Relentless Pursuit for Personal Justice

This man's unfaltering determination and conviction (hrm, cynical play on words?) in the face of staggering adversity and unforgiving odds in truly inspirational.

TMI (Too Much Information)

At this moment, I'm eating something like ONE THIRD of my recommended daily caloric intake in the form of a slice of Godiva Double Chocolate Cheesecake (via B&N, via Starbucks, via The Cheesecake Factory). In New York, vendors are legally obligated to post the caloric value of each item on their menu. This policy, coupled with the mayor's proposal to ban the use of food stamps for purchasing soda, is New York's attempt to combat obesity. I'm going to temporarily cheat on von der Heydon with Barnes & Nobles this break but it is really not the same. Firstly, I embarrassed myself by handing the cashier my credit card and adding, "On Flex, please!" Not fly. Secondly, OMG CHOCOLATE COOKIES ARE 500 CALORIES EACH?!

I have mixed feelings about this policy. On the one hand, it makes sense that we would want to give consumers as much pertinent information about the products they are considering as possible to allow rational and informed decisions. On the other, do we really want to heighten the anxiety of the image-conscious even further? American attitudes towards personal fitness and dietary habits are largely polarized; some are too image-conscious and consistently strive to be underweight rather than of healthy weight to meet the idealized public images of bodily beauty while others either seek food for comfort or thoughtlessly consume too much habitually. There is a definite socioeconomic aspect to the problem, as highlighted by Bloomberg's paternalistic ban on food stamp-funded soda purchases.

It seems ironic that New York, of all states, would impose such stringent policies. Every time I come home from college in North Carolina, I never fail to be struck by the drastic demographic differences between the two states: New York is uncontestedly more culturally diverse and, ah, I've missed fashion! But the population here is also much slimmer than the population in North Carolina, where I can consume an infinite amount of Saladelia cookies (oh God, finals season is almost upon us...) without ever being confronted by a numeric valuation of my compulsion, lack of will power, and the guilt subsequent to consumption. Causality is clearly at play here and the problem is not a single dimensional one but it is always slightly alarming to encounter these friendly, helpful reminders while trying to enjoy a first meal back in the city.

But ultimately, this cheesecake is just worth being fat for, mmm.

Truth in the Interplay between Prose & Poetry

Lately, I find my normally high-strung and caffeinated self deviating towards a much more relaxed lifestyle. While perhaps conducive to my health, this adaptive lifestyle is constantly being confronted by the same demanding deadlines that confronted me at the peak of my productivity. These days, I exercise little restraint in browsing of bookshops and bakeries and in taking time to appreciate beauty, whether in language, fall foliage, or impossibly delectable desserts, knowing I'll need to pull all-nighters later to finish sections of my thesis. Tonight (today?) I am doing both simultaneously and feeling surprisingly sane after being awake for nearly 24 hours...

"They inhabit a world so rich in technology that everything works better, even the people, but no one seems to know exactly why. Parented by proxy, and prescription, and by cable TV, they have achieved the loneliness their elders pursued. They enter their twenties less interested in finding themselves than in finding a way out. Faithless, hopeless, untutored in love, they make babies for the sake of company and kill themselves with unspeakable violence with staggering numbers--suffering from a deficiency in meaning acquired from pop culture, pop psychology, feel-good religion, that tells them don't worry, be happy, take care of yourself and your self-esteem. They stand to inherit, along with the spiritual void their parents have left them, the bill from the card it was all charged to."

The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade

Thomas Lynch

On Locating Voice and Vocational Purpose

"To deeply understand vocation as voice, we must go beyond what is initially visible and audible, to that which has rhythm, movement, and feeling. Voice is not the externalization of sound and words. Literally and metaphorically, voice is not located in the mouth or on the tongue where words are formed. Voice is deeper. Words are only a small expression of that depth...

... Voice is located where breath dies and is born, where what is taken in gives life, where what has served its purpose is released anew. Voice is located at the source of rhythm, the internal drumming of life itself. When the poet Emerson said we walk to the "beat of a different drummer," he was talking about voice, the sense of internal rhythm. We cannot underestimate the enormity of the Genesis stories, and of parallel narratives in many traditions, of how life itself came to be: God breathed into clay. Life was created from the place where breath and earth met, and from that place voice arose. Voice is the essence of being a person.

Where you find that meeting place, the home where heart and lungs gather, where breath meets blood, there you will find voice. When you find your way to that home, there you will find yourself, the unique gift that God has placed on this earth. You will find the place from which your journey begins and to where it returns when the road is confused and hard. This is the deeper sense of vocation."

The Moral Imagination: The Art and Soul of Building Peace

John Paul Lederach

Easier said than done, John Paul.

What I Left Behind

The summer was full of too much beauty. I can only temporarily quell my hunger for picturesque sunsets, canine companions, and vast amounts of free time with skinny vanilla lattes and cream cheese brownies. This is clearly not ideal for my physique. I will debrief on the experience (and compensate for a mostly dormant blog) when I have a bit more free time.

Note to Self

Hand-washed laundry is not what's good.

Hard(ly) Work

I half wish I've spent the last two weeks accumulating more tales of treachery to share so that this blog can chronicle my summer spent being a certified dare-devil, but alas, the paradise where I am only provides so many (life-threatening) thrills. Since my arrival at Stairway, my days have been easy-going and blissful and the perfect combination of productivity and relaxation so that I still feel purposeful but I'm never stressed or exhausted and have adequate time enjoy my gorgeous location assignment.

So here is the FYI on Stairway: Stairway Foundation was founded by Lars, the cutest 6'5'' Dane you will ever meet, and his American wife Monica, who looks like one of the nameless candidates for ANTM two seasons ago. Their initial program and the main focus of Stairway is its yearlong residential rehabilitative program for a dozen former street children from Manila. These boys, suffering from malnutrition, tuberculosis, and low self-esteem, are brought to Stairway, where they receive medical attention, three nutritious meals a day and a host of resources (computer classes, jewelry-making classes, academic classes, sports instruction, psychological therapy... a permanent place to sleep, etc.). Stairway instills a sense of self-respect in these boys, so that they're better able to defend themselves and their rights when being subjected to the many obstacles of being young and impoverished in inner-city Manila (sexual abuse of children is unfortunately very common). The jewelry they make during their time here is "sold" to Stairway, which gives each boy a bank account, and are available for sale to volunteers but mostly decorate the office. Depending on their individual circumstances, the boys are then either returned to their families or placed in other centers that will manage the logistical aspects of their custody and legal guardianship.

Stairway's mission at large is to promote children's well-being, through protecting their rights and improving the circumstances of the most marginalized children. Three of the staff here at Stairway act in the Foundation's theater production "Cracked Mirrors," a series of monologues telling stories of street children falling victim to starvation, sex trafficking, and pedophilia. The production, written and directed by Monica, stems from the staff's personal experience and is intensely moving to watch. They've toured internationally and are planning to launch an American tour. Additionally, Stairway has produced three animated films, highlighting the same issues, intending to destruct the stigmas around speaking out about victimization and to help children better understand that what has happened to them in the past is fundamentally wrong and that they should never stand for it to happen again.

In recent years, Stairway has gotten increasingly involved in enhancing the opportunities available to the local youth of Puerto Galera. They have implemented a sports program for the local youth, established a scholars program that finances the grade school education of two dozen selected students, and has been working with the under-funded Baclayan Mangyan School to better the quality of education the school can offer. This is the branch of operations my research will contribute to. The indigenous Mangyan children of the Baclayan community have had historically dissatisfactory achievement scores; this has added to the existing prejudiced beliefs that indigenous people are inherently inferior. But analysis of their academic performance cannot neglect the Mangyan children's lack of resources. They come to school without academic supplies or textbooks and very hungry. The children suffer from malnutrition, causing them to lose focus during class time. Stairway is seeking to fund the supply of textbooks and school supplies and to implement a nutrition program so that the community is able to feed their children the nationally recommended values of each nutrient for developing youth. Through dietary recall, I will assess the children's daily diets and statistically analyze the discrepancies between what they are eating and what they should be eating. This information will be presented to Stairway's board of directors and finalized in presentation modules to use to generate financial support from the international community. Because Stairway is looking to plant a kitchen garden to supplement the Mangyan's available foods, my policy recommendation will include suggested combinations of vegetation that constitute a nutritionally sound meal.

... Yeah, this post is a little drab but I'm copying and pasting this for an e-mail to my mother, who called me frantically from JFK airport, demanding that I tell her in more detail where ("the hell") I am and what ("the hell") I'm doing so that our relatives in China will better understand why she allowed me to run off to a third-world country and subject myself to UV rays that will darken my fair complexion and compromise my potential for attracting suitable marriage prospects. So I promised her an explanatory e-mail in her inbox upon her arrival in Shanghai. "Things I Will Not Tell My Mother About" will be discussed next.

"Safe" Arrival

Yesterday was the first time in my life when I felt a urgently troubling sense of "WTF am I doing??" I actually meant first timeS, because I can recall in detail at least four times throughout my travels from Manila to White Beach, Puerto Galera, when I felt I was moments away from some potentially horrible outcome.

1. I get off the taxi that took me from my hotel to the bus station and am SWARMED by bus-drivers and porters who sensed my foreign clumsiness and vulnerability for being ripped off seemingly from miles away. My luggage (60 lbs, completely out of my control) was then the victim of a series of multi-party tug of war, as everyone tried to compete for the opportunity to cheat me. Ultimately, I was placed on the bus with the apparently strongest porter, who promptly demanded 50 pesos (like 1 dollar, nbd) for carrying my luggage. Was relieved to be sitting in an air-conditioned bus and did not even flinch when handing over more than twice what my supervisor told me to pay.

2. Essentially a repeat of this episode, but this time at the port, as I go from bus to ferry. Only this time, I need help purchasing my ticket, as there are additional environmental fees and such that I couldn't possibly keep track of. Am interrogated by the ticket-purchase-helper with some relevant questions (One-way or two-way?) and some not (Single? No boyfriend? Can I come with you?). I get on a ferry, which is actually a speedboat with some "stabilizing" logs attached to either side. Ratio of supervisor-suggested price to actual paid price increases even further.

3. So I'm thinking this boat ride is about 15 minutes long, as the whole trip is supposed to be under 3 hours and I was at 2h45m at this point. I'm on this boat for 1.5 hours and had drafted multiple international text messages stating my location and the likelihood I was being kidnapped for sale into human slavery. It then starts POURING while I'm in the middle of the Philippine Sea on this dinky little boat. Sidenote: July and August constitute the monsoon season. Fml.

4. I get off the boat, it's still pouring, but I nonetheless have an urge to kiss the ground and thank heavens for protecting me from not only kidnapping schemes, but also shipwreck. My relief is quickly dashed when I catch sight of the "motorized tricycle" that is supposed to take me to Stairway. It is a motorcycle with a side car, meant for my luggage and myself and completely devoid of safety fixtures. Am ripped off and paid eight times what I was advised to pay (okay, I know I suck but I was dividing prices by 50 and, more importantly, was busy searching the vehicle for any bar or crevice where I might hinge my fingers to prevent being thrown over cliffs as I ascend this mountain on a tricycle).

5. (Underestimated, my B.) I'm dropped off by my tricyclist on the side of the road but don't spot any sign for Stairway. Had looked death in the face multiple times as the tricycle sped up the windy roads of the mountain, conveniently overlooking hundred-foot drops into the rocks/ocean below. It is still pouring and I am only accompanied by my luggage and oh, yes, my Blackberry! I try to call my supervisor but, oh wait! I'm in a rural area of a third world country (I was no longer interested in political correctness at this point to think of this island as an "emerging market," sorry, Keeley.) Finally, I chose one direction over another and drag my luggage through the muddy gravel paths. Stand in the rain for about 10 minutes before my phone magically picks up the weakest of signals. Find supervisor. Am escorted into the guesthouse. Episodes of panic conclude.

Despite my epically treacherous journey, I am SO PLEASED to be at Stairway. Firstly it is beautiful and completely devoid of industrial nuances like noise and pollution. For example, I am currently in a treehouse. Yeap, the third floor of the "office building" (read: two-story log cabin) is essentially the rooftop of the building roofed by some logs and spindle-y leaves. It's gorgeous and provides wireless internet service! Perfection, no?

The food has been subpar and the mealtimes are a little inconsistent with my normal ones (7 AM breakfast, 10 AM "snack," 12 PM lunch, 2 PM "snack," 7 PM dinner) but the experience necessitates I shed my picky eating habits (work in progress... currently starving from refusal to dry suspicious meats.) and my infatuation with indulgent cuisine. Cannot look at food blogs without soliciting noise from my stomach right now. I felt pretty shitty that I couldn't get over my pickiness when the surrounding diners were former street children who have only for the first time in their lives experienced what it's like to be able to rely on the regularity of scheduled meals.... But they served avocados at the conclusion of today's lunch! I think I might have yelped and alarmed some children but I was so pleased! I learned a new way of eating them: mushing them up and mixing the green mush with brown sugar... pretty yum.

I think I finally beat jetlag (and not preemptively on Friday like I claimed...) and am going into town to pick up a few amenities (like snacks, duh) before heading to my first session of allotted daily beach time! Puerto Galera is one of the top 20 most beautiful beaches in the world and is located across the street. Will update with evidence of productivity and actual purpose (because I'm not actually here just to enjoy the greenery and beach, sigh) sometime in the next few days when I start my research project. Also to follow: what exactly I AM doing here and more on Stairway Foundation. Happy Fourth of July from abroad (for the fifth year in a row...)!

One Night in Manila

The next time I travel to another "emerging market," I'm going to make certain that my flight lands at a time when the sun is out. It's a little too depressing taking cabs into the major cities of developing countries at night, when you only see the rough outlines of construction cranes and the pathetically blinking neon signs attempting to foster a sense of nightlife. My cab driver was friendly enough--something that took me as a shock after years of brusque exchanges with New York cabbies--and I was more than slightly embarrassed when my mother asked over the phone what age he appeared to be and whether he looked like "a good guy." She undoubtedly assumed he didn't speak English (we had been chatting for about twenty minutes in English) and I had to try and muffle the sounds coming from my phone with deliberate and unnatural laughter.

Haha, so my dad recently learned to text and decided this would be our primary form of communication this summer so that he can be more tech-savvy. I texted him: "Hi Dad, arrived safely. Tired and going to bed now. Will skype you tomorrow." He replies "Cfrm rcpt. All ntd. We love you." Business shorthand + paternal affection = the epitome of my father, haha. Aw, Daddy!

I've always been a very last minute kind of person, a deadline writer who always, somehow, gets away with extreme procrastination. And so, it wasn't until my layover in Detroit that I figured out I was landing in Manila at 10:35 PM local time, making my 2.5 hour trek to Stairway unfeasible tonight. So I booked a 3-star hotel (yes, in the Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, about 16 hours before my scheduled landing...) and am now in the smallest hotel room I have ever stayed in in my entire life. But I'm content enough that it's clean, quiet, and equipped with high speed wireless internet!

I also waited until my layover to google the Filipino currency. The US dollar is the equivalent of about 46 pesos. Although initially excited to spend the next eight weeks dividing prices by 50 (a welcome change to multiplying everything by 2 last summer in England...), I can't help but feel that it's a little bit ludicrous to be tipping someone in the triple digits for bringing my luggage upstairs. I guess that's not as strange as paying 500 JPY for a Toblerone bar in Japan... Judging by the shocked expression, I'm guessing not everyone in the Philippines approximates what they would pay in the US and then multiplies by 50. Will have to adjust to thinking in terms of lower costs of living so as to not paint an image of myself as a lone, small, Asian girl, traveling alone, clueless about the ways of life, and traveling with an abundance of cash. That sounds like a sure way to be kidnapped and/or trafficked into illegitimate human slavery. Nobody show my parents The Taken any time soon, thanks.

I've kept myself awake and necessarily wired on caffeine since I left Durham over 24 hours ago so now I'm exhausted but I've successfully preempted jetlag! I'm going to go to bed now and am going to try to wake up and see some sights in Manila before checking out and trekking to Stairway... more on the complexity and insanity (motorized tricycles....) of my impending trip tomorrow after I get to Puerto Galera.

"Little Person Syndrome" in Pop Culture

I'm pleased the NYTimes has published an article on what I apparently become after Four Loko consumption.