privilege

A friend asked me tonight where I'd been over the weekend. I explained that I had had two work conferences back to back, one in Portland and one in Pittsburgh. "Pittsburgh?" he exclaimed incredulously and a bit enviously. "I've never been out of the state."

What?

How can that be?

How can the world be that disproportionate?

How is it possible that someone the exact same age as me could have never had the opportunity in his whole life to travel outside Washington state, while I have enjoyed thirty-three states and nine countries and assumed that to be a normal part of life? Doesn't everyone's parents take them to the Grand Canyon? Doesn't everyone drive with ten of their best friends to Florida for spring break? Doesn't everyone attend a private college and study abroad in Oxford? Doesn't everyone work for an organization that pays for them to travel to conferences in Pittsburgh and Portland?

I have never felt in quite this way how much my life is characterized by wealth and privilege. Yesterday another friend mentioned nonchalantly the insults that had been hurled at her at a bar over the weekend because of her skin color. I was shocked that she thought nothing of it; it's a normal part of life for her. My race has only ever smoothed the way before me. I have been given, for no merit of my own, opportunities, experiences, and education that other people only dream of. I am beginning to understand that if my life is ever "successful", it will be 5% because of me and 95% because of my social class, family, background, education, race, nationality, wealth, and support networks.

It's humbling and a little bit scary to see my privilege. I wonder what things I might be blind to because of it.

sultry summer, shooting stars, sinking sand

I haven't blogged in a long time. I've probably lost all my faithful readers. There's just not a lot exciting going on in my life right now.

That's not exactly true. I've spent some beautiful (if oppressively hot) days at camp. I've been calling all my freshmen mentees and getting to know them. I've been making homemade ice cream and watching meteor showers with my little sisters. All of which has been great.

Other breaking news:
- It's hot as Hades here in Kansas. I ate ice cream for lunch today.
- I ordered all of my textbooks for this fall and only spent $68.54. Oh, the benefits of being a political science major.
- I saw thirty-five shooting stars last night. They were magnificent. Number 24 was the most incredible one I've ever seen: the fire trail in the atmosphere stayed glowing for a good fifteen seconds.
- I get to move back in with my beautiful roommate in five days.

There are a few things coming up that I'm super excited about, and a few things that I'm terrified about, but I've been reminded in recent days that "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus' blood and righteousness." That is where I'm standing. It's the only place I can stand; everything else is pretty shaky right now: relationships, plans, achievements. Yet Christ has proven himself faithful and I cling to that once again.

My hope is built on nothing less
than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
but wholly lean on Jesus' name.

When darkness veils his lovely face,
I rest on his unchanging grace;
in every high and stormy gale
my anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, his covenant, his blood
support me in the whelming flood;
when every earthly prop gives way,
he then is all my hope and stay.

When he shall come with trumpet sound,
oh, may I then in him be found,
dressed in his righteousness alone,
faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ the solid rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

All other ground is sinking sand.

life after

Transition is dumb. I hate it. And yes, 'dumb' is the exact correct word to reflect the emotion that transition brings over me: a childish resentment of something I dislike. The adult Megan embraces transition for the 'bloomabilities' it offers. But the childish side of Megan resents the disruption of the comfortableness and happiness she has finally established in her world. Er, I mean, my world.

Transition makes me feel like that though: like I have to withdraw outside of myself and manipulate myself, manipulate Megan, like a puppeteer to morph her to the situation.

Transition is sticky and messy and involves a lot of social ceremonies and repetitive conversations and weakness.

Transition seems to throw away what you've built and it won't even let you just rebuild, it demands that you construct something creative and new.

To sum it up, it's dumb.

But moving on to the present... what a week. Oh man.

Teen Girls Camp 2010.
Kelley got married. To Russ.
Slumber party of the decade.

It was sweet. Check it out.

Mis chicas bonitas:

Oh-livia:

Becs:


J:


Aimee:


Darion:


Rowdy good times at Teen Girls:











I hardly had time to feel sad when my wonderful girls left, because that evening was the wedding of the year!! My wickedawesome dorm resident director for two years, Kelley, got married to her lucky pastor man, Russ.









And then so many of my favorite girls crowded into Luce's apartment for an epic slumber party. Yes please.

My blessings are pressed down, shaken together, and running over.

ps- This is my 100th blog post! Happy birthday little blog! How much can happen in 100 posts...

tonight's gonna be a good night

Stopped by the bop for a few minutes. I just had to go when I heard "I gotta feeling..." (:

Stood there soaking up the sweaty, loud, sticky, raucous, wonderfulness of so many people that I love belting it out at the top of their lungs, running around dressed like jellyfish and insects, dancing with absurdity. It ain't a sight to be missed. I want to brand it on my memory. I love it and I love them and I will miss them incredibly.

paper #36

Good news: ONE MORE PAPER LEFT TO WRITE!!!

Bad news: ITS FRIDAY NIGHT OF 8TH WEEK TRINITY AND I'M SITTING IN THE LIBRARY WRITING A PAPER. I CAN HEAR SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE REMIX TUNES COMING FROM THE BOP IN THE JCR ACROSS THE QUAD. AND I'M NOT THERE.

Sigh. Almost there.

my campus

William Jewell is famous!! Pity it couldn't be for something cool like a Nobel Prize winner or a president or something.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbBSimp84KA

slowly falling apart

We got bumped today, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so pleased with what we did accomplish in the last four days. I think we (and I know I) left everything on the river today. We gave it everything we had.

But I'm struggling. Today was my first taste of the end of this piece of my life. At the beginning of the year I determined to be fully present here, loving people and life without being afraid of the fact that I was leaving in a year. And now I know I've succeeded, because it hurts so much.

That's it. That's the real and raw and honest deal. I am once again breaking.

summer viiis days two and three = victory

Yesterday we rowed over, which means that we rowed the length of the course without bumping or getting bumped, and today we bumped for the second time! We had a Worcester team breathing down our necks, but we nailed the boat in front of us from Balliol College faster than the team behind us could catch up with us.

I can't believe we only have one row left. It's going to be great...

If you're reading this and you live in Oxford, get your bum down to the river tomorrow afternoon and cheer us on!

summer viiis day one = victory

We bumped in our boat race today!!!

Basically, boat racing at Oxford is bumps racing, which means that the boats start off a length and a half apart from each other and the goal is to achieve a "bump" by getting any part of your boat to hit the boat in front of you. (Dangerous, I know...) We bumped the Keble College boat in front of us very quickly, only a minute or two into the race, which was awesome!

Our men's team did well too. While they didn't get a bump, they didn't get bumped either, which is an achievement in itself.

Three more days of racing left to go...

as yourself

I still love that rowing thing, but it kicked my butt this morning.

On a happier note, I was the one dominating at my tutorial yesterday.

Life lesson: you try as hard as you can, and at the end of the day, you give yourself grace.

megan is my name, rowing is my game.

Seriously, how does it get better? Early morning, boat sliding through the fog like Pirates of the Caribbean, the camaraderie of your team... yes.

indian institute

I'm sitting in the Indian Institute Library. This place is epic. The rare, string-bound books are strangely organized onto metal shelves in a dim, silent room with handwritten notes explaining "58 B continues in the small bookshelf on the carrel to your right." It's the type of place that a killer would wait for his victim, in the dark cranny behind the PAK 12 overflow shelf where the faint hum from the maintenance room can cover his stalker breathing. When you walk down the rows, it smells of dust and cloth bindings and your head brushes against the swinging light cords, though few of them are turned on. I didn't bring a pen, so I can't leave slips where I've taken books; they'll never know. Most of the people in the small adjacent reading area are serious, probably grad students, though there is a couple at the back table flirting with smiles and whispers. I sat down across from a precious old man in a Gandhi cap for inspiration.

Anyway, back to work. Books can't be checked out, so I'll probably be spending a lot of time here over the weekend. If you don't hear from me in the next few weeks, you might check behind the PAK 12 overflow shelf...

you make me feel happy

Today is my friend Maria's birthday. What better way to kick off a birthday than with a French-themed picnic breakfast in Christ Church Meadows?? Answer: there absolutely isn't one.

Maria, Emma, and Charlotte.

Ruth, Abbie, Alison, and Nadine.

Maria cutting her birthday cake.

Alison, Ruth, Angie, Maria, Charlotte, Hannah, and Emma.

Broad Walk in front of Christ Church.

sunshine + picnic blanket + camembert + sweet girls = happy

they all had to have been made up by somebody at some point...

I love inventing new words for essays!

Today's new word of the day:
theodicizer [thee-OD-uh-sahy-zer] –noun, plural -cizers.
one who tries to create a theodicy. Ka-bam.

may morning

It's 6:45 am and I've already been up for two hours. May morning is an epic event in the life of the Oxford student population. Everyone goes out the night before, the really committed (and even moderately committed) stay up all night. We collected a massive group of people in Regent's at 5:15 this morning and traipsed down to Magdalen College, where this is the scene that awaited us:


We lost quite a few of our bunch in the crowd, and then waited half an hour for the promised thrill of the Magdalen choir coming out to sing from the top of the bell tower.



As you can see in the video, there are neon-garbed police guarding the bridge so that people don't jump off it and impale themselves on rusty bicycle bits at the bottom. When the magical moment actually arrived, it was... less than magical. We were so close under the tower that we could hardly hear the choir and there was more attention on the random attempts by staggering performers to streak across the bridge than anything else.


It's not all a let-down, though, because the vast majority of the restaurants in Oxford open up early to provide breakfast to starving revellers. And then, the crash. Good thing it's Saturday.

the edge

Listened to the engaging and inspiring debate between Student Senate cabinet candidates last night on Jewell's online radio station. Ah, Jewell radio... it exemplifies so much of the quirkiness we love and miss about Jewell. I feel like such a well-informed voter now. Now I just need to catch up on my Polka Power Hour!

a snapshot of life in oxfordland

Random photo goodness...

I can't even play a violin, let alone play a violin on a tightrope. Walking backwards.


Enjoy the beautiful days when they come.


Extravagant beauty.


Ceilidh dancing on Burn's night.


Do I really live here?


Cornmarket Street. Saturday afternoon.


The college boathouses down by the Isis where we row.


The Jericho mural.


Jericho is a hip neighborhood in Oxford.


High Street as seen from St. Mary's tower.


Perfect Sunday afternoon.


A Brit, a Scot, and an American walked into a bar...


My dear otherworldly friend Holly.


Julia and Mel. Make up your own caption.


Gospel choir!


And now for some recent happiness from the bop Saturday night. Theme: circus and freaks.


Lottie and Holly. Me loves them.
Oh, and David. I guess I love him too.


Julia and I.


Dancin' it up.


Mis amigas.


YES.


Finally, and most importantly, I now own the most freaking awesome ensemble of six shades of sequin. What more does a girl need in her life?


Life is good. Life is hard. Life is b e a u t i f u l.

"When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future." Ecclesiastes 7:14

"Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favors what you do." Ecclesiastes 9:7