365 days ago
I was holding my phone up
Hoping airwaves would travel
From my end of the country to yours,
To deliver a promise.

365 days ago
I had 365 days ahead of me.
Today
I have the memory
Of the past 365 days
For the next.

Today I went down your timeline.
Down, perhaps, to 2010.
I'd say I got to know you.
The you you were back then.

Your smiles are wide and plenty
You share exciting news,
Reply to comments, pictures, tags.
You laugh, you drink, you schmooze.

Today you don't write on people's walls
You don't thank people for sharing
You ignore all the pictures that are up
Don't remark on what your friends are wearing.

I fear your inactivity
Means something bigger, something more.
If you're not having fun in pictures,
Are you having fun at all?

I now long to have known you
When smiles were all you knew,
When red cups frequented your big, rough hands
When your posts weren't far and few.

I wish Facebook didn't tell me
Who you used to be,
I look at who you are today,
And wonder how much it has to do with me.

Too much rests on 'I love you.'
We pile on the three-word shelf
Encyclopedias of happiness,
Manuals for self-fulfillment,
Novels that tell us
Where the meaning of life lies.
But three words can't encompass what we feel
Better than a 417 word song.
The unexpected smile that creeps up
When you look up and they're still there.
A longer embrace.
Confessing
That you bought them a toothbrush.

"If we are not able to be alone, we're only going to know how to be lonely."

http://vimeo.com/70534716

Word of the Day

Feeling Vomit

It's like word vomit, but with feelings.

Summer Time

This summer was one of the best in my short life. Not because the sun was brighter or ocean clearer; not because I went out more or because I found myself some summer lovin', but because I learned a lot. About myself. About my community. About my collegiate peers. About the world. About learning itself.

I've had this idea that I want to be a teacher for a while. I thought it might be smart to give it a shot. Might be smart to explore the possibility.
But rather than finding answers, I found an increasing number of questions (a number that keeps getting bigger the more I think about my experiences).

Here are a couple:

1. How can teachers develop a relationship of care with their students if they are supposed to maintain the existing power structures, if there are strict, uncrossable boundaries, if knowledge is supposed to be simultaneously transferred, discipline maintained, playing field leveled across the classroom... if no other relationship in the world can truly help mold this one?

2. What is social justice and what does it look like in a classroom? How does it apply to the response we must have when, say, three girls skip your class in the bathroom because they didn't do their homework?

3. Why are we certain that we have touched some students but felt that others were miles from reach? How do we reach them all? How do we not settle for a couple?

4. How do we mold ourselves to fit the needs of such diversity?

5. Where lies the balance between wanting a student to like you and wanting a student to learn from you?

6. What is the difference (where is the line) between being kind so as to not make a student shut down and never pay attention again and not pushing someone hard enough, to their full potential?

7. How do we change students' minds when they've led a life solely based on their parents' ignorance? How do we not insult who they are and where they come from if we think that what they think is stupid and hateful?

8. How do we try to understand our students without assuming we understand?

9. How can we have the lives of so many people in our hands and cause the least amount of damage, the most amount of change?


I at least found one answer. The answer...

Is teaching for me?

My phone rings.

It's the New York Times again because they didn’t think it was enough to tell me that 23 children died in India yesterday.

Insecticide in their school lunch. 

News.

Now it’s Ryan Braun, former baseball MVP

And I quote, “linked to doping,

Suspended for rest of season.”

I don’t care about baseball 

Let alone Ryan Braun

But I can’t help it.

I add his name to my list of disappointments.

Doping.

Lance Armstrong wins more trophies than I care to remember.

But he forgets that you can’t win if you’re not you.

He’s suspended.

Suspended in time, space because while people had been trying to cure world hunger and cancer, 

He had been cheating to win.

Winning.

Bayside park, 2008

I get chills down my spine because

I’m not sure anyone has ever spoken to me in this way.

My dad, an ex-communist, although still bearded

Has trouble believing.

First there was Cuba.

Then Argentina, with its string of criminals aptly pretending to be politicians.

But I’m 15 and Barack Obama makes me feel like we have the power to change the world.

Fuck! He creates a “we.”

How long has it been since there was a “we” for the American adolescent generation?

You know how much shit has happened since Vietnam?

I consider stealing someone’s identity, just to vote.

And then a few weeks ago, we think Nixon screwed us

But he wire tapped a hotel room, not a country.

State.

Florida has never been my favorite state

“No, no. I’m not from there. I just live there.”

But then a black 17-year-old boy,

1 degree of separation.

1 degree. 

Closer to him than Kevin Bacon

1 degree and his killer roams around the sunshine state

Even though he proudly wears the name tag he himself wrote,

The one the law itself allows him to bear

Murderer. 

You hate this state? I live here. 

I have to breathe his air.

Swim his waters.

My state is a systematic oppressor and killer.

What’s yours? The hummingbird state?

Florida.

Rick Scott is an asshole.

He looks like Voldemort 

But he plays the part too.

The common core will raise achievement

But how can standards be raised 

If our schools don’t have books

If no one ever told my sister that Oceania was the 7th continent

If my college counselor to this day

Can’t pronounce “Swarthmore”?

You know? That small liberal arts college 30 minutes outside of Philadelphia?

But don’t worry

Because Jeff Bush supports it too.

They are the common core of idiocy

If they think that making a new law

But hiring no new teachers

Will change the way we learn, the way we think.

Think.
Okay, maybe you're right.

Maybe spending 1.5 billion dollars since 2001 on wars that oppress

Will teach our children how to count.

Counting.

I can’t count them.

The number of disappointments I have felt since I started paying attention.

Maybe ignorance is bliss

But I can’t go back now.

Living For Everyone But Yourself

I've been thinking a lot about social media lately — about the fact that our generation lives on and for it.
It is impossible for most of the people I know to see, eat, feel... live anything without wondering how it might best be presented to everyone else.
The food you eat must look, not just taste, great. The outfits you wear must not feel, but look good. The places and things you see must not amaze and amuse you, but everyone else in your friend group.
The worst part about it is that very few of us have more than a couple of good friends on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or whatever else. Our lives now revolve around creating an image of ourselves for strangers.
"How will this make me seem?" is a question I'm sure millions of people across the world are asking themselves, and I have to wonder whether we have really stopped living for ourselves because of it.

My professor just e-mailed us with new office hours, since all of the community-building events on campus have interfered.

He starts by saying, "the problem with revolutions is that they make you late for dinner."

I want to tell him that the problem with his statement is that without revolutions, some people don't have dinner to come home to.

No se como explicarte
Lo que siento.
No estaría exagerando
Si te dijese
Que he perdido la habilidad
De verme a mi misma sin vos;
Que son pocos los momentos
En los que no te quiero a mi lado;
Que quiero ser mejor
Porque quiero que te des cuenta;
Que los minutos
Frente a tu puerta
Son infinitos
Y llenos de ansias,
Alegrías;
Que pocas veces dude tanto
En lo que digo,
Hago,
Escribo;
Que tus brazos
Me aseguran;
Que tus besos
Me curan;

Que tengo miedo;

Que nunca senti
Lo que siento hoy.

Que no se si esto es lo que quiero sentir.

I've been thinking about injustices and our responses to them a lot lately. People here see them everywhere they turn.
Things that could be interpreted as racist, homophobic, classist, etc. always are. And while, certainly, many racist, homophobic and classist things are said with intentionality, many are not. We are human beings after all. We make mistakes: Sometimes we are not fully informed. Sometimes we say things that don't come out like we intend them to. Sometimes we just don't know that what we are saying is hurtful. Sometimes we really do have good intentions.
I love that Swarthmore and all its students are quick to respond to injustices. It shows that we care.
But what happens when we spend our whole lives feeling angry, frustrated and offended because we simply choose to believe that everyone has hurtful intentions?
What good does it do to fight against every injustice if it's only going to further convince us of humanity's depravity  — if it's going to make us miserable?

Can we assume good intentions where we can? Won't this make us happier?

Can we be happy and still do good for the world?
Can we pick our battles?

I'm Not Sorry

As the flowers bloomed and the weather got warmer, as the sun drew students out to throw frisbees and footballs around, an ugly, aggressive fight loomed over campus. For the past month or so we have been divided on issues central to our lives here at Swarthmore. We have debated over the existence of Greek life and all that entails (racism, homophobia, sexual assault and rape), and the invitation of a conservative to this year's graduation (one who may have done more harm than good for the world). And those of us who were on the offensive — those of us who were pushing to change the status quo — have been made to feel like we did something wrong. How could we ever upset the campus? How could we question institutions and systems that "work so well"? How could we chalk such grave and "unfounded" accusations on the paths of our beautiful campus for tour groups to see? How could we "ruin" the spring semester of seniors who up until this moment have never had to question their role here? How could we do it?

Last night, I received an email from a senior on campus inviting me to an event — "Fuck bigotry, harassment and rhetorical bullshit. Celebrate solidarity." After weeks of questioning my role in this place — after weeks of questioning whether I really was alone in all of this — this informal conversation between us "shit-starters" made me realize why I go to this school.  It made me realize what kind of people I want to associate myself with, what kind of things I want to do, what I want to change, and who I want to be as I move forward during my time here.

Most of all, though, it made me realize that I should never allow people to make me feel bad for wanting to change things that are so very clearly wrong.

Amidst criticism that we're ruining Swarthmore, I am now more sure than ever that we're doing the furthest thing from that.

How many more people can we continue to deny rights to before we realize we're being assholes?

Tired of seeing history repeat itself over and over again.
Tired of feeling helpless.

Ojalá podamos tener el coraje de estar solos y la valentía de arriesgarnos a estar juntos.

Galeano

Crazy for feeling so blue

Walk The Walk

I complain about a lot of things. Like... A lot. I have a knack for finding injustices everywhere I turn. At times it feels as though there aren't enough hours in a day to even talk about them all.  Let alone proactively address them.

But after weeks, if not months, of often frustrating conversation about the fraternities' role on my college campus, I've finally done something. With the rest of the campus newspaper's Ed board, I wrote an editorial calling for a referendum on the existence of Greek life.
Too many stories have been told about these institutions and instances of homophobia, sexual intimidation, racism... But as if that weren't enough, fraternities — and now a recently established sorority — also create a clear and literal division in the student body. One that shouldn't have to exist.

Today, after less than 36 hours, we got the necessary amount of signatures on a petition to initiate the referendum. Although it won't be easy, especially because 1/3 of the student body needs to be present for any vote to count, I am excited and proud to have been part of the group that is creating dialogue on an issue that affects us all.

Identifying the injustices of our world is a small fraction of the battle. It's time to stop complaining.

There are just some people that can make us doubt every fucking speck of our existence... Ironically enough, these are the people we like most.

How fucked up would it be if our unconscious selves hid happiness somewhere we can't feel it in order to avoid the vulnerability that comes along with being perfectly content?

I'm scared of not wanting to work hard enough to get what I want.