200 people died when a bomb went off in an Iraqi marketplace today. They were just people going shopping. A lot of them were probably kids, but CNN isn't showing me their pictures, or telling me their names, so I can't say for sure. They were just more of those nameless, faceless Iraqi people who we have given freedom to.
I don't want to minimize what happened at VA Tech. Death is death, and it's particularly horrible when the victims are so young, and it strikes so close to a context that we can identify with.
But why aren't we wearing ribbons for the people of Baghdad who died today? Why aren't we holding vigils, or looking for someone or something to blame?
I don't know.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
regarding Virginia Tech
Right now CNN is reporting that 32 students have been killed by a gunman at Virginia Tech University. 29 more are wounded. Some were in their dorms, and most were sitting in class. They were probably checking their email, writing blogs, doing sudoku puzzles, or maybe even taking notes. They weren't in a war zone. They hadn't signed up to go into combat, or put their lives on the line. They were just kids going to school. A lot like me. I woke up in a dorm, and went to class today. In fact, I was sitting in a class room when I learned about these students being killed in class rooms. I wanted to vomit.
Now I am sitting in a lounge with the news switched on, watching students walk by in the hallway. Most are talking on cell phones or listening to their i-pods. Some stop to look at the tv screen. They express surprise at the death toll, and then turn away and keep walking. A few have wordlessly dropped into one of the chairs in front of the screen. They are overcome by their knowledge of a tragedy that speaks to some of the darkest deeds that humanity is capable of. These people know that in the face of such grim reality they can't just keep walking. And I am with them. I don't understand how to just go about my daily routine when things like this are happening.
The saddest part is that this not exactly a unique event when one takes a look around the world. How many young people have been killed in Iraq over the last several years? How many child soldiers are shooting at other kids in Africa? There is also the incredible violence and injustice that is seen in every element of the international sex trade. Humanity tells millions of stories in which countless people are killed or injured every day, in every corner of the world. No, Virginia Tech is not unique. But does that excuse apathy? Does the fact that humanity is utterly fallen, corrupt, and violent mean that it is morally excusable for me to unplug, and not feel grief?
I don't understand the people who just keep walking. We are so self centered. We believe that because the violence is on a different campus, or in a different country, that it won't touch us. A lot of Virginia Tech students probably had that mindset this morning, until the fallenness of humanity touched their lives in a particularly gruesome way.
We need to break our apathy. We need to be more sad about the state of our world. And we need to translate that sadness into love for those who face the harshest consequences of the way things are.
Now I am sitting in a lounge with the news switched on, watching students walk by in the hallway. Most are talking on cell phones or listening to their i-pods. Some stop to look at the tv screen. They express surprise at the death toll, and then turn away and keep walking. A few have wordlessly dropped into one of the chairs in front of the screen. They are overcome by their knowledge of a tragedy that speaks to some of the darkest deeds that humanity is capable of. These people know that in the face of such grim reality they can't just keep walking. And I am with them. I don't understand how to just go about my daily routine when things like this are happening.
The saddest part is that this not exactly a unique event when one takes a look around the world. How many young people have been killed in Iraq over the last several years? How many child soldiers are shooting at other kids in Africa? There is also the incredible violence and injustice that is seen in every element of the international sex trade. Humanity tells millions of stories in which countless people are killed or injured every day, in every corner of the world. No, Virginia Tech is not unique. But does that excuse apathy? Does the fact that humanity is utterly fallen, corrupt, and violent mean that it is morally excusable for me to unplug, and not feel grief?
I don't understand the people who just keep walking. We are so self centered. We believe that because the violence is on a different campus, or in a different country, that it won't touch us. A lot of Virginia Tech students probably had that mindset this morning, until the fallenness of humanity touched their lives in a particularly gruesome way.
We need to break our apathy. We need to be more sad about the state of our world. And we need to translate that sadness into love for those who face the harshest consequences of the way things are.
Friday, March 30, 2007
regarding Napoleon lookalikes
Not Bonaparte, but Dynamite. Seriously. I am sitting in the library right now and right across from me is a guy who looks creepily like Napoleon Dynamite. Crazy hair, glasses, tucked in t-shirt. I wish I had a camera so you could share the moment with me.
This is a silly blog entry.
But it's better than writing the paper that I am supposed to be writing. I'm sure it will be fine once I get started. I'm just ready to be done with papers for a little while, and walk across that stage.
I guess I need to enjoy it while I still can...in another few months I could have very different priorities. Like digging latrines and killing dinner. mmm
I have a Peace Corps interview on Monday. It's the second one. They got back to me really fast to set it up. I hope that's a good sign. We shall see.
This is a silly blog entry.
But it's better than writing the paper that I am supposed to be writing. I'm sure it will be fine once I get started. I'm just ready to be done with papers for a little while, and walk across that stage.
I guess I need to enjoy it while I still can...in another few months I could have very different priorities. Like digging latrines and killing dinner. mmm
I have a Peace Corps interview on Monday. It's the second one. They got back to me really fast to set it up. I hope that's a good sign. We shall see.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
in which Tim finishes
I am done with all the work I have to do before Spring break! I took a couple midterms, and turned in a paper that I've been working on for a few weeks that is a month over due. Niiice. Now I can go home and relax for a bit...
I must confess, however, that the paper makes me a little nervous. Even though I just wrote the thing in the last few weeks, I've been thinking about it and planning it for like six months. It sort of feels like a child that I have raised and nurtured. Now I've sent it off into the world, and I am terrified out of my mind that it will get beat up and made fun of, much like I was in kindergarten. But there's not much I can do about it now.
I'm also in a good mood because I found out today that Aus got into the Secret Service. It's been his dream job since long before I knew him. It's cool to see dreams come to realization. I wonder how often that happens. Not a lot. I think most of us lack the courage to really pursue our dreams in earnest. Others have forgotten what it means to have a dream, and just settle for whatever is easy.
I don't want to be like that.
I must confess, however, that the paper makes me a little nervous. Even though I just wrote the thing in the last few weeks, I've been thinking about it and planning it for like six months. It sort of feels like a child that I have raised and nurtured. Now I've sent it off into the world, and I am terrified out of my mind that it will get beat up and made fun of, much like I was in kindergarten. But there's not much I can do about it now.
I'm also in a good mood because I found out today that Aus got into the Secret Service. It's been his dream job since long before I knew him. It's cool to see dreams come to realization. I wonder how often that happens. Not a lot. I think most of us lack the courage to really pursue our dreams in earnest. Others have forgotten what it means to have a dream, and just settle for whatever is easy.
I don't want to be like that.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
in which Tim thinks about love, true love...
Disclaimer: If you are reading this, and happen to have dated me in the past, fear not. It is not about you. The person it refers to has long since disappeared, and probably doesn't even know that I keep a blog.
----
I like to think of myself as a rational person. I don't usually tend to believe things unless I see or experience pretty good reason to. This is why the notion of true love (princess bride style) is a little bit mysterious to me. I've not experienced it (I would know, right?). Yet I can't be one of these skeptics that refuses to believe that the fruit is sweet just because he hasn't tasted it. How can I not believe in a motif that dominates the arts and defines cultures around the world? This force that draws two people into each others lives is described everywhere. It has to be real.
Assuming it is, I wonder how many of us are destined for it. I'd like to think everyone, but it can't be true. There are an awful lot of us who end up in relationships that are either shallow, temporary or both. Granted, a lot of it has to do with the decisions we make and why we choose to pursue the things that we do. But I think with patience and courage we all at least have the potential to seek out that deep, passionate and inexplicable kind of relationship.
But how many chances do we get at it? I feel like I had a shot at it a few years ago. There was a spark that I've never known before. A glimmer of what the bard writes about. But it slipped away. Maybe I was too afraid, or maybe she was. Maybe the circumstances were wrong. Or maybe I was wrong about it all, and now I'm just living with a brain full of manufactured memories.
And sometimes, late at night, fear likes to worm it's way into my head and gnaw away at my thoughts. Was the spark real? Why did it go away? Will I ever get to experience it again?
It is the past, she is gone, and I am powerless to answer these questions.
Thankfully I serve a God who is not. And even if it was all just a dream, I am thankful that he allowed me to experience it. It gives me reason to believe that this thing called love is indeed real.
Even if I never get to experience that depth of passion, it is good to know that it's there. It makes the world a brighter place. And I feel blessed to at least have experienced a glimmer of it.
----
I like to think of myself as a rational person. I don't usually tend to believe things unless I see or experience pretty good reason to. This is why the notion of true love (princess bride style) is a little bit mysterious to me. I've not experienced it (I would know, right?). Yet I can't be one of these skeptics that refuses to believe that the fruit is sweet just because he hasn't tasted it. How can I not believe in a motif that dominates the arts and defines cultures around the world? This force that draws two people into each others lives is described everywhere. It has to be real.
Assuming it is, I wonder how many of us are destined for it. I'd like to think everyone, but it can't be true. There are an awful lot of us who end up in relationships that are either shallow, temporary or both. Granted, a lot of it has to do with the decisions we make and why we choose to pursue the things that we do. But I think with patience and courage we all at least have the potential to seek out that deep, passionate and inexplicable kind of relationship.
But how many chances do we get at it? I feel like I had a shot at it a few years ago. There was a spark that I've never known before. A glimmer of what the bard writes about. But it slipped away. Maybe I was too afraid, or maybe she was. Maybe the circumstances were wrong. Or maybe I was wrong about it all, and now I'm just living with a brain full of manufactured memories.
And sometimes, late at night, fear likes to worm it's way into my head and gnaw away at my thoughts. Was the spark real? Why did it go away? Will I ever get to experience it again?
It is the past, she is gone, and I am powerless to answer these questions.
Thankfully I serve a God who is not. And even if it was all just a dream, I am thankful that he allowed me to experience it. It gives me reason to believe that this thing called love is indeed real.
Even if I never get to experience that depth of passion, it is good to know that it's there. It makes the world a brighter place. And I feel blessed to at least have experienced a glimmer of it.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Regarding rock and roll
I went to a newsboys concert tonight. It was tremendous fun, and a pleasant break from the grind of my final semester here. Considering that I have now seen this band in concert seven or eight times, there was a lot that was familiar, but still a good amount of material to fuel reflection.
Naturally, I knew all the songs and stage antics by heart, so I didn't get a lot from watching the band. Our seats, however, were sort of to the side and above the stage, so I was able to spend a lot of time watching the crowd. The age diversity at these shows always amazes me. Teenagers, parents, grandparents, younger kids. And everyone seems to enjoy it.
For example, tonight I noticed a little boy who couldn't have been any older than three. He spent the entire show running up and down between the front row of seats and the stage, running, dancing, playing in the piles of confetti that had gathered on the floor. He wasn't misbehaving, and he didn't come to any harm. How many rock shows do you think that could happen at? A small child enjoying the music in his own way, right along with teenagers and old people. I guess that's what the kingdom is about. We participate in worship together, all being fed despite differences in age, experience, tastes, etc.
Of course, the crowd WAS still predominantly white...
one step at a time, I guess.
---
Speaking of newsboys, I found this video on youtube. It'll make you laugh.
Naturally, I knew all the songs and stage antics by heart, so I didn't get a lot from watching the band. Our seats, however, were sort of to the side and above the stage, so I was able to spend a lot of time watching the crowd. The age diversity at these shows always amazes me. Teenagers, parents, grandparents, younger kids. And everyone seems to enjoy it.
For example, tonight I noticed a little boy who couldn't have been any older than three. He spent the entire show running up and down between the front row of seats and the stage, running, dancing, playing in the piles of confetti that had gathered on the floor. He wasn't misbehaving, and he didn't come to any harm. How many rock shows do you think that could happen at? A small child enjoying the music in his own way, right along with teenagers and old people. I guess that's what the kingdom is about. We participate in worship together, all being fed despite differences in age, experience, tastes, etc.
Of course, the crowd WAS still predominantly white...
one step at a time, I guess.
---
Speaking of newsboys, I found this video on youtube. It'll make you laugh.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
in which Tim feverishly prepares to speak at large group
I think my outline is done. It's probably the trickiest talk I've ever written, mostly due to the large amount of ground I have to cover. Isaiah, Jesus, Bangladesh, Acid Victims, Porridge, Rickshaws and Egypt. It might be a stretch, but it's all there. I even managed to integrate some audience participation.
I might need to re work the part where I talk about Paul. I am not sure I like the flow. Perhaps talking about Isaiah, three gospels, and three of Paul's letters all in one talk was a bit ambitious. Eh. I will do a couple readings tonight, one tomorrow morning, and another right before the talk. Hopefully that will iron out the wrinkles.
This posting probably makes no sense to anyone who isn't me. But (God willing) it will all come together at 7:30 PM tomorrow in 107 Kedzie. Feel free to either come, pray for me, or both. All is appreciated!
I need to sleeeep.
I might need to re work the part where I talk about Paul. I am not sure I like the flow. Perhaps talking about Isaiah, three gospels, and three of Paul's letters all in one talk was a bit ambitious. Eh. I will do a couple readings tonight, one tomorrow morning, and another right before the talk. Hopefully that will iron out the wrinkles.
This posting probably makes no sense to anyone who isn't me. But (God willing) it will all come together at 7:30 PM tomorrow in 107 Kedzie. Feel free to either come, pray for me, or both. All is appreciated!
I need to sleeeep.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
In which Tim reflects via the light of a Christmas tree...
It's a beautiful tree. Just the right size, lots of peacefully blinking lights and hand crafted ornaments, and a giant star on top. I prefer stars to angels. My dog is sleeping next to me, and my sister's cat underneath my chair. My parents are in the next room filling up the stockings, pretending to be santa claus. Traditions are nice.
At church tonight, I was moved by a part of the Christmas story that had never really struck me before. I think that in thinking of the Christmas story, many of us tend to pull all the elements from the different gospel accounts, and create one big mental picture out of them. Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wisemen, evil kings, etc. It's a beautiful picture, but in doing that we tend to lose some of the poignancy of the elements contained in the individual accounts.
What struck me was from the story in the second chapter of Luke:
8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord."
Yeah, we all know the story. I've always thought about how cool it was that the birth of Jesus was announced to both the poorest scum of society (shepherds in fields), and the richest of the elite (foreign kings following a star). The funny thing is that Luke's account makes no mention of the star gazing Magi (wisemen). But I think the contrast that we see in this part of Luke is much more extreme than the other one.
In this scene we have humble, poor, probably illiterate shepherds celebrating an event alongside creatures who represent visibly the very glory of the most high. The lowest of society and the highest in the Universe. Wow! How could such a meeting be possible? What event could prompt such a bridging of separate realms? Only the birth of one through whom these two kingdoms could be united. A God-man. The highest of heaven united in the form of flesh and bone with man kind. Jesus Christ.
-------
The pastor at church talked a lot about Bethlehem, and how it was not much but a cow town. The prophet Micah predicted that out of Bethlehem would come one who would rule over all of Israel, restoring the ancient order, and ultimately "be their peace (shalom)". It got me thinking about all the conflict and strife in Israel today. In recent years, even the church of the Nativity has been a battlefield. How many have died? How many must STILL die? We need shalom.
Come, Lord Jesus. That is my prayer as I celebrate your birth. Return, and bring peace where there is conflict, and healing where there is pain. We long to see you.
At church tonight, I was moved by a part of the Christmas story that had never really struck me before. I think that in thinking of the Christmas story, many of us tend to pull all the elements from the different gospel accounts, and create one big mental picture out of them. Mary, Joseph, shepherds, wisemen, evil kings, etc. It's a beautiful picture, but in doing that we tend to lose some of the poignancy of the elements contained in the individual accounts.
What struck me was from the story in the second chapter of Luke:
8And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ[a] the Lord."
Yeah, we all know the story. I've always thought about how cool it was that the birth of Jesus was announced to both the poorest scum of society (shepherds in fields), and the richest of the elite (foreign kings following a star). The funny thing is that Luke's account makes no mention of the star gazing Magi (wisemen). But I think the contrast that we see in this part of Luke is much more extreme than the other one.
In this scene we have humble, poor, probably illiterate shepherds celebrating an event alongside creatures who represent visibly the very glory of the most high. The lowest of society and the highest in the Universe. Wow! How could such a meeting be possible? What event could prompt such a bridging of separate realms? Only the birth of one through whom these two kingdoms could be united. A God-man. The highest of heaven united in the form of flesh and bone with man kind. Jesus Christ.
-------
The pastor at church talked a lot about Bethlehem, and how it was not much but a cow town. The prophet Micah predicted that out of Bethlehem would come one who would rule over all of Israel, restoring the ancient order, and ultimately "be their peace (shalom)". It got me thinking about all the conflict and strife in Israel today. In recent years, even the church of the Nativity has been a battlefield. How many have died? How many must STILL die? We need shalom.
Come, Lord Jesus. That is my prayer as I celebrate your birth. Return, and bring peace where there is conflict, and healing where there is pain. We long to see you.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
in which Tim apologizes, tells the news, and picks at his wounds.
I have not written for a long time. I think there are probably several reasons for this, and it will require some reflection to get to them. So to be kind to my readers, I have divided this overdue entry into multiple sections. If you're the kind of person that simply requires the concrete information, "Part 1" is for you. For the rest of you, who enjoy journeying through the messy tangle of philosophical musings, iteresting emotions, and elaborate illustrations that is Tim's mind, I have included "Part 2".
Part 1; The News: I am back on American soil. I arrived home about a week and a half ago, after my flight being delayed 36 hours in Dhaka, and then having to wait an extra 14 hours in London. It was no short journey, but all's well that ends well I suppose. Between piling on layers of clothing to escape these un-Godly temperatures, and pretending to do the homework that I should be doing, I spend an awful lot of time being bored. Please feel free to call or visit if you want to hear stories, tell stories, or just hang out.
Part 2; Why I've not written in a while: I am an extreme extrovert, which I am told means that I do much of my processing outside of my head. My preferred mediums are speech, journaling, and occasionally blogging. Having a brain that doesn't often stop, I usually spend an awful lot of my time either talking or journaling. Those who know me well can tell that when I stop talking it usually means that I am avoiding thinking about something. When situations are confusing or frustrating, sometimes avoidance seems like an awfully convenient solution. Just yesterday I realized that I haven't blogged, journaled, or engaged in extremely deep conversation for a long time, and that I needed to figure out why. So I guess this blog is kind of like me picking at a scab to figure out what's going on underneath...
Some of you know that I have something that I like to call "disengagement syndrome". It means I have trouble knowing how to say goodbye to people and places. It probably comes from having moved around quite a bit as a child, and still feeling the pain of lost friends and beloved places that all become just a memory. The solution I came up with (subconciously) to avoid the pain of parting with people or places was to just unplug when my time in a certain situation is coming to an end. I sort of pull into myself, becoming less outgoing and more elusive. This is one of the reasons that I am never at my best during spring finals week.
With the help of some good friends, I learned the nature of my disengagement syndrome at cedar campus during SLT, and I thought I had it beaten. I figured out (on a conceptual level) that if we "trust God", it's ok to say goodbye to people and places, because through the holy spirit we are all connected to each other anyway, and if it's in His will he can easily bring us back together. Simple, right? Not so much. Old habits die hard, and during my last few weeks in Bangladesh I found myself disengaging as much as ever. I kept thinking about coming home, going back to school, what was next, and disconnecting from where I was and what I was doing.
So here I am, at the next thing. And it's not that great. In fact it's pretty disappointing. I don't know if I was expecting a red carpet with a fanfare and a 21 gun salute, but being back home is kind of boring and a little depressing. I looked forward to re-engaging with the people I left behind and processing through the things I've learned. But it turns out that half of people I've talked to, after asking "how was it?" and hearing me reply "er...umm..good?"(as though three months of travel could be summarized in such a short answer) don't actually want to know any more than that. The other half don't even ask how it was. There have been a select few people (fortunately my parents are among them) who express genuine interest and curiosity in what I encountered and how it impacted me.
I realize it's finals time, and pretty much everyone that I know is up to their ears in work. I don't mean to complain about people not being willing to sit down and listen to me talk for hours on end. I know what it's like. Goodness knows how many times I've been on the other side of this situation. I don't bear grudges against anyone here.
But I still just feel lonely. Like I am the only person in the world who has been certain places and seen certain things, and that no one can understand me. Kind of like Frankenstein's monster, I guess. Except he knew what he needed to solve his loneliness. I don't have a clue. Even if all my friends suddenly started calling and wanting to hear all about my trip, I doubt it would help that much. This is probably just normal re-entry stuff that will go away with time. I just need to keep moving, develop a routine, and then life will become navigable again.
I am sorry if I sound selfish and needy. Maybe I am just bored, and need to fill my time up with something productive. Right now I just try not to think, or start thinking and make myself depressed. bah. I need school to start...
Part 1; The News: I am back on American soil. I arrived home about a week and a half ago, after my flight being delayed 36 hours in Dhaka, and then having to wait an extra 14 hours in London. It was no short journey, but all's well that ends well I suppose. Between piling on layers of clothing to escape these un-Godly temperatures, and pretending to do the homework that I should be doing, I spend an awful lot of time being bored. Please feel free to call or visit if you want to hear stories, tell stories, or just hang out.
Part 2; Why I've not written in a while: I am an extreme extrovert, which I am told means that I do much of my processing outside of my head. My preferred mediums are speech, journaling, and occasionally blogging. Having a brain that doesn't often stop, I usually spend an awful lot of my time either talking or journaling. Those who know me well can tell that when I stop talking it usually means that I am avoiding thinking about something. When situations are confusing or frustrating, sometimes avoidance seems like an awfully convenient solution. Just yesterday I realized that I haven't blogged, journaled, or engaged in extremely deep conversation for a long time, and that I needed to figure out why. So I guess this blog is kind of like me picking at a scab to figure out what's going on underneath...
Some of you know that I have something that I like to call "disengagement syndrome". It means I have trouble knowing how to say goodbye to people and places. It probably comes from having moved around quite a bit as a child, and still feeling the pain of lost friends and beloved places that all become just a memory. The solution I came up with (subconciously) to avoid the pain of parting with people or places was to just unplug when my time in a certain situation is coming to an end. I sort of pull into myself, becoming less outgoing and more elusive. This is one of the reasons that I am never at my best during spring finals week.
With the help of some good friends, I learned the nature of my disengagement syndrome at cedar campus during SLT, and I thought I had it beaten. I figured out (on a conceptual level) that if we "trust God", it's ok to say goodbye to people and places, because through the holy spirit we are all connected to each other anyway, and if it's in His will he can easily bring us back together. Simple, right? Not so much. Old habits die hard, and during my last few weeks in Bangladesh I found myself disengaging as much as ever. I kept thinking about coming home, going back to school, what was next, and disconnecting from where I was and what I was doing.
So here I am, at the next thing. And it's not that great. In fact it's pretty disappointing. I don't know if I was expecting a red carpet with a fanfare and a 21 gun salute, but being back home is kind of boring and a little depressing. I looked forward to re-engaging with the people I left behind and processing through the things I've learned. But it turns out that half of people I've talked to, after asking "how was it?" and hearing me reply "er...umm..good?"(as though three months of travel could be summarized in such a short answer) don't actually want to know any more than that. The other half don't even ask how it was. There have been a select few people (fortunately my parents are among them) who express genuine interest and curiosity in what I encountered and how it impacted me.
I realize it's finals time, and pretty much everyone that I know is up to their ears in work. I don't mean to complain about people not being willing to sit down and listen to me talk for hours on end. I know what it's like. Goodness knows how many times I've been on the other side of this situation. I don't bear grudges against anyone here.
But I still just feel lonely. Like I am the only person in the world who has been certain places and seen certain things, and that no one can understand me. Kind of like Frankenstein's monster, I guess. Except he knew what he needed to solve his loneliness. I don't have a clue. Even if all my friends suddenly started calling and wanting to hear all about my trip, I doubt it would help that much. This is probably just normal re-entry stuff that will go away with time. I just need to keep moving, develop a routine, and then life will become navigable again.
I am sorry if I sound selfish and needy. Maybe I am just bored, and need to fill my time up with something productive. Right now I just try not to think, or start thinking and make myself depressed. bah. I need school to start...
Friday, November 17, 2006
regarding Spartan basketball
This is a funny moment, and I feel obligated to share. Given the recent political problems, the office has been closed a lot lately. The protesters have agreed to stand down for a few days, so I have come into the office on Saturday to catch up on some work. Supposedly.
MSU is playing at Madison Square Garden right now. I know this because I went on to ESPN.com, and I am reloading the page every thirty seconds to keep track of the score. There are thirty seconds left and we are down by three points. I am visibly anxious.
I wonder what the people in the cubicle next to me think. Hunched over my computer screen like my life depends on what I see there. I almost let out a whoop when we scored back to back threes.
As much as I love being in Bangladesh, I also love my NCAA sports. It's funny when different parts of life come together. I wish I had more time to wax philosophical right now, but the games almost over.
Go Green!
MSU is playing at Madison Square Garden right now. I know this because I went on to ESPN.com, and I am reloading the page every thirty seconds to keep track of the score. There are thirty seconds left and we are down by three points. I am visibly anxious.
I wonder what the people in the cubicle next to me think. Hunched over my computer screen like my life depends on what I see there. I almost let out a whoop when we scored back to back threes.
As much as I love being in Bangladesh, I also love my NCAA sports. It's funny when different parts of life come together. I wish I had more time to wax philosophical right now, but the games almost over.
Go Green!
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
in which Tim reflects on American politics from India...
Yes, I am presently in India. More specifically, I am in a small cyber cafe in the touristy district of Calcutta/Kolkata. I've come for a few days to let my visa renew. It's a huge city, bursting with people. There is a lot of history here too. Lot's of old, colonial looking buildings. Lot's of streets named after Monarchs and other people I've read books about. I might go see the Mother Theresa house this afternoon, after I am done visiting the memorial that was built to Queen Victoria.
But this entry was supposed to be about politics, so here we go. The Democrats pulled it off. At this point they have won the house, and pending the results of one contest, have either won or split the Senate. A lot of people criticized Dean for using a 50 state campaign strategy. They said he should focus the money on winning a few key races. It seems that all the scandals that turned up late in the race caused the 50 state strategy to pay off. It was a landslide.
I am happy about the results of the election, but I am bracing for a painful couple of years to come. It seems to me that the Democrats are like a sports team that has managed to stumble their way into the play offs. Yes, they have made it this far, but the real work is still to come. Winning elections is one thing, but learning how to govern is quite another. I sincerely hope that Pelosi and co. have what it takes to compromise, negotiate, and come up with a plan to make something out of this victory they've won.
And I wonder who will run in '08...my prediction is that within the next month we will have announcements from Clinton, Edwards, Daschle, McCain, and maybe Rudy. Should be fun.
But this entry was supposed to be about politics, so here we go. The Democrats pulled it off. At this point they have won the house, and pending the results of one contest, have either won or split the Senate. A lot of people criticized Dean for using a 50 state campaign strategy. They said he should focus the money on winning a few key races. It seems that all the scandals that turned up late in the race caused the 50 state strategy to pay off. It was a landslide.
I am happy about the results of the election, but I am bracing for a painful couple of years to come. It seems to me that the Democrats are like a sports team that has managed to stumble their way into the play offs. Yes, they have made it this far, but the real work is still to come. Winning elections is one thing, but learning how to govern is quite another. I sincerely hope that Pelosi and co. have what it takes to compromise, negotiate, and come up with a plan to make something out of this victory they've won.
And I wonder who will run in '08...my prediction is that within the next month we will have announcements from Clinton, Edwards, Daschle, McCain, and maybe Rudy. Should be fun.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
in which Tim announces that he is still alive and goes to the mall
I am still alive. I appreciate the bevy of concerned sounding emails that I received after my last posting. The political situation has simmered down for now, and I am quite safe and sound. No worries.
Today a friend called me up and asked if I wanted to go to the mall with him. Having little else to do, I agreed to go along, not knowing anything about what this "mall" would be like. We met up, found a cab, haggled with him about price for a while, left because he wanted too much, and then repeated the process three or four times until we found a reasonable price. Our cab then began the journey through the usual blend of other cabs, rickshaws, cows, goats, people, bicycles, dust, and all the other things that I've stopped noticing so much because they've become normal.
When we arrived at the mall, my mouth dropped open. I think I was expecting the typical Bangladeshi outdoor shopping area. Loud, colorful, crowded, and lacking extensive organization. This was not what I found. This mall could have fit anywhere in America without attracting much attention. It was big and air conditioned, and every surface was polished to a shine. There was pleasant music playing on an intercom system. There was a nice car parked in the main lobby that shoppers could win in a drawing.
There were stores selling everything you could need for a comfortable suburban life. On the eighth floor was a food court, a video arcade, and a movie theater.
Maybe it's because I've never liked shopping malls much anyway, but the contrast between the inside of that building (shininess and expensive consumer goods), and the street out front (dirt, cows, and beggars) really hit me. I felt a sudden wave of moral guilt for being one of the people on the inside.
I know that it's not morally wrong to go to a nice shopping mall, or have a nice car, or eat a fancy meal. But I wonder how popular American shopping malls would be if out front there were little kids in rags begging for money. Would the contrast be enough to get people to change their behavior, maybe buying less and giving more?
I wish I had more time to reflect on this. But my hour is almost up, and I have to go to India in the morning. Look for updates.
Today a friend called me up and asked if I wanted to go to the mall with him. Having little else to do, I agreed to go along, not knowing anything about what this "mall" would be like. We met up, found a cab, haggled with him about price for a while, left because he wanted too much, and then repeated the process three or four times until we found a reasonable price. Our cab then began the journey through the usual blend of other cabs, rickshaws, cows, goats, people, bicycles, dust, and all the other things that I've stopped noticing so much because they've become normal.
When we arrived at the mall, my mouth dropped open. I think I was expecting the typical Bangladeshi outdoor shopping area. Loud, colorful, crowded, and lacking extensive organization. This was not what I found. This mall could have fit anywhere in America without attracting much attention. It was big and air conditioned, and every surface was polished to a shine. There was pleasant music playing on an intercom system. There was a nice car parked in the main lobby that shoppers could win in a drawing.
There were stores selling everything you could need for a comfortable suburban life. On the eighth floor was a food court, a video arcade, and a movie theater.
Maybe it's because I've never liked shopping malls much anyway, but the contrast between the inside of that building (shininess and expensive consumer goods), and the street out front (dirt, cows, and beggars) really hit me. I felt a sudden wave of moral guilt for being one of the people on the inside.
I know that it's not morally wrong to go to a nice shopping mall, or have a nice car, or eat a fancy meal. But I wonder how popular American shopping malls would be if out front there were little kids in rags begging for money. Would the contrast be enough to get people to change their behavior, maybe buying less and giving more?
I wish I had more time to reflect on this. But my hour is almost up, and I have to go to India in the morning. Look for updates.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Regarding problems in the political process
Today I feel as if I have woken up in a country other than the Bangladesh I have come to know over the past few months. There is a different feeling. When I opened the newspaper, I was greeted by images of burning cars and violent crowds. Tales of death and destruction. These pages that a few days ago were fountains of optimism, praising the Nobel prize winner for the ways he has led the country forward, are now presenting rivers of uncertainty between the lines of the obituaries.
The situation didn't grow up over night. The two main political parties in Bangladesh have been at each others throats for decades. This year was supposed to be worse, since there is an election coming in January, but no one expected what it's come to. Let me tell you a little bit about the Bangladeshi political process. Here's how it works during an election year: a few months before the vote, all the elected officials resign their posts to begin the campaign season. There is effectively no government. During this time, the affairs of the country are seen to by what's called a “care-taker government”. There is a political process to determine who leads this interim government, but normally it's not that big an issue since it's such a short amount of time that they are in power. Things are different this time around, since the two parties are in a phase of particularly harsh hatred for one another. At the eleventh hour, the man who had been agreed upon to lead the care-taker government “fell ill”, and decided not to take the oath. That was when all hell broke loose.
Each party immediately started yelling about who they thought should be appointed. No one agreed. They told their supporters to take to the streets. One parties mob comes across another parties mob. They start yelling. Someone throws a rock. Another person throws one back. Get some sticks! Light that car on fire! Pretty soon someone else pulls out a gun, and you can guess how things go from there. Now take that scenario and duplicate in almost every major city in a country of 150 million. Here's what it comes out to: on Saturday there were 12 dead, and over 2000 injured. I don't have numbers (or news really) for what's happened today yet.
While there is no violence in my neighborhood, I saw the symptoms of the disease affecting this country as I walked home tonight. At the market place, people who are normally laughing and enjoying each others company are now gathered in tight clusters around radios or televisions, looking suspiciously at those who pass by. Guards, who normally stand in front of their gates offering warm greetings are now behind those gates with the bolt thrown across. They cautiously peer out through the bars.
I have never felt at all uncomfortable walking down that street. Now I can't help but get the chills. It's just so different from how it was two days ago, when complete strangers were giving me hugs and offering me tea along with their hearty “eid mubarak!” greetings. The bright colors of eid clothes have been traded in for the uniform of a swat officer. What can be happening to this world?
p.s. I assure you all, I am perfectly safe. I live in the heart of the diplomatic enclave, and all the demonstrations have taken place miles and miles from here. I am keeping abreast of the notifications sent out by the embassy, so I will be fine. Please pray for the situation, though.
in which Tim apologizes
The more perceptive of you will have noticed that my last entry was posted four times. I just really wanted to make sure you read it. jk.
Sometimes the internet in this part of the world does funny things.
Sometimes the internet in this part of the world does funny things.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
in which Tim's nose swells to the size of a cantalope
Originally written on 10/25 To prevent malaria, I have been taking a drug called mefliquine. There are no negative physical side effects, but the pill has been known to cause depression, hallucinations, paranoia, and vivid dreams. I was TOLD that the vivid dreams are the only common side effect. I have experienced these, and they are often quite amusing. Ask me about them sometime. I would write about them here, but I might get censored for sounding like a crazy person.
I take the pill once a week, and I am supposed to take it with a meal. Yesterday I was supposed to take the pill, but forgot to do it until bed time. I did not have any food handy, and I didn't want to wait until morning (I have it in my head that I take the pill on Tuesday. Why switch to Wednesday?) so I took it with just a glass of water and went to sleep.
I woke up at three am with a funny swollen feeling in my nose. It felt very large. I went to my mirror, and noticed that my nose was indeed very large. It seemed about as big as a small melon. I was unsure what to do. I didn't have any ice. My mom had given me an entire pharmacy of medicine to bring on the trip, but I didn't think there was any swollen nose medicine. After a few minutes of thinking, I decided I was tired, so I went back to sleep after opening and drinking part of a bottle of water.
When I woke up in the morning, I immediately checked my nose. It was normal again! I was very confused about what had happened, but then I stopped to think (this time fully awake). If my nose had indeed been the size of a cantalope, how would I have been able to breathe through it? Also, how would I have even seen past it to see the reflection in the mirror? Clearly it was a dream. But no. The bottle of water that I had opened was still sitting on my bed side table. So it wasn't a dream, but it didn't happen. Wierd.
I guess I will never take those pills without food again...
I take the pill once a week, and I am supposed to take it with a meal. Yesterday I was supposed to take the pill, but forgot to do it until bed time. I did not have any food handy, and I didn't want to wait until morning (I have it in my head that I take the pill on Tuesday. Why switch to Wednesday?) so I took it with just a glass of water and went to sleep.
I woke up at three am with a funny swollen feeling in my nose. It felt very large. I went to my mirror, and noticed that my nose was indeed very large. It seemed about as big as a small melon. I was unsure what to do. I didn't have any ice. My mom had given me an entire pharmacy of medicine to bring on the trip, but I didn't think there was any swollen nose medicine. After a few minutes of thinking, I decided I was tired, so I went back to sleep after opening and drinking part of a bottle of water.
When I woke up in the morning, I immediately checked my nose. It was normal again! I was very confused about what had happened, but then I stopped to think (this time fully awake). If my nose had indeed been the size of a cantalope, how would I have been able to breathe through it? Also, how would I have even seen past it to see the reflection in the mirror? Clearly it was a dream. But no. The bottle of water that I had opened was still sitting on my bed side table. So it wasn't a dream, but it didn't happen. Wierd.
I guess I will never take those pills without food again...
Thursday, October 19, 2006
in which Tim comes to terms with not being able to do everything he wants to do
It's easy, at the beginning of an experience, to make a lot of a grand plans and generally become very excited about all that one will be able to accomplish. This is especially easy for people like me, who tend to bask in the grand vision of things, ocasionally losing sight of the nitty-gritty details that need to be seen to. After achieving this vision and excitement, there very often comes a time (after having dealt with the nitty gritty for a while) when it becomes apparent that the original vision will not be achieved in the exact way it had been imagined it.
Case in point: my current research. We had originally hoped to investigate and write up eight or ten different cases, in depth. After a little more thought and planning, we lowered our goal to six. Now we are discovering the difficulty of trying to do research during Ramazan. Everything closes early. People are hard to get a hold of, and even more hesitant to set up meetings and interviews. Everyone keeps saying "after Eid, after Eid". So we are behind schedule, and the interviews that we have gotten done have not been quite what we had hoped they would be.
I guess it shows the difficulty of this kind of quantitative research, though. People are not like books in the library. You can't go and get them off the shelf whenever you want, page through them, and quote them to your hearts desire. It's a lot more complex, requiring patience and flexibility.
I suppose that's what I'm here for. Not so much to produce incredible research on development programs, but more to learn about how research works in this field. To be exposed to the issues, before I decide which direction to launch my career in. And for that it has been infinitely useful. I am learning so much more than if everything had just gone right.
I just need to work on countering my habit of getting disappointed at not achieving original goals. I think a little bit of disappointment is appropriate. If I didn't let my goals motivate me, what good would it be to set goals in the first place? I just can't allow the dis-satisfaction to cripple me from continuing forward. I must keep thinking ahead, planning, rolling with the punches, and being creative.
Wish me luck.
Wow. I was more self reflective here than I usually am via this medium. Hopefully it's not too boring for you readers.
Case in point: my current research. We had originally hoped to investigate and write up eight or ten different cases, in depth. After a little more thought and planning, we lowered our goal to six. Now we are discovering the difficulty of trying to do research during Ramazan. Everything closes early. People are hard to get a hold of, and even more hesitant to set up meetings and interviews. Everyone keeps saying "after Eid, after Eid". So we are behind schedule, and the interviews that we have gotten done have not been quite what we had hoped they would be.
I guess it shows the difficulty of this kind of quantitative research, though. People are not like books in the library. You can't go and get them off the shelf whenever you want, page through them, and quote them to your hearts desire. It's a lot more complex, requiring patience and flexibility.
I suppose that's what I'm here for. Not so much to produce incredible research on development programs, but more to learn about how research works in this field. To be exposed to the issues, before I decide which direction to launch my career in. And for that it has been infinitely useful. I am learning so much more than if everything had just gone right.
I just need to work on countering my habit of getting disappointed at not achieving original goals. I think a little bit of disappointment is appropriate. If I didn't let my goals motivate me, what good would it be to set goals in the first place? I just can't allow the dis-satisfaction to cripple me from continuing forward. I must keep thinking ahead, planning, rolling with the punches, and being creative.
Wish me luck.
Wow. I was more self reflective here than I usually am via this medium. Hopefully it's not too boring for you readers.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
regarding Nepal
Those of you who are avid checkers of this online publication will have taken note that I have been silent for roughly the past week. I assure you, there is a very good reason for it.
The story begins in the Bangladeshi embassy in Washington DC, where on a lovely summer day a passport was delivered, bearing the name of yours truly. It was supposed to be stamped with a visa authorizing a one time stay of three months. When the passport returned to Tim, all was not as it should have been. The visa said that Tim could visit Bangladesh as many times as he wanted for a year, but could only stay for a month each time.
Tim made several valiant attempts to get the problem mended, but success eluded him like it usually does the Tigers Baseball team (good job, by the way.). The solution was to take a few short trips out of the country during his stay, so as to allow the visa to renew. Not really that bad a punishment.
So about a week ago, Tim found himself on a plane bound for the Kathmandu valley and the Himalayas. It was a lovely trip, full of fresh air, stunning vistas, entertaining ex-pats, and lots of those touristy treats that are not generally available here in Dhaka (hot shower, anyone?).
The highlight of the week was a two day trip up into the mountains. (If you work for MSU and can get fired for knowing about the silly things that students do while abroad, I recommend you skip to the next paragraph). Rachel and I (no more third person in this entry) decided to take a public bus up for the equivalent of a few cents, as opposed to going a more touristy route and paying lots of money for the comfort. You'd think that the bus drivers wouldn't make much of a living charging that little, but you should see the number of people they cram into these things. When it became clear to the conductor that these Americans had little experience being packed in like sardines, he invited us to ride up on the roof! Ever since I was a child, riding around the mountains in Pakistan, I had always thought that it would be tremendous fun to ride up one of those winding mountain roads on the top of a bus. No windows, no seat belts. Just the hair-pin turns, the wind, and the mountain. It was just as glorious as I had hoped it would be.
For those of you who've not been to Nepal (which I assume is most of you?), I highly recommend taking a visit. Kathmandu is a fascinating city, historically, culturally, and religiously. It is very easy to get around (everyone speaks English), and the prices are great.
I will try to get some photos posted soon.
The story begins in the Bangladeshi embassy in Washington DC, where on a lovely summer day a passport was delivered, bearing the name of yours truly. It was supposed to be stamped with a visa authorizing a one time stay of three months. When the passport returned to Tim, all was not as it should have been. The visa said that Tim could visit Bangladesh as many times as he wanted for a year, but could only stay for a month each time.
Tim made several valiant attempts to get the problem mended, but success eluded him like it usually does the Tigers Baseball team (good job, by the way.). The solution was to take a few short trips out of the country during his stay, so as to allow the visa to renew. Not really that bad a punishment.
So about a week ago, Tim found himself on a plane bound for the Kathmandu valley and the Himalayas. It was a lovely trip, full of fresh air, stunning vistas, entertaining ex-pats, and lots of those touristy treats that are not generally available here in Dhaka (hot shower, anyone?).
The highlight of the week was a two day trip up into the mountains. (If you work for MSU and can get fired for knowing about the silly things that students do while abroad, I recommend you skip to the next paragraph). Rachel and I (no more third person in this entry) decided to take a public bus up for the equivalent of a few cents, as opposed to going a more touristy route and paying lots of money for the comfort. You'd think that the bus drivers wouldn't make much of a living charging that little, but you should see the number of people they cram into these things. When it became clear to the conductor that these Americans had little experience being packed in like sardines, he invited us to ride up on the roof! Ever since I was a child, riding around the mountains in Pakistan, I had always thought that it would be tremendous fun to ride up one of those winding mountain roads on the top of a bus. No windows, no seat belts. Just the hair-pin turns, the wind, and the mountain. It was just as glorious as I had hoped it would be.
For those of you who've not been to Nepal (which I assume is most of you?), I highly recommend taking a visit. Kathmandu is a fascinating city, historically, culturally, and religiously. It is very easy to get around (everyone speaks English), and the prices are great.
I will try to get some photos posted soon.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
in which Tim drives a rickshaw
For an American in Dhaka, it is simply a fact of life that when you walk down the street (no matter what street it is, or the time of day) you will be the object of an awful lot of attention. The attention-givers generally fall into one of three categories. The first are the beggars, who I have talked a little bit about in the past. The second group is what I like to call "the English speakers", despite their limited vocabulary. These interactions usually begin with them politely inquiring "your country is what?". I always reply truthfully (although I might start having a little fun by saying something like "Korea". What do you think?), and they usually run out of English after one or two more sentences. Fortunately my Bangla is improving, so I can start to make the conversations a little more interesting.
The third main group of people who pay attention on the street are the rickshaw drivers. Some are polite (they leave when you tell them you don't need a ride). Some are rude (they stop in your path to try and get your attention and force you into their cart). And some are as persistent as the desperate telemarketers that tend to call around dinner time.
Last night I had an amusing encounter with one such driver. I was walking home from a friends place quite late at night. I had about eight blocks to go, and fancied the walk. Toward the beginning of the route, I picked up a persistent rickshaw driver, who just kind of cruised along next to me, chatting with me for six blocks. I appreciated his sense of humor and relative politeness, and told him since he was kind of wasting his time with me since I wanted the exercise anyway. I told him that he got plenty of exercise in his line of work, but some of us sit at desks and in cars all day and like to stretch our legs on occasion. He then told me that if I liked, I was more than welcome get some exercise by driving his rickshaw. How could I turn down such an invitation? So on I got, and he climbed into the rear passenger seat. Down the street we went, drawing a few shocked looks and even more laughs from fellow rickshaw drivers and pedestrians who were struck by the image of a Westerner pedaling a rickshaw down the street.
The most shocked look came from the guard of my apartment building (who knows me quite well) when I pulled up to the gate. Sure, it was socially unconventional. But I got some exercise, and it makes a half decent blog entry. At the end of the day, I think that's a pretty good score.
The third main group of people who pay attention on the street are the rickshaw drivers. Some are polite (they leave when you tell them you don't need a ride). Some are rude (they stop in your path to try and get your attention and force you into their cart). And some are as persistent as the desperate telemarketers that tend to call around dinner time.
Last night I had an amusing encounter with one such driver. I was walking home from a friends place quite late at night. I had about eight blocks to go, and fancied the walk. Toward the beginning of the route, I picked up a persistent rickshaw driver, who just kind of cruised along next to me, chatting with me for six blocks. I appreciated his sense of humor and relative politeness, and told him since he was kind of wasting his time with me since I wanted the exercise anyway. I told him that he got plenty of exercise in his line of work, but some of us sit at desks and in cars all day and like to stretch our legs on occasion. He then told me that if I liked, I was more than welcome get some exercise by driving his rickshaw. How could I turn down such an invitation? So on I got, and he climbed into the rear passenger seat. Down the street we went, drawing a few shocked looks and even more laughs from fellow rickshaw drivers and pedestrians who were struck by the image of a Westerner pedaling a rickshaw down the street.
The most shocked look came from the guard of my apartment building (who knows me quite well) when I pulled up to the gate. Sure, it was socially unconventional. But I got some exercise, and it makes a half decent blog entry. At the end of the day, I think that's a pretty good score.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
In which Tim goes to the zoo, and discusses his research
If you have known me for a very long time, you know that I do very much enjoy a nice day spent at the zoo. Earlier in my life I had plans to study the zoological sciences in my career. Alas, high school chemistry convinced me that I did not apparently have what it takes to be a real scientist (thankyou, Ms. Pumper), so I've had to settle for dealing with people instead. But I still like going to the zoo.
The National Zoo of Bangladesh is no Sandiego Wild Animal park, but it made for a pleasant afternoon. It was nice to get away from the noise of traffic, the smell of car exhaust, and the crowds of people, and to just stroll along the shaded paths. The state of the zoo is a little depressing. Lots of bars, cement pens, and under-fed animals who don't look terribly happy to be there. I think the zoo is government funded, making the condition of the zoo no surprise. If I were to call Bangladeshi government "inefficient", it would probably be a compliment. I will leave it at that for now, and follow that line of thought later. The animal experience was not completely depressing, since I DID get to take my first Elephant ride ever. That was fun.
I promised a few entries ago that I would share a little bit about the research I am doing. Here it goes...
Acid attacks are a serious problem in South Asia. Bangladesh has more occurences than any other country. What usually happens is that a man gets angry that a woman has refused his marriage proposal and/or sexual advance, so he goes and buys a glass of some seriously strong acid, and goes and pours it on her. It's extremely sick and twisted. BRAC has done quite a bit of work as far as providing help and support to victims, but has done very little to figure out what may need to be done to prevent attacks from happening in the first place. Rachel and I are beginning to project that will examine six or seven specific cases in depth. Our goal is to come up with a decent profile of the perpetrator, with the intent of giving BRAC something that will be useful in designing a prevention program. We are working pretty closely with the a group called The Acid Survivors Foundation. They are helping us get interviews set up and stuff. Work begins full speed this next week. That last link has a lot more interesting info on acid attacks, if you want to educate yourself a little more. These attacks are a terrible thing. Hopefully our work will contribute something useful to the fight against it.
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