First day of class = hot, sweaty mess

I'm generally always running late. It's probably something I should seek professional help for because, no matter what I do, I always end up late. My first day of graduate school was no different...

I live about 25 miles from school, so I decided to leave my house an hour early just to give myself enough time to get to campus, find a parking space, and get in class with plenty of time to spare. It is still pretty hot here in good ol Colorado and my main goal was to make it to my first day of class without being drenched in sweat.

So I make my way to campus, maneuver around the massive parking lots, and after searching for a good ten minutes I find perfect spot, really close to my building. I squeeze my way in, grab my wallet and take off for the parking meter, which by the way is located on the exact opposite side of this huge parking lot.

When I finally make it to the meter I see a note stating: "THIS METER ACCEPTS CASH ONLY". I'm screwed. I never, ever carry cash. If I have cash on my it is probably an accident. So I have no choice but to take off for my car and either a) find a parking lot that does accept my debit card or b) go find an ATM. I decide that I'm better off going to the gas station down the road and getting some cash.

At this poing I'm pissed. I'm annoyed this meter won't take my card, mad at myself for never carrying even five bucks in my wallet, and to make matters worse I am sweating. By this time it is about 2:12 and my class starts at 2:30.

I almost kill a pedestrian, but make it the gas station in record time. I race to the ATM, where I pay a $3.00 charge to get out 20 bucks. (grrrr) Just as I'm flying out the door I remember the meter doesn't take bills over $20. Parking is $4.50, so I decide it would be fast to just get change and play it safe with smaller bills. I run up to the cashier, hold out my $20 and say "Can I get change for this?"

"We don't give no change hunny," she says with a big smile that showcases the three teeth she has.

"Please, I am running late, I really need change."

"Sorry, can't do it."

So I grab two packs of gum, slam them down on the counter and say, "OK, then I want to buy this gum!"

"Are you sure you want two packs of gum?" (She looks at me like I'm crazy for wanting two packs)

"YES!"

"Ok, whatever you say..."

She slowly takes my money and starts to count my change when she looks up at me asks, "Do you have seven cents?"

"No"

"Ok...well do you have a nickel?"

"No, please ma'am can you hurry? I'm runing late for class?

"Well ok, but I'm low on change and I'm gonna hafta count out a dollar in dimes here..."

At this point I'm freaking out. It is now almost 2:20 and I'm definitely going to be late for class.

Susie Q finally gets me my change, I sprint out the door, with my two packs of gum and pocket full of dimes, and take off for campus.

I get back to the same parking lot, find a spot, grab $4.50 from my wallet and run for the meter. I get there, put my stall number in, and just as I prepare to slide in my money I notice it says I owe $5.50. At this point I'm the biggest idiot in the world, because I only took exact change to the meter (thinking I could run faster without my wallet in hand).

I have no choice but to run back to my car, grab my friggin wallet and sprint back to the meter. I'm basically on the verge of tears at this point.

Eventually, after exchaning some harsh words, I get the dang meter to accept my bills and I get my parking pass. I sprint back to my car, put it on the dash, grab my bag and take off for class.

I finally make it to class, where I walk in as a sweaty, hot mess just 30 seconds ahead of the professor.

And that my friends was my first day of graduate school.

My baby: Sis Hope

About nine months ago I started a social business called Sis Hope, which is dedicated to lowering the high rates of menstrual related absenteeism among school age girls in Uganda.

It all started back in a little village outside of Mbale, Uganda, where I first learned that girls were staying home from school during their period. Yep, it's true. A teen girl gets her period and simply stays home from school for the duration of the week. Why? Because she doesn't have access to affordable menstrual products.

Most girls and women resort to using ineffective materials such as treebark and pieces of newspaper which, of course, fail miserably at preventing embarrassing leaks and stains. So girls stay home during their period, about five days a month, and over time begin to fall further and further behind in their school work.

Surprisingly this issue doesn't get a lot of attention. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because we're talking about menstruation and that still gives people the ibby jeebies. I don't get it. Half the world menstruates and I believe strongly that girls should not have to miss out on their education simply because they don't have a tampon. And we shouldn't be ashamed to talk about it.

Check out the website if you want to learn more about Sis Hope. To be honest, it has been an incredible learning experience for me. But the sad truth is I've had a difficult time getting it off the ground. I'm basically doing it alone and just don't have the time to really make it what it should be. Right now I'm considering whether or not I should move on or keep plugging away at it. But it's hard folks. Lots of blood, sweat, and tears has gone into this endeavor. (Ok, maybe not blood but you get the idea) I've had lots of ups and downs, but I'm proud to say that Sis Hope has distributed over 600 pads to girls and women in Uganda. I'm not sure if my journey ends there, but I'll keep you updated!

The Bomb Behind World Humanitarian Day

Today is World Humanitarian Day. It's actually only the second year this day has been recognized to honor humanitarian aid workers who have been killed or injured in the course of their work, and it all started with the deadly Baghdad bombings that killed 22 United Nations staff members.

On August 19, 2003 a bomb tore through the United Nations headquarters, the Canal Hotel, in Baghdad, Iraq. The blast targeted the United Nations Assistance Mission, injured over 100 people and 22 killed, including Sérgio Vieira de Mello. Mello, a UN Special Representative, was a Brazilian diplomat who worked for the for more than 34 years. Following his death he was awarded the United Nations Prize in the Field of Human Rights.

This was only the beginning. A second bombing at the Canal Hotel followed on September 22, 2003. An Iraqi policeman and 19 others, including UN workers, were injured. This led to the evacuation of more than 600 UN aid workers from Baghdad. A small staff of aid workers did not return until August 2004.

So that is the story behind World Humanitarian Day. I have the upmost respect and admiration for aid workers and believe strongly in their work. Let's use this day to honor their lives.

My New Wheels!

So my birthday was few weeks back and look what I got! The hubs restored my grandma's bike from the '50s (yes, the 1950s!) with new tires and a comfy new seat! He left the paint as is, chipped and all, but I think that gives it more character. There's even an old sticker on it. I LOVE IT!

It's so fun to ride and it makes me feel like I'm cruisin' back in time. Every time I'm on it I think of what things were like for my grandma when she rode it. She was well into her 30s at the time, with a husband and five children. I can't help but wonder what kind of adventures she took this bike on...

I do know one thing--she rode it through a bunch of wet asphalt, which still remains stuck under the fender. If she was anything like me, she was probably running late and had no other choice but to drive directly through the asphalt!

Is Charity Helping or Hurting Africa?

I recently finished the book Dead Aid by Dambisa Moyo, which confronts head on one of "the greatest myths of our time: that billions of dollars in aid sent from wealthy countries to developing African nations has helped to reduce poverty and increase growth." She claims that aid has done much more harm that good and at this point is even the cause of poverty. (I wrote a little review here.)

While I don't completely agree with Moyo and think her views are a little extreme, it does have me thinking. What is aid and why is it so ineffective? What makes development sustainable? Why do Westerners feel as if Africa needs 'saving'?

While in Uganda I saw firsthand how ineffective aid can be. One of the big issues there, like much of sub-Saharan Africa, is access to clean water. Millions are dying simply because they don't have access to a clean water source. One day I learned that an NGO went into this little village I was visiting and put in a water well. Great. Everyone was rejoicing and so excited to have clean water, now they wouldn't have to worry about getting sick.

Pretty soon the NGO left and life was back to normal. Not long after this the water well broke. No one in the village knew how to fix it, no one had the money to repair it, and so it just sat there-useless. The people in the village were now back to drinking contaminated water.

I'm always reminded of this story when I think of aid. While I admire the NGO for their desire to help the people in that village, we must all start to rethink this whole idea of 'helping'. I think it is so important for Westerners to stop thinking we have all the answers and listen first.

I think it would be great to see a revolution in aid that starts first with respect. When we start seeing each other as equals, and realize we can actually learn a lot from one another, we can then build on a relationship. Those villagers in Uganda were some of the brightest and most resilient people I've ever met in my life. They deserve to have a voice.

I guess I've been a tad bit annoyed lately with charity. I'm really tired of seeing the posters with pictures of babies with swollen bellies and flies in their eyes. There has to be a better way. Now don't get me wrong here. I'm not against charity, I'm actually a huge advocate for it, and I believe if one person's life was changed forever it is all worth it. BUT I also think we have to approach it differently if we hope to see any sustainable progress.

So what do you think?

Female Genital Cutting: The Debate Rages On

Female genital cutting is an issue that doesn't get the attention it deserves.

The World Health Organization estimates that 100-140 million women around the world have been subject to genital cutting. It's still prevalent in 28 countries, most of which are in Africa, where these practices are carried out in a barbaric, and often deadly manner with the use of razor blades and broken pieces of glass.

It's done for a variety of reasons--some are hygienic, while others use it to ward of sexuality, some see it as a rite of passage into womanhood.

The newest debate around this issue concerns the involvement of doctors and medical staff. More and more families are now asking doctors to carry out the cut, in the hope that this will make it safer. Research shows the use of sterile equipment and antibiotics cut the risk of immediate complications by 70%, so it would make sense that families, who intend only to cut--not kill--their daughters, would ask a doctor to carry out the task.

So that is where the debate lies. If families start seeking professional medical attention in order to cut their daughters, does that make it acceptable? Should doctors even consider doing such a thing?

When I read this article I was immediately reminded of the stories I heard about female cutting while in Uganda. Stories of women holding down screaming girls as young as three and basically mutilating them with a razor blade, with no pain medication at all. Some bled to death, while others got off with a bad infection. It's unimaginable. I can't even comprehend what this would be like. I think it is a brutal practice, regardless of doctor involvement.

My first thought is no, doctors should not be involved at all, because by doing so they are supporting this horrible practice.

But that can't be the answer.

IF doctors refuse to be involved that only means these women will carry their daughters back into those old traditions, with nothing but a rusty razor blade.

The lesser of the two evils is getting the doctors involved. And in a lot of ways it can be seen as a step in the right direction: IF they HAVE to be cut, then they should be doing it in the safest environment possible. As much as I'd like to see this stop completely TODAY, the reality is that this tradition is deep in tribal and spiritual roots and there is much work to be done if we hope to see an end to this brutal practice.

Back to School??

Ok, so I'm starting school next week.

Graduate school. Full time.

I technically started about a year ago, but only took one class and decided I wasn't quite ready to make the commitment. Sometimes I do that...

BUT I'm ready now and the big day is almost here. I start next Monday! Holy cow. I'm working on my masters in international relations and honestly, I'm pretty jazzed about it. I actually love school, but ever since my almost fatal run in with law school I'm just a little cautious.

So I'm starting to mentally prep myself for going back to school. I'm trying to get myself back in the groove, but I've forgotten what exactly the groove is. It's been three years since undergrad, and yes I know that isn't much in the grand scheme of things, but to me it's an eternity. I'm also working on my social skills, preparing to meet new and possibly strange people. That's always fun.

Anyone ever notice how college students tend to be...grungy? Like they haven't seen a shower in a week and you can forget about the toothbrush, or the washing machine for that matter. I don't know, maybe that's just my experience, but I'm hoping graduate school is different. Surely, these are adults here, there can't possibly be any grunge left at this point. Right?

I guess we'll see!

Number 1

This is my first post. A little awkward...where to begin?

Hi world. I hope we can be friends.

Just a little warning here…I don’t always write with proper punctuation, grammar, context, or spelling. If you don’t like it, hit the road Jack.

To the rest of you: welcome! Grab a cup of joe and stay a while!

Phew, glad number 1 is over.

This One Chance to Live

I was just reading through my old journal from 2007 and saw this entry. It's so amazing how I can read something I wrote almost three years ago and still know exactly how I felt at that moment...

I wrote this after deciding not to go to law school. I had the summer off before I was going to start in the Fall, and it was my first vacation in two years. I was thrilled to do nothing but sleep in and read Mary Higgins Clark novels.

Two weeks in and my heart started screaming that something was wrong. It was like God pulled the wool from my eyes and I saw where my life was really headed. I realized law school wasn't what I wanted at all. In fact, I had no idea what I wanted.

I was pretty lost at this point, but I knew one thing: I dreamt of going to Africa...

This was only the beginning.

October 6, 2007

“I can’t believe I decided not to go…I can’t believe I’m not there right now. I know my family thinks I’m crazy. AM I? What am I going to do with my life now? I have no fricken plan!!

I need to just figure out who I am. I can't be a loser that does nothing with my life. I need to dig deeper into my soul than ever before. My short life hasn't revealed to my why I am am even here on this big round Earth. I want to figure that out…I have to.

I do know one thing, I have always dreamt of traveling the world, helping others, and myself really. I have only one life, one body, and this one chance to live and I'm just now realizing that. At times, I feel an empty spot in my heart…I have everything I could want, but I'm still searching for something. But why do I desire to find more? Why did I turn down law school? Was that a big mistake?

I feel this overwhelming desire to do something real with my life. Something that matters. I want to see the world and help people in need. It’s all out there, I just have to discover how to make it happen. Yet, I feel like this is a dream. A dream made impossible by jobs, money, worried family, obligations and the list goes on. How am I any different from the rest of the world, who long for more but feel trapped by everything? I realize with all my heart that to make my life everything it can be I have to step past that wall, into the unknown, and trust that the good Lord above has a plan for me.

I want more. I want to see the world. I want to know I made a difference for myself and others...

Maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps?”