Problem of the Year: Broken Uggs!

I have a major problem/complaint on my hands. Yesterday, I was putting on my black Ugg boots and I hear a rip. I look down, and precious lambs-wool was spilling out of a one-inch rip next to the back seam. Since it was freezing out (Uggs=perfect in freezingness), and I was late, I wore them anyway, albeit with scorn. When I came home however, it got worse. As I was taking them off, I hear another rip. I look down, and the EXACT same thing happened to the other boot. Seriously!

And people in Haiti think they have problems (Ok, I am totally being sarcastic to make fun of myself here, don't freak out).

So now, I have two rips in the back of my favorite boots. I am not happy. I also, find this unacceptable for a product supposedly as high-quality as Uggs. I have worn these boots for less than six months. I received them last year for Christmas. I thought for sure Uggs would have like, a lifetime warranty or something, but when I looked on its website, it said a ONE year warranty only.

Oh no they didn't.

That will not do. I am sending those black classic boots back and I expect a full refund. There is no way, a $180 pair of boots should rip after being worn for six months. The website also said refunds after a year will be reviewed on a case-by-case basis. If I send these boots back, and Uggs gives me new ones, I will be happy and continue buying its products. However, if I am refused, I will not be happy and a permanent Uggs customer will be lost. I am just saying.

So here's hoping for the best. I'm sending them in tomorrow. If Uggs has any public relations sense they will give me boots that do not rip for no reason. Lame-o.

Ok, end of rant. Now you officially no I have no real problems in life, since I am so upset about this. Goodbye.

Thesis Time

I have finally settled on a thesis! One step down, five hundred million to go. I'm going to be looking at facebook groups formed after the Iranian protests and Haiti's earthquake. Don't ask me what I'm looking for I don't know. But it fits in with my general theme of social media and social change.

I was going to concentrate my research on Twitter, but I realized Twitter sucks to research. The fleeting presence of tweets, and the site's lack of archives make research pretty much impossible. Too bad, a lot is going on there right now. One thing I did realize while searching through a plethora of tweets surrounding Haiti, is that nonprofits are really doing a poor job at using social media. Nonprofit orgs do so many interesting things, yet they tweet about it like, once a month. Come on people -- you could get so many people interested in your work by broadcasting the cool things you do. Just a thought - to any nonprofit workers out there.

Welp, back to searching for academic literature on my topic. To the online library indexes!

Julia Roberts vs. I

So, I am in my last semester of graduate school, and God-willing, I will graduate this spring. What that means is I will once again need a job. Since the job market is so great right now, I'm sure I will have no problem finding my dream occupation (please note the sarcasm).

Even though it's months away, and I have to complete a very important thesis beforehand, I am totally stressing out about finding a job. See, I don't want to be in a position that bores me to death, or that makes me think of running away to China in order to save my sanity. I want a job that energizes me and utilizes my skills and brings about satisfaction. I know this is a lot to ask, but hey, I believe it's possible! At least I am trying to.

I realized how stressed I was during the moment in which I started crying after watching "My Best Friend's Wedding." Why did I start crying? Because in the movie, Julia Roberts was 27 and had an extremely successful career as a food editor. This meant that I, at 26, with no job as a food editor was not at the top of my game. Yeah, I know it's a movie and I'm in graduate school, blah blah, but rationality has no place when you're stressed out. I forgot to mention that I was sick as well. So perhaps that had an influence on my sudden outburst over Julia Robert's character's success.

The job I want involves, writing, editing, traveling, international affairs, politics, human interaction, flexibility and not sitting at a computer for eight hours a day. If anyone sees an opportunity that matches this criteria, please let me know. God knows what other movie will set me off otherwise:).

I

India: Going Home Sweet Home

Twenty-eight hours (or so) and five plane rides later, I have arrived safe-and-sound back at home. Yeah! I just woke up after sleeping for 13 hours, so hopefully I have recovered from the jet-lag. A 12-hour time difference can really get to you. Also, I am VERY upset because somewhere en-route home, I lost my camera! Not cool. ALL my pictures were on there, and my trip-mates hardly took any. Consequently, we are left with no photographic memories of our adventures. So sad. I am praying for my camera's miraculous recovery.

We left Kolkata Saturday night at 7:30. In Minnesota time, that would be Sunday morning at 8:15. Let me tell you, the Kolkata airport was an experience in itself. I was at my wits-end. It is organized VERY differently than any American - or come to think of it - international airport I have ever seen. I would like to advise Kolkata to take advice from New Delhi and re-design their airport. Delhi has one of the nicest airport I have ever seen -- complete with reclining waiting chairs at the gates.

Anyway, we had pretty much an entire day to spend in Kolkata before heading to the airport. We woke up bright and early to spend our last morning volunteering with the Sisters. Jeff (who at 6' 3 is a giant in India, btw), was sent to some remote village to distribute food, and Molly and I had the opportunity to volunteer at a site called Prem Dan. I thought Prem Dan was wonderful. It is a site (established by Mother Teresa and the Sisters) dedicated to serving mentally-handicapped adults. It is located in the middle of a slum (houses thats roofs consist of plastic bags and floors of dirt), but as soon as the gates to Prem Dan open, you find yourself in a clean, spacious and well-kept living area. It's amazing.

I liked Prem Dan more than Khalighat, because you had more opportunities to interact with patients. Mainly because at Khalighat, the patients are too sick to interact with. We spent the first couple hours at Prem Dan hand-washing clothes. When all was rinsed and wrung, we got to head over to the women's ward and spend some time with the patients. Volunteers gave them massages, painted their nails and danced with the patients, who smiled and laughed as they were able. Again, it was incredible to see how much of a difference the work of the Sister's made. These people, being mentally handicapped, are the least of the least. But because of the Sister's dedication, they get to live lives of dignity in a beautifully kept residence. I really don't know if they would be alive without the care of Missionaries of Charity. I'm not sure there is a place for mentally handicapped women in the slums of Kolkata.

So we left our time volunteering with Missionaries of Charity on a high note. We spent the rest of our time in Kolkata eating. I am very sick of Indian food besides one dish: Cheese Masala Dosas. So good. Look them up if you have a chance. It's funny the things you crave while you are away. All I wanted the entire time was a milkshake and a cheesburger. Mainly, because we couldn't eat either. They had shakes all over India, but we were never sure whether or not they were pasteurized and thus stayed away. As for cheeseburgers, well, a good majority of Indians believe cows are gods. Needless to say, it was a bit difficult to find a place serving beef. The first thing I ate when I arrived in Washington was a vanilla milkshake. For dinner last night, Chris graciously made spaghetti upon my request, as good Italian is also in short supply in India.

Right now, I am thinking about heading to Chipotle. Chipotle and I seriously need some quality time, as do I and Trader Joe's. I am so glad to be back. Until you see India, you have no idea how quiet and clean the land of 10,000 lakes really is. Despite its chaos though, India does have its own charms and many intriguing mysteries. Perhaps someday I will find myself back in the land of colorful chaos--hopefully making a difference in some way.

India: Colorful Chaos

Editor's Note: I wrote this a few days ago

Today is out last full day in the land of colorful chaos. We leave tomorrow morning, and, despite the excitement of faraway lands, I'm rather looking forward to getting home.

We finished working at khalighat this afternoon. I have a newfound respect for those who work in geriatrics. It is so difficult caring for those who can no longer care for themselves. As I work with the women (feeding them, helping them exercise, etc...), I can't help but wonder who they were before they sucuumbing to their current state. Some of the women are mentally alert, and some even speak English, but many have resorted to an unfamiliar state. A state that reminds me so much of that as a child. One woman cries like a baby, one can simply scream in pain, and some can barely move at all; they just look at you with this empty gaze of pain that is so sad. As I tried to help one of these woman walk, I found myself asking God why he didn't just take her out of her misery. I wonder if these women had a family at one point -- if they worked, or whatever their story may be. Now, however, without the care of the Sisters (and, of course, God), God knows where they would spend their last days. Alone, most likely. The Sister's work definitely inspires me to care more about the poor.

Another thing that's cool about volunteering is that people come here from all over the world. Today I worked with a couple Argentinians, an Israeli, Italians, and a girl from New Zealand. Learning about and talking with people from different cultures is one of my favorite parts of traveling

Anyway, I'll talk more about the chaos of Kolkata. Have I mentioned yet, that men just bathe in the streets here? Yeah, they put a towel around their waist and scrub themselves down at streetside water pumps. At least they bathe I guess. So things in India are ridiculously cheap. Ridiculously. When we eat Indian food, all three of us can eat whole, good meals at a restaurant for like, under $5 USD. Taxis are around $1 for a 15-20 minute ride, and I got advil at a local pharmacy for 20 cents. I am going to have serious financial shock going back to the U.S. and paying $4.50 for a latte instead of a dollar. However, if I don't have to be deafened by car horns as I sip it, it just might be worth the money...

Calcutta: Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity

The reason we came to Calcutta was to volunteer with Mother Teresa's ministry, Missionaries of Charity. On Monday, we went to volunteer orientation. The volunteers consist wholly of Western Europeans, and Koreans. We signed up to volunteer at Khaligat --- the house Mother Teresa set up for the destitute and dying -- during the afternoon. There were no spots for us to volunteer in the morning, so we agreed to help the sisters out with odd jobs around their living quarters during that time.

This morning was our first day of volunteering. We got up early and attended mass at 6:00 a.m. We then ate a breakfast of bananas, bread and chai, before cleaning and organizing around the nuns administrative and living quarters. It was really interesting talking with people there. The sister who is in charge of volunteers is an American. She was in DC before being transferred to Calcutta. Apparently nuns are not really allowed to keep in contact with people in the outside world. They take a vow of poverty so they don't use mail, or e-mail. Their families are allowed to call them, but they cannot call their families, and while families are allowed to visit nuns, nuns can only visit their families once every ten years. That's nuts. One more reason I cannot be a nun. I like e-mail too much. It's very humbling though, observing the sister's commitment to God. They are completely obedient and reverant -- willing to give up anything for Jesus and thus the poor.

We arrived late to our afternoon volunteer post. Navigating Indian streets is pretty much impossible. I road a public transportation bus today, packed with people. Between that and the train I think I'm officially allowed to call myself hardcore. Very intense experiences.

Anyway, despite arriving late we were able to help out a bit. I served food and washed dishes at Khaligat, which is pretty much a hospice. It is lined with beds, where mostly old, tiny women lay. Most of them are dying, but a few will recover I'm told. It's really sad. But, again, really humbling. In the Bible it says that the first will be last, and the last first. I can't help but thinking about that statement as I walk through beds of old women, without anyone to care for them and no means of taking care of themselves. But according to God, they aren't the least of these; they are of invaluable worth. Consequently, serving them should be an honor.

I can't say I totally have the above mindset yet, but confronted with so much suffering, it makes me ponder such a concept more than ever. It's easy to elude suffering and pondering back in the comforts of the U.S. -- for me anyway, not everyone.

Tomorrow, we will go back to Khaligat and the mother house. Thursday we have off and Friday will be our last day. Right now, I'm going to go enjoy some more Indian food and India's famous Kingfisher beer. It will be just the thing to give me energy for tomorrow.

Calcutta: The Enigma Continues

There is no way, that I could find words sufficient enough to describe the enigma that is India. That being said, I will try anyway.

We arrived in Kolkata (aka Calcutta) Monday morning via train. The 14 hour train ride from Darjeeling to Kolkata was truly a once in a lifetime experience. I can't say I will ever try to relive such an experience again. We rode 3rd class, AC. When the train pulls up in the station and opens it doors, the crowds rush. There is no rhyme or reason or personal space, you just have to shove your way into your seat. At first, I thought I was going to die. Vendors and street kids come and go, selling and begging down the aisles until the next station, where they get off. My saving grace was that at night, train staff locks down the train, and we all get our own bunk so sleep on -- complete with clean sheets. Or so I hope. I did see one of the first cockroaches of my life crawling on the train walls. Yummmm.

So after 14 or so hours you arrive at the train station, only to step out into more chaos. In India, cows just like, lie in the middle of the street (more so in rural areas I guess, but also in the city). People just swerve to avoid them, because after all, they believe a god lives inside of them. The train stations have chickens, dogs, goats, you name it. And everyone crowds around you hoping to sell you something. Thankfully, my travelmates met some nice locals on the train, and one of them guided us through the throngs to a legit taxi.

I like Kolkata better than New Delhi. New Delhi just gives me a bad vibe. Kolkata is full of color and chaos. I have never seen so many people in my entire life. I also almost die every time I cross the street -- the traffic here takes no prisoners. When we first arrived here and checked into our hotel, we headed straight for a Pizza Hut. There was no messing around. Pizza Hut was a pretty normal experience, it was exciting.

What wasn't a normal experience was our dinner. We ate at a South India restaurant, that had really good food (Dosas=yum). The strange thing was, however, that our waiter was barefoot. Like, he just didn't want to put on shoes that day. It was a relatively nice restaurant. Things got even stranger when he cleared out table. He grabbed an empty water bottle, as waiters usually do when you're done. Instead of taking it to the kitchen though, like normal, he just put it in a plant pot next to our table. What? A plant pot? Just another normal day in Kolkata.. Everything here definitely keeps you on your toes.