As I came back to my apartment Sunday night I felt a little sad. I had just experienced an amazing weekend with some pretty amazing people and there I was back in my little home feeling frustrated. I didn't want the inspiration, confidence, and relationships to end. I knew that I wanted to do something on campus, to get people involved, to change something, but what?
My boyfriend simply told me to start something that I was passionate about. The topic of women was the first thing to come to my mind. I have a strong passion for helping women who are oppressed, abused, and who don't have a voice, but I never thought of creating an organization for women on my campus, so I left my thought hanging in the air and went to class on Monday morning.
Monday afternoon my roommate, Jenna, and I sat down for lunch and I began telling her about my weekend, how inspired I was, and how I needed to organize something soon. Somehow or another we began talking about Take Back the Night. This is a national event to raise awareness for sexual assault. It gives women the chance to stand up for themselves..and well take back the night. It just so happens that April is sexual assault awareness month...how perfect! Within a half hour we decided that we are going to host this event on April 16, 2009 at or around Columbia's campus...hopefully in Grant Park. The talk about this one event has transformed into what will become our very own women's organization.
I have always felt confident in what I want to do with my life and now I am finally feeling a confidence within myself. I am ready and able to fight for what I believe in, and change something for the better.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Gulabi Gang
It's really inspirational to see women around the world standing up for what they believe. I can only aspire to be as strong as these women. I have so much respect for them.
Fired Up
I have just returned from my first evening attending Organize the Hope. It is a weekend conference dedicated to activism, leadership, humanity, peace, and hope.
I applied to the conference about 2 moths ago and was regretting my decision all day today. I was in a weird funk of a mood and the last thing I wanted to do was sit in a room full of strangers. I layered up, slipped on my gloves, topped myself off with a hat and drudged my way to the conference. I walked into a circle of brown collapsible chairs and sat next to Mary. I was still not feeling the vibe of peace and love and wore my fake smile until we started actually talking about why we were there. We all signed up for this conference not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into, but knowing that the weekend will change us for the better. We ended up having great small group discussions and I found that I shared the same feelings, frustrations, and passions as every one else in the room.
I normally am a listener. I absolutely hate talking in public. Doesn't matter if it's 3 people or 23 I can't do it. I start to shake, sweat, and feel the unbearable need to throw up all over the place. Tonight I found myself talking...quite a bit actually. I not only talked but talked passionately. Rather than feeling the need to spew I felt a wonderful tingling feeling all over my body that made me want to scream, "Hell yea, this is why I'm living!!"
The rest of the night was a mixture of emotions. There were points when I listened, points when I wanted to run out in the street screaming and protesting in the name of love, and times when I simply teared up. There was one discussion about how we could get people on our campuses to listen, care, and act. The only way that people will be able to grasp the pain of others and care enough to do something is if it happens to them, but how do you make people feel the pain of losing a loved one when they haven't. People are dying every second of the day and it doesn't even faze us. It became really hard for me to not burst out into sobs. People are dying. Parents. Children. Brothers. Sisters. Why are we not crying for those lost lives? Why aren't we trying to stop those from dying? Have we become so desensitized to death that life doesn't mean anything to us anymore?
I don't know about everybody else, but I don't want to see hatred continue living in our world.
I applied to the conference about 2 moths ago and was regretting my decision all day today. I was in a weird funk of a mood and the last thing I wanted to do was sit in a room full of strangers. I layered up, slipped on my gloves, topped myself off with a hat and drudged my way to the conference. I walked into a circle of brown collapsible chairs and sat next to Mary. I was still not feeling the vibe of peace and love and wore my fake smile until we started actually talking about why we were there. We all signed up for this conference not really knowing what we were getting ourselves into, but knowing that the weekend will change us for the better. We ended up having great small group discussions and I found that I shared the same feelings, frustrations, and passions as every one else in the room.
I normally am a listener. I absolutely hate talking in public. Doesn't matter if it's 3 people or 23 I can't do it. I start to shake, sweat, and feel the unbearable need to throw up all over the place. Tonight I found myself talking...quite a bit actually. I not only talked but talked passionately. Rather than feeling the need to spew I felt a wonderful tingling feeling all over my body that made me want to scream, "Hell yea, this is why I'm living!!"
The rest of the night was a mixture of emotions. There were points when I listened, points when I wanted to run out in the street screaming and protesting in the name of love, and times when I simply teared up. There was one discussion about how we could get people on our campuses to listen, care, and act. The only way that people will be able to grasp the pain of others and care enough to do something is if it happens to them, but how do you make people feel the pain of losing a loved one when they haven't. People are dying every second of the day and it doesn't even faze us. It became really hard for me to not burst out into sobs. People are dying. Parents. Children. Brothers. Sisters. Why are we not crying for those lost lives? Why aren't we trying to stop those from dying? Have we become so desensitized to death that life doesn't mean anything to us anymore?
I don't know about everybody else, but I don't want to see hatred continue living in our world.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Show your Pink Chaddis!
Indian Women Use Facebook for Valentine’s Counterprotest
Please take the time to check this out and if you feel so inclined join! Go to a pub on Valentines Day and toast to the women of India fighting for their rights and for love.Big Beau and I spoke
So I'm pretty sure that I just spoke with the owner of the casino...here's what happened.
I'm sitting in the cafe working on an essay until Kris gets out of work when this man comes over to me.
Him:Hello, how are you doing?
Me: I'm good thank you, how are you?
Him: Fine, what are you working on?
Me: An essay
Him: What's that?
Me: I'm trying to win a trip to Africa and I have to write an essay.
Him: Are you using the wireless.
Me: No I thought you had to pay for internet so I'm not using it.
Him: No you can using it, just click on BR_Guest and I'll send someone over with the password for you.
Me: Thank you that would great.
Him: Where are you from?
Me: Chicago.
Him: I used to own a casino up in Hammond Indiana. Well I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay over here, and I'll send someone over.
Me: Thank you.
Him: Can I ask why your down here?
Me: I had to check out of my room and I'm waiting for my boyfriend to get off work, is it okay that I sit here?
Him: Yes of course, let me know if you need anything.
Me: Thank you I will.
I'm sitting in the cafe working on an essay until Kris gets out of work when this man comes over to me.
Him:Hello, how are you doing?
Me: I'm good thank you, how are you?
Him: Fine, what are you working on?
Me: An essay
Him: What's that?
Me: I'm trying to win a trip to Africa and I have to write an essay.
Him: Are you using the wireless.
Me: No I thought you had to pay for internet so I'm not using it.
Him: No you can using it, just click on BR_Guest and I'll send someone over with the password for you.
Me: Thank you that would great.
Him: Where are you from?
Me: Chicago.
Him: I used to own a casino up in Hammond Indiana. Well I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay over here, and I'll send someone over.
Me: Thank you.
Him: Can I ask why your down here?
Me: I had to check out of my room and I'm waiting for my boyfriend to get off work, is it okay that I sit here?
Him: Yes of course, let me know if you need anything.
Me: Thank you I will.
The Beau
I have just entered into the Beau Rivage in Biloxi, Mississippi. It is an enormous place with floors of white and ceilings that lead up to the glass ceilings letting in the only natural thing, light. The people range in ages. There are seniors shuffling their way into the casino with their oxygen tanks, holding one another’s hands for support, middle aged couples ready to throw down all they have...or at least all they have in their fanny packs, the occasional family consisting of mom. dad. boy. girl. There are random groups of teenage girls attempting to look of age (alright I guess I’m kinda one of them...but I’m almost 21...they’re just babies for Pete’s sake!). Oh, and ofcourse how could I forget, the creepy mustached man with his barely 15 year old Vietnamese prize on his arm. You’d think I’m joking, but I’m not.
The Beau seems oddly placed and foreign here in the modest town of Biloxi. This place is colossal, extravagant, almost flashy, but I guess that’s to be expected of any casino, no matter the location. I am thoroughly enjoying my time people watching, the older couples are by far my favorite to observe. I hope to one day be 80 years old dragging my oxygen tank with me to the casino with the love of my life holding my hand ever so gently. I think it’s great that they’re still going out for a night on the town...a Thursday night at that.
The Beau seems oddly placed and foreign here in the modest town of Biloxi. This place is colossal, extravagant, almost flashy, but I guess that’s to be expected of any casino, no matter the location. I am thoroughly enjoying my time people watching, the older couples are by far my favorite to observe. I hope to one day be 80 years old dragging my oxygen tank with me to the casino with the love of my life holding my hand ever so gently. I think it’s great that they’re still going out for a night on the town...a Thursday night at that.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
When the toilet overflows it brings up a lot.
My toilet just overflowed...I am trying my best to keep the tears from overflowing as well.
It's been a long Monday and I was looking forward to curling up under my comforter and drifting into an endless, heavy slumber..my white porcelain toilet had other plans. It has been choosing to not do it's job the past few days and tonight I thought I had a surefire way to fix it....that surefire way failed. It began to fill up to full capacity and began seeping over the edges of the bowl. At first I just stared at it thinking, "This is not possible! My floor is not flooding!" It was in fact flooding. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a couple substantial bowls, but it was useless. I finally got it to stop and just stared at the 1/2 inch of water around the base of the bowl.
I know that this is nothing tragic and really it could be funny, but I have a history of overflowing bathrooms.
When I was 5 years old I spent the night at my older sister's apartment. We had a fabulous night of baking cookies, eating carrots and ranch (the package with the girl bunny with the big red lips on it), and watching Little Nemo (not finding Nemo). She was having trouble with her toilet and I was told countless times, "Do not to flush the toilet!" Well being 5 years old I was taught to flush the toilet when I'm done, put down the lid and wash my hands...every 5 year old knows these steps. So as any 5 year old would, I flushed the toilet. After washing my hands I stepped off the stool and into a puddle of toilet water. I lifted the lid and to my horrified little eyes the water just kept on coming out. I paniced and grabbed all of the towels in the bathroom and placed them around the toilet...did I mention she had just bought new towels. I tried to make it stop, but I couldn't lift the tank lid. My sister called from the other room, "Kiki, is everything alright in there?" "....yes." lie. My first lie and it was to the person who meant the most to me in the world. I began crying. I fell to the toilet water floor with the sopping towels all around me and cried. The door slowly opened and I saw the disappointed look on my sisters face. I ran into the other room to cry, leaving her with the mess. About a month after that she was killed. I never got to apologize to her for lying. I never got to tell her that I didn't mean to flush the toilet or that I didn't mean to use her new towels.
So when my toilet began flooding my bathroom tonight I was flooded with memories of being that 5 year old little girl who ruined her sister's bathroom and tried to lie about it. I know it's something silly and she would not want me to even think about such a stupid lie, but it's always been the something that I wished I could apologize for.
It's been a long Monday and I was looking forward to curling up under my comforter and drifting into an endless, heavy slumber..my white porcelain toilet had other plans. It has been choosing to not do it's job the past few days and tonight I thought I had a surefire way to fix it....that surefire way failed. It began to fill up to full capacity and began seeping over the edges of the bowl. At first I just stared at it thinking, "This is not possible! My floor is not flooding!" It was in fact flooding. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a couple substantial bowls, but it was useless. I finally got it to stop and just stared at the 1/2 inch of water around the base of the bowl.
I know that this is nothing tragic and really it could be funny, but I have a history of overflowing bathrooms.
When I was 5 years old I spent the night at my older sister's apartment. We had a fabulous night of baking cookies, eating carrots and ranch (the package with the girl bunny with the big red lips on it), and watching Little Nemo (not finding Nemo). She was having trouble with her toilet and I was told countless times, "Do not to flush the toilet!" Well being 5 years old I was taught to flush the toilet when I'm done, put down the lid and wash my hands...every 5 year old knows these steps. So as any 5 year old would, I flushed the toilet. After washing my hands I stepped off the stool and into a puddle of toilet water. I lifted the lid and to my horrified little eyes the water just kept on coming out. I paniced and grabbed all of the towels in the bathroom and placed them around the toilet...did I mention she had just bought new towels. I tried to make it stop, but I couldn't lift the tank lid. My sister called from the other room, "Kiki, is everything alright in there?" "....yes." lie. My first lie and it was to the person who meant the most to me in the world. I began crying. I fell to the toilet water floor with the sopping towels all around me and cried. The door slowly opened and I saw the disappointed look on my sisters face. I ran into the other room to cry, leaving her with the mess. About a month after that she was killed. I never got to apologize to her for lying. I never got to tell her that I didn't mean to flush the toilet or that I didn't mean to use her new towels.
So when my toilet began flooding my bathroom tonight I was flooded with memories of being that 5 year old little girl who ruined her sister's bathroom and tried to lie about it. I know it's something silly and she would not want me to even think about such a stupid lie, but it's always been the something that I wished I could apologize for.
Inspirations
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