Are you ok?

So, today I was driving back from work and my car overheated again.  It's the second time that this happens while I've been alone.  It's the second time that I've had some people come over to help.  The truth is that there are scary people all over the world but, there are also a lot of people who are just willing to help if you need it.  I'm not saying that being a young woman doesn't help my odds on both sides (the good and the bad) but, my car overheating has done something good to redeem my view of the human race.  Both times, I've had some helpful man or two stop to help me out.  Both times they were men who were either on their way to work or were at work.

Today, I had to pull over to let my car cool down on what is equivalent to a freeway in the States.  People drive by at high speeds and it's kind of precarious.  It just so happened that I had just driven by some workers who were fixing something on the road and I hadn't been out of the car for a minute when one of them came over to ask me what had happened to my car.  I told him that the car had overheated and he immediately asked one of his co-workers to go get a bucket of water (which I wouldn't have been able to do on that free-wayish road) because my little bottle of water wasn't going to be enough to cool down my car.

The fact is that the amount of steam that came out of my car was impresive, I just hope that it didn't cause any permanent damage.  I'm wondering if I have some sort of leak because it seems like the coolant is just dripping out too quickly.  Anyway, that's not the point.  The point is that the three workers stayed with me untill we'd gotten the temperature down, they gave me their advice, and I was back on the road.  It didn't overheat again on the rest of the commute home.

I think that even though my car situation is a bit of a concern, the positive thing is that there are a lot of kind strangers out there willing to help you out if you're in a tight spot without asking you for anything.  That's the bright side of this whole thing, I was in need of some positive interactions with strangers.

happy (lunar) new year!

I forgot to say "happy year of the tiger" to everyone on Sunday.  I've been enjoying the "lunar new year" stamps these days as I've been loving the snow break to write cards to my friends. I think this is going to be the best year of the tiger ever.

That being said, we went back to school today after our snow storm break.  We were thinking of all the snow related compound words like "snowman", "snowball", "snowflake"... I also had to respond to the principle's question about individual's intent to return next year.  

To be honest, I teared up as I was writing it.  I am going to miss it there.  I have had a very good experience and feel like I've learned a lot.  The people have been so incredible and I'm so thankful for such a wonderful team of people.  I know I'm not leaving yet but, I want to make the most of it.

Not that I'm completely sad.  The truth is that I'm mostly happy because in addition to having to say goodbye to lots of wonderful things in my life, this year is also going to be filled with new and wonderful things (like getting married) and hopefully experiencing and learning in another school setting.

I never learned to count my blessings

Last night, I went to see Ray LaMontagne play and sing in Philadelphia. I heard someone describe his music as "Appalachian dust-folk" which is a pretty accurate description. I like the "dust" part, his voice is so husky and his music is so interesting. The best part of most of his songs is that they have such intricate and lovely words. In many ways, I identify strongly with some of the anxiety that he sings about. In one of his songs "Empty" he sings,

She lifts her skirt up to her knees, walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing. I never learned to count my blessings, I choose instead to dwell in my disasters. I walk on down the hill, through grass, grown tall and brown and still its hard somehow to let go of my pain.

It makes me think about how often I choose to "dwell in my disasters" instead of counting my blessings. It's just that it's so hard sometimes. Last night was one of those times when I found myself dwelling in my disasters. Actually, the past couple of weeks I've been there, forgetting to count my blessings. Feeling "so empty, so estranged" and wondering if I am always going to feel this way. It's crazy how lonely it is possible to feel even when we are surrounded by people, sometimes because we are surrounded by people.

He sang his song "You Are The Best Thing" that is on his new album Gossip in the Grain and I was happily surprised. I had told one of my friends that I didn't like the version that was on the album but, I had an idea that it was going to be very good live and IT WAS. He talked about how he changed it for the recording and he likes it better the way that he had recorded it originally. It was totally better that way. His music and his voice are fantastic, his commentary throughout the concert was kind of bland and unnecessary. I would have preferred if he would have just sung and left the rest to silence. Otherwise, it was a good concert, I'm glad I got to be there.

Compliments from Strangers

The other day I got complimented on my posture by a stranger, that was strange. Compliments from strangers or new acquaintances are an interesting thing, because they are the moments when you have the honest opinion of someone who's just met you. Sometimes, they say, those first impressions are more accurate than the perspective that people have that have known you for a very long time.

I've received two interesting compliments in the past couple of days. One was the best compliment ever. I had been chatting with one of my co-workers and she asked me if I liked the show "This American Life" and I said, "YES, of course!!! I LOVE This American Life." She went on to tell me about the last show that she had listened to and THEN she told me, "I thought about it because as you were talking to me I though that your style of story-telling is very much like the one on This American Life, you could be a story-teller on This American Life".

That was the best compliment ever. I would LOVE to be a story-teller on This American Life. That would be incredible. The other compliment that I received was that I have "a literature student vibe". I often have wondered why I didn't study literature and day dream about studying literature and being a literature professor. So, today, when my other co-worker said that to me, I felt really happy and thought that maybe it's true and I shouldn't give up on that idea.

what makes it worthwhile?

Last night some of my friends help put together a fantastic BBQ dinner at a local homeless shelter. It was a lot of work but, I think the guys at the shelter really appreciated it and were thankful.

Afterwards, one of my friends felt the let down that you get after you do something good for people who may or may not ever escape the trap of drugs, alcohol, and poverty. She wondered if there had been any real interactions and if just "hanging out" in that setting does any good at all. In some ways, I wish that mere acts of kindness would help people out of poverty but, unfortunately it doesn't work that way. That does not make the acts of kindness any less significant.

Even so, I think that the question, "What is the good of this?" is worth asking. I mean, seriously. If our intention was to help these guys, we probably didn't do much more than give them a really delicious meal. But, maybe that is enough. We don't have to fix their situation. Maybe our willingness to be present is good enough.

Isn't that [almost] all we want anyway? As I listened to my friend's discouragement --I realized that I felt the same way a week or so ago after we had a big party at our house. We had a good time, we shared good food, and had good people over but, afterwards, I felt a similar let down. I wondered what the good of that type of interaction is, I felt like all my conversations had been short and superficial, so, ok --yeah, we had a good time, but what is the value of that?

Maybe it is the same. We want people to be present in our lives. Sharing food and time is valuable. We can always work towards more meaningful interactions with people and towards more intentional conversations. What is it that makes an activity worthwhile? Is it something we can measure?

the soloist

I saw this movie last week and it has been on my mind ever since. Homelessness is an issue that I think about all the time. I intentionally seek to know the names of the homeless people that I see every day and I surround myself with people who love the homeless --more than I do.

I want to believe that merely treating people with dignity is a valuable contribution to the common good of all people and that for the thousands of people that might never escape the trap of poverty and homelessness, one person might feel the courage to seek help because someone affirmed them and treated them as a valuable person.

I have become less expectant of radical transformation since the days that I would go hang out on East Hastings in Vancouver, BC when I got to witness the incredible events that led to Trisha Baptie get off the streets through a simple relationship and a lot of other hard but good events.

I do believe transformation is possible, I believe there is hope for the most voulnerable, but what has changed is that I do not expect to be the catalyst for that change. I might get to help someone one day, I might not. I believe that I can be a friend along the journey. To be honest, that is all we really want sometimes anyway. I know I don't always want people to "help" me I just want someone to listen to me...

Even though it can be heartbreaking to befriend people who never get to escape the traps of poverty, I guess I could relate to "The Soloist". I don't know why sometimes things don't get fixed but, I guess the point is that none of us were really ment to be "soloists" we all need the suport of others to help us keep going and to make sense of it all.

that was random

So, last night I went to dinner with some friends. I was sitting next to someone I had never met before so, we just chatted randomly for a while about where we're from, places we've traveled, languages we're interested in, etc.

During dinner we ended up talking about homelessness and I started telling him how I often find myself talking to homeless people that I pass by every day. I told him that I talk to them because I feel like they are my neighbors and I think it is good to talk to your neighbors!

It was an interesting conversation for being a first conversation with someone. He told me that he feels very uncomfortable talking to homeless people. They make him feel insecure and he always feels like they are trying to get something from him.

I looked at him and thought how odd it was that it makes me feel very different when I talk to homeless people. I feel like it is a simple act that affirms us as human beings and even though sometimes there are people who try to take advantage of us, often there are people who just want someone to talk to.

Obviously, there are people that I'm afraid to talk to and there are people that I cannot talk to because they might take advantage of me but, those are decisions that are made on a daily/individual basis. I don't just ignore people automatically because they are homeless.

Anyway, the thing is that as we were talking I told my new friend about these homeless people that I walk by everyday and that I asked them their names so that I could at least say good morning and say their name. I told him that yesterday a homeless man that I always walk by asked me as I was walking by why I never stopped to chat with him. I slowed down, I apologized and told him that I'd come early today so that I would have some time to chat with him.

So, anyway... this morning I stopped by and asked his name and learned a couple things about him. He told me that he ended up on the streets because he has Korsakoff's syndrome where he forgets everything every couple of days. He was nice and didn't ask me for anything, he just told me his story. So, after chatting with him I walked down through the park that I always walk through and said "Good morning" to Joe, who I always say good morning to and then, when I took three steps past Joe...

...someone was walking next to me and he said, "that was weird" and it was my friend from last night! I looked at him in disbelief. It was weird because he caught me in the very act of doing the very thing that we'd talked about the night before when we'd met. We sort of talked awkwardly and walked to our office buildings. It was so random! I wonder if my new friend and I will run into each other all the time now.

beauty

I think THIS is beautiful.

Do you really think that we can end poverty?

This week I was at the Mobilization to End Poverty put on by Sojourners, an organization with the mission "to articulate the biblical call to social justice, inspiring hope and building a movement to transform individuals, communities, the church, and the world."

This week has been particularly strange for me. I returned to DC in January after being out of the country for the fall and I feel like I have changed completely in this past year. A year ago, I wanted to change the world, right now... I want to love my neighbor. I don't want to be a social worker, international development officer, foreign correspondent, educator or any other type of job without first being a "good neighbor" wherever I happen to live. That is not so simple but, also not so complicated.

I feel like one thing that wasn't clear to me all week was the definition of poverty. I mean, I believe that significant structural/social change can happen (it has happened in the past with the abolition of slavery, the civil rights movement, etc.) but, I don't know if 'poverty' is as clear of a social problem to be able to 'end'. Unless we are talking about 'child hunger', 'sex trafficking', or other specific things --I'm not sure if we will be able to 'end poverty' in the same way that was so passionately announced during the conference this week.

Poverty is not just the absence of economic resources and political will (even though these are important) but it is also sustained by the absence of relationships, social links to help and support.

I went to the session on Children, Race, and Poverty and heard the dire statistics about childhood poverty and dropout rates. One in three african-american boys will drop out of high school. One in three of the boys in my second grade class. Then, I went to my 2nd grade classroom yesterday afternoon to have one of my beautiful 7 year old boys start hitting his head on his desk, on the wall, and on the floor saying, "I want to kill myself. I just want to die. Life isn't worth living." He's 7 years old!

I wanted to burst into tears as I held him and told him of his worth and uniqueness. That is poverty. He has clothes and goes to school but, he comes home and his mother isn't home, his brothers don't make food for him, so my little 7 year old ends up making himself dinner, "I eat hot dogs" he says. Can we end this type of poverty?

I have felt so burdened by these things and even though I actually feel an overwhelming amount of hope because I see people building relationships with 'the poor', but I don't know if we will actually be able to 'end poverty' quite so simply.

This morning, when I was walking to work I saw David, a homeless man who always encourages me to not stop having compassion on people. He never asks me for money, he just asks me if I remember his name. I always stop if I see him, even if I'm late to work. He told me that last week he wanted to commit suicide and that he doesn't know how long he can put up with the circumstances he is in. This morning he told me, "You cannot change the world, but you can continue to have compassion."

How do we define poverty? Can we really "end poverty"?

ice skating!

I recently became friends with a girl who works for an organization called Partners of the Americas. I am excited about this organization. I'm excited because it really works with a volunteerism in a way that I appreciate. I would enjoy being part of an organization like this one.

I was invited to spend some time with their youth ambassadors and was super excited about it.

Their website says that "The Youth Ambassadors program offers Latin America youth new international opportunities and experiences to broaden their knowledge of U.S. culture, society, and education. The participants and U.S. audiences will increase their mutual understanding among peoples of the Americas. The Youth Ambassadors for the Americas program will not only provide new knowledge and experience for participants, but also prepare them for a lifetime of leadership and community service."

I got to ice skating with them on Friday night. I love skating. I think I forgot how scary and hard it is the first time that you get on the ice. Otherwise, it's so much fun! I enjoyed the students and I think I'm going to hang out with them again on Sunday afternoon.

Pre-inauguration DC

With the freezing cold weather around here I've been somewhat of a hermit. I've enjoyed staying at home going through old pictures and things that remind me of the places that I've been and the things I've done in the past year or so.

Even so, Nathan was able to get me out of the house tonight. We went into the city to get a feel for the pre-inauguration buzz. I took some pictures and thought I'd share some of them with you. I've been very pensive recently... but, maybe we should just chat sometime and that would be better. Enjoy!

Like a Foreigner

Right now I feel like a foreigner here in this country. Starting a job in an environment very different than I'm used to or ever have been in really, looking for a house, going to the Metropolitan Police Department, the Department of Motor Vehicles, walking around in the cold, and well, to be honest I feel like I'm just fumbling a little.

Today, I was trying to get something done at the DMV and they said that I couldn't do it without my father's signature. I don't know about most people, but for most people that might not be that complicated. You can call him up and ask him for some advice and get some pretty quick overnight mail delivery. It made me feel like a foreigner because my father doesn't live in this country and right now he's off in some remote place where I cannot just pick up the phone and say, "Hey dad, what should I do?"

Anyway, it's really cold here and grey. I know I shouldn't be complaining, I'm happy to be here, I have really great friends here, but the transition is getting to me and I'm not a big fan of the cold. You wouldn't believe how bundled up I am and I'm sitting inside! It's just that when you are trying to get things done and stuff that is out of your control impedes you from doing it, plus difficulties getting around ... it is really frustrating. Last night it hit me, I feel strange.

I wanted to kiss you... um, I mean...

One thing that is really noticeable about returning to North America is that people don't greet each other or say goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. When I return I always have some awkward moments when I'm about to say goodbye to someone and I almost kiss them and then realize at the last moment that I would probably freak them out if I did...

So, on Sunday a couple days after I had returned from Central America I was introduced to this new friend. I had JUST met him and when we were about to say goodbye I was about to lean in to kiss him on the cheek and then I stopped. I was embarrassed and said out loud "I wanted to kiss you" and then realized how that sounded and was even more embarrassed and said, "I didn't want to kiss you, I mean, I was going to kiss you..." and got flustered and finally explained that in Latin America people greet each other and say goodbye with a kiss and I haven't quite gotten out of the habit yet.

It was really embarrassing and I've been stopping myself from trying to kiss people on the cheek since then... I found this video and thought I'd share it with you.

The "centro" of San Salvador

Last week, I got to do something that I had wanted to do since I arrived in El Salvador two months ago. I went to the "centro" of San Salvador. I had been warned repeatedly that I should NOT go there alone and I had not found anyone who would be willing to take me there. So, finally, I found the perfect people to take me and got the tour of the "centro" that I had wanted for the whole time that I've been here.

Because of how common thievery is in San Salvador but, particularly in the "centro" I didn't get to bring my camera. I'm a little disappointed about that but, I'm going to do my best to paint a picture with words. As we were getting ready to go we realized that someone who had been living in El Salvador for 7 years, had NEVER gone to the "centro". San Salvador is really a small city so, someone living here for such a long time and never going seems crazy to me.

I think, however, that it just goes to show how easy it is to isolate yourself from the reality that most people live in and experience on a daily basis. It is easy to live and move in "safe" circles and never have to encounter the darker side of the places that you live. Anyway, the five of us went down to the city and parked in one of the many guarded parking areas. We got out of the car and started walking. The street had stagnant dirty water in the gutters and there was litter almost everywhere. Not in massive quantities, just enough that it was decidedly dirty.

We walked a block towards a street that had (at one time) been a road for cars but had progressively been taken over by vendors in small little shops set up in tents and other makeshift shelters. We walked into one of the side streets. People were selling everything, hats, shoes, clothes, pirated DVD's "Three for a dollar!" as you walked down people would reach out to you and ask you what you needed, "What size are you?" the woman selling pants asked, ever store had someone begging you to stop and consider buying something from them. Once we got outside we found people selling fruit, vegetables, tortillas, and all kinds of other produce and merchandise.

We walked around in the midst of all the people, in front of city buses with attitude problems, and around little children who were working or playing depending on how old they were. As we walked around I was moved with sadness and happiness all at the same time. I love being in a space that is so decidedly human and yet, it was also somewhat dehumanized at the same time. The space meant survival, existence, THAT is the meaning of life for those people. That busy, dirty, loud, unsafe bustle of activity is life.

As we walked by the National Theatre, a grand old building, we were invited to go inside because there was a free concert! It was unbelievable. A concert that in the US they could have easily charged us a nice sum of money to get in, we just walked in. As we were being explained what the concert was about a young boy of about 11 walked up to us and said, "Will you tell them that you're my parents?" "Why?" we asked him. "They won't let me in without my parents" he said. So, he snuck in with us. "I come here everday" he said. There was something wonderful about that. Even this young child who was probably an orphan and lived with his grandmother was finding a way to fill his life with some of the beauty that is life outside of the chaotic mess that dominated the space where he lives.

We left the theater to go see the National Cathedral and then walked to the Plaza la Libertad which was like a scene from a movie where you have all the older men sitting around talking or playing their guitars singing the songs from the "good old days". I wondered how they were able to afford such leisure and then I decided to ignore the reality that it meant. We stopped and had an ice cream cone before walking back to our car and heading home to the tranquility that seems unreal in light of now near it is to the "centro" that turns out to be like a different dimension, a completely different reality.

Impressions: if we only used what we have

Carla* was in her twenties during the war. She worked as a housekeeper in San Salvador, regularly traveling about 40 miles from her hometown to the capital. Most of the fighting happened in different parts of the country, at yet the war touched everyone in some way. If it wasn’t someone you knew it was someone you worked with who was killed in the war.

On her rides on the bus she would talk to people and the things they would tell her were very interesting. Carla told me of a conversation she had with a man who lived in the mountains. “He said he was native of this land” she said, “but, no one is truly native anymore,” she added already questioning his right to complain.

She continued saying “He said that his land was stolen from him and that they were fighting for their land. I asked him how much land he owned and he said that he had ‘una manzana’. I asked him what he did with it and he said that he couldn’t do anything with so little land. He wanted the government to give him back his land and fix the road to their town.”

She looked doubtful as she said, “I asked him why he didn’t get together with the other people in his town to do something about the road. But, he didn’t want to --you see? He didn’t realize that they could have fixed the road and would have been able to improve their own situation without any help from the government. Instead, he was just complaining for a right I’m not sure was really his.”

On another bus ride Carla met another man with similar circumstances but a different attitude. She told me that he owned a small plot of land and he planted corn and other things on it. Then he was given three chicks that he raised into chickens they were all laying hens. He sold the eggs and saved enough money to buy a calf. He raised the calf and soon had another calf and a milk cow. His wife sold the milk and between all of those things on their small plot of land they found a way of living that was more comfortable than most. Carla said, “I think that most anyone can find a way if they set their mind to it and we don’t need the government to do everything for us.”

Carla said that she read the ‘communist’ literature and did not find it compelling, she was convinced that people should work hard and not expect the government to do everything for them. “That land” she said, “how could they prove that it should belong to them anyway?” It’s more complicated than that. The guerrilla didn’t convince her. “They said things that sounded good” she said with regret, “but, as they spoke about the land and the people they destroyed and stole people’s property. What kind of communism would that be?” Then with the brilliance of a storyteller she concluded, “If only everyone could be like the second man who used the little he had to get ahead.”

*I have not used her real name.

understanding complexity

Talking about being 'nervous' with my brother, he told me that he felt the same way when he first arrived in Costa Rica. All the local people terrified him with their warnings and stories. The fact of the matter is that well, it's not like I've never traveled alone or like I'm not aware of my surroundings. I don't act very nervous, that's for sure, I have this unnerving composure. I'd been practicing my serious face for a while and I just hope that my eyes don't give away the fact that I'm smiling on the inside. Particularly because it's so funny for me to be so somber.

I have a hunch that I'm going to get a very interesting and diverse collection of impressions about El Salvador when this is all said and done. I am excited about that, I hope that I get to meet people from 'both sides'. I want to get to know some of the privileged and some of the poor. I hope to learn what makes them excited, what gives them hope, what motivates them, how they feel connected to humanity. I might also get a glimpse of the 'ugly' part of both sides, I wouldn't mind. I believe that we all have our terrible flaws and moments of weakness --none of us is perfect.

People are filled with contradictions

I was on the metro and I met this man, let's call him Frasier, and I was somewhat surprised at our conversation. He was polite and kind even but said the strangest things. He thanked me for looking cheerful because everyone else on the metro seemed a little down, I guess. Then he asked me what I "do" and that, of course, what a complicated question to answer. He got the idea, at least, that I am headed in a certain direction and I want to be able to help people in whatever I end up doing. He said that was noble. Then...

The went into a very long monologue about how the equal rights for women movement ruined America. He was a self-proclaimed "male chauvinist". I just listened to him. He said that he thought women should be able to vote, that's ok, but that they really should stay at home, take care of the kids, and cook. I don't know what happened to my facial expressions as he said all of this, I'm guessing I was quite composed. He said that he hated it when women acted like men and he wished that they wouldn't be so annoying. I wasn't sure what he wanted me to get out of all of his ranting (it was a quiet ranting) but, before he left he thanked me for the 'conversation' telling me it was pleasant and told me that I was doing something good. (??)

I didn't really know what to make of him. I think that those kinds of contradictions are so common. Everyone, everyone is filled with contradictions and paradoxes. We are open and closed, we are trusting and fearful, we are hopeful and discouraged. What should we make of these contradictions? I'm not sure. I could have judged Frasier and maybe (in my heart) "give it back to him" blaming people like him for everything that's wrong in 'America'. But, the truth is that I didn't think that, I just realized that I didn't understand him. It is probably a better starting point to know that I don't understand other people than to assume than I do.

I'm not quite sure what to do with all the contradictions but, it certainly challenges me to be more patient with others because I realize how much I need others to be patient with me.

lost coffee shops, play pumps, and stories

There were all sorts of funny little things that happened to me yesterday. To start with, I was going to go meet someone to talk and I got lost. Well, I wasn't lost, the coffee shop -Ebenezer's- where we were supposed to meet was lost. So, the story is funny because I arrive at Union Station about 20 minutes early (enough time to find it I thought!). When I got there I realized that in the time and distraction of getting there I had completely forgotten the address. I knew it was close but, I had no idea in which direction. I started asking people and I got several strange looks and no help.

I thought I'd call someone I knew who might be able to look it up on the internet. At that moment I remembered that there are "information" phone numbers that you can call. I think Scudder told me about this. Of course, I couldn't remember the number. I tried a number that I had stuck in my memory. It turned out that I called the DC mayor's office! It was funny. I told the guy that answered the phone that I was looking for directions but, that if they didn't do that it was ok. I guess I sounded kind of desperate because he said, "Maybe the people at transportation can help you." Transportation? It was funny, so this guy at transportation answered the phone and I told him that since they didn't really take calls like that I could hang up, it was fine. But, he said that he'd try to help me. We spent ten or fifteen minutes on the phone and he never understood or never figured out how to spell Ebenezer's or something. Finally, I told him that I'd be fine and hung up. It was very kind of him to try to help me.

Sitting on the steps of this old church I realized that all my friends on the West Coast were still sleeping and most of my friends in DC would be at work. So, I finally called Lauren and she saved the day. It was almost an hour late when I walked in. How embarrassing! But, it was a good conversation and worth all the trouble of finding it and wandering around for an hour.

In the evening, Nathan and I went to Kira's house. It was a good refreshing time with these new but still precious friends that we've made in the city. In answering the question "have you found a job?" I found myself talking about this place that recently said that they were looking for an Assistant of sorts called PlayPumps International. I heard about PlayPumps last year and I thought it was a great idea but, I guess the way I described it last night made it sound slightly ridiculous or something. Anyway, it lead to an interesting set of ideas involving pixi-sticks to solve poverty in Africa. It was so silly but laughing really hard can be good for you. Anyway, PlayPumps is really cool and it would be fun to work there! This is their mission:

PlayPumps International’s mission is help improve the lives of children and their families by providing easy access to clean drinking water, enhancing public health, and offering play equipment to millions across Africa.

Anyway, to top it off. Yesterday, I listened to the latest edition of This American Life. I love that show. I love radio. I love sound, music, voices, silent pauses that mean so many things, and just stories. I love them.

This week was kind of a depressing theme "Stories of people haunted by guilt over their role in others' deaths, even when everyone agrees they're blameless." It's fascinating though, the guilt that we often carry with us. Ira said something that I thought was really interesting. Talking about people who hit people with their car, he said that those people who were actually at fault were less likely to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder than those who were innocent. The reason, he said, is that those who were at fault (sleeping at the wheel or drinking too much alcohol or something) knew how to avoid it in the future but those who were doing everything right and still had an accident (someone swerved in front of them or something) knew that there wasn't anything they could have done to avoid it and there is something slightly more terrifying about that. I could say more about that but, this post is way too long already.

negative first impressions

She looked around and saw that she was one of the first people to arrive so, she walked up to someone who was standing alone and introduced herself. Being exceptionally comfortable meeting new people, a couple who had met her before walked over and stood next to her. She introduced them to her new friend. As the four of them were talking pleasantly about their past experiences, he walked into the room. She immediately had a negative reaction to his presence. This surprised her because she usually like everyone she ever met, at least at first.

She knew to fight her feelings and opened up the little circle so that he could bring his overbearing presence even closer to her unsuspecting and shy friends. He was two feet taller than she was but, her demeanor was calm and tantalizingly collected. The others couldn't think of a response to his flamenco introduction so, she quickly re-directed everyone's attention to the quietest person in the group who had been telling a story about their favorite math professor in the 9th grade. She wondered if everyone else had the same feeling that she did or if she was being attacked by some sort of ridiculous first impression.

She didn't usually dislike people when she first met them. What was it about him that caught her off guard and created such an immediate dislike? She walked across the room and ended up standing in the corner with him. She quickly calculated how important it would be to try and find out if her first impression was entirely mistaken. She decided to ask him a polite question,"Where do you work?"

"I'm a spy," he answered making up a response that was meant to be funny but caused her to dislike his style with more intensity.

She gave him a half-hearted smile and decided to try to play along, "Who are you spying for?" she asked ironically.

He gave her a demeaning look and said, "If I told you I'd have to kill you" and kept awkwardly silent.

She wasn't amused but, wasn't going to give up. "Ok," she said in a slightly irritated tone, "what do you in your free time?"

He let go of the game and gave her some basic information about his job. She had to keep asking him questions and he kept avoiding them. Suddenly, she asked herself what she was doing because this person had no desire to talk to her and even deep down in the kindest side of her heart she couldn't figure out why she would want to talk to him.

A gorgeous girl from California walked up looking for a glass and his attention was immediately re-directed and focused on her. She realized that even though she had experienced a small amount of genuine interest in this person's story, he had never cared, even for a moment in her simple and slightly uninteresting life. This was when she frantically started looking for a way out of this most un-pleasant conversation. California girl wasn't interested in talking and walked away as soon as she found the glass she was looking for. She understood that there was no need for a gentle ending to the conversation so she also turned around and walked away.

She couldn't describe why this person had given her such a negative impression other than the fact that he seemed to be completely amused with himself in a way that wasn't amusing at all for everyone else. She was amazed at the way that he gave her such discomfort. She too was capable of disliking someone the first time they met and even do her best to arrange ways to not encounter him again if she could avoid it. What a sign of solidarity with the pathetic side of the human race!

we have to work around our imperfections to feel welcomed

Last night, I went to the first "party" with my friends since I left the Eastern shore. I haven't changed, I have such a paradoxical response to events like the one they hosted last night. I cannot figure out if I dislike them more deeply than I enjoy them. What usually happens is that I arrive and am momentarily over-stimulated by all the people, then I notice that there is someone new or someone alone or worse than that the people that didn't know each other when they arrived, still don't know each other when they leave.

So, I spend most of my time meeting new people, enjoying surprisingly candid conversations with strangers and looking around for the most auspicious moment either to welcome the new people or to leave. I could point out how much I love people and find that honest, sincere, frank conversations --even though they may be rare-- are absolutely precious when you have them. But, I could also confess that my stomach turns over when I wonder if everyone felt welcomed, genuinely.

It helps to remember that we are just imperfect people trying to learn how to live life in common with others in a way that is good. The imperfection of the party is due to the fact that all of us are trying to work around our fears, flaws, and foibles. Those minor weakness or failings of character actually make us distinctive and particular, like the shy one or the slightly overly rambunctious one, etc. and that reminds us that it is beautiful in spite of its flaws. Hopefully, acknowledging our irritations, idiosyncrasies, and insecurities will be a way to more honest appreciation of this face of hospitality.

I think I'd still prefer the intimate "family" dinner... most of the time.