Boston's own Boston.com has launched a blog, The Big Picture, which amazes me in so many ways. Today's post in my RSS feed sent me reeling.
Be it my hardcore-Jesus-freak upbringing or my increasingly hippie-ish ways, I have always felt a need to give. I could rant and rave on this for pages, but you can read that all here.
If I can spare the extra $30 a month, give up smoking for a couple days, drink water instead of soda, etc., so can you.
I like WorldVision. They are, yes, a Christian organization, and no doubt are indoctrinating the world one hungry child at a time, but as long as they are feeding that child, I don't mind as much. Something like 80% of all donations go right back into programming, which is incredibly high for a non-profit - most NPOs are lucky to get to the 50% range. The rest, in nearly equal parts, are spent on Administrative and Marketing costs, which keep the programs running. I sponsor a boy in India, and my money makes sure that he has food, clothes, clean water, and all his supplies for school. I get a photo of him every year, along with a little note now and then letting me know how he's doing.
Hand in hand with WorldVision is the 30 Hour Famine, a fundraiser in which I participated in high school, though anyone can do it. The Famine is run by WorldVision, and caters itself to teens to start making a difference in their world. When I was a participant, in addition to the fundraiser, the sleepover at the church, and the Bible studies, my youth group would go out into our community and perform some sort of service - peeling potatoes at a senior center, painting and cleaning up a single mother's home, etc. We helped on a worldwide level, absolutely, but making it all the more real was realizing that there are people around us every day that need our help.
I am also partial to Heifer International. (Raya may disagree on certain terms of this one, but,) They use animals to provide more than just food to families in the third world and developing nations. Rather than simply slaughtering them, families are taught to care for, breed, and use the animals for as many purposes as possible, creating a longer-term solution to their poverty. They are being taught how to help themselves, and all this program does is provide them with the materials and the education to care for the animals. I frequently give Christmas and Birthday gifts via the Heifer Project in honor of my family and friends. Who needs another CD when there is a family out there starving and unable to provide for themselves?
I am particular to these three international organizations because I have worked with them in the past and know them to be reliable and open and honest. Besides all this, there is an important step that many NPOs seem to miss: immersion. These missionaries and aid workers do not simply march themselves in, plop down in the middle of everything and start dictating to these people in need. They get in there, learn the languages, learn the customs, the traditions, the ins and outs of these societies and try as best they can to help without placing stipulations on the aid given, which in my opinion is pretty much worse than not giving aid at all and ignoring the problem.
So there's my little spiel for today. Please consider giving through one of these organizations, or feel free to share with me your favorite, local, national, or worldwide charities and causes.
There are so many holes in the world today.
When are we going to start fixing them?
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
I was taking this survey, and near the end was the following battery of statements (I have excluded some, for purposes of what I'm saying next)
Because of my weight I am self-conscious.
Because of my weight, my self-esteem is not what it could be.
Because of my weight I feel unsure of myself.
Because of my weight I don't like myself.
Because of my weight I am afraid of being rejected.
Because of my weight I avoid looking in mirrors or seeing myself in photographs.
Because of my weight I am embarrassed to be seen in public.
Because of my weight I do not enjoy sexual activity.
Because of my weight I have little or no sexual desire.
Because of my weight I avoid sexual encounters whenever possible.
Because of my weight I experience ridicule, teasing or unwanted attention.
Because of my weight I worry about fitting into seats in public places (e.g. theaters, restaurants, cars or airplanes). Because of my weight I worry about fitting through aisles or turnstiles.
Because of my weight I experience discrimination from others.
My head is spinning right now. I don't know how I can be triggered so much by just these words. And yet, I have to wonder - because I always do - which one came first? Anxiety itself or anxiety about my weight/size/shape/appearance? Or was it all learned? And where the hell did I learn it?
I can say that even excluding the "Because of my weight" part, all of those statements are very, horrifically true. But I've halfheartedly been tagging along with the Fat Acceptance movement. Because more importantly than "Fat" acceptance is the idea of "Body" acceptance - even the "skinnies" have issues with their bodies, and I want to know where this awful disconnect came into play, and Fat Acceptance seems like an OK place for me to start. When did we learn to hate this physical body? I don't want to admit that it's true, whatever "it" is, whatever negative image I hold of myself, is it true because I'm horribly self-critical, or am I horribly self-critical because my "issue" is with my weight "problem"?
It's true. I don't like myself. I'm unsure of myself. I'm embarrassed in public. I'm terrified that people are discriminating, judging, or otherwise thinking of me negatively. My self-esteem is shot. And it hurts to say that, but it's all true. Every word. It's why I dread getting up in the morning. It's why I bury my nose in books on the train, or clutch my iPod to the point where I worry if I'm damaging it. It's why I stutter and slur my words, when we all know that I'm perfectly capable of speaking in public and doing it well. It's why I can't stay with a person for more than a few months at a time, why I'm running as soon as it starts, why I always have one foot on the ground or out the door or whatever metaphor you want to add, because I have to keep myself stable.
And that's obviously working so well, now isn't it?
But wouldn't it be the same if I were thin?
Because of my weight I am self-conscious.
Because of my weight, my self-esteem is not what it could be.
Because of my weight I feel unsure of myself.
Because of my weight I don't like myself.
Because of my weight I am afraid of being rejected.
Because of my weight I avoid looking in mirrors or seeing myself in photographs.
Because of my weight I am embarrassed to be seen in public.
Because of my weight I do not enjoy sexual activity.
Because of my weight I have little or no sexual desire.
Because of my weight I avoid sexual encounters whenever possible.
Because of my weight I experience ridicule, teasing or unwanted attention.
Because of my weight I worry about fitting into seats in public places (e.g. theaters, restaurants, cars or airplanes). Because of my weight I worry about fitting through aisles or turnstiles.
Because of my weight I experience discrimination from others.
My head is spinning right now. I don't know how I can be triggered so much by just these words. And yet, I have to wonder - because I always do - which one came first? Anxiety itself or anxiety about my weight/size/shape/appearance? Or was it all learned? And where the hell did I learn it?
I can say that even excluding the "Because of my weight" part, all of those statements are very, horrifically true. But I've halfheartedly been tagging along with the Fat Acceptance movement. Because more importantly than "Fat" acceptance is the idea of "Body" acceptance - even the "skinnies" have issues with their bodies, and I want to know where this awful disconnect came into play, and Fat Acceptance seems like an OK place for me to start. When did we learn to hate this physical body? I don't want to admit that it's true, whatever "it" is, whatever negative image I hold of myself, is it true because I'm horribly self-critical, or am I horribly self-critical because my "issue" is with my weight "problem"?
It's true. I don't like myself. I'm unsure of myself. I'm embarrassed in public. I'm terrified that people are discriminating, judging, or otherwise thinking of me negatively. My self-esteem is shot. And it hurts to say that, but it's all true. Every word. It's why I dread getting up in the morning. It's why I bury my nose in books on the train, or clutch my iPod to the point where I worry if I'm damaging it. It's why I stutter and slur my words, when we all know that I'm perfectly capable of speaking in public and doing it well. It's why I can't stay with a person for more than a few months at a time, why I'm running as soon as it starts, why I always have one foot on the ground or out the door or whatever metaphor you want to add, because I have to keep myself stable.
And that's obviously working so well, now isn't it?
But wouldn't it be the same if I were thin?
OMG TEH GAY! WE HAS BEEN INFECTED BY TEH GAY!!!!!!!
*RUNS AROUND SCREAMING*
TEH GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
IT ARE CONTAGIOUS!
Boy, I'm glad I live in "better" times...
No wonder my parents are so insane about teh gay.
*rolls eyes*
Taken from this.
I am obsessed with Regina Spektor as of late. Namely the Begin to Hope album. Specifically, the song Apres Moi.
There are people out there speculating the external reasons for singing this song. Something about tradition and the notion of Christian's views on suicide, etc.
I personally think she's singing it for herself. "You can't take that which isn't yours," becomes a mantra, a declaration, a dare to the world to try and get her down. The rhythm and tone and theme of the song depict a march. I march for myself.
Besides, the stanza of the poem she sings within it is perfectly lovely. Tattoo material? Yes. I'll have to get it in Cyrillic, because the English translations all say different things, and the Romanized version won't make any sense, either.
Russian is such a beautiful language. I shall have to get boy to teach me. I've only heard him speak it once or twice, once on the phone to his mother while I snaked myself around his body. It's endearing. And fascinating. I can't imagine having two or more languages in one head. But it still intrigues me. Words and expression always will, and language is the epitome of it all.
I found this photo on another community, and since I take a photojournalism class, felt it completely appropriate and shockingly profound:
"I am Iraq"
In English and Arabic
There are people out there speculating the external reasons for singing this song. Something about tradition and the notion of Christian's views on suicide, etc.
I personally think she's singing it for herself. "You can't take that which isn't yours," becomes a mantra, a declaration, a dare to the world to try and get her down. The rhythm and tone and theme of the song depict a march. I march for myself.
Besides, the stanza of the poem she sings within it is perfectly lovely. Tattoo material? Yes. I'll have to get it in Cyrillic, because the English translations all say different things, and the Romanized version won't make any sense, either.
Russian is such a beautiful language. I shall have to get boy to teach me. I've only heard him speak it once or twice, once on the phone to his mother while I snaked myself around his body. It's endearing. And fascinating. I can't imagine having two or more languages in one head. But it still intrigues me. Words and expression always will, and language is the epitome of it all.
I found this photo on another community, and since I take a photojournalism class, felt it completely appropriate and shockingly profound:
"I am Iraq"
In English and Arabic
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Sunday, April 13, 2008
For those of us who haven't seen them yet...
I present:
Yesterday's Scientology Protest photos!
Help me pick out a few to print for class!
I present:
 |
| Scientolog |
Yesterday's Scientology Protest photos!
Help me pick out a few to print for class!
Friday, April 04, 2008
Awry
Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
It's not very often these days that I open, or even include, a Bible passage. In fact, I'm fairly sure it's been years.
I'm riveted to my Facebook account. Countless people in recent days have been adding me. Most of them, if not all, are from my former Christian camp counseling days.
I change my "Religious Views" from "Various" to "Faithless" and the moment I save it, I know it's true. I start typing a new status message. "Elizabeth... wonders if she's the only one without faith."
I can't help but have a little bit of guilt over this. After all, right from the get-go, I was supposed to believe. My name in Hebrew means "dedicated to God," for goodness sake! I was taught that there was this loving God, not necessarily vengeful, but stern, like my father, who would punish me as needed, but who the vast majority of the time loved me and only wanted to be loved back. Why would I go astray from a God like in the above passage?
I feel even more guilty when I look at the lives of those former staffers, who are often in happy, stable relationships, who are doing well, or at least the best they can, in school and work, who are pious and kindhearted and good and honest, humble, and the list of virtue goes on. It's as if they are mocking me, my life, my struggle, with their faith. They all claim to have gone through periods of questioning, and while I don't doubt the sincerity of their experience, mine is far too different, far more intense, to even compare.
But that's exactly what makes me so embittered. Their simple little lives, uncomplicated because everything can be explained by God, the nuisances of life are merely lacking in faith, that if they are just patient enough, Heaven will reward them.
Well, there go the chances for my penchant for instant gratification.
Parts of me want to educate them. To tell them, to challenge them, to wake them up. But then part of me wonders if I'm the one asleep.
"For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied." 1 Corinthians 15:16-18
Am I lost? Or are they? What does it mean to be "found," to be "saved," to be "victorious" in Christ's name? I know I am saved, but only on a technicality, suffer the little children, I "accepted" Christ when I was seven, had a supernatural experience, but now all the magic is gone. Is that what I'm missing? Have I dug too deep and misplaced my way? This "God" that knows the plans He laid out for me, He laid my life out to go awry? How far off the path that us humans can perceive must I go, God? I can't decide if I'm supposed to give up and give in to Your fatalism, or continue to exercise what You claim to gift us with, this "free will".
Will I always be lost?
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
It's not very often these days that I open, or even include, a Bible passage. In fact, I'm fairly sure it's been years.
I'm riveted to my Facebook account. Countless people in recent days have been adding me. Most of them, if not all, are from my former Christian camp counseling days.
I change my "Religious Views" from "Various" to "Faithless" and the moment I save it, I know it's true. I start typing a new status message. "Elizabeth... wonders if she's the only one without faith."
I can't help but have a little bit of guilt over this. After all, right from the get-go, I was supposed to believe. My name in Hebrew means "dedicated to God," for goodness sake! I was taught that there was this loving God, not necessarily vengeful, but stern, like my father, who would punish me as needed, but who the vast majority of the time loved me and only wanted to be loved back. Why would I go astray from a God like in the above passage?
I feel even more guilty when I look at the lives of those former staffers, who are often in happy, stable relationships, who are doing well, or at least the best they can, in school and work, who are pious and kindhearted and good and honest, humble, and the list of virtue goes on. It's as if they are mocking me, my life, my struggle, with their faith. They all claim to have gone through periods of questioning, and while I don't doubt the sincerity of their experience, mine is far too different, far more intense, to even compare.
But that's exactly what makes me so embittered. Their simple little lives, uncomplicated because everything can be explained by God, the nuisances of life are merely lacking in faith, that if they are just patient enough, Heaven will reward them.
Well, there go the chances for my penchant for instant gratification.
Parts of me want to educate them. To tell them, to challenge them, to wake them up. But then part of me wonders if I'm the one asleep.
"For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied." 1 Corinthians 15:16-18
Am I lost? Or are they? What does it mean to be "found," to be "saved," to be "victorious" in Christ's name? I know I am saved, but only on a technicality, suffer the little children, I "accepted" Christ when I was seven, had a supernatural experience, but now all the magic is gone. Is that what I'm missing? Have I dug too deep and misplaced my way? This "God" that knows the plans He laid out for me, He laid my life out to go awry? How far off the path that us humans can perceive must I go, God? I can't decide if I'm supposed to give up and give in to Your fatalism, or continue to exercise what You claim to gift us with, this "free will".
Will I always be lost?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Hey, you.
Yeah, you.
If you know me at all, you'll know why this is important to me.
Hell, even if you don't know the why or the how, it's still something important.
So sponsor me. Even if it's $5. Even if it's $1. Yeah, even a dollar will work.
Sponsor me: http://www.firstgiving.com/libberding
Yeah, you.
If you know me at all, you'll know why this is important to me.
Hell, even if you don't know the why or the how, it's still something important.
So sponsor me. Even if it's $5. Even if it's $1. Yeah, even a dollar will work.
Sponsor me: http://www.firstgiving.com/libberding
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