The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 14

Day 14: A Photo of your main mode of transportation

Keeping with the theme of things I am grateful for, photographed here is my beloved bicycle. 

Her name is sunshine and my Dad bought it as a Christmas present for me this year. I haven’t really been able to ride her until pretty recently because the super-biting-cold air is not exactly condusive to a wheezing asthmatic like myself. But, as you saw yesterday, the weather has finally turned to sunny warmth and yesterday afternoon I hauled her out of the bike room to get my not-in-shape-butt over to the gym. I also have the Firebolt, my minivan, but I didn't have time to go to the parking lot today!

And in other news, today is Thursday… which means I had Religion class this morning, which indubitably means I have some metaphysical dilemmas that need hashing out. Prepare yourself for a diatribe.

Today came a burning question always simmering in the back of my mind when discussing the ethic of nonviolence: rape. In the line of thought by which Gandhi and Dr. King preached, rape is an act of violence that also must be endured with active Love and resilience, but not violent retaliation. While to my knowledge they never spoke to the subject explicitly, it is perhaps because they are men and therefore less at risk of being raped than women. Additionally, they were fighting for political equality (though God knows women and men were raped and murdered in that process).

We did not actually get to answering this question in class, because we moved first to speak about Plato’s Phaedo and the idea of the body as something temporal, a vessel by which our souls are carried into the ephemeral world. Plato speaks about the world of the Forms being the eternal, permanent, and Ideal world in which Beauty is in its utmost essence: pure, unchanging, powerful, and pervasive. What we see and experience here in lower-case reality are merely reflections and bad copied of the world of the Forms (essentially). Plato contends that with our sixth sense, intuition, we are capable as human beings to tap into the perfect world of the Forms. It is by this process we are capable of channeling reflections of the Ideal. By this line of thought, however, one must presume we are ingrained naturally with a sense of Goodness, Justice, Beauty, and all of the Forms.

As Plato states, it is the teacher’s responsibility to live as a reflection of the Forms so that when they are engaging their students what is taught transcends the physical realm and therefore makes the world of the Forms apparent to the pupils. Considering only yesterday I was talking about how marvelous and important I find my professors to be, I found this to be incredibly validating. Especially in this class I often find myself in the place Plato says ideally students should be: hearing the teacher but seeing the greater picture they paint with their words.

Professor Grayson went on to describe the tautology of the statement, “the end justifies the means.” That is to say, the verb in the statement functions as a grammatical equal sign, dictating the subject and predicate to be of equal merit and worth and, most importantly, held as the same principal. So what makes “the end justifies the means” to be such a provocative, dangerous, and powerful statement is that it is also “the means justify the ends.”

And everything falls into place. Nonviolence, Love, Justice, Goodness… To have Peace (capital-P Peace, as in the Peace in the world of the Forms or from the Divine, whatever you believe) real, true Peace, it must be achieved through Peaceful means. This is why war always fails, why “the war to end all wars” was a paradoxical statement for WWI, why violence breeds violence. You can never have Peace when there has been no mercy, when such atrocity has been committed.

And I believe this. If there is nothing else in this world I believe, I believe this.

But it still does not seem to answer my question about rape. As said in class, when one is murdered you do not have to process the consequences because, well, you’re dead. Yes, it is horrific. Yes, your family and loved ones have to live with that burden. But you are gone. But what of they who survive murder?

Rape is the ultimate violent act. It is the total control over one human being by another, a dictation that every ounce of dignity and respect you have for yourself is neither valid nor of importance to the rapist. You are not human, you are a tool by which not only does the rapist control you, but a tool of pleasure. And I think rape is murder of the soul- because in the act of sexual control, the rapist(s) are murdering their victim in their minds.

This is horrific.

I know I am no gender studies expert, and I have no doubt the discussion of rape is far more complex than my comprehension, but in my personal reflections from this class these are my thoughts. And I am disturbed deeply by them.

All my life I have been taught that, by nature of being female, I must fear for my safety more so than my male counterparts. That  lesson is a discussion for another time, involving gendering, concepts of the value on virginity and sexuality for women, racism, and unfortunately, a lot of truthful historical experience by women from all backgrounds. I have been told to fear being raped more than to fear being killed.

So I’m not sure that were I ever in a situation threatening my life with rape that I would respond with nonviolence. I mean, one can never be sure what you will do at gunpoint until you actually are, and it is my hope for myself and you, dear readers, that you must never have to learn.

I guess I’m frustrated in some capacity in this facet of nonviolence by the same plague the movement carries with it to many others; it just does not seem applicable. To die to save another life or to fight against a gross injustice, yes I would. To be raped for such a cause? I’m thinking that’s a big fat NO WAY.

But this is also perhaps why the second wave of the women’s movement was born out of the civil rights movement. The movement was executed on the ground by women (Fannie Lou Hamer, Rosa Parks, the list goes on and on) but led by men (John Lewis, Dr. King, Malcolm X. Eldridge Cleaver…). And women were frustrated by the sexism that existed within the structure of the movement.

I know this is a generalization, and by no means do I disregard the importance of these men’s works. Obviously, I love Dr. King. I even really like Malcolm X (a diatribe for another time). But the idea of rape has been lacking in the literature I have read concerning nonviolence. And to me, this is a serious gap in the philosophy of nonviolence.

Or perhaps I am only willing to endure so much pain for such a cause. Does this make my commitment to non-violence invalid?

Do you have thoughts on this? Or literature to recommend to me?

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current jam: "500 miles" the proclaimers

best thing in my life right now: i'm doing an extra radio show tonight form 6-8pm if you'd like a listen! www.wmhcradio915.org 

days until departure: 59 

also, my friend hattie, who is also in this class, posted her thoughts on today's lecture here if you would like to have a look! 

The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 13

Day 13: Something You're Grateful For

Today is such a beautiful day. Today is a day full of things I am so, so grateful for. So today, I took a photograph of something I am eternally grateful for: clouds.

As horrendously rainy and mucky as yesterday was, today is one of those fairy-tale New England days; the sun is bright and omnipotent with a crisp breeze. And those clouds!

I have to tell you, I took this picture by climbing out on a window ledge on the fourth floor of my dorm (sorry, Mom). Sometimes I like to sit there and think, even though that is probably one of those I’m-young-and-kind-of-recklessly-stupid things. But I get to be so close to the sky, so far and close.

You may have noticed if you read regularly, that I’m a bit obsessed with the idea of flight. I love planes (on my bucket list of things to do before I graduate from college is acquiring my pilot’s license), I love Amelia Earhart, I love space, and I love the sky. When I was younger I would peer out of airplane windows, looking for angels hiding in the clouds. I was forever entranced by the sky, wishing so very much to leap out of the plane and to sit on the white tufts of what surely was the softest material in the world.

Yesterday was a day full of contemplation, evidenced by the massive post (thank you, dear readers, who trekked through all of it). Today is a day of jubilation, of celebrating what I’ve been given.

My father asked me this afternoon what was the number one thing I learned yesterday. I thought for a moment before realizing it was, in fact, something I continue to learn every day: be grateful. Be so, so grateful for the time we are given and the gifts we have received. And use what you are given, to the best of your ability.

After my post yesterday I went on to have dinner and work on some stuff for WMHC, still receiving a ton of weird looks for doing such things sans shoes. But when I finally clambered into bed last night (post-showering because, let’s be real, my feet were gross) I was content with the challenge I had faced. A small challenge, one day out of 365, but one that I nonetheless intended to use to invigorate what I had be given. To live into every moment.

Which brings me to this afternoon, which was extra-special because it is actually one of my favorite weeks of the semester: advising week. A paradox, to be sure, because no doubt if you are a college student (or once were) you might be recoiling at the declaration; after all, advising week is one full of meeting with professors and advisors, anguishing over what classes to take when and how best to plan THE FUTURE OF YOUR LIFE.

But I absolutely love advising week, and for one simple reason: I am an absolute, unabashed teacher’s pet. Always have been, always will be. Mock me all you like.

I don’t mean to be a brown-noser or obnoxious. Truly, I genuinely love my teachers and find them to be the most extraordinary people I know. A life devoted to learning and to helping others learn is dually an idyllic career in my eyes, and a cause I think incredibly important. As you might have guessed, I would love to be a professor one day.

Therefore, a week devoted to pouring over courses and talking with professors about big ideas is really enjoyable for me. My advisor also happens to be one of my favorite people on the planet. She’s bloody brilliant, to begin with, and shares my passion for science fiction, tea, Max Weber, social media, and (of course) sociology. She also never fails to ask about my radio show or to recommend at least half a dozen new novels for me to read. And she loves my color-coded flow charts depicting what courses I intend to take over the next three years of college, so you know. She lets me wave my freak flag, as Shrek the Musical would say.

But what I appreciate most about my advisor is how real she is with her students, and how deeply she wants us to be the best we can be. I love advising week because this is such an exciting time- making big plans for the future is swell, but finding the right tools so that I can live into what I was made to do is amazing. Before I came to college I made a commitment to myself, a promise I try to keep every day: treasure every moment. Treasure the beautiful friendships and the amazing professors who will teach you so much. From our greatest pain comes our greatest art, so do not forget to treasure the struggles, the aching necks, the horrible exams.

My mom told me that I was in the midst of a creative explosion right now. I agree, but I don’t think that wholly has to do with me. I mean, how can you not explode and want to document every beautiful detail here? I have so much learn, and I want to drink in every lesson.

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current jam: "secrets" onerepublic (thanks for the mix, dad!)

best thing in my life right now: Invisible Children are coming to give a talk/presentation at Mount Holyoke tonight!!

days until departure: 60

The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 12, One Day Without Shoes Edition

Day 12: A Picture of Your Feet

    

Today’s prompt was picked with a very particular reasoning in mind; today, April 5, 2011, is the One Day Without Shoes event sponsored by TOMS Shoes. On this day across the globe people are taking one day, as they are able, to go about their lives while taking a stance against poverty. We are doing this by spending one day without shoes, socks, or any kind of protective footwear.

This is my first year participating fully, because it’s the first year I wouldn’t be breaking any school rules by going barefoot whilst carrying out my daily routine. I’m writing this post around 1:00 PM, which means I have now spent about 6 ½ hours sans sneakers. Let me tell you, friends, I am learning a whole lot.

While to some degree I do think this day is a tool by which TOMS Shoes can get super-prime advertising, the movement itself is something I think worthy of consideration and participation (obviously). It has already challenged me physically and mentally to remember how blessed and fortunate I am that, at the end of today, I will go home to a closet full of shoes, socks, and band-aids for the blisters. In many ways today’s events remind me of the other day-long movement I try to partake in every year: Day of Silence.

The Day of Silence as an act is pretty self-explanatory: on one pre-assigned day every year we are asked, as we are able, to take one day to remain silent. This act is to protest anti-LGBTQ bullying and harrasment across the United States and to remember the gift it is to be able to use our voices, and to be heard. On this event every year, I always endure people saying to me “but you know, I don’t think being silent on an issue makes a difference. I didn’t notice you being quiet,” to which I always want to reply “Well one, yes you did notice, because you’re telling me why you don’t like this day; and two, this is also an internal process. For me, it is more a reminder to use my voice whenever possible because I can without threat but also to take time to reflect on how best I can vocalize my beliefs in an empowering manner without sounding condescending.”

However, whatever attention Day of Silence does or does not receive, going one day without shoes had certainly garnered some attention.

This morning, as I packed my backpack for the day and headed out the door to brave the weather barefoot I contemplated what sort of reactions I would have. Quite literally the moment I stepped outside I knew. The women I passed all had a mix of reactions; some did not notice, some glared, but most looked at my feet and then avoided all eye contact (of the people whom I did not know).

Perhaps they thought I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I forgot to put on shoes (Einstein was famous for this, you know[1]). Others might have presumed I was communing with the linoleum to speak to the earth, which, considering how common it is to see women wearing capes on this campus, is not a wholly unjustified supposition. Maybe some knew about the event. Maybe they just thought I was weird.

Whatever they thought, most would look at me questioningly without actually asking where on God’s green earth I had left my footwear. And trust me on this one, friends, but when I stepped outside to walk to class this morning I asked myself the same question.

Because there has been torrential rain pouring down all day long. So not only was I shoe-less walking on the painful pavement to class, I was shoe-less on the painful FREEZING COLD pavement. I’m still getting feeling back in my toes.

And this made me think about how we perceive poverty.

Poverty is not wholly naked pot-bellied children in refugee camps, as so many National Geographic cover stories would have us believe. Yes, that is real. I’ve seen it; I’ve been to Pabo and Gulu, Northern Uganda. I will be living there this summer. But the nakedness, the hunger is not all that these children- or peoples, or nations- are. Dually, poverty is not restrained continentally or culturally.

There is poverty right here, right now in America. Mere miles away from my Ivory Tower is Holyoke, MA, the heroin center of the USA. Subsequently, it is one of the most destitute and dangerous places in the country. In my hometown there was an ever-increasing homeless population.

When I am still the subject of many a grossed out glare that quickly shifs to avoid eye contact, I am learning so much from them. This morning, for one split second, I think I understood what it means to be so shunned as a homeless or impoverished member of a community. To have been reduced to begging for money, while we walk past muttering how the homeless should get a job, disregarding their circumstances that led them to this point.

The difference is for me this lasted one tiny second whilst I was piling my plate with toast to eat in a building I call home. That difference is the distinction of worlds, realities. 

There are marvelous people in the world fighting to end homelessness; I have friends who organized bi-weekly trips to the soup kitchen to cook for those in our town who needed a meal; my family has gone on Habitat for Humanity builds; the list is ever-growing. Those are commendable and important jobs.

But how do we rethink poverty? Where do we begin to realize it can exist in the littlest of things, the basic necessities like food and clothing and shelter and love.

After all, there are all kinds of poverty. Poverty of the soul, to me, is far worse than poverty of the material

But do we not need the material to survive? To eat, to sleep, to carry onward?

When I was wrangling over nonviolence for my Religion paper a few weeks ago I read and re-read Chapter 10 from the Gosepl of Matthew, taken from the Christian Testament.

26 “So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. 27 What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. 28 Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.^[b^] 30 And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 31 So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. (TNIV)

A theme that has persisted in this class has been the idea of the body being separate from the soul. In this passage, Christ makes it pretty plain that Christians should “not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul,” which makes plain the distinction between the two entities. Yet the body is obviously of consequence, for “the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” In this vein, the body is sacred but second to the soul, but in order to achieve freedom (in whatever religious definition of Nirvana, heaven, rebirth…) humanity is called upon to endure torture to raise conscious thought of the persecutors.

Mahatma Gandhi once said, “They may torture my body, break my bones, even kill me. Then, they will have my dead body. Not my obedience.” Again, even in another religious (but equally valid) context, the soul is prized higher than the physical realm. It is through the suffering of the body in the face of oppression, however, that freedom is found.

Which is why what is done to our bodies matters, and why today- a day spent without shoes, has been so important to me.

Because at the end of the day (though it is not yet over, believe you me) this movement is not about how much the cold rain hurt my feet, or how many weird looks I got. It is, like Day of Silence, about an internal reflection on poverty of soul and material. My feet have carried me to Africa twice, and I will be there again this summer. They still ache and kind of burn from the cold water and pavement I sloshed through today, but tomorrow when I wear shoes I will be all the more appreciative.

One of my favorite quotes from the civil rights movement is from a woman by the name of Sister Pollard, who was in her 70s in 1955. While walking to work amidst the 13-month-long Montgomery Bus Boycott, a reporter asked her if she was exhausted or ready to ride in a vehicle once more.

Her reply: “My feets is tired, but my soul is rested.”

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[1] Because obviously, I’m a physics wizard and therefore should be compared to Einstein. 

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current jam: "aeroplane over the sea" neutral milk hotel

best thing in my life right now: being admitted to the 341 seminar i wanted next semester!

days until departure: 61

The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 11

Day 10: A Picture (or two) from your weekend:

So, obviously, this weekend was full of playmaking and theatre-doing in Michael Lew's one-act, The Moustache Guys. Here are a few select pictures from the show (much obliged to Project: Theatre for taking these!)

The show, a farce on the Free Masons, masculinity, and society in general, centers around one woman, Ali, who has gone undercover to a meeting of the International Order of the Moustache Guys to find her actually-moustache-less husband, Paul. The Moustache Guys are a clandestine brotherhood who revel in dancing to Enya, yelling obscenities at one another, and engaging in interactive moustache poetry. Basically, it was the funniest show I've ever been a part of!

My first character (pictured above) was the "Second-in-Command Pirate"

Stroking the whiskers of Robert E. Lee and Ulysses Grant as neophytes to the Order with the fabulous Jojo and Miriam! 

My second character, the Air Conditioner Repairman. 

My dear friend, Stodd, directed the show and she did a phenomenal job with it (thanks dearest!). Her vision for the show was made plain from the first rehearsal, which gave us actors such drive to make it the best possible performance. The cast was comprised of some hilarious ladies (did I mention we were all women? compounding the humor 100-fold?) and the crew was marvelous!

My final character, the Tammany Hall Boss, back to reclaim leadership of the Moustache Guys, with the talented Christina as the Kung Fu Master! 

It's a rarer gift than people realize when a cast is synthesized into one cohesive, collaborative, supportive, and creative group. This show definitely had that, and I was so happy to share in the fun and to not take myself too seriously with these talented women!

Photo by the marvelous MARIO/Steph!

Thank you friends! I had a blast! And a special thanks to the beautiful seniors involved with the production- you will be so sorely missed next year!

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current jam: "born this way" lady gaga (duh!)

best thing in my life right now: obviously, the post-show glow from moustache guys! which is also a little sad, though!

days until departure: 62

The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 10

Day 10: A Photo of Your Current Read

French class reading...it's a crime mystery novel. (English title: The Yellow Dog by Geroges Simenon)


and with that being said, i've got an essay to write!


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current jam: nothing, but the moustache song is still stuck in my head
best thing in my life right now: the sunshine!
days until departure: 63

The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 9

"Art is the most beautiful of all lies." -Claude DeBussy 

Day 9: One of your favorite places near/in/around where you currently live

This one was challenging, because there are so many beautiful pockets of Mount Holyoke's campus that I wanted to share! (one of the many reasons you should consider a women's college, ladies!) But the ultimate place, though, is so obvious I couldn't resist:

The WMHC Radio Station!

Hattie & I in the WMHC Station! Photo by the lovely Lisa Setrakian!

I love the station- I mean, it's essentially three rooms full of CDs and vinyl, so what's not to love? The equipment, for all its conniption fits and feisty-ness with the transmitters, is really wonderful and so much fun to play around on!

And there are all these tiny aspects to the station that make it one of my favorite places to hang out- like this authentic-looking 1940s style radio (which we actually use to check that we're really broadcasting):

My show, which is something I came up with last semester while listening to an abundance of NPR and watching obscene amounts of the Ellen DeGeneres show (LOVEHER!), is so much fun to do! I'm exposed to so much new music because of my guests, and as a history minor and lover of stories it's so wonderful to listen to people share their stories on a weekly basis.

Hattie and I on air! Photo credit due once more to Lisa :)

With two roommates and a hall full of wonderful women, it's very hard sometimes to find and make my own personal space. Last semester when I was just playing music, and now whenever I sub for someone else's show, I get to be in a room all by myself for two hours. For an introvert, that is such a blessing! 

...And, let's be real, all I do then is dance around and sing along. 

This morning I interviewed my friend Mary and it was STUPENDOUS! Thanks again, Mary, for being on Juxtaposition and sharing such wonderful music! 

Til tomorrow, friends!

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current jam: "should i stay or should i go?" the clash

best thing in my life right now: the clouds outside! puffy and perfect!

days until departure: 64

The 30 Day Photo Challenge: Day 8

"Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine." -Anthony J. D'Angelo

Day 8: A Photo Tour of Your Bookshelf
(and may you have a prank-filled poisson d'avril!)

#1: My Lego TARDIS:
After the final show of Vagina Monologues my friend Hattie presented my with this. Wayyy better than a bouquet of a flowers! And for those of you who don't know what a TARDIS is, it is a Doctor Who reference. Yes, the depths of geekdom know no boundaries in my world. 

#2: The Top Shelf:
Two pictures of my family (framed in yellow, naturally), my canon video camera (which is for sale, so if you're interested in purchasing a nice video camera for cheap leave in the comments!), and my iHome/alarm.

#3: The magazines under my alarm:
Bust (my absolute favorite magazine of all time- it's funny, useful, and what every women's magazine should be!), the Darren Criss/Chris Colfer Entertainment Weekly (let's call a spade a spade: I am a Gleek and a DCriss fangirl, unabashedly), and Lady Gaga's vogue (she. rocks. my. world.)

#4: To the right?

My eiffel tower bracelet holder, and hiding behind that:

MY SIGNED COPY OF THE REALM OF POSSIBILITY. Be jealous. David Levithan is WONDERFUL in person!

#5: The HP Corner:
They're British First Editions, so I think they warrant no explanation (unless, of course, you have yet to read this blog about how much I love Harry Potter).

#6: My DVD Collection:
Remember when I said never ask me about movies? This is a pathetic rendering of my collection mentally, but it is a chunk of some of my favorites. 

#7: College food:
...because nothing alleviates stress like a Flufernella sandwich. 
To make:
1. toast two slices of whole wheat bread.
2. when toasted, spread fluff over one slice and nutella over the other; consume with joy. 

#8: Seventh Generation Cleaning Products!
Because environmentalism and hygiene are cool. 

In other news, today is April 1st, which commences BEDA (Blog Every Day in April). I'm not technically participating, because I'm doing this 30 Day Photo Challenge which already demands daily posting for the equivalent of a month...but in some capacity I am partaking!


It also snowed this morning. Only for a bit, but it was some joke. Not.


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current jam: "no way" a very potter sequel (yeah, i knew darren criss TWO YEARS before he was on Glee!)
best thing in my life right now: moustache guys opens tonight!
days until departure: 65