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Doulas
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Name: sarah
Birthday: 10/15/1983
Gender: Female
Interests: community development, adventure trekking, theology of the global south, unique dining experiences and spruce-tip ale.
Expertise: keeping my mouth shut.
Occupation: student.
Industry: transience.
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
9/14/2002
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| Well i guess it's been about a year... since I last sent out a life update to anyone still hoping to hear from me via blog.
And I guess a lot has happened in that year, none of which I care to disclose the mirky details of, but I will provide here a current events catalogue:
I'm living in a house in Portland, OR with two roommates I found on craigslist.
I'm in love with Jesse R. Harward: height- 6'6", weight- 215lbs, eyes- blue, hair- brown, profession- actor
I'm going to New Zealand for 6 weeks with my best friend Sarah Dodson, and previous roommate Jennifer Sasselli
I'm happily unemployed
I've applied to PSU's Master's of Education program for Fall 2009. And so has Dodsey.
I will not be returning for summer work in Skagway, AK.
I'm volunteering at YPA, an educational assistance program for foster kids with criminal records
I also volunteer at People's Food Co-op, where I set up the produce racks at 6am
I'm been painting and sewing all sorts of crafty things, just because I can
I've been brewing beer with my father in our garage
I've got an Obama magnet on my refrigerator, in celebration that the American electorate has finally done the right thing.
I'm currently reading the Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver
I'm going to see Broken Social Scene tomorrow at the Wonderballroom
I just finished a marathon 3 complete seasons of Lost in an attempt to become more involved in American popular culture
I started running again, everyday
I've developed a strong dis-like for people who try to make things seem worse than they actually are
I've developed a stong appreciation for bike-lanes, mittens, lemonade, crossward puzzles, where in the world is carmen sandiego the board game, the word sustainable, not having the internet at my house, pizza delivery until 4 am, patience, and spring.
I bought a beautiful new snowboard but have yet to use it
I am taking classes to become a Doula- a birth attendant and natural birth advocate.
I am going to complete a triathlon in 2009
I hope everyone who stumbles upon this update is well, and I hope to re-connect with those I've lost in the last year or so.
Thank you for your attention.
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| I think it may be time that I told the xanga community the story of why I pierced my nose.
Five years ago, I went to India. I became friends with two 14 year old girls, Mamuni and Dutta, who were seperated from the other children at the school we were volunteering at, left on the outside of the school wall, because of the fact that their parent's couldn't afford to pay for their education. These girls were very precious to me, and they wanted to be able to go to school. I found out that it would cost $20 US for both of them to go to school for a year; I happened to have that amount in my pocket at the time and asked if I could pay for their year's worth of schooling. The headmaster gave me some excuses and in the end decided not to take the money, I was unsure if the girl's would be able to attend the school.
I left India rather broken hearted about the situation, and determined that I would never forget the girls or their situation in the world system. So I pierced my nose. And have kept their story close in my heart and mind, trying to live my life in such a way as to identify with them, and stand in solidarity with them. At the time, some people told me it was a bad thing to do, that it was a "worldly" thing to do, that it was flawing my beautiful face, that my salvation was in question. I feel bad for those people, still. Yes, it was a worldly thing to do... women in Africa and India as well as indiginous South America and Australia all have facial piercings. Yes, it might alter my appearance, if you look very closely, but i'd rather my 'flaws' be out and seen than secret and conceled. As and far as my salvation, we should go to the Bible and ask Jesus what He thinks about a person trying to identify with the poor, and see what He says. I have kept the story secret in order to, perhaps, learn from the responses and judgements of those who don't know the story. Well, it's been years and the novelty has definately warn off. Now all I have to say is that we all have stories... others may think they understand our actions, but inevitably, they don't. Jesus so eloquently said it all "he that is without sin, cast the first stone." I was taught not to throw rocks, these days I vote not to launch rockets either... but that's another post for another day. May we all humble ourselves to understand others, even "the least of these." | | |
| Hello Friends!
Happy Valentines Day, Presidents Day, Black History Month, Carnival and Lent. This year I've chosen to abstain from refrigeration, washing machines, television, cell-phones, electricity and drinking water. It's true! Actually, those are just the things that we're currently living without and have decided to make a religious experience of the situation. Speaking of religious experiences, you have to, at some point in your lives, make it to Carnival in Trinidad. It's a magical time in a magical place.
For starters, there was a group of 7 of us sharing a room in the Hilton. Sarah and I eventually decided that it was more important to be out and about than watching America's Next Top Model in the hotel room, so we quickly made friends with some of the locals: most noteably some best friends named Salim and Joel. Joel is real tall, skinny, dark, cornrows, goes by Chineeman and has golden guns for earrings. He talks really fast and know everyone in Port of Spain. And I think I fell in love with him. Salim, well you'll have to ask Sarah about him.
Next up is John and Margaret Cooper, professors at the University of the West Indies who let us watch the costume competition from the back of their pickup. They made sure that we didn't support the war, that we didn't support corporations, that we have lived cross-culturally, that we were committed to getting involved in our communities, and that we were open to spelling the word tire with a "y". Once they were sure they could trust us, they fed us life-changing bits of information about how to live in the third world and how to live with someone for 49 years, how to live in a war-zone, and how to live during peace times. Basically just how to live. I want to be just like them some day.
Carnival continued in all its muddy, painted, bedazzled, feathered, shuffling, dancing, beaded, loud and rythmic glory and we took to the streets to be a part of it all. We were clearly over-dressed. If you're going to carnival, just bring some fancy underwear and you'll fit right in. I've never seen so many butt-cheaks in my life. The great (and sometimes terrifying) thing was that it absolutely didn't matter how big, fatty, jiggly, stretched, or bouncy your body was... as long as you had some hips to shimmy down the road, you were welcomed and adored. A celebration of bodies, it's about time.
The rest of the group left after Carnival, but I couldn't get enough of the scene so I decided to travel to Tobago with some Swedes we'd met earlier on the the week. They spent the whole time sick and miserable while I ventured around the island and became friends with all the old Rasta-men from our hotel to the beach. Every morning and every evening I would walk down, be greeted warmly by Chris the bicycle man, Romeo who sells shells, Anton who takes people on boat tours, Elton the poet, Kinny the homeopathic doctor and Tony the Artist. Tony had lived in the US many years, actually he's a walking piece of American history; he was at Woodstock, he was there when JFK was shot. We reminisced about the 60's and 70's (what I've heard about them from my parents) and sang Inagoddadavida, Janis Joplin, the Band, Bob Marley... I'd never been so proud of the legacy my parents have passed to me. Eventually a nice old Rasta man decided that he wanted to take me to Zion to be his Queen and put my hair in locks (dred-locks), he told me that I was a Rasta-woman at heart and I would never be happy "in the system". I told him yeah, he was right, and that I'd give him a call after consulting my "vibes." I never made it to Zion, but maybe next trip.
We're thinking of going back to the place over Easter break, right before I head back to the states.
I hope this email find you all very well, and warm, and happy.
Keep in touch.
Peace, Rasta-far-i for life | | |
| I knew I was in for a treat when, within the first 10 minutes of arriving in Guyana, I witnessed a naked man walking confidently down the side of the road. What a place, I tell you. So far, I've gotten my phone and money stolen right out of my pocket at a dance club, gotten violently sick after a vegiburger, been nearly run off the road by a mini-bus, been almost kissed by a rasta man (good thing I have great reflexes) and absolutely fallen in love with the 3rd Form classes at Friendship secondary school. This whole place is full full full of life life life, colorful and loud and rather gawdy. First Impressions- I'm really going to like it here.
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