From Lion to Bear to Wolverine

It's official:  I just sent an email confirming that I'm going to the University of Michigan School of Natural Resources and Environment (SNRE) in the fall!  Ann Arbor, freezing or not, here I come.  Real football games, here I come.  Get ready, world, because future Master Claire is officially a future Wolverine.

Reflections: One Year Later

I was recently interviewed by a friend about my experiences in Botswana for her high school journalism class.  It was interesting to start talking about Botswana again, almost a year after "re-entry," because when I first got back, I didn't want to talk.  It hurt too much to talk about the families I would never see again, the culture that couldn't be described in words to people who had preconceptions of what living in a third world country meant.  Then as summer went on and I gradually readjusted, no one wanted to hear my stories anymore.  I re-read my journals and goodbye letters from family, and I pored over my photos, remembering the experiences that no one else could understand.  Botswana was my memory and mine alone. 

Every now and then, however, friends would ask about my semester abroad, and I started figuring out how to describe what was once indescribable.  But time changes everything, and I fell back into my American lifestyle easily.  Botswana still held a place in my heart and in the photos plastered across my walls, but my life went on in the normal, hurried, overscheduled American way.  So when Emily came to me asking if she could share my story, I was surprised. My story? I have a story?

And that's when the memories flooded back.  I emailed my sister Mpelo, who I hadn't been in touch with for months (we're both busy college kids now).  I wished I could see Vanessa, who should be turning nine soon, and Neo, who would probably be starting Standard One this year.  I wondered if Dimakatso told Mmpena, who might be talking now, that he once had an American sister.  I imagined my little cousins looking through the photo album I sent them over and over again, until it became grimy with the white dust so typical in northern Botswana.  I looked through all 498 of my favorite photos again when Emily asked for the most special ones.  I told stories about adjusting to cultural differences and stereotypes and misconceptions of both American and Batswana culture.  Emily forced me to confront what I hadn't wanted to deal with a year ago.  I had to ask myself:  why did I go? what did I learn? what was the hardest part, the best part, the biggest frustration?  Emily's interview also reminded me of the funniest moments, like washing my hair in a bucket and being "attacked" by rhinos and trying to get my friends to eat mopane worms and practicing Setswana with my four year old sister because our language skills were at approximately the same level. 

The interview also reminded me of how little "stuff" I had then.  Five skirts, six shirts, and two pairs of flip flops.  I could fit it all into one duffle bag and a backpack.  I look around at my room at Brown now, and it worries me:  what will I do with all this junk??  When I pack up my life to move away from Providence next month, how many boxes will it require?  Can I put it all in one car load?  Why do I even have some of this stuff, like that glow stick necklace on my desk or eleven winter scarves (answer: because Providence is freezing) or a closet full of odds and ends I never felt like unpacking?  The thought of packing kind of makes me want to shove it all under the bed and catch the next flight to Botswana, where even my upper-class Gabs family had no attic, basement, or closet to store useless junk.  

And that's basically what I told Emily.  What did I get out of my four months in Botswana?  I found a renewed sense of appreciation for everything that matters and for all the luxuries, for all the trendy scarves and new computers and glowstick necklaces, that I have here.  But I also found a new skeptism.  The people of Botswana may want more money, more electricity, more food, more jobs, more water, less disease, and on and on, but in general, they are every bit as happy as Americans.  In some ways, their society was happier.  Because relationships always took precedence over material goods and professional success, everyone had a support network to help them through whatever challenges came their way.  And while I don't really want my life possessions to fit into one dufflebag, I do want that community connection.  That's why I continue to tell my story. 

Thanks, Emily, for reminding me.  

Accomplishments

After taking my last midterm on Friday and sitting through my last lecture at Brown this afternoon, I'm feeling a bit nostalgic.  Where did the last four years go?  Actually, where did the last twenty-one go??  

Rather than dwell on the inevitable entry into the real world (or the "realer" world, since I'll put off true adulthood for another two years during grad school), I figured I'd look back on some of the non-resume-worthy things I've accomplished over the last four years.  

• Tennis.  I officially won a game!  True, I won because the other girl kept double faulting on her serves, but still, she ought to learn how to serve better.  I count it as an official win. 
• Running.  My longest run was an estimated six miles--a full hour long journey from Providence to Pawtucket and back.  I only matched that once in high school, and that was motivated by a former drill sergeant soccer coach.
• The anti-freshman 15.  Possibly as a result of all those miles I've run, I will be walking out of the Van Wickle Gates smaller than when I walked in.  And I plan on wearing heels for graduation, so I will also be a little taller. :)
• Balloons.  How many does it take to fill an entire dorm room floor to ceiling? 970.  We were still finding balloons under the bed for a week after my freshman roommate's birthday, and I had to move out the night before the surprise to avoid suffocating from the latex smell. 
• Friends.  I have 483 on Facebook, which back in the day when I was a prefrosh, was only open to college students.  Do I even know 483 people?  That's twice the size of my high school graduating class, and I can guarantee that I didn't know half of those people, even though I went to school with some of them since preschool. 
• Anti-coffee addiction.  Everyone said I would go off to college and start drinking coffee, but it hasn't happened yet!  Somehow I made it through four years without much/any caffeine at all--thanks in large part to my fondness for power naps.
• PowerPoint.  I can put together an eighty-minute PowerPoint presentation in about three minutes if I need to, which did happen occasionally when I was a teaching assistant.  The secret:  ask questions, but do not answer them on the slides.  Use pictures to symbolically demonstrate your arguments.  The mystery makes people have to pay attention.
• Stata.  Ask me what "outreg price income education ageold ageyoung, se rdec(3) bdec(3) ctitle (II) append" means.  Or "twoway(scatter) energy year if state==43."  Both will give you pretty charts.  This is probably the most useless thing I have learned at Brown. 
• News.  I stay very up-to-date on the news, probably because reading online newspapers and magazines is much more interesting than reading about the effects of the 1970 Clean Air Act on infant mortality.  My daily briefings might rival those of Obama:  the New York Times, Huffington Post, Slate, Brown Daily Herald, St. Louis Post Dispatch, and when really looking for distraction, Time, Newsweek, and Cosmo.  Oops, did I really just admit that I read Cosmo? Ummm moving on...
• Language.  I can speak snippets of French (bonjour!), Setswana (dumela!), and Swahili (jambo!).  Thanks to the GRE, I can also speak English like a pedant.  And thanks to texting, I can also talk 2 ppl w/o rly knowing how 2 spell neway.  lol. 
  

So there you have it, my top ten accomplishments that have so far gone unrecognized.  Nice to know that Mom and Dad's $180K has paid off over four years, right?  So here I go, onto whatever comes next, who knows what, but I'd say I'm pretty well prepared.  

srsly tho, gtg, only 3 more wks 2 add 2 this list.  ttyl y'all  ;)

Temptation

There is a small patch of daffodils across the street from my window.  I see them every time I walk down the stairs, and their bright yellowness makes me happy.  I pass by those daffodils at least four times a day, and every time I do, I long to pick one or two or the whole bouquet. 

I know that I shouldn't; for goodness' sake, I'm an econ major, and I've talked about the Tragedy of the Commons in four-fifths of the classes I've taken at Brown.  I also know, logically, that the daffodils will last longer if I leave them growing outside than perched in a cup of water in my overheated room.  Still, every time I look out the window, I think, "Daffodils would make my room perfect."

It doesn't matter that I have a painting of sunflowers (my second favorite flower) on my wall.  It doesn't matter that I have two potted plants and a stalk of bamboo growing on my windowsills.  I have sunny yellow curtains and yellow sheets and another poster of lilies (also a favorite) in the common living room.  I still want daffodils. 

I have a huge weakness for yellowy-orange flowers.  Those two colors, the colors of sunshine, are cheerful and bright.  Is it a coincidence that my name means "light" in French?  Is it so wrong to want to bring a little handful of sunshine in?

*sigh*  I will resist temptation.  But if you, you know, have too many flowers or something, I know someone who'd be willing to take some.