Bon Voyage!

So, I have to address the change of online decor...I'm leaving tomorrow for Africa! I'll be on a medical mission with PINCC, and organization that conducts cervical cancer exams for the local female population. And, thanks to an awful, long, disconnected series of flights that my mile happy dad booked, I get to visit Istanbul!

Here's what I've got planned for Turkey:















I am so excited! I've packed and re-packed...had huge fits and anxious spazzes...and finally, I think I am ready to go. Now, all I have to do is catch some Z's. Like I can possibly do that at a time like this!

Well here goes nothing!

The All-Indian Woman

So, obviously, women aren't exactly appreciated back in the homeland.

What with the disparities in the workforce, the second class status, and let's not forget the occasional widow burning...women are supposedly an "underutilized resource". Economic objectification aside, it's a wonder the female population hasn't openly retaliated, unleashing years of bottled up feminine angst and injustice.

You'd think with the example set by the women of the West, who achieved their own independence back in the 20's, Indians would look to them for guidance in their empowerment endeavors. Or even if they're trying to maintain an elusive isolationist policy by turning up their noses at outside influence, why not look to their own religion and culture? After all, that can't be taboo, right?

In Hinduism, you've got your three main gods: Bramha, the creator, Shiva, the destroyer, and Vishnu, the preserver (a.k.a the one who's gotta get in the middle of those two). After that, you have numerous amounts of gods and goddesses, reincarnations, and demi-gods. The great thing about Indian gods is that they're surprisingly human. They have their own human flaws and vices, not to mention their own set of mistakes...mistakes that end up costing the WHOLE world, mind you. Shiva, normally pictured in deep, self-composed meditation, is actually notorious for his pride. Disgusted with the constant begging that the world does, Shiva decided that there would be no need for begging...because he was going to fulfill every single wish in the world. Boy, did that plan backfire. In the end, he was running away from some loon who wanted the power to turn anyone he touched into ash. Big mistake.

Anyways, Shiva's consort, Parvati, is known as the embodiment of the universe, the supreme Mother. "Parvati and Shiva are the divine embodiment of creativity (the feminine) and consciousness (masculine). She is the generative energy of the universe; he is its formless wisdom. Whatever Shiva imagines, Parvati brings to life. He dreams it; she materializes it" (Elizabeth Gilbert). So though, essentially, the man is the brain behind the operation, the woman is the one who makes it happen. She has the power to conceive and create. In addition, she is said to tame Shiva...when he's in one of those "manly , aggressive fits". She civilizes him. Scholar David Kinsley explains, "The fact that Parvati is able to physically restrain Shiva dramatically makes the point that she is superior in power."

So here we are, India. An example of Feminine strength. Maybe Parvati will finally get enough of the inequality and bestow upon Indian women some forcefulness, some will power...then maybe they'll let their hair loose, stir up some trouble, and stick it to the MAN.

Let's Shosholoza

Shosholoza By Dan Moyane

After watching Invictus, which was a powerful movie about Nelson Mandela and the patriotic power of the South African national rugby team, I became enamored with this song. Shosholoza is, traditionally, a folk song sung by the miners, but I was really taken by the word and song's meaning. Shosholoza means to strive or to endeavor. In addition, it means "to move ahead". This next year, I take this one word to be my inspiration and guide. I will fervently utter it when I'm scrambling to finish my college applications. I will joyously yell it when I am finally at that graduation podium, ready to accept my diploma, and I will proudly state it when I walk into my college campus, books in hand, ready to start the shosholoza-ing all over again!

In addition, it is my prayer for the world. For man to move past their differences and look forward to harmony and humanity. For governments to aid in the common advancement of all nations. For leaders to move ahead of their prejudices and dogmas so they may judge clearly and without bias. Let the world adopt this slogan, for it encompasses much of the terrors we see around us, the emotions we all feel, and the burdens we, as a race of men, must all bear.

She Gives, They Take, and Who Ends Up With the Wallet Ache?

It's a rare day when you're asked to examine the meaning of friendship and the spirit of giving all at the same time. I mean, it's a lot to handle for the old noggin. It's being asked to think deeply, philosophize, and ponder...all during summer vacation? Pardon me, vacay? And just when you thought you left your pal Sigmund and his compadres Montagine and Herr Nietzsche behind.

So, Alisha, my sweet, sensitive, emotional lug of a twin, has a problem. She feels it her responsibility, no, duty to constantly pick up her friends' slack, which includes, and is not limited to, paying for her friends (all the time!), doing THEIR homework, running THEIR errands, and any other favor she can think of. Give. Give. And More Give.

I'm not trying to be cynical or anything. I am totally into the whole spirit of giving! It's right up there with the spirit of kindness, the spirit of cooperation, even the spirit of...of...the spirit of St. Louis, for pete's sake!

I liked this one idea that was written on the inside of a journal I picked up at the bookstore. Friendship is like a checking account. You put some in, and you take some it...it's the fundamental philosophy of the Friendship Account. Well, so I believed. For Alisha, friendship is an eternally one-sided affair. Even I love paying for my friends and buying them gifts, but not every single moment of my life. And when you start realizing that you keep giving, but getting nothing in return, you start to feel a tad sad, lonesome...pathetic, even? I believe a true friend would notice the lovely things you're doing for her, and then, out of the love she feels for you, reciprocate. Because friends do things for EACH other!

I'm actually worried about what she's going to do when the time comes for us little birdies to fly out of the nest for the big collegiate world. A world of mystery, wonder, and eternally empty wallets and bank accounts. I can just imagine her paying for her friend's meal with the $25 she needs to get through the rest of the week...and then she's forced to eat Top Ramen from plastic cups and beg for spare change the rest of the days. Ok well, since I'm not cynical about being generous, you can say I'm cynical about the whole "college experience". But that's a post for a different time.

Strange, New Things

Little hands, little feet
Little fingers, little toes
Smooth and new, twisting furiously, curiously
Grasping this, touching that
Feeling new sensations spread like warmth
Drinking in the novelty, the strangeness of it all.
Sprigs of hair, bright and soft
That cover a pink head, pink ears, a pink face
With its tiny features etched secretly,
Hiding blurry eyes that focus, un-focus,
Uncovering shapes, structures, things;
That will soon be known, memorized,
And taken for granted.
But until then,
They remain new.

And the prize goes to...

What's the point of dog shows?
Does judging a dog by the shininess of his coat really make a difference to the world?
It probably doesn't to the dog, I mean, he's probably just as happy to roll in some mud puddles or indulge in a bit of scampering and general padding around here and there.
Why is it so necessary for society to arrange nature into a hierarchic system of blue ribbons and gold stars?
Roses generally don't care whether they are the most fragrant or most delicate. Roses generally don't care at all, actually.
So, why this inherent tendency of ours to judge? Are we so vain that we feel the need to surround ourselves with only beauty or do we require vast systems of categorization merely for the pretense of organization and order?
Personally, I don't differentiate between mutt and pure-bred. I just don't seem to ever get past those cute little puppy eyes!
And then it's all cootchie-cooing from there!

What's in a Name? Let me explain...

Anu. Simple. Two syllables. Very self-explanatory...NOT.

Since I was a child, I remember always having different variations of my name. Annu-eee was given to me by my kindergarten comrade, April, who I adored to bits. My last memory of her was during my final day at Monarch Christian school, and as I was walking to the car. I heard my name being yelled. I looked around only to see April running wildly across the field, pigtails flying, shouting "Anuuuuu-eeee!!" as she lunged into my arms and proceeded to bear hug me. However, not all of my variations involve gumdrop sweet memories.

It was middle school, seventh grade, I believe, a tough time to be a kid. We were all growing, changing, metamorphosing...it was a gross period in my life. Ashwin was new, and he exuded this nonchalant "I don't care about anything" attitude that I would later call stupidity. Anyway, we were not exactly on good terms. This not-on-good-termedness culminated in my next variation, one that would plague me for the rest of the year: "Anu-species that sat in anu melon and laid a tree-egg". We were sitting in Biology, with quirky Miss Santos lecturing in the front. What with the Filipino pronunciations and the constant coca-cola breaks, we were hard pressed to learn much of anything, let alone listen to what she was saying. Unfortunately the one phrase that managed to be communicated clearly was " a new species of trees". The phrase that started it all, and by all I mean the consequent harassing and teasing. Later on in Middle School, I would become El Anu, a mosquito, and Anus, the possessive form of my name on days when I was too tired to care about apostrophes and punctuation. Needless to say, astronomy and grammar became two very detestable subjects, and the planet Uranus was my enemy.

Recently, we have been immersing ourselves in Classical Greek literature, especially Hesiod's Theogeny, which depicts the entire creation myth of the Greek gods. With footnotes galore, each passage is analyzed and backed up with similar creation myths from various other civilizations, especially the Sumerians, whose Sky God, Anu, was the ultimate, omnipotent creator of the Universe. Cool, right, sharing names with an old civilization's ultimate god? Wrong...absolutely wrong. Apparently, due to his constant displays of hubris (Like my new and improved SAT vocabulary?) his wife, Kumarabi, bit or somehow cut off his balls, and his genitals sprouted new, little child-gods. And if history does indeed repeat itself, then I do believe I may have the power of asexuality, so my class likes to think. I think I will need to watch out for anyone who wants to cut off my balls...oh wait, that's right, I'm a girl...yeah. We may face a problem there. I don't know how I will possibly be able to acquire the necessary male organs in time for childbirth! Oh, darn! Suffice to say, that was an awkward history class. I don't think I've blushed that much in one hour!

So, in conclusion, my parents are incredibly wretched people for being remiss in their naming duties. In their next life, I hope one of them is named Dilbert or Richard (Dick). Ah, sweet revenge.