Nature Boy

You were a seed, rooted in your convictions,
Ready to send out shoots
Into the world.

I saw potential in you.
I watered you with my words
And you grew quickly.
My love made you blossom,
And you were beautiful.

Together we thrived in the sunshine.

But you grew too quickly.
I soon found that your fruit was bitter,
And I spit you out.

The weight of your new growth
Felled you, and you lay broken,
Forgotten.

Now, your roots are once again growing,
But you are scarred, one branch
Stunted from the break,
Stemming the flow of your
Optimism, joy, compassion.

Your limbs are stronger, but tougher.
Your vulnerability gone.
I watch from the outside,
No longer watering your heart,
Nor feeding your mind.

No longer venturing to touch you
For fear of finding thorns
Instead of the roses I once loved.

First Swim Meet

Sunday, mid-morning, finds me in a high school auditorium, listening to worships songs and preaching. I’ve stuck my name tag on my thigh: it seems to declare “this leg belongs to …” Not that I particularly want to claim this leg. It (and its twin) looks presentable in dark jeans, but my legs are not beautiful—not like the hundreds of legs I saw kicking at the swim meet the day before. Those were smooth and glistening, the skin tight against muscles.

Swim meets consist of many strong athletes and an equal number of victory-hungry parents. In between races, high-school students with men’s bodies stretch out on towels or curl against the wall in a hallway adjoining the natatorium. They listen to music to psych themselves up, and still others fitfully nap. In the long stretches between warm-ups and races, I read, not willing to spend 9 hours of my Saturday on the swim meet alone. Occasionally I stand by the side and watch bodies race. That’s all they seem to be: splashing bodies, masked with a cap and reflective goggles, covered with far too little fabric. Some thrash and gasp; others propel with raw power through the water.

When it is my turn to race, I wiggle out of my team sweatpants and sweatshirt, remaining in only a skimpy swimsuit. I try not to imagine what people watching might think about my legs as I walk toward the diving block. My own opinion consists of grudging acceptance and flickering confidence, so I walk with my shoulders back and head up to at least give the impression that I want to own my body. I seal my goggles to my face and confine my hair in a cap. At the beep, I dive, in what feels like a graceful arc. My body undulates underneath the surface, and when I break the water, I kick, pull, and breathe, through bubbles and silky water. My arms, legs, and lungs, join in a kinetic harmony. For a minute—for 100 yards—the lane is mine, and I remember why I signed up for this.

By the end of the sprint, my lungs are burning. I don’t win, but I would be content to stay in the water forever if they let me.

Pappadums and Vegetarianism

Two “wow” moments from today:

1. Reading “Why I Stopped Being a Vegetarian” by Laura Fraser
It’s an essay that is both a personal explanation and an argument against vegetarianism. She writes why she became and remained a vegetarian for 15 years, providing the most popular reasons (health, animal rights, environment). But throughout, she hints at the shortcomings of the lifestyle, at least for her. After trying meat again, she realized she had never been satisfied with carbs: “All of a sudden I felt like I had a bass note playing in my body to balance out all those soprano carbohydrates.”

Also, in hindsight, she realized that she had been selfish and rude to hosts, etc. I agree: I tried to be a vegetarian my freshman year, but I soon bid that label goodbye because it interfered with my relationships with my family, and it was just easier not to stick to it. So now I eat meat maybe once a week. I wasn’t trying to be ascetic; I just don’t like eating meat.

She also writes: “Meat is good. From a culinary point of view, that’s obvious. Consider that most vegetarians live in America and England, places tourists do not visit for the food. You don’t find vegetarians in France, and rarely in Italy. Enough said.” She’s an American who lived in Italy, so she should know. Honestly, I could count on one hand the meat dishes I’ve had that I truly enjoyed, and maybe the problem is the cooking in this country?

2. Making Indian pappadums (puppodums? poppadoms?)

These are Indian appetizers/chips/curry-dippers. I fried some this afternoon—watching them expand from round, flat pieces of dried dough to giant alien-looking chips was really cool. Click for picture.

Online Social Networking

I just turned in a research paper about how social networking sites are changing the world. Relationships, economics, politics, and education: everything works differently because of the Internet. I focused on the positive aspects, which I believe far outweigh the negative. But rather than abstract examples and analyses, I would rather write about the effects of social networking on my life.

I joined Facebook when I was 13 years old. That summer, I had gone on a missions trip with teens scattered across the country, and I wanted to keep in touch. My friends at school quickly joined, and now I know only a handful of people who aren’t on Facebook, my erstwhile boyfriend and dad included. They just don’t need Facebook to live their lives, but I’m not so sure the same applies to me.

I wrote in my paper that social networking sites (e.g. Facebook and Twitter) allow people of all ages and stations to interact. This is a paradigm shift from the typical hierarchy and exclusivity of social interactions. My sources say that the Internet provides a space for teens to develop, a “third space” outside of their typical home and school settings. These sites allow teens to establish and express their identities.

It sounds good on the surface, but my life experience has shown that “establishing an identity” is not necessarily beneficial. The following line by the Christian rap artist Lecrae sums it up: “We just worried ‘bout our image and our space up on the Internet.” This is a stab to anyone who’s wasted time perfecting their Facebook page, like me.

Maybe I’ve wasted too many hours shaping an online persona, even if it is who I genuinely think I am, but I haven’t failed to take advantage of the powerful tool for communication that is Facebook. When fundraising for another missions trip, I received a lot of support (financial and spiritual) by making a support page on Facebook. I’ve reconnected with old friends and kept in contact with friends now at other schools, teammates from my missions trips, and other people I care about. I still use email to correspond with one friend—we send emails every week—but it still goes back to the Internet.

As a substitute for awkward face-to-face conversations and confrontations, I’ve sent many, many messages. There’s time to think before replying, so the pressure of face-to-face interaction disappears. Since you still have to face the person in real life after the Facebook conversation, the awkwardness is simply delayed, but I still think online communication helps initiate necessary but difficult conversations.

Some people argue that social networking isolates people: “every hour spent online is an hour spent alone.” I don’t agree. I didn’t have time to write this in my paper, but the research has shown that people who spend more time communicating online also spend more time communicating offline, and the same goes for number of friends on Facebook. Highly social people simply extend their interactions to the Internet. Shyer people can open up on the Internet, making it easier for them to be social. A survey by the Digital Future shows that 87% of adults say their children spend the same amount of time or more time with friends since using the Internet. Facebook especially facilitates offline sociability by letting users set up events and groups with ease. It’s a powerful tool for organizing people and events.

Isn’t this very blog also a social networking site? If so, then, my goodness, what an effect it’s had! This is not an extension of establishing an identity; no, I am exploring my identity through all this writing. TeenInk is another such site that inspires and encourages students to create and share poetry, writing, and film. Do the appropriate research, and one would most likely find that the Internet has sparked a revival in writing. It’s not just for professionals anymore. The effect of that is arguable—do the greater portion of blogs mislead people with unsupported, wild claims or do they actually educate people? But no one can deny that blogging is a powerful force in today’s media-driven culture.

Overall, I think it pays to be technologically literate, even if one is sacrificing some simpler pleasures.

Since this isn’t the graded research paper, I don’t have to fluff up a paragraph-long conclusion! The end.