insanity?

it is said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results. by that definition, i think i might be insane.

almost a year ago, i wrote in defense of the scottish compassion clause that allowed the convicted lockerbie bomber to be released from prison. a doctor diagnosed him with prostate cancer and said he had three months to live. i thought this was a stunning turn of events. a man who was convicted of such a horrible act is then forced to face his mortality. at the same time, a government takes action based on a moral high ground rather than politics or emotions. what a great world to live in! now, in the wake of the BP oil spill in the gulf coast, the US senate is going to examine accusations that BP lobbied the British government to do what it could to secure the release of the bomber. if he went free, BP would close an oil deal with Libya, making millions of dollars.

so it looks like i was wrong. it's not the type of wrong that is easy to change. it's not like i got a math problem wrong and just need to refresh my memory on multiplication tables. it's not like i used the wrong form of a verb in the wrong location. i was wrong because i chose to believe that people and their actions are good, true, and just. i chose to believe that a government could do something selfless with no ulterior motives. now, even while in the midst of being proven wrong, i am choosing not to change my beliefs.

i always assume that the young guy on the train will give up his seat for the older man. i expect people to think of the feelings of others before speaking. and it would never cross my mind that someone would be anything other than genuine in what they are saying. i trust automatically. and even when proven otherwise, i still continue to trust.

in the back of my mind, i know it doesn't make much sense. as i am writing this, remembering every time i believed the best and was wrong, i still don't understand why i don't join every other cynic in believing that everyone is innately a jerk. what i think it is, though, are those few times when i am not wrong.

when my brother and i were younger, my mom took us through the drive through at mcdonalds. we had stopped at the atm before so my mom could get $20. as we were waiting for our food to come out, my mom was entertaining us by holding the bill in the opening in the door frame that was there because the window was rolled down. i can't remember how, but she dropped the money into the door, loosing it forever. just then, the employee opened the drive through window to get us to pay. my mom explained the situation to him, said she was very sorry, but she couldn't pay for the food. he asked us to wait one second. when he returned, he brought us our food and said not to worry about it, they would cover our meal.

stories like that give me reassurance that there is always a small chance that i will be right. it makes me think that if i believe the best in others, if i trust others, if i open myself up to others, that someone out there will do the same for me when i need it. so is there a chance that i am insane? yes. but no one ever said the insane were unhappy.

dear summer fridays

it's been a little over three years since we first met. i was a recent college grad just entering the workforce and you were a staple of office life in publishing companies. i was just starting as an assistant, and you were entering your umpteenth year of giving office workers a half day on friday after flexing their hours during the week. we've been through our ups and downs, but i just thought i would say this: i love you.

i'll admit that that first summer, i was confused. confused about why, exactly, you were in my life and confused about what, exactly, i was supposed to do with you. i didn't take advantage of all you had to offer. i used you for doing laundry, or watching law and order reruns. what was i thinking?

i definitely learned my lesson and the next summer, that was our best. i used you for lunch with my friends, leaving early for weekend trips, and sitting in the park. it was like a vacation day every friday afternoon and yet i was still working the same amount of hours and getting the same amount of work done.

last summer, well, that was a different story. we grew apart. i was stuck at the office working long hours on fridays while you strutted around with all my friends. gone were the days of friday afternoon lunches or weekends away. heck, i would have even taken an afternoon of law and order reruns! i was pretty angry with you at the end of last summer, i must say.

but then, a few months ago, they tried to take you away from me. not like last year, where i just had too much to do and couldn't actually spend the time with you but they tried to tell me we couldn't spend any time together at all! not even if i was able to! well, that got me all riled up. riled enough to fight and win you back.

it's been a rough year for us, but we've made it through stronger than ever. now, i actually cherish a friday that i spend doing laundry, but still make plans to go out to lunch, too. and, every once in a while, we spend some time apart and i work the whole friday. i've learned that you give me the freedom to do what i want, when i want. and that is why i love you.

greatness

i wrote a post a while ago about how as i have grown up, my goals in life have shifted from the concrete (novelist, journalist) to the ideal (to be happy). the problem with that is it's hard to quantify ideals. what does it mean to be happy? how do i achieve that?

i've been thinking about this recently because i am really happy. it's that wonderful, comfortable, content sort of happy. the kind of happy where, when sitting alone on my couch, i let out a deep breath and smile. just because. why is it that right now i am so happy? and how can i get this to continue?

it occurred to me that while creating my goals as a kid, i didn't want to be a non-selling author. i wanted to be a best-selling author. i didn't want to be a mediocre journalist, i wanted to be a great journalist in an exciting city. in reality, my goals were never about what i wanted to be, they were about being great at what i was doing.

i don't think i would have ever picked publishing media as a job when i was 10. (did i even know that it existed when i was 10? unlikely.) but here i am, succeeding, making a career, and enjoying my co-workers. i have a great job where i am constantly trying to be great.

i dreamed of living the fabulous new york life with a cool apartment, but it turns out that the cozy, easy life of boston is where i really feel at home. apparently boston has cool apartments and fun things to do, too.

i always imagined that i would meet good friends in college, but the reality of those friendships turned out to be much harder, but much more rewarding in return. i learned that some friendships were worth working at, and the ups and downs would make them stronger in the end.

there are times where my job isn't going well or my friendships are in down cycles in which i am less happy. but those hard times are what help me to grow and come out better--greater--on the other side. all i can do is try to live the greatest version of my life and be the greatest version of me that i can be. then, the happiness will come.

water

this weekend, as a boil-water order was in effect for two million people in the metro boston area, i learned one important thing i will keep with me for the rest of my life. it was not to appreciate clean water (i think i already do that), or realize that in many countries this is what life is like everyday (i get that, too). i learned that i loathe bottled water. since graduating college, i have made small steps towards this conclusion, but this weekend pushed me over the edge.

these small steps started at home. instead of buying water to drink, i would just drink tap water or filter my own water with a brita filter. when going out, though, i would still tend to stop and pick up a plastic bottle of water. then, my mom bought me one of those klean kanteens and the convenience meant i would just load up my own water bottle with water from home before heading out on a walk or road trip. it was so logical. why would i buy something that i could easily provide myself for free? and on top of that, i was helping the environment. it was one less plastic bottle that needed to be disposed.

it wasn't until this weekend, though, that i became morally opposed to buying bottled water. when i first heard of boil-water order, i did just that--boiled some water. i knew i was going to need some to brush my teeth, wash my hands, and wash a few necessary dishes, so i figured i'd have it ready. it wasn't until i turned on the t.v. to try to get some more info about the order that i saw a story about a run on bottled water. it was a few hours after the order was issued, and many places were completely out of water. one co-worker later told me of seeing a woman in CVS with a cart full of fiji water and smartwater. it must have cost her at least $50!

the stories about people in search of bottled water baffled me. so many people were quoted as traveling (in their SUV's, i'm sure) to five or ten different locations looking for bottled water. there were reports of pushing and shoving, chaos, and price gouging. all for water that they could have for free by boiling it at home.

i ended up boiling about three pots of water over the course of the weekend (adding to the three bottles of water that we keep in the fridge that were filtered before the order was issued). let me tell you something about boiled, unfiltered water. it does not taste good. but you know what? it quenched my thirst. i had ways to flavor it with lemon juice or salt. was it ideal? no. did i spend my saturday night fighting with people over the last of the bottled water? no.

think about that woman who bought $50 worth of bottled water when she could have just walked to her kitchen and boiled some water. she could have taken that $50 and donated it to an organization to help hundreds of women in countries around the world who have to walk miles to get the same kind of water that we had to live with for three days.

i can't say that i will never drink from a bottle of water ever again, but i can say i will try. living through our water "emergency" made me realize it was no emergency at all. it put into perspective how far past logical many people have gotten about this. buying $50 worth of smartwater so you can brush your teeth with it is not normal. elbowing other residents out of the way to get bottled water before they can is not normal. increasing the price of water (water!) when there is a run on it at the stores is not normal. i don't want to add to a culture where these things happen.

kyrgyzstan

When I was 14, my family took a vacation to Kyrgyzstan. I’ve never heard of anyone else who has vacationed in the small Central Asian country bordered by China and Uzbekistan, but my dad was in a peculiar situation. His sister, who studied Russian history and culture for most of her adult life, was in her last of four years living in Kyrgyzstan. Originally working on a year-long Fullbright scholarship, my aunt fell in love with the country. Through her work, she met a great friend, whose family essentially adopted my aunt. Eventually, they invited my dad to come and stay with them. Not wanting to offend his sister’s adopted family, and realizing that an opportunity like that would not come along again, he accepted. So, in the summer of 2000, I found myself on a plane to Kyrgyzstan. I had no idea my life was about to change.

We spent 5 days in Bishkek, the capital, and 5 days in a village by Lake Issy-kul, the second largest natural salt lake in the world. It had been a decade since the Soviet Union fell, and Bishkek looked like it had not been touched since then. There was a statue of Lenin and the architecture was exactly what I expected--big, heavy, concrete buildings. As we walked through the city and the apartment buildings of my aunt’s friends, I couldn’t help but notice how every single building was falling apart. I will never forget when one woman told me that, of course, they were happy that the Soviets were no longer in charge, but now no one had any idea how to take care of the communal property. In the Soviet system, all buildings were taken care of by the government so it was still unclear who would do that now.

The other thing I remember about Bishkek was driving through the city (in a “cab” we hired by flagging a random driver down and negotiating a rate). As our guide was pointing our important places, she casually mentioned that you could tell any house that was owned by a government official. Anyone who had a three-story house must be rich and anyone who was rich must be a corrupt government official.

Up until then, my United States education had taught me that the we were good and the Soviets were bad. This was the first time I realized that there was no black or white. While the policies of the Soviets were not the greatest, at least there were policies. In some ways, the mess that remained was worse.

If my time in Bishkek taught me about the politics of Kyrgyzstan, my time in Issy-kul taught me about the people. We rented a van and a driver to take us the 8-hour trip to the lake. We paid extra so that the van driver would not pick anyone else up on the way, but when a distant family member of the driver flagged him down, we squeezed to accommodate one more. For the driver, it would have been more of a dishonor not to give this person a ride that is was to break his promise to the strangers who had paid him. We eventually arrived and stayed with some mutual friends who had no electricity or plumbing. Our bathroom was a hole in the ground surrounded by a hut. Our shower was the lake. I woke up every morning to their cow, who was tied to a tree outside the house, mooing.

Our visit was a great honor to this family and, to celebrate, they spent prepared an all day feast for us. In the morning, the men went out into the mountains to find and kill a sheep. Then they butchered it and cooked all the meat over the fire in the yard. In the afternoon, we started eating., moving into different rooms for each course. In the final course, the most important parts of the sheep were divvied up between those attending based honor. My dad, being the male guest, was the most honored person there. As such, he received the sheep head and was expected to eat everything, including the eyes. (Traditional says that he should share it with the person he loved the most. The looks of horror on my step-mom and my faces meant he shared it with my brother.) The brains are considered a delicacy and my dad did everyone a great favor by sharing the bowl of brains with the room. Being the youngest female guest, I was left me with the tail.

We had never met these people before and labored all day to give us the most delicious parts of the meal. Everywhere we went, we were treated as family. I realized that, despite the language and geographic barriers, these were people just like me. I just happened to be born in American and they just happened to be born in Kyrgyzstan.

Since then, I have kept a close eye on the politics of the country. When I heard of the most recent opposition overthrow I didn’t have to get a map to figure out where the country was, read a dictionary to figure out how to say it, or think of our country’s military interests. I thought of the people who, for ten days, treated me like family. Those aren’t faceless victims of third-world violence; they are my family members who just happened to be born in Kyrgyzstan.

health care

today i watched the highlights of president obama's speech celebrating the long anticipated signing of the health care reform bill and i teared up. i have no idea why. i have health insurance, i have always had health insurance, i have no preexisting condition, and i live in massachusetts where we already have a universal health care law. for all intents and purposes, this law has little to no meaning to my life.

yet there are so many other people like me, who have always had health insurance and are in no danger of loosing it, that are staunchly opposed to this bill. this is my blog so i can say what i want. and honestly, i just don't get it. the people voting on the have health insurance and, like me, have probably always had health insurance. so, like me, they cannot even begin to fathom what it is like to not have health insurance and the kind of worry and stress that would put on life.

because i have no personal connection to this debate, and i don't really understand the politics behind it. i don't really care about deficits, nebraska, or taxes on tanning beds. i can't pretend to know what all of the stipulations mean and there is no way i have actually read the whole thing. at it's most basic, what i understand the new law to be is providing health insurance for those who cannot afford it. i just don't get how giving people who want health insurance but don't have money for it the opportunity to buy health insurance is a bad thing.

i see it more as a judgement and common sense issue. if there is a large group of people who need something that i have, use, and consider a necessity, and i have the opportunity to help them get it--even if it means giving more of the money that i make--then i feel morally obligated to help them. and really, let's face it. i pay taxes for tons of things that have no affect on my life. that is how our society works. and that is why our country is pretty cool.

so i didn't cry because i was excited for myself or someone i knew. i didn't cry because i was disappointed the bill was signed. i guess i cried because i was proud that, at least for a moment, it wasn't all that bickering that always comes from politics. it wasn't about the people who were actually voting. it was about the people who voted for them. it was the fact that we decided to do something that is right.

olympics

today is the last day of the 2010 winter olympics and i am about to go into mourning. i love the olympics and these two weeks every two years are my favorite in the sporting world. despite, or maybe because of, my utter lack of athletic ability i love watching sports. i like baseball, hockey and football and spend hours watching espn during the non-olympic times, but nothing compares to watching the olympics.

my love of these games seems to be at complete odds with my favorite sports analysts, though. many are only interested in the hockey games, and look down on nbc for airing what they call the marque events of the games--figure skating and skiing--and sending hockey games to the cable networks. the analysts make it seem that no serious sports fan can like watching the olympic games and that the most important sports are the ones that we are inundated with all the time.

in actuality, that is what makes the olympics so great. when else would i spend saturday night watching bobsledding? or a sunday afternoon watching cross country skiing? the competition is world class, so i know that the events are going to be exciting. the personal stories of athletes give me people to root for. most of these athletes have no real fame or fortune outside of their olympic experience, which puts them at a stark contrast to the over-payed, over-hyped athletes of the national sports leagues.

most of all, though, the teams in the olympics are not split by state or region, but rather country. when patriotism is combined with the sport and the stories there is really nothing better. when an otherwise unknown speedskater performs better than she is expected to, i'm excited by the sport, thrilled for her as a person, and proud that someone from my country could upset the best athletes in the world. the combination of those three things does not happen at any other sports venue.

i will root for the hockey team, but no more than i have rooted for the americans who had historic results in the nordic combined, or the american skiers who lived up to the high expectations set for them, or the american ice dancers--yes the ice dancers--for whom winning a medal was more than they could have thought. for two weeks, i had the opportunity to root for people who live ordinary lives with extraordinary athletic abilities. it is much more fun to root for them than the baseball, basketball, or football athletes that i will never be able to identify with because of their superhuman status. it is 2012 yet?