Disjointed Thoughts: Day One

• I have never known a time without hardcore airport security. 
• So much for millennials and their technology. The two 20-somethings sitting here are the only ones reading paper books.
• This flight is probably only the third time I've ever used airplane mode on an airplane.
• Do not cry on the plane. Do not cry on the plane. Do not cry on th
• God be with me. God is with me. God be with me. God is with me.
• I swear I just peed twenty minutes ago.
• Don't drink Starbucks before a flight.
• I almost lost an earbud thingy already? What the hell I just put them down for like two minutes.
• "Uptown Funk" is a good song to listen to when trying to regulate rhythm to relieve stress.
• Stomach, why didn't you tell me you were hungry before we got on the airplane.
• "And in that moment, I couldn't tell what was vibrating faster- the plane or my heart." - an excerpt from a longer piece of Revolutionary Young Adult Fiction I wrote while the plane taxied. 
• [Peter Pan voice] Here we gooooo!
• Isn't east the other way?
• Holy shit
• I don't care what they say. The Greater Columbus Convention Center does not look like train cars even from the air.
• Clouds
• I can see all of Pennsylvania
• I have to pee
• Mini pretzels have never tasted so good
• Wow. Pepsi and Coke products?
• Conspicuously watching the lavatory door...
• Oh thank goodness
• Is that fracking or strip mining? Well whatever it is it ain't good.
• NEW YORK CITY
• There's a sign for a dog run but I don't see any dogs. What lies.
• I'm in the greatest city in the world and I want to take a nap.
• A firetruck stopped by Times Square traffic
• 30 Rock. 30 Rockefeller Plaza. Good. I remembered the address this time.
• I have taken 15,000+ steps today. Standing for 8 hours every day at Walgreens has trained me well. 
• Just keep walking and show no expression. They'll never know.
• Trains! Trains are exciting! Trains smell weird!
• Dogs! Dogs are exciting! And they smell weird too!
• I feel weird that the waiter assumes I'm 21 and offers me a drink menu even though he'll be right in less than three months. 

This Post Starts Out Fun, but You'll Never Guess What Happens Next

Yesterday my boyfriend and I were discussing Star Wars. Recently he, as well as my mother, roommate, friends, and a probably a significant portion of Americans, are disappointed in me because I, a self-proclaimed nerd, have not seen all of the movies.

Commence groaning.

In the month since the seventh installment was released, I have been exposed to more Star Wars than I have been in years.  And through this exposure, I'm starting to think I have seen them. Or at least I know what I need to know: use the Schwartz and the one guy is the other guy's dad.

See? I got it. 

But as we talked about the movies, I mentioned how, despite seemingly universal dislike, I wanted to watch the prequels because 1) I am required to and 2) Natalie Portman.

And as I explained this to him, I found myself saying something like this:  "If you haven't noticed by now, all of my favorite characters as a kid were the women. And they still are. Mostly girls who kick ass or girls who are nerds. Preferably girls who are nerds who kick ass, because that is who I am."

He laughed and said this:  "Of course. I mean, how dare you like characters that you identify with and want to be like?"

I don't think he knows how much I have been thinking about this comment. 

I mean yes. Identity has a lot to do with it. 

I like the character Velma from Scooby-Doo because she was a smart female character who was loved by her friends and was necessary in solving mysteries. I felt a similar thing with Hermione Granger. 

Over and over I identified with female characters because of things like this.

So when he said this out loud, it struck me as to just how much I have perceived this as a bad thing. As in, I have trained myself to think that enjoying these characters (and sometimes real people) to the extent I do is embarrassing. 


But as I've thought about it further, I have found myself thinking more and more that it's not just about identity. It's about simply liking the character.

There Are As Many Names For This Post As There Are People In New York City

Many times when I get emails from the OSU College of Pharmacy, I double check which listserv they were sending it to because I didn't believe it was meant to come to me. I don't need to attend PharmD lectures or do APhA stuff or whatever. 9.9/10 the emails go straight to the trash.

Thank goodness I did not delete the BuckISERV email.

BuckISERV is an OSU organization that does Alternative Breaks.They send a thousand or more students all over the US and world to do service work for a week out of their break. For Spring Break 2015, over twenty different trips went to four different countries. 

The specific trip was meant only for Bachelor's of Science of Pharmaceutical Science (BSPS) students. We learned about it way back in December 2014, and I knew immediately that I wanted to go. I mean, the participants paid only $375 and the trip leaders paid $190. When will I ever get to go to New York City for less that $200 again? Never. Of course, that is not all I spent in NY. The $200 only covered lodgings and transportation. But still. 

Seeing as this was the COP's first trip with BuckISERV, there wasn't really anything pharmacy-ish about it. Instead we worked with the Youth Services Opportunities Project (YSOP), a Quaker organization that works with 90+ hunger and homelessness agencies around New York City and Washington DC. 

Our trip of 15 was divided into three groups, matching three groups from the University of Arizona. Yeah they got a bit of a shock when arriving to east coast weather. Anyways, each of the six groups were sent out to a new location around the city each day. Between all of us, we served over 3,000 people in some kind of aspect of hunger and homelessness.

My group went to Brooklyn twice and to the Bronx twice. As much as I loved the subway, I was not pleased to have to ride it for two hours or more everyday. It's only so cool for so long.

Day 1: More Grace Redemptive Center

The first day we went down into Brooklyn to serve at a food pantry called More Grace. It was run by volunteers, the leader of which was named Rose. Since we were there on Monday, the volunteers were readying bags to hand out on Tuesday.

The most memorable thing about More Grace was the thousands of onions we bagged for the next day. Literally. Twenty fifty pound bags full of red onions were bagged in grocery bags to give out the next day. We began to worry we'd get weird looks on the way back for smelling like onion.

In addition to bagging onions, we bagged up a small thing of groceries. Each bag had the same basis: a cereal, a box of milk, a jug of juice, three cans of veggies, some kind of grain, and some kind of protein. The ladies would line them up on top of some freezers, and once all thirty were all lined up and had the same items, Rose would say go and we would bag them all up and load them into carts. 

Overall this day was pretty good, though there was not a whole lot to do. After lunch we kept asking for more things to do, but they said "we'll come get you" over and over again. It was fun to have a break for a while, but we already had to leave early to get back to YSOP, and we didn't feel like we did a whole lot. 

Day 2: Immaculate Conception Soup Kitchen/ Baby Buggy/ YSOP Dinner

This was a day where we learned just how important it is to have the proper contact. 

We arrived early and asked for our jobs as usual and they told us to wash down the tables and then roll the utensils. We got all of this done within half an hour or so. 

This was a mistake.

Around 10:30 am, an older man came over to us and started yelling at us. Apparently, YSOP never tells them when volunteers were comingand there was a group of adults with developmental disabilities doing workforce development that come everyday and we just took all the work from them.  We apologized as best we could saying that we were only given locations, to which he basically told us to shut up. 

We worked out a new location with YSOP, and ended up on another hour and a half train ride, this time from the Bronx down to Midtown. We apologized again and left.

It turns out that the woman who was supposed to work things out wasn't. YSOP told us that normally all the volunteers work together and it's a lot of fun. Just goes to show how important good communication is. 

We ended up at Baby Buggy, an organization started by Jerry Seinfeld's wife to make an upper scale thrift store for new or gently used baby items. We spent about an hour sorting clothes. It wasn't bad, but we were so tired and angry that it kind of sucked. 

That night though was one of the best experiences there. 

The New York Society of Friends is based in runs a 12 person private shelter, and that night we cooked dinner for our guests. We made lasagna, salad, garlic bread and brownies. Around 6:30 our guests arrived and we served them food and played games.

I invited one of the women over to sit with me and our the two trip advisors/ COP career advisors. At first it was really odd to break the ice. I mean, it's always difficult, but it is always harder when you know the reason you're there. 

Next to us on the table was  pack of cards, so she pulled them out and taught us how to play spades. It was so fun. We started off kind of slow and by the end of the night we were all laughing at how one of the advisors couldn't remember the trump cards even though we had written them out for him. 

As we played she talked about her life a bit and something stuck out. She talked a lot about wanting to go somewhere where she could ride horses or how much she liked swimming really far out off of Coney Island. 

Later on that night, all of the OSU teams got together at our hostel to have a group reflection. Our theme was Humans of New York, because the photographer does such a good job of giving everyone he talks to a sense of humanity. I asked people to think about any "Humans of New York lines" they heard, or what sort of thing stuck out to them. There was definitely something significant about the woman we talked to and how much she seemed to want to get away.

Day 3: Bed-Stuy Campaign Against Hunger

On Wednesday we went out to Brooklyn again. We signed in and began talking to the woman in charge named Regina. She showed us around the office where they assisted people with taxes, helped people apply for SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program aka food stamps), and the warehouse where they had the food pantry. 

Each person got a certain number of points based on the number of people in their family. These points could then be used to get three days worth of vegetables, fruits, grains, and protein. It operated very much like a store, but with volunteers who made sure people only could take as much as they were allowed. They could "shop" the full pantry once a month, and come for fresh fruits and veggies once a week.

One thing that stood out to just about everyone on the trip was that there were volunteers who seemed not to bat an eye at turning away these people who were hungry. Of course they do this all the time, and in the five hours I stood there directing people to get the right grains, I could start to tell how they did it. Most people respected that they were allowed this much, or couldn't get that this week, but there were some who insisted anyways. At first I gave in a bit, but then I noticed it more and started to understand. The amount of food available compared to the number of people coming in was not a huge margin. 

The best part of this day was this one guy. When he got to my station I asked how he was and he said "I'm blessed". He had this huge smile on his face, and he was so happy. I helped him get the pasta and rice he wanted, and he moved on to the next one. You could hear in his voice how excited about life he was from the time he entered until he exited. 

Day 4: St. George's Love Kitchen

This was the best day by far. 

We arrived to this soup kitchen in the Bronx around 9:30 and expected to be immediately put to work. Instead we got the chance to introduce ourselves and chat with the other volunteers a bit before the rolls arrived and we started to help out

The doors opened at noon, so once the rolls were buttered and the tables were set, we got more time to talk with the other volunteers. They explained that it was the third Thursday, which meant their group came to help instead of the kids from the school. 

One guy named Artie told us about his grandchildren and how often they go to see them. He told us about how he had lived in the same house for almost fifty years, and he didn't like to ride the train so he drove. One woman named Florence told us about how long she had been volunteering and how she started. 

Once the guests arrived, most of us acted like waiters. First soup, then spaghetti and vegetables with a piece of bread, then their dessert bun. It was busy for about forty-five minutes, and then most everyone had left. 

We helped clean up a bit, and then they offered us food. We accepted and started eating, but what fascinated me was that they kept offering more (even when they gave half a plate's worth of pasta). We talked more about volunteering with another woman who had been a detective for almost thirty years before she resigned and was volunteering to figure out what she wanted to do next. 

Before we left we got hugs from everyone and Artie walked us out to make sure that we knew where we were going. It was the best day so far, and a perfect way to end the week.

I couldn't decide on a name for this post because of all the amazing things I did this week. Here are a few I considered:

• Service and Showtunes
• Live from New York... It's Saturday Night! (And Also The Rest Of The Week)
• I Saw Idina Menzel Perform Live On Broadway And You Didn't
• One Short Day Week In New York City
• I HAVE OFFICIALLY SEEN WICKED ON BROADWAY I CAN DIE HAPPY
• Ain't No I in Island
• When Did Food Become A Privilege And Not A Right?

Amongst others. 

The real topic here though is the last point. 

I have been taking a social policy class and one of the most poignant things I have learned about was food inequality. 

The big thing was the SNAP Challenge. The assignment was to live a week on food stamps, or $30 for one week. We got a day off, but we had to go six of seven days. We kept a journal and at the end we wrote a reflection.

At first it was okay. I made some casseroles, a had stuff for sandwiches. I felt pretty good. In fact, having misjudged the amount of broccoli in the package, the casseroles were probably the healthiest things I had eaten in a while. I was okay. For a while.

As the week went on, I started to feel worse and worse. My classes were really difficult. Taekwondo club was more trouble than fun. I was tired all the time from working ridiculous hours at my job. And on top of that I couldn't eat.

I couldn't take it by the end, and I gave in. It had gotten to the point where I was crying everyday because I was so overwhelmed. I was also writing an addiction paper at the time. I could totally understand if someone's life was like that all the time why they'd want something to take the edge off.

As we learned about this, I was also preparing for the BuckISERV trip. As a trip leader, I did training every week in addition to a Kick-Off event the week after the SNAP Challenge. And going on the trip peaked my interest even more.

Because everything I had ever heard about food stamps and food assistance was about how people were using their money to buy x, y, and z instead of food. Or that this person was caught doing this. Or that they just needed to get a job or a better job or an education or anything. 

That's all utter bullshit.

Yes. There are some people who are fraudulent, but 99% of people are not. They are hungry. And hunger doesn't mean starvation. It means that they aren't able to get healthy food for cheap. It means they have to eat processed food because it is the only thing that they can afford. Think about how many cans of food or Ramen noodles you could get for $20. Now think about how many heads of lettuce or organic meats you could buy. Which is better food? But which one is cheaper?

But if you look up news about hunger, you only see the 1% of people who are cheating. Of course, then we have to treat the other 99% who are just trying to survive the same way, right? We have cut it even more, so that that 1% of people can't cheat? We have to let children go hungry, or people get health problems from eating bad food, or telling people that they are inferior because they don't have enough money to afford decent food. 

It totally makes sense that we treat food like it's a privilege as opposed to a right. 

And by totally makes sense,  I mean it's time for a change. We cannot deny people the right to get healthy and fresh food because they don't make as much money as someone else. 

I am still trying to figure out the next thing that I want to do about this because I'm still trying to figure out the big picture. This, as well as every other social justice issue, is interconnected to 10+ others. How we move forward is under debate because in order to fight the big problem we have to figure out how to fix the smaller ones. 

In New York, we heard a speaker from YSOP who has been doing advocacy and activism throughout her whole life. She said in order to make a big change, we need to help foster a generation who cares. As she said "we need to teach the next generation to give a damn".

I think we can be that generation. We can be the ones to stand up and say "this isn't right" and "this needs to change". We can be the ones to give a damn.

A New Adult's Guide to Emotions

Congratulations! If you are reading this, you have successfully proven yourself ready for the excitement and adventure of adulthood!

This guide is meant to inform and teach about a lot of new emotions* that come with any of the following events that introduce you to adulthood:

• Graduation from high school
• Coming of age and/ or turning 18
• Starting college
• Getting a full-time job
• Signing a Lease
• Any mixture of the previous or an alike event

Now, as adulthood  begins, you will experience some new feelings you probably didn't feel much in high school and before. 

Here are a few:

Signing a Lease Shock: This feeling occurs when you first put a down payment and sign a lease for a house or apartment. It is a mixture of  excitement (54%), trepidation (13%) , confusion (26%), and fear (7%). The feeling is characterized by wide eyes, a lighter wallet, and a general air  of "did we actually just do that?" (For more, see Chapter 11: Houses House Your Life)

Exam Anxiety: This feeling occurs very frequently before and after exams at the college level. The frustration tends to occur simultaneously with cram sessions and waiting for professors to upload grades (therefore effects can occur from 3 hours to 10 days). This emotion is characterized by anger (65%), weepiness (24%), and anxiety (11%). WARNING: side effects may include lashing out (pre-exam) and vacant expression (post-exam). (For more, see Chapter 4: Tests Test Your Patience)

Feminist Frustration: The  frustration accompanying the realization upon entering the adult world that women make an average of 75 cents to every dollar a man makes and are continuously catcalled, beaten, attacked, raped, and murdered every day and men still think feminism is about "who pays the bill at dinner". This emotion is characterized by anger (100%). It is also characterized by ranting and attempts to crush the patriarchy. (For more, see Chapter 6: Gender Engenders Your Lifestyle)

These are just a few of the hundreds of new emotions you can experience as you begin your adult life and you move forward through your life. If you are ready, then come with us as we begin a new adventure into adulthood!

*If you are looking for the guide on "new adult feelings" this is definitely not the book for you. Chapter 7: Romance Romanticizes Your Love Life is the closest thing we offer. Other than that, we can't help you. And frankly we don't want to.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

   As much as I'd love to write a book on the tons and tons of new emotions I and others I know have experienced in college and throughout adulthood, this post is not it. 
   Nope. This post is about only one emotion, albeit one that has shaped much of my adult life so far: grief.
   In 2013, both of my maternal grandparents died. We called them Dahgo and Poppy. Those were the names I gave them when I was a toddler. A little later came my younger sister, then my family, and by the time they passed away, everyone knew them no longer as Bev and Phil but as Dahgo and Poppy. Because they were so proud to be Dahgo and Poppy. 
   They were with us for every single celebration, every single holiday, and for many years, every single day.They were our babysitters. They gave me my first car. Their home was only 20 minutes away, and was a meeting place for our family for almost 40 years. 
   In short, they were the unspoken rocks of our family.
   Writing this post is very hard. I've been trying to do so for months in many different forms, but I haven't been able to. Even now, I am literally shaking with emotion. Why? My tendency for nervousness? Perhaps. The intense sadness I feel without them? Definitely. 
   I miss them a lot. That probably goes without saying.
   I miss the way Dahgo sang about everything. I miss Poppy's cookies. I miss Dahgo's spaghetti. I miss Poppy sitting at the computer playing spider solitaire. I miss seeing them as they were in life. 
  They say a picture is worth a thousand words. I like to think a picture is worth a thousand memories. And it's the memories of the person and of the events that make it so hard to look at. But they also make it so wonderful to look at that you can't look away. 
  October was one year since my grandma died and about a year and a half since my grandpa died, and, of course, everyone was very sad. But it made us think a lot about the types of grief.
  My mom told me that there are two main kinds: grief and mourning. Grief is what happens when you miss them. Mourning is what happens when you imagine life when they are not there.
   As far as grief goes, I can say that there is definitely a huge ache for them. There is a special kind of pain that comes with the death of a loved one. The feeling that life won't be the same without them. It's the kind of pain that hits you when you least expect it. Like when you lie awake, trying to fall asleep, and your brain decides it's a perfect time to tell you "Dahgo and Poppy are dead. They aren't here anymore and won't ever be again. Just think about that."
   And you do. 
   You cry harder than you thought possible. You get angry and you argue. You go numb. 
   Sometimes you lose yourself in your work. Sometimes you turn to activities that you're not proud of. Sometimes you pray. Sometimes you yell at God. Sometimes you realize that there is more to life than what you're doing now and step out and try something new. 
  But you always hurt. It's a special kind of hurt that constantly reminds you why you're hurting. And it is really fucking awful.
   I find mourning harder though. I can't tell you how many times that I have thought "Dahgo would love to hear about this" or "I wonder what Poppy would say about that".
  It was harder than because for a brief moment, I forgot that they were gone and that our lives were permanently changed.Just for one second, the world is as it should be. 
  Then you walk into the brick wall. Every painful moment washes over you again. You feel like shit. And the pain just feels worse and worse. You keep feeling like it could never get any worse. 
   But grief is a cycle like a tide. For a while, it's fine and the pain is low. And then sometimes you are drowning and don't feel like it will ever end. 
   It was hard around my grandmother's birthday because I didn't feel like I could show my grief for fear of hurting other people. That's one of the biggest parts of me that I got from her: keeping people happy,often times at the expense of yourself. 
   But not showing it hurt the people I love who are still here. 
   It even caused real tension between my mom and I for the first time in my life because I wasn't showing the emotion. As she confronted me about it, I broke down. I had tried to stay strong for those I loved because I was scared my grief would hurt them more. But it was the exact opposite. Breaking down gave evidence to the pain I felt without her. As my mom said "she deserves big grief." And Dahgo did. She definitely did. 
   One thing that made it even worse was mourning for a different person for a different reason. No, not a death. A break up.
  
  Break ups can cause mourning because it is the loss of a loved one. Your life has this person in it constantly, and then it just doesn't. And in my case, the only person I wanted to talk to about it was him. Very The Fault in Our Stars-ish, if I do say so myself. 
   He dumped me the day after my birthday after almost two years of a really great relationship. Some huge things happened during that time. I graduated high school, I completed my first year of college. Oh, and I lost both of my grandparents. So having all those feelings of grief come back during that last week in October made it even worse, as if that were possible. 
  I have struggled with the idea that I can be too much to love. I have a huge personality. I'm loud. I'm confident. I rant about equality pretty frequently. I like science and dance at 3 in the morning. A lot of times I feel that there is too much of me for someone to fall in love with, and when he broke up with me, all those feelings flooded back. I had had someone who loved all of me ( in a romantic way). Part of the grief of our break up was the struggle to think that I could eventually find someone like that again. 
  But everything in life is a teaching experience. It took that to remind me how many people in my life love me for just who I am. 
 Like my best friends. They were ready to come over as soon as I texted them that we were over. I had them come the next day. They brought me more chocolate than I knew what to do with, Diet Coke and Mentos to blow things up, a few small toys and lemonade, for when life gives you lemons. 
   My family, his family, and many more of my friends expressed to me how much they loved and supported me. It made me think that maybe my personality is big and it could be to much for one person to handle, but I've got quite a few people who are willing to take it on.  

   We have a collection of scrapbooks that my mom made when I was younger. In one of them was a picture of my Grandma Bessie, my grandmother's mother. The caption next to it said something along the lines of "she felt her losses deeply. I guess that's what happens when you love deeply too."
    I seriously love that quote. It so accurately conveys how Dahgo was too. I saw it in her but also in my mom and my sister and myself. 
   Losing Dahgo and Poppy reminded us of how much we loved them and how much they loved us. We feel our losses deeply. But that's what happens when you love deeply too. And boy, did we love them deeply.  

   

The Inadvertent Intern

   I worked for nine weeks as an intern at Molina Healthcare, and not once was I asked to get someone coffee. I've even offered! My supervisor even told me I could go to Starbucks if I wanted, though she didn't want any.
   Color me disappointed.
   I really hoped that I'd get to do so before it finished, that I'd get to do one typical intern task. But I didn't. Probably because it wasn't a typical internship. In fact, this summer has been anything but typical.
   So far this summer I have:

• Gone to Honduras on a mission trip
• Got fired
• Painted our family room
• Wrote a novel 
• Worked an internship

   You know. Normal summer stuff.

   But of all the things I did not expect to do this summer, it was work an internship. Other than Honduras (which you can read about at Five Years Of Spanish Led Up To This Trip) and maybe painting the family room, none of the others were expected. Yet they could have at least been anticipated. 
   It started as a suggestion for a summer job by my mom's best friend who had recently been hired at Molina. Only when I was sitting in my interview did the word 'internship' actually come up. And, mind you, I filled out a very long online application. Never. Not even once.
   But nevertheless, I went through with it. I called a few weeks later, as I had not heard anything, and I needed a job. Luckily, I had been of the twenty chosen. 
   And on my first day in my first professional setting, all dressed up for this new job, with my new swipe badge and everything, I sat down in the new hire orientation and... promptly fell asleep. To this day, the only other intern I ever had contact with remembers me as the girl who fell asleep in orientation. 
   Anyways, the first day and part of the second were completely dedicated to iLrns, these awful powerpoints with questions that had to be completed. The tough thing was that my computer wasn't ready (in fact, it wasn't ready for two and a half weeks).
   After I finished those, I started training to schedule.
   Molina focuses on Medicare and Medicaid supplemental insurance. As of July 1st, the Duals program for members with both insurances went live. Because of that, Molina hired a ton of new employees. The big thing was compliance visits. For hundreds of members, there was a requirement that they needed to be seen twice within 30 days by Molina nurses and social workers.
   My job was to schedule those visits. And apparently, no one had ever caught on to the scheduling process so fast. They were planning on having me train for a few days. I needed two hours. 
   I'm not really one to brag, but they loved me. Within two weeks, I was scheduling for two different people, which was a two or three weeks earlier than they had anticipated. By the time I finished, I had scheduled for 5 different people. And actually, my bosses were very sad to see me go. They bought me Panera and gave me a card. I will miss them. They were both very nice and loved having me around. 

   I tried to keep a list titled "&#@! the Intern Thinks", but I got too distracted to finish it. So here are a few I remember:

• I love Defying Gravity so darn much. 
• I wonder if anyone would notice if I started doing calisthenics right now.
• I &#$@%&! hate technology [x16]
• The way is clear. The light is good. I have no fear nor no one should. The woods are just trees. The trees are just wood. I kind of hate to ask it, but do you have a basket? 
• I wonder what people think when I stand in front of this window at the same time everyday. 
• I smell popcorn. 
• POPCORN
• I wonder if you have to type '91' in the phone in order to call out to 911.
• I got chewed out by a member and a case manager today for the two things I don't know how to do. I'm only an intern. I hate this job.
• It's a good thing people can't see my face while I am listening to showtunes. 
• [whistles] Wait. Why am I whistling the theme to Monsters Univeristy?
• [looks at tuition fee during break] &*@#. How am I going to pay for that? 
• Control C. Control V. Control C. Control V. [ad nauseum]
• I got twenty five people scheduled for visits today. I'm only an intern. I love this job. 

   The thing about the Affordable Care Act is that, no matter how you look at it, it is working. I realized that every day.
   Whenever someone got mad at me over the phone about Molina or not getting the healthcare accepted, I stopped and had to think "these people have never had healthcare before." When people were pleased to have people come out and get equipment and appointments set up for them, I stopped and thought "these people have never had healthcare before."
  I myself, as well as numerous others, have never doubted our healthcare before. We take it for granted because it's always been there. But when you talk to the people who have never had it before, even if they are a bit annoying or are even switching to a different provider, you can tell that this is not something they take for granted. Many of them can't take this for granted because they have such severe health problems, problems that can be cared for, but are very expensive. And though I would occasionally get disappointed when someone said they were switching from Molina, it was okay  because I can understand that for the first time they have options. 
   The Affordable Care Act, despite its flaws, gives these people the security of care they have never had before. 
   And that is what it is meant to do.
   You can argue against it all you want, but you cannot deny the truth: people can actually afford to have health insurance for the first time. Affordable healthcare.

   I'm sorry that it has been so long since I have blogged, but given my list above, I am sure you can understand that I have been busy. But it was a good busy.
   But just as I had a busy summer, I look to a busier school year. I would say "To OSU? To OSU!" but that would be kind of weird, as I am already there. But stay in tune, as I am quite sure I will have many more "I Wasn't Told This Before College" entries to come...
   

Five Years Of Spanish Classes Led Up To This Trip

Please forgive me if I messed up the Spanish part. Yes, it's simple, but five years of Spanish class did not prove nearly as helpful as I anticipated.

   En el año 2013, mi abuela y mi abuelo, los padres de mi madre, se murieron. Unos meses después de la muerte de mi abuela en octubre, mi mamá me dijo que ella quiso ir a Honduras en el mayo próximo  por un viaje de la iglesia. También, ella me dijo que  me quiso ir con ella. Le dije sí.

  Pero durante del segundo semestre de este año, tuve estrés porque tuve problemas con la clase química y un trabajo nuevo. No sentí que pude creer sobre el viaje. Había otras cosas más importantes.

   Unos meses luego, tomé los exámenes finales, y repentinamente,  era el mes de mayo. Estuve saliendo por el país en solamente unos días. No pude creer o ajustar. No había tiempo. Estaba en el aeropuerto en Columbus, y Atlanta y finalmente San Pedro Sula, Honduras.

   Conducimos por tres horas a un lugar que se llamó Las Conchias. Deshacemos el equipaje y organizamos la medicina en los arcones.  Todos los arcones tuvieron un tipo de medicina como vitaminas, dolor o antibióticos. También, había bolsas llenadas de provisiones dentales y lentes.

  La primera aldea era la iglesia hermana de Liberty Presbyterian de Powell. Se llamó El Olvido, y el edificio de la iglesia de El Olvido había construido por miembros de Liberty. Después de la clínica, servimos la cena a la gente de la iglesia, y asistimos un servicio de iglesia.

  Por una semana, viajamos a aldeas diferentes. Cada aldea era única . La segunda tuve una escuela buen.  La tercera tuve arboles de coco y un hombre lo escaló. La cuarta tuve una iglesia casi como una de los estados unidos, y la última era más pobre de todos.

  Había cosas que yo quise como mi teléfono celular y mi enamorado. Pero Honduras era una experiencia que no puedo describir. Vale, no puedo describirlo en español. Lean el resto y probaré describirlo en ingles porque es mas fácil.

   In the year 2013, my grandma and my grandpa, my mother’s parents, died. A few months after the death of my grandmother in October, my mom told me that she wanted to go to Honduras on a mission trip. She also told me that she wanted me to go with her. I told her yes.

   But during the second semester of this year, I was stressed because I had problems with chemistry and a new job. I didn’t feel that I could think about the trip. There were more important things.

   A few months later, I took final exams, and suddenly, it was May. I was leaving the country in only a few days. I couldn’t think or adjust. I was in the Columbus airport, Atlanta, and finally San Pedro Sula, Honduras.

   We drove for three hours to the place in which we stayed called Las Conchias. We unpacked the luggage and organized the medicine in the bins. Every bin had a type of medicine like vitamins, pain, or antibiotics. Also, there were filled bags of dental supplies and glasses.

   The first village was the sister of Liberty Presbyterian of Powell.  It was called El Olvido (The Forgotten)  and the church building had been built by members of Liberty. After the clinic, we served dinner and attended a church service.

   For a week, we traveled to different villages. Each was unique. The second had a good elementary school. The third had coconut trees anda guy scaled one. The fourth had a church almost like one from the United States, and the last was poorer than anything else.

   There were things that I wanted, like my cell phone and my boyfriend. But Honduras was  an experience that I cannot describe. Okay, I cannot describe it in Spanish. Read the rest and I will try to describe it in English because it's easier. 

   The only time I have ever been out of the country was to go to Nova Scotia a few years ago with my family. And though the Canadians were very nice and kept apologizing for the 70 degree F "heat", it really didn't feel like another country. Honduras definitely did.

   I had about three days to get excited about the trip. I was on tenterhooks about my chem grade, and was working in the lab, so little time was spent thinking about it between moving out of my dorm and leaving.

   Now, I haven't really mentioned religion at all in these blogs, mainly because it hasn't really mattered. I also haven't mentioned it because I have been doing a lot of questioning over the past few years. I know I believe and trust in God and Jesus, but I have had some struggles with the church. I hoped that this trip would give me the opportunity to forget all of the struggles and just feel and share the love of God through service. 

   And it did. About sixty times over.

   As I mentioned previously, we visited different villages each day. I was on the pharmacy team, so my main job was to count and bag pills to hand out. That included antibiotics, parasite meds, ibuprofen, Tylenol, and four 28,000-count boxes of vitamins. So by my estimate, our team counted and bagged approximately 125,000 pills. Thankfully for the vitamins, we estimated using cups. But if you divide the total number vitamins by the approximated 90 per bag, that is still 1244+ bags of pills. 

   Since I was in the "pharmacy" during the clinics, I didn't get to work with the families very much, but my mom did. She was the assistant to one of the doctors on the trip. Each team consisted of one doctor, one assistant, and one translators. And side note, our translators were incredible young men who made the trip very, very enjoyable, and we probably would not have had such a good time if they hadn't been working with us.

   Luckily for me, I did not have to wait until the last day or so to have a "God moment". That happened at out first village. 

   It's been almost six months since Dahgo passed away, so though I miss her a lot, I don't find myself getting teary very often. The exception is when my mom starts talking about it. Then comes the waterworks (for both of us). In this case, my mom and I both offered to give testimonies as to why we went on the trip and our journey and stuff. She went first. 

    She spoke how when she lost her mom her heart broke,and she went to Honduras in honor of her mother (cue crying from both parties). She also mentioned how seeing the families at the clinic, specifically the grandparents bringing the children, made her think about her own mother and how Dahgo was so vital in raising us. But it was the end of the testimony that truly made the trip.

   She asked for the church to pray for her, which is to be expected. What we were not expecting was for the entirety of the church to stand and lay hands on her. They called me up too, and we stood as they began to pray. But they didn't just listen to the pastor the way we do at Stonybrook. Each person began to pray out loud, quietly at first and then stronger and stronger until my mom and I were standing midst  a crowd of raised voices calling upon the Lord.
   I probably could have tried to catch bits of what they were saying (as they were all speaking Spanish), but I was crying too hard and the only thing my brain could process was this is God, this is God.

   As the week went on, we saw many different villages and people. Twice we set up in schools. The first one was a lot nicer, with colorful walls and drawings. My favorite things about it was that there were drawings of the Earth on the wall by students in honor of Earth Day, but instead of a drawing of North America like we're used to, there was a drawing of a strip of land running vertical through the ocean. I realized that that must be how they see Honduras on a map. 
   The other school was in a lot worse shape. The rooms looked unused and dirty. The highlight of that day was when I tried coconut water for the first time, straight from the coconut. A man climbed straight up the tree, no harness or anything, and then pulled a machete up on a rope. He used it to chop down a bunch of coconuts and then other men used their machetes (everyone has a machete) to break them open for the kids to drink. 
  The fourth clinic was made of a better stone and had a pretty decent bathroom as well. I could tell it was a village that had a more money as the church had a few speakers and an amplifier. That day I took a lot of pictures, mainly of the kids and families. Momma particularly liked taking pictures of kids wearing Batman t-shirts and frequently said that she wanted to bring hers, but wasn't sure if it would be culturally appropriate.
   The last day was a half day clinic, but by far it was the poorest place we went to. The place in which we set up was a tin roof held up by two-by-fours. Dogs, chickens, and children were everywhere in Honduras, but in this village, we kept having to shoo dogs out from under the tables. The two pastors daughters were hanging around, so I asked them to put the labels on the bags, and eventually they were helping me to count the pills. This was also the day in which I got over my embarrassment of speaking Spanish. It must have been the fact that they were kids. 

   By the end of the week, I was ready to see my friends and family and to use the internet. But there is something about Honduras that draws you. Part of it is the people. Part of it is the beauty of the landscape. But I think most of it is delving into a different culture. We had many conversations with the translators about different ideas and objects and how different and how similar our cultures are. To quote Albus Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: "though we come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one."But something I believe and that this trip has emphasized is that we are all humans, and by that we are all God's children. And I hope that that is something other people think and live by too. 

   

I Wasn't Told This Before College #7: An Inconvenient Truth: College Edition

   When I came into college, I thought it would be an amazing place of freedom, learning, and happiness. But I've come to learn a few things since the day I moved in:

1. Sharing bathrooms for the sake of not having to clean them is not worth it.
2.  Avoid the ice cream place when the temperature exceeds 70 degrees F.
3. Chemistry is unspeakable.
4. Grief doesn't mix well with the college transition.
5. Schools leading up to college do nothing to adequately prepare you for college.

   The first two points are pretty self-explanatory. I chose to live on a specific part of campus so I did not need to clean the bathrooms. I'll spare you a detailed description and just leave you with the fact that two weeks in, I was willing to clean the bathroom. As for avoiding the ice cream shop, you see, Ohio had it's own April Fool's Day trick called "Heat Columbus to Nearly 80 degrees." I walked into the cafe that sells ice cream three different times during the day and  each time the line stretched almost all the way out the door.

   I do not wish to explain number three because Chemistry is unspeakable. I guess I do have to mention it later to explain number 5, but the less I have to think about it, the better. Oh look. Someone threw that textbook across the room. Huh. Wait.

  Numbers 4 and 5 are the most important points though.

  Number 4: Grief doesn't mix well with the college transition. Everyone tells you before college that it is a big transition. But no one tells you how massive the transition is. And grief is hard enough. No need to mix them.

   Unfortunately, that's what happened to me. 

   My grandpa, affectionately called Poppy, passed away in March 2013. His wife, my grandma affectionately called Dahgo, passed away seven months later, in October 2013. They were incredibly important to my entire family. They babysat my sister and I while my mom worked. They were present at every birthday party or family gathering for the entire 18 years I knew them. I miss them more than I can say. 

   But there comes a problem with grief and living on your own. Now I don't live that far from my family, but I still am removed from them. They are surrounded by Dahgo and Poppy's belongings and pictures. As my mom puts it, 2013 was a tsunami, and I managed to escape to a little refugee camp called Ohio State. But this semester, the water has started to trickle in, with flash floods occurring more and more frequently.  

   But before I delve more on that, let's talk about number 5.

   Number 5: Schools before college do nothing to adequately prepare you for college. You're probably thinking "whoa, whoa, whoa. That's a bold statement, especially coming from someone who has only been in college for a year." Yeah, well, it doesn't take more than a month to figure it out.

   The entirety of high school is devoted to getting into college. High schoolers join clubs, volunteer, work part-time jobs, take AP classes, etc. All to get into college. But once you're in college, no one cares about that. The professors don't treat you differently because you got a 32 on your ACT. 

   What you do realize is that you suddenly are tossed into a lake and you don't know how to swim. People stand around telling you to grab the life preserver, but every time you get close enough to reach it, it gets dragged away from you. 

   I've been over my not knowing how to study. I was kind of prepared to have to tackle that. But no one ever told me that I wouldn't know how to fail.

   I am currently clueless as to whether or not I'll pass chemistry. Grades and curves and points. Nothing makes sense. No one knows anything. I work incredibly hard and I don't get anything from it. 

   I got a research position in a lab. Me. A freshman. I beat out all these sophomores and juniors who are far better candidates then me. And I feel blessed to have it. But I can't get through one project in the lab without feeling like a screw up. It's nothing that the grad student I work with said or the PI or anyone. It's the fact that for the entirety of my life so far mistakes were punished. You lose points. You get cut from things. And now making mistakes frightens me. 
   That's how school doesn't prepare you for college. They want you to get to college, so they punish you if something goes wrong, but they don't instruct you on how to fix it. They praise people who get good grades and test scores, and those who don't are left behind. I got pretty good grades in high school. I did really well on tests. But I am suffering in college because no one told me how to make mistakes. 
  And when you combine numbers 4 and 5, it's like you are reaching for the life preserver and suddenly a boat speeds by and the waves not only drag the life preserver further from your grasp, but they're so powerful that they drag you under water for a time too.
   That's how I felt a few weeks ago. The week after I got back from spring break, I was overwhelmed by the amount of work that didn't get done over break. And trust me, it wasn't laziness. It was "I just worked in a lab for 8 hours, I honestly have no desire to think any more today." But when I got back and realized I had so much to do, I panicked. But I got it done. And then I panicked about something else. But I got it done. 
   And then that Thursday, my professor discussed the previous exam, which I flat out failed. That set me crying. And then I went to the lab. I was okay, but shaky. And then I messed a few things up. Small things not worth the stress. But then I started crying again. And this time I couldn't stop. 
   Later when I was able to have dinner with my mom, we discussed everything I said above. We discussed the idea of the tsunami. She pointed out that the week before had been one year since Poppy passed away. The women of my family have the ability to be calm and helpful in chaos, and then react later. My reaction was just a bit later than the rest of the family. 
   And this is why numbers 4 and 5 should never be combined. Leaving your family  to live on your own( no matter how close you live to them), learning to control your own finances, struggle to do well in class, and still find joy in life is what the college transition really is. That's what being an adult is. That's the life preserver.

   This time, I don't have to explain my continued struggle. I just did. I am fighting an uphill battle. I have suffered a meltdown. I get frustrated daily, nearly to the point of tears because everything I have known to this point is different.
   My very wise mother told me that college is a new part of my life. Until now, everything has pretty much been determined for me, but now I am in control. Don't get me wrong, I like being in control of my own life, but it doesn't exactly come with an instruction manual. Perhaps that's why I keep writing these; so someone else doesn't make the same mistakes I did. Or maybe, just so someone else knows they aren't alone in feeling the same way. Because that's part of it. You start to think it's just you, and that everyone else can catch the life preserver. And I feel that way a lot. Everyone else seems to be okay in chemistry, or can pull their feelings together, and I am going mad because I can't.
   But that's the inconvenient truth about college. No one can catch the life preserver. They can only convince you they're already saved. 

MORAL OF THE STORY: The transition to college is 1000x harder than anyone will lead you to believe, and only a very small part is because of shared bathrooms.