Q & A

Our sophomore year of college, one of my best friends received a quote in the mail via a good friend from home. It was one of those quotes that comes at the right time, and speaks to you in a way nothing else can. It was one of those situations where you're forced to believe in fate and things happening for a reason, because that's the only way to explain how something so perfect shows up so unexpectedly. The next year, Kalin passed  the quote to me right when I needed it, saying it was time. It had done its work for her, and now it was time for it to help someone else. I, in turn, would later pass it on, and forget about it, much like you forget the little moments when life seems to just get in the way. About a month or so ago, when I got an email from a friend, the quote found its way back into my life. I smiled at it, thought how funny it was that it would find me across the world, and then tucked it away, again forgetting about the importance of the little moments. It wasn't until last week that the quote made its way back into my conscious, appearing at a time when I was questioning the meaning of my trip here. And there it was, that quote coming to serve me again. Written by Rainer Maria Rilke, it states " I would like to beg you to have patience. With everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for answers, which could not be given to you now because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer". It's one of those quotes, much like obamas book, that I didn't understand at the time, and even at different times in my life, after I've understood it once, I've failed to find he meaning again. It seems as if it only makes sense when the person reading it is ready for it to make sense. In other words, it's magical. Coming into my second to last week here, I would be lying if I said I wasn't ready to come home. My anxiety is at an all time high, and I'm tired of it. I'm ready to drink a grande iced skinny vanilla latte, and eat a big green salad. I'm ready to see people face to face without a computer screen in front of me. Struggling with this, I also started to struggle with what my time here has meant, what the meaning is, what I'm taking away from it, what I'll change about myself when I get home. And then that started to freak me out. Would I still be the funny Siobhan I was before? Would I be quiet and withdrawn for a little? Will I want to talk and be with friends, or hid away? Will I love the same things? Will I cry a lot? How will my life change? Will I even be ready for a full time job, or the full time job of looking for a full time job? Will I lose my Spanish? What will happen? Will I have time to do all my laundry? Will chocolate still EXIST in the world when I get home? As you can see, asking myself questions and begging the answers could easily drive me to insanity. Looking for answers to questions I don't have made my skin crawl, made my face hot, brought on a slew of tears, made me want to be home right now. Because I'm a control freak. Because I have to have the answers, and when I don't I get mad and anxious. Because I like to know what's coming, because I like to be proactive and independent and to make things happen the moment I want them. It's not instant gratification so much as its knowing that when I want something, I can work to get it. But no matter what I did,I couldn't fix this. I couldn't find the answers to my questions. Because, guess what smarty pants, they don't exist yet. And that's when the quote came back. And in a very un-Siobhan-like moment, my anxiety stopped, my chest cleared and I found the answer by not finding the answer. I realized, quite naively, that I'm never going to have the answer because I'm never going to stop asking the questions. In no way does this trip have closure, or even end once I get back to the states. I'm always going to come back here. I'm always going to try and figure out how to change my life to better others. I'm always going to look for new ways, better ways. I'm  always going to wonder, try to fix things, want to fix things. It could be here, it could be in education, it could be in my personal life. The point is, because I'm a person that never stops, the questions are never going to stop. And thus, just by living, I will have to find my answer. Because living is the answer. The questions that I'm asking can not be passively answered. They can't be thought out, but rather I have to act my way to the answer. And eventually, I'll find that I'm living it without realizing it. Or, I'll find another question. For some reason, instead of it being a source of anxiety, knowing this gives me some clarity. Maybe its because it takes me off the hook for not having an immediate answer to everything. Or maybe it's because if nothing is never really final, it means that everything is a process and thus goodbyes are only temporary. I don't know. What I do know is that I loved my time here, and I wouldn't take it back for anything, despite the hard days and tears I've cried, despite my anxiety. I know that I'll take it with me, and it'll change me. Maybe not right away, and maybe not in a way I'll notice, but it'll change me. With this, I also know that at my core,I will always want to go back home where I belong. I'll always be witty and sarcastic, because it's my defense against the world, and my best feature- Really its what draws in all my prospective suitors. And I know that no matter what, chocolate solves an anxiety attack.  Wishing you a day filled with questions, Sabrina

Cranky and Protective

My brother has always been really protective of me. It started soon after I came home from the hospital, and he piled blankets on me to make sure I stayed warm. Clearly his three year old brain had yet to learn about overheating or suffocating. When I was three, he saved his accident prone sister from driving her power wheels into the stream, and warned our parents when I almost drowned in a lake after falling through the ice. When middle school came around, he threatened to beat up the bullies saying mean things, and later in high school threatened to beat up the boy who tried to kiss me. No wonder I have bad luck with boys. College came around, and he'd always been a phone call away. He let me hang with him and his friends when I had no one, and even after just because they were more fun than being by myself. His protection has truly formed me into who I am today. It's why I feel bad for anyone who doesn't have an older sibling,and it's why I know I'll always have someone to turn to, even if it's just to put me in my place.  While I've felt protective of my friends before, it wasn't until last week that I felt the true force of what it means to try and protect something from someone meaner, someone ignorant. And I felt it not for a sibling, but for an entire culture. Learning from my brother, I got protective real quick, a d got heated even faster. The Lavery temper followed me here. Here's the thing. Having gone to Saint Michael's college, we were taught that doing service in another country first and foremost meant respecting the culture and the people. We were taught to go in with an open mind, to learn as much as we could and to be sensitive to the fact that we would not always understand the cultural subtleties or implications. Simply, we had to think of how our actions would be interpreted, both now and in the future; how they would affect our group, and the group after us. We were taught to think not of ourselves but of others. Oh, and we weren't allowed to drink or have sex. The small things. So when I started translating for a group of nurses, I figured they would all do the same. Put their lives on hold, put their needs on hold,in order to be here to better the lives of others. And granted, 99% of them did. 99% of them were great and wonderful. But haven't we learned that it's the 1% that can ruin it for everyone? And ruin it they did, at least for me. Simply put, there were a group of girls more interested in wearing nothing, in drinking until nothing was left, and of putting it all on the table than they were in leaving their needs behind and giving of themselves...in appropriate ways. Because most of my fellow translators were young Dominican men, under 20 for the most part, cute, Spanish speaking and kind, the girls went after them. And kissed them, slept with them, and from my view, used them. They came into the culture, and used it to their advantage. And who can blame the translators for giving in? What teenage boy wouldn't with drunk girls throwing themselves at them? So naturally, my Lavery blood kicked in and I got protective. And pissed. From where I stand, it was justified. Here's why. These girls came on a trip to help others, and instead were helping themselves to the culture in ways that were crass and rude. I don't care how much good they did during the day, they ruined it at night. Don't get me wrong. I get that going to a tropical island is sexy and fun and that you want to let loose a little. But you can do it with your pants on and in a way that doesn't disrespect the culture. Because at the end of the day, you're not only proving what your character is, but you're using the people here for your own gain, and making it harder for future groups. Because now, any white volunteer that comes through is going to be assumed to be easy, and there for a good time. And from personal experience, it's not much fun to deal with when those aren't you're motivations. Because when we get down to it, you're not falling in love with the boy like you say you are, you aren't going to keep in touch when you get home, and you're not going to marry him. So you leave, and what happens to the boy you just left? You used him, and you used his culture. I get that I'm ranting. I get that my writing is cranky and angry and might not make sense. I get that there are people who will read this and get offended. But guess what? I was offended. I was cranky and angry and therefore decided to write about it. Because that's what I do. And when you get protective of a culture, when you learn the implications and the subtleties, when you take the time to get to know the people, you can be cranky when people blatantly dont care. It's not about me knowing more. Its not about knowing the answers. It's about caring enough to think about your implications, to think about how your actions are perceived,to think about other people during the day and at night. And when I care so much about a place, and witness other people not giving a damn, mama bear comes out and she gets pissed. Brendan taught me well.  At the end of the day, I guess I also have to say thank you. Thank you to Brendan for not only keeping me alive and well during my formative years, but for also teaching me the meaning of protection. Thank you Saint Michael's for teaching me what real service means, for teaching me how to respect other cultures, and for making me sign a no sex contract. God knows I would have gone crazy without it (jokes, mom and dad). And I'll even give a shout out to the whores who came. Because without you, I might not have realized how fiercely Ive come to love this culture, with it's good and bad, or the extents that I would go to to defend it. And finally, thanks mom and dad for not letting Brendan suffocate me in my crib. Much appreciated. Wishing you a happy weekend, Siobhan 

Looking Back

I do a lot of looking forward in my life, a lot of planning. In college, notebooks were filled with appointments, schedules, colored coded sticky notes and plans for the upcoming weeks, months, semesters. God be damned the person that wrote in my planner in a free space; they were negating my plans, and my organization. As often as this is a skill, which I like to think it is 99% of the time, it can also make it hard for me to stop and appreciate the moment, to recognize where I've come from. It's something that I've blogged about in the past, and is something that I continue to work on. So what better way to work on this skill than to stop, take a moment and reflect on where I was a year ago, with all of you along for the journey? Let's go, seriously itll be fun. And just a little rainy. A year ago, I was sitting in our best friends townhouse, waiting for the next day with the hope that it wouldn't really come. The night before graduation is one filled with high emotions, stress, anxiety and hope that rain will stop and the sun will shine. For the record, the rain never stopped and I've got my water damaged diploma to prove it. The night before graduation turned into the morning of, where quite literally it could not have been a more epitomized moment of what our friendships were, of how our relationships acted out and of who we were within each of those relationships. We made a plan to eat breakfast at a certain time. Only half of us were ready, and sat down to eat. Tragedy struck in the morning, making celebrating a little harder. The stress of finding families, of getting seated ran some of us ragged. And I was not having a good hair day. True to saint mikes fashion, no one knew whether or not we were taking a big class picture, and we winged it. Just like we would for the next year. Graduation morning was not idealized. It was not perfect, or in many ways very pretty. Being shoved out of your townhouse by a certain date at the same time that you're forced to say goodbye to your best friends, while waiting for a new car battery I might add, is not glamorous. It's cruel and unusual punishment. And yet, we made it through, just like we made it through the first year of the "real world" as scary as it seemed. Looking back, the succeeding year followed much of the same pattern as graduation morning. Tragedy struck for some of our best friends, forcing us to look at what's important in life, what we want to take with us and what we can leave behind.  We realized that plans in the real world are a lot harder to make than plans on a tiny campus, and that sometimes we missed the simplicity of sticky notes and planners. We tried too hard, did too much, found mistakes and bumps along the way. We left home, came home, and tried again. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't pretty. There was a lot of rain, but we winged it and we made it through. Someone asked me a couple of months ago if life in the real world was scary, and as bad as he had heard. At first i wasn't sure if I was qualified to answer, seeing as I avoided the year of rent, car loans and 401k funds, instead moving off to a tropical island in the middle of an ocean. And then I started thinking that there is no one real world, but rather the world that we find ourselves in and make for ourselves. Moving to north Carolina is a different real world from landing your first full time job, or finishing grad school or moving out of a small town for the first time. But it's still real. Working in a restaurant is as much real world as making your own products or presenting in front of your company's CEO. Getting a parasite in the Dominican Republic is as damn real as suffering from a bad head cold in the US- you still find yourself missing home. So whose to say what's the real world? Whose to say if it's really as bad as it seems? You. You are. You do. Because the real world is what you want it to be. And as long as you dictate it to the degree you can, it's not so bad. The key to surviving, I truly believe, is listening to your heart, realizing that this is your time. That what you do is your decision to make. That where you want to go is under your control. So, yes, the real world can be hard. But you can change it. Yes, there are obstacles, but you can move them. And, as always, there are rainy days, but when you get to run through them with your graduation gown and your best friend beside you, they aren't so bad. I get that my voice might be annoying on this subject. After all, I'm not at a desk job, or any type of job. I don't know how to pay rent, or even look for an apartment. But, I'm here, in my real world, and I'm happy. I didn't do what I thought others wanted me to after college, and im happy. I created my own real world, and I'm happy. Sure, there are days that suck. But they pass, and I realize that where I am, what I'm doing, its what I was meant to be doing in this moment. And I wouldn't have known it if I hadn't tried. If I hadn't leaped, and taken away the safety net. So the point is, the real world doesn't suck. Your life doesn't end when you get your diploma. Your friends don't disappear once you cross the stage. Things change, yes. Life can be hard, yes. Tragedy hits, yes. But it's doable, it's manageable. And just remember, when your planner full of sticky notes doesn't help, it's still okay to wing it. Because that's when the fun begins. That's when, instead of being in a full time job you end up speaking spAnish on an island. And loving it. Happy graduation, and one year anniversary to my very best friends in the real world. I couldn't be here without your support, and cant wait to see you in a month. Love you, Siobhan

¿Habla español? Si.

I love translating. I love being able to hear what is said in one language, and change the message around to fit the boundaries of another. I love the fact that most of the time literal translations are impossible, either because they don't exist or I just don't know the words, and I have to work out a puzzle to decide how to express the same thing in different words. And, being the control freak that I am, I love the power that it provides. The way someones health or situation is in my hands, for me to fix. I'm basically a superhero. Who speaks two languages. AKA I'm more powerful than batman.  For me, the fact that I am able to speak two languages, or really 1.75, is some sort of measure as to how much I've accomplished here. I've said before that there are days when I feel like I don't do enough, like I could have done more, run farther, held more hands, spent more time with my host family. But the fact that I can create sentences in another language, can hold theoretical conversations and truly express myself is a mark to the fact that my time here has been worthwhile. I came knowing the basics, and nothing more. I'm leaving knowing another language. Obviously there are words I don't know, things I need help with, but I don't have to stare starry eyed at everyone when they ask me basic questions. I can respond, and make sense. If we are being honest, which I always (kind of) am, I also love the look of surprise that people have when they realize I can communicate in something other than English or forced sign language. It always starts with someone asking questions about me to whoever I'm with, assuming I just don't know. And when I start jumping in and answering for myself, the look of surprise never changes. It makes me feel like I have a secret weapon, again, even better than batman. While all of these treats make knowing Spanish great, my favorite thing about being able to translate is the ability it has given me to learn more, see more and do more. Because ADESJO and the sisters have used me as a translator, I have been able to see and do more than I otherwise would have been able to. I have been able to learn about the bee keeping societies here, and how bee hives are kept. Granted, I didn't understand half of what they were telling me in English, let alone trying to fit it into Spanish, but at the end of the day with a head about to explode, it was still interesting and different. Working with nursing students now, I've been able to learn about the health care system here, see different patients and visit new communities. I've been able to visit the domestic violence center, i center i didn't even know existed before translating, and hear about how this organization is working to combat a crime that is much too prevalent in much too many countries. I've got to meet new friends, see different perspectives and become an asset in ways I didn't think we're possible. Ive been able to meet more people in ocoa that are my age, as they have translated alongside of me. I've even gotten to boss people around in spanish, meaning I've been able to translate the famous attitude that i possess in English into another language. I'm sure they really appreciate that.  The Spanish language has opened doors for me. It's allowed me to learn in ways I couldn't have imagined. It allows me to connect with people on a level that surpasses hi, how are you. Of course, we can make connections with people with the simplest of phrases, with minimal language. But theres something to also be said for being able to dig deeper, to question more and not to settle for a simple answer because that's all you can understand. My fear in returning home is that I will lose all of this that I gained. That I'll come back in a year unable to speak, unable to translate. I think the loss of a super power is a lot more painful than never having one to begin with, which is why I will do my best not to shed this cape. Instead, I will let it keep opening doors for me, talking to others in Spanish and learning more about other cultures at home. I'll wear my Spanish cape out of pride, just because it took so damn long to sew. Wishing you a day whee you feel like a superhero as well, Sabrina