this morning. I was eating lunch with my family after my cousin's, daughter's baptism (I'm her Godmother, my first time in such an important position). So my grandma's wearing this gorgeous necklace and she's like, "Colleen, do you like my necklace?" I'm like, "yeaahh, it's beautiful, where did you get it??"

Grandma: "It's vintage, it's from the 1940s. You know why I never wear it?"

Me: "No..."

Grandma: "It's because I got it from the other guy. The one that I was seeing when I got engaged to your grandfather."

Me: "Hahahaha, so you figure 13 years after Grandpa died you could now wear it?"

Grandma: (Shrugs). "I suppose."

That's right. My grandmother was seeing someone else when she got engaged to my grandpa. Apparently he was in Germany, and had been for awhile, so, um, I guess stuff changes?? Ha. Things were different back then. The poor fella got a killer break-up note I'm sure. Sorry, we have to break up, I'm engaged to another man."

That is one part of my grandmother's history I will definitely not repeat:) You have to be pretty smooth to get away with that - and I'm kind of the opposite of anything 'smooth.'

Three Weeks

Note to my faithful blog followers: There will most likely be a lack of posts for the next three weeks. I will be in survival mode as I desperately try to compile three research papers before the end of the semester. Don't worry however - this summer, I have absolutely nothing to do - so expect a flurry of blog posts.

Ok that is all for now. Back to coding CNN articles.

Liberian Prez Part II

OK I was reprimanded for abruptly halting my last post – so let me continue on....

Back to the Liberian President. As I mentioned, she was recently elected after Liberia emerged from a 14-year civil war. As one may expect, Liberia’s war was pretty intense. Upon its demise, the war left a seriously corrupt government and pervasive poverty in its wake. Liberia was in rough shape.

In 2005, the country held its first democratic election – part of its attempt to pick itself up and start over. Johnson-Sirleif was elected, and since then, Liberia’s economic and social situation has dramatically improved. Its paid more than half its national debt, has increased its government revenue by more than $280 million dollars (enabling a pay raise for federal workers), installed three new community colleges outside of its capital, implemented a scholarship program for young girls (of which 3,000 have received scholarships to attend school already), and set an unprecedented standard for freedom of the press in Africa. Additionally, Transparency International recently recognized Liberia’s significant progress in in fighting corruption within its government. Obviously, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and there is still a long way to go, but as the Dean of Minnesota’s Humphrey Insitute of Public Affairs stated, Liberia’s progress is considered “miraculous.”

When President Johnson-Sirlief was introduced, her introducer (I think I just made that word up) gave a rundown of her experience. Her resume is quite impressive, and includes stints such as Minister of Finance for Liberia, Vice President of the Africa Regional Office of Citibank, Director of UN Development Programme Regional Bureau for Africa and of course, President of Liberia. Undoubtedly, President Johnson-Sirleif’s experience has contributed to her ability to give her country hope. This makes sense. Consequently, this leads me to conclude that all high-ranking government leaders should have the kind of leadership and international experience Sirleif-Johnson had when she took office. I mean, I know I’m drawing assumptive conclusions – but look at Democratic Republic of Congo. The country’s in bad shape due to an overwhelming amount of oppressive historical factors. However, I wonder if the DRC would be in better shape if its president, Joseph Kabila, had more education than a supposed degree from some mysterious online university, and more leadership experience than simply being the son of a former president.

Ahhh… anyway, those are my long-winded thoughts on Friday’s event. It is really encouraging to see that things can change – esp. in a continent way too many think is beyond hope (it’s not!). This means that it’s possible my intelligence-level will change (for the better) tomorrow and I’ll be able to successfully finish this semester. Yeah! I love change. Yes we can.

Liberian President Comes to Town

Friday, I found myself embedded in a crowd of about 3,000 people, listening to the majority robustly sing the Liberian national anthem. For a moment, I had one of those “how did I get here” moments – I can’t say I experience the Liberian national anthem everyday.

The moment’s foreignness dissolved as I gazed upon the familiar stage of Northrup Auditorium - a reminder I was close to home. It was the woman I was there to see, however, who had traveled far from home to speak that day. Ellen Johnson Surleif is the president of Liberia – a small African country of about 3.5 million that has just emerged from 14 years of civil war.

Undoubtedly, the 25,000 Liberian refugees currently living here inspired her visit to Minneapolis. Liberian refugees arrived in Minnesota beginning in the 80s, when civil war erupted in their country. Currently, controversy is boiling among the Liberian community for since the civil war has ended, they are facing deportation back to Liberia, despite the fact that many have built there lives here for the past 20-something years.

Ok this post to be continued as I have to finish something else at the moment. Check back later...

I Have Secrets

It's April Fool's Day. Perhaps all the lies being told today are getting to me, for I'm in a tell-all mood. I have a few secrets that have been weighing me down lately, and I feel the odd need to confess them to my blogging community. So, let us begin.

Some Secrets
1) Sometimes, I don't get my homework done, or get enough sleep, because I stay up really late looking at fashion blogs or shopping online. I can't help it, it's a guilty, stress-relieving pleasure that results in delayed stress when I am sleepless and my homework's incomplete the next day.

2) I don't really like skiing. I admit, I have told many guys that I kind of like skiing, because I used to do it when I was younger a lot. I've realized however, that I am lying to them. I don't like skiing. I get cold, and going downhill at high speeds stresses me out hardcore. I say I like it because I like to sound adventerous. I'm done with that - I'm telling the truth. I don't really like skiing. Unless, it's in the Mtns of Colorado, and even then... However, I would like to try snowboarding at some point.

3) On that note, I'm not crazy fantastic about the outdoors for long periods of time. And by long periods of time I mean weeks. I like it for a few days. But then I want to shower. I know, it's natural beauty. I love natural beauty, but only for so long and only without bugs. I love adventures, but if outdoor adventures aren't adventurous enough --- count me out. I'll stay inside where there are toilets and 99 percent less mosquitoes.

4) At the airport, I've stopped bothering to put my liquids in a plastic bag. Why? Because I forgot once and they totally didn't say anything. So now, I forgo the little baggie. I take that back, the last time I put my 4 oz bottle of lotion in my bag and they found it. Then, they proceeded to say - next time, put that in a plastic bag. Ok. Will do. Thanks...

5) I may have been a public relations major, but I still am helplessly victimized by mascara ads and any ad for anti-wrinkle cream. I totally fall for them, and not rationally. Each time I see those ads, I understand their promised benefits won't provide. Yet, I am still entranced by the idea that their product could make my lashes look 50 times longer and forever prevent wrinkles. I've adapted a steady pattern when it comes to viewing awesome mascara ads. It goes like this: Become amazed at mascara, go out and buy it, discover it's not any different than the last and experience disappointment. Unless, of course, it's Lancome's Definicils. The best I've discovered so far. No one even paid me to say that.

6) I'm tired at the moment. But don't worry, I have more secrets. I will save them for another perfect spring day like today (which, will be tomorrow, undoubtedly. I love MN weather...).

7) Oh I almost forgot! Secret seven is that I am not really in a relationship despite what facebook says. The end.

Saving Lives - Glamorously.

Last night I went to this charity fundraiser at Seven downtown. Seven is one of the swankiest spots in the Twin Cities. It’s a side of Minneapolis I barely knew existed. I love Minneapolis because of its unpretentiousness. At Seven however, pretentious is the soup du jour, or rather, soup toujours. People were dressed up. And that’s an understatement. Holy crap did I feel weird, and I was even dressed up. I mean my whole outfit did only cost $25 (shoes included!), but my shirt was originally $60 people! That has to count for something! Ha.

I felt particularly weird last night because we were there for this clean water fundraiser. (One lesson learned: Stay away from bottled water.) We watched a documentary and then went to a reception – that included a professional hula-hooper. Sweetness. Additionally, I sat in front of Vita.mn's "hottest female in the Twin Cities." Ha. I recognized her from a few issues back - mainly because we talked about that particular issue all day at J-School.

It’s just weird to get all dressed up and go to this fancy place to watch and learn about people suffering in the third world. I felt weird. However, I’m not sure it’s necessarily a bad thing. I mean, these kind of fundraisers raise awareness of issues among groups that would otherwise (in my prediction) remain oblivious. Plus, it generates money for causes in need. So even though I felt like a poser, I probably shouldn’t judge. All in all it was an okay time. There was free wine and free entertainment. I partook all for the sake of the children. Who knew saving lives could be so glamorous…. and, well, fun?

French Hostages, Fries & Mussels

Tired of low wages and insufficient benefits? Don't go on strike. Strikes are for wussies, at least in France. French laborers have no patience for peaceful picketing when times get tight - instead, they just take their executives hostage. Looks like American execs won't be begging for transfers across the pond anytime soon, if they know what's best.

According to the Associated Press, "A French 3M executive was being held hostage for the second day at a plant in Pithiviers, south of Paris, as workers protested layoffs. The situation was calm, however, with labor talks taking place there Wednesday.

I wouldn't think kidnapping would be the best career move to make, but hey, what do I know. Apparently, the workers are treating their hostage fairly well. Maybe they are buttering him up to grant promotions upon release.

AP continued, "Detained 3M manager Luc Rousselet told an AP reporter "Everything's fine" and workers planned to bring him mussels and French fries for dinner." Entire story here.

Oh good. I'm glad they are bringing him mussels and French fries for dinner. Thanks for including that AP. Apparently the French treat their hostages well. They eat better than I... and for free!

Looks like I have a new goal in life. Sweet. Maybe more Amerian execs will be asking for Euro transfers after all...