Snail Mail + Bono

My desk is littered with envelopes and stamps and addresses of friends who are too far away to hug. And everyone loves letters.

I was born,

I was born to sing for you.

I didn't have a choice but to lift you up,

And sing whatever song you wanted me to.

I give you back my voice from the womb

My first cry, it was a joyful noise.

"Magnificient" - U2

So the combination of loved ones + uplifting music is really working right now.

"Together We Will Live Forever" by Clint Mansell

I'm not a music person.

I like Justin Bieber and I like singing the chorus to "Horchata" by Vampire Weekend to give the appearance of good taste.

I don't know why; music just never stuck with me the way words do.

But this one,

this one haunts me.

It's so mournful and full of yearning.

The fragility of it is terrifying.

The way the melody runs hand in hand with silence is eerie, yet warm.

It sounds like a song that would be played at the funeral of a beautiful person.

The song is wisps of his or her life, the ethereal entwined with sadness.

The song restores me.

MBT #15: Stars in Pennslyvania

At first I thought that the best part of the road trip was when Kaylyn and I convinced Josh to sing along to "Wonderwall" because I have never heard him sing even though other people tell me he is phenomenal and he probably is and should let us hear him more often.

But sorry, Josh.

The stars in Pennsylvania didn't really have adjectives. I didn't even realize that the stars here were fuzzy blips compared to what they could truly look like. It wasn't until I saw the awesomeness of them in an untainted sky that it hit me how I had mistaken the mediocre for the magnificent, the fake for the authentic. And I still love the sky here. I still think the stars are beautiful, I still think it's incredible how I can make out the dark areas on the moon from here, I still think that the light pollution is eerily pretty. But it's just that whenever I look up now, I can't help but think of what I've seen.

Humor them:
allow the grandeur of the stars
to unsettle You
shrink You
humble You so that You stand
as the speck you are
no spark of blazing plasma
within You
unable to provide light
for Yourself,
let alone anyone else.
Allow the sprawled constellations
fallen star
weary night plains
inspire You
rob You of your breath
with its hemisphere
stratosphere
atmosphere
a reminder so that You never forget
that You are vastly outnumbered
as You stand among the dust of the earth
that cries for water
You are unable to give

And so You sit

And wait

I think I'm gonna need to go back again and just sit. And wait.

MBT #14: Hunger

I don't care much for statistics.
I'm too cynical (73% of them are made up) and too desensitized, especially when they're about people dying.
I hate confronting statistics about people dying because I am completely numb and helpless, and then I get upset at myself for not caring and being complacent or offering a ho-hum, "Man, that sucks, doesn't it?"
Even worse is when I am confronted with a statistic of people dying with a superimposed picture of a young child because I know that face is more than a statistic, but I can't really feel anything. I don't feel a connection; I'm not compassionate enough, I don't desire to "suffer with" people I don't know and will never meet and more often than not, write off as people I can't help.

So I was unmoved again, when I came across this statistic:
Every 3 seconds, a child dies because he or she was hungry.

Just typing that, I feel nothing.

But I'm not satisfied moving on from that.
I'm not ok moving on with my day knowing that in the span of typing this post hundreds of people have died as I much on my nighttime snack.
I'm not ok with living as if I didn't read that.
I want it to unsettle me, to break my heart. Atleast I think I do.

I started thinking of what this would look like in my life, and with a little calculator action, these are the results:

• the population at my state university would be dead in a little over 8 hours
  
• people at my church would die in 50 minutes
• every single one of my facebook friends would die in 26 minutes
  
• my campus fellowship group would die in 3 minutes
• my twenty closest friends would die in a single minute
• my family would be dead in 12 seconds

Consider me unsettled.
Punch in your own numbers.
Be uncomfortable.

MBT #13: Being with my roommate

My Dearest,

My heart shall always go on. For you.

Kisses, hugs and Celine Dion,

Bethaboo

MBT #12: Being the Global Shit

Jason, the Professor:
"We've moved past the era where we rely on science and progress, structure and hierarchies to look for security. How do we reconcile the Enlightenment and democratization with the fact that billions of people are starving, right now? I know that even in this room, life is not easy for some of you. Some of you are working one, two jobs to pay for tuition. But you are all here. You are all college students. There are a billion people living on a handful of rice a day, and billions more working to move past that. You guys are it. You are at the tippity-top of the pyramid. You are the Global Shit.

Now the question is, what are you going to do?"

Something I learned over the summer is that the problem with privilege is that I'm always looking ahead. I'm always looking at my deficits. My inadequacies. My insufficiency. What I don't have and still want. I do some quick calculations in my head on how to progress, how to achieve, and work towards fulfilling our my equations and my agenda. Who I have to know, what I have to say so they like me, what I have to do.

What I fail to do is look behind me: even geographically, to look at those who were not born in the United States, not born into an affluent East Coast county, not born into a neighborhood with a strong tax base to support public education, not born into a state that subsidizes university study, not born into a country or state that could afford it if it wanted to. This doesn't even take into consideration all the other obstacles that were removed for me on my fast track towards success and working up towards job stability and security, because that's what we all want, right? That's just geography, the longitude and latitude I'm in, on no merit of my own. And it has made all the difference.

Jason's question terrifies and empowers. Here I am, at state university. On the quad, in the dorms: these are the world changers, the rising leaders, earth shakers. It's like merely walking out of here with a college diploma gives us a megaphone from which we can shout, and people will listen. But Jason's right: what will do, what will we say? Our amplified, elite-educated voices could drown out those of others, or amplify theirs.

I know I risk sounding cheesy, but more than unoriginality, my fear is that I will do nothing. That I will slap the faces of those who support me being here: God, my family, my friends, my professors and teachers, my university administration, the politicians who decided that I was worth investing in, the tax payers who pay so that I can have wireless internet in my dorm room. That I will accept going to college as the norm, and not the incredible blessing and privilege that it is.

Readers, the next time you hear me moan and complain about that killer 10-page bio paper or how I'm sick of the dining hall, please punch me and tell me to shut up. Tell me that I am the Global Shit. And that it's about damn time that I start acting like I deserve it.

MBT #11: Kindness from Strangers

This is one of my favorite commercials. Ever.

I don't want to claim that strangers who spread kindness are these amazing do-gooders because we all know how impossibly hard it can be to love and serve our own family most of the time. I mean, when is the last time I wanted to do the dishes? But I don't want to downplay the impact, either.

I never really got the chance to thank these strangers who popped up in my life, but I never quite forgot you either. This post is for you, for your audacity, your spontaneity, your joy, your selflessness. Thank you for brightening my day, and for restoring more hope in humanity action by action. Thank you for inspiring me.

1.) Lemonade Stand Woman - When Elliot and I were in elementary school, my neighborhood organized a community yard sale and every house had tables set up on the driveway. I'm not sure who proposed it, but Elliot and I ended up running a lemonade stand right at the entrance to grab the most attention. We were abuzz with excitement: the pitchers, the coin collection box, the cups, and the lemonade powder were too much for our scrawny bodies to handle. Little kids selling lemonade for ten cents absolutely screams adorable entrepreneurship, but it was hard selling it to people that were not my mom and dad. Thankfully, Lemonade Stand Woman arrived and asked for two cups, and took a sip. She told us it was delicious and "keep the change." She handed me a $5 bill.

2.) Guy at Starbucks - I was grabbing coffee with Ivria, and as we sat at the stools we started chatting about what you have been missing if you've been living under a rock. We hear laughter behind us and turn around to this guy in his late 20s/early 30s who looks up and asks, "The Onion? God, it's hilarious. That is so great that you are talking about it."

3.) Car Trouble Guy - It was a frosty post 9/11 afternoon after church; the roads were icy and the snow was marred from the weekend traffic. My family sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic and by the median I noticed two cars, engine to engine. It looked like one car just needed a jump start, which is pretty ordinary, but what really caught my eye was the guy who was hooking up the cables. He was young, maybe mid 20s. Attractive, sure. Maybe Persian. But he was only wearing a thin hoodie, sleeves rolled up so he could work with the engines. He was rubbing his hands together, breathing on them to keep warm. And he did all of this while smiling, laughing, and talking with the other driver. I don't know if he knew her or not, but I couldn't help but think of how many drivers had seen her and simply been too busy, too hesistant, or too cold (hey-yo!). And how the only person who stayed with her looked like the people we as a nation began to unfairly prejudge.

4.) Dining Hall Tray Guy - Last week in the dining hall, the food server informed a student in line that he needed to get a new plate because his had a melon rind on it, thus condemning him to the back of the dinner rush line. This guy a few spots ahead of me gave him his plate instead.

I don't believe that any of these people have transformed the world, but they have all changed it. Their stories intersected with mine in goofy and amazing ways, and as a result, I find it hard to act as if they had never touched me at all. So I won't. I'll let them move me.