Sunday, March 6, 2011

Night of epic fail

DC is all about the cultural experiences. So, when my friend Josiah, from the American Studies Program, suggested we go to a classical concert at the art gallery I thought it would be fun. Of course, nothing went right.

We get to the bus stop 10 minutes before the bus comes, or so we thought. It was gray outside, and the clouds were threatening to pour. We waited awhile, and thought it must be running late. Josiah had remember that he had forgotten he had no money on his Metro card, and quickly ran back to get some change. Then we look on the bus stop post, Josiah had looked up the Saturday schedule. We had to wait another 20 minutes.

Eventually, the bus came we almost sit on the back and see some green stain on the seat. Thankfully, we didn’t sit there. We safely arrived at our location, and walked in the decent drizzle of rain to the gallery.

The doors were locked. A man along with a guard walk up to the glass door and says something.

“What? We cannot hear you.”

Another lady, and then another man walk up to the door. The man on the other side tried to say something again. Finally, the guard realized that this would last forever and opened the door a crack. The man hesitantly peaked his head out and rudely said, “There are no more seats. We have a full house. I just looked and there isn’t a single seat.”

“Can we stand?”

“No. There are no seats. I just checked”

Naturally, the sky had followed through with it’s threat it was pouring. Well, mine as well make it worth our trip. Coffee sounded good, of course being down town Starbucks seemed like an unsatisfactory option. We walk around a bit pass a Starbucks and some gelato places, but it was too cold. We keep walking, optimistic that something has to be around. We end up at Starbucks. Order our drinks, and find there is no place to sit, even though there it’s two stories.

We walk to Dunkin’ Donuts. At least, we can get a donut, which might raise our spirits and drink coffee in warmth. A homeless man kept asking Josiah for money, who had to repeatedly explain he had no cash.

We ate our donuts and walked to the nearest D6 route bus stop. We find a stop, and use an retails awning for shelter from the rain. I looked up the estimated arrival on my phone, 21 minutes.

There is another Starbucks on the corner, not just any Starbucks though. Flashback, when I took the D6 to my internship I always passed this Starbucks downtown. It was open and brick and in a nice location. I really wanted to go here, and was excited when I realized I was entering it, even though it had been a rough night.

We go to sit down near a window. “Excuse ma’am. I need to clean this table. We are closing that’s why everyone is leaving,” said the Starbucks employee.

It was only 7:30. What Starbucks closes at 7:30?

We go back to our awning and wait.

“Well, at least this night can’t get any worse,” said Josiah. “Why did I just say that.”

Finally, the bus arrives. Josiah pulls out his dollar. We get on the bus. I search through my purse pulling out as many coins as I can find to make a 70 cents. We get to 60 and the bus driver tells us just to sit down. We laugh and venture to the back of the bus only to find the same uncertain green stain and laughed.

I look at my umbrella and realize it’s broken. Once we arrive at our stop we walked carefully to the apartment unscathed from the nights unsuccessful events.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

New Blog: Signs of Compassion

Since I came to Washington DC about 6 weeks ago, I have felt a call more than ever to reach out into the world in search for signs of hope, love and compassion.

I have witnessed many of these signs: people buying homeless food, organizations helping individuals and families in need, protests and prayer groups for social and moral issues. I have seen people stand up for morality, and I have witnessed harsh realities.

When I left for DC, I was coming with a purpose. Part of that purpose was to pursue journalism, the other was to find my calling and discover whether it truly lies in a field of communication.

My jump into the journalism industry was rough. My internship was colliding with my coursework, and I felt useless and uncalled. I struggled to get through the days not knowing if my heart was in it. Then with the blessing and advice of my advisors, I changed internships and began interning at the Baptist Press.

In my first few days there, I was already working on stories that affected not only the Christian community but humanity as a whole. The more I get involved each day, the more I realize that there are so many social, justice and moral issues that people are not addressing.

These past two weeks I have been working primarily on pro-life issues. An issue I feel both strongly and unsure about. As an adopted child, a baby born out of a teen pregnancy and adopted at birth, I have always felt it was right to be pro-life. However, I understand not everyone’s situation is simple. There are complexities in pregnancies I cannot explain. Regadless, this topic is one often discussed and debated as a moral and social issue.

There are other issues that affect human rights that are less frequently addressed. In the Summer of 2007, I visited a village in northeast Thailand with my high school peers. In preparation, we learned about the horrifically large industry of sex trafficking. Ever since visiting Thailand, my heart strings have been pulled by this subject. Portland, Oregon the metropolitan area my hometown is a part of, is the second leading sex trafficking city in the US. As a young women, this is disheartening.

Last year, in my general education chemistry course I did a report on clean water. The amount of people dying throughout the world by harmful water is saddening. I did research and found organizations making a difference. However, every time I drink bottled water, I don’t think of the environment first, but rather those who have no access to healthy and clean water.

There are so many dilemmas in this world. I could write about it forever. The AIDS epidemic, the poverty-stricken in Mexico who live in wastelands, the black market of selling organs, the work slavery that still exists today, the drug cartels, the orphans living in soiled cribs, all of these things affect humanity, affect our world. What are we doing about it? What will we do about it? How did we let it get this way?

I hope I can show you, the signs of compassion.