Oh, well hello blog. Did you miss me? The problem with me and blogging is that when big things happen in my life, I don't want to blog about it. This serves as a problem when most people run to their blog to tell the world. So when I have major things happening in my life, menial things seems relatively- well trivial, which then seems silly to blog about. The other problem is the fact that all these big things are happening and it creates very little time to blog about trivial things. So therefore, whoever actually reads this blog, is left with nada. Sorry peeps. I should figure it all out so that I don't go missing from the web when big things happen.
So big thing number one: I joined twitter. (note the sarcasm since I don't blog about big things). I did really join twitter though. And a certain dictatorship country is now following me (no, its not North Korea)- which I find to be strange. I suppose I would never get a visa to their country! Ha!
Second big thing: The trash in the bin that sits outside my office window on the street gets picked up by an electric arm that comes out of a truck. They come three times a week. I find it fascinating and I stop all form of productivity to watch- just like a toddler would.
Third big thing: I am going to buy an iphone this week and I am quite happy about it. Maybe then you will get a picture of the trash arm to prove to y'all that I am not crazy.
Thats all the news you will get from me today. I do, however, have some blog post topics related to development that are marinating. So stay tune.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
27 May 2012
23 February 2012
Morning Commutes
There is something about morning commutes that make me feel alive. I don't know why, but they do. I have fond memories of morning commutes. Most people dread them, hate them, move closer to their work so that the time is shorter, etc. But they make me happy.
When I was in college and still living in the dorms, I would walk into the bathroom and my friend would be sighing with happy sighs that the day had begun. The walk to the cafeteria was quiet, not everyone was awake, the breakfast bland, but the company enjoyable. I filled up my cup with ice, to chew in class to stay awake, before I would join in the throngs of students sleepily moving towards their classrooms. Professors somehow were always more awake. At least, the ones that taught early classes.
When I lived in Kenya, the feet that traveled the dirt paths alongside the roads of Nairobi, the cars honking, the smell of exhausted filling your nostrils, ultimately making them black, kept me alive. I was so exhausted that I just followed my friend's feet in front of me, one after the other in the cold air. The smell of burning garbage, smoking maize, and dust filled the air. Exhausted, happy, worried, and filled with life that I was part of the morning commute.
When I worked in Minnesota, I would commute with my dad. He would drive in, and I would drive out. Pitch black, with only the headlights to light the way, we would enter the lineup of cars wanting to enter the freeway. By the time we were onto our second highway, I was nodding off, trusting that my dad would get us where we needed to be. But on our way home. Our way home I drove, and we chatted about our days. He would be exhausted, but I would be full of life. Even sitting behind cars of people, I felt content. Part of society.
When I moved to Boston, I walked to "work" aka school. A morning rush and fight over the one single bathroom I shared with my roommates. The making of coffee, splitting the pot with my friend. Feeling like I was a duck, following my friends up the hill to the university. One step, two steps, three steps more. The song, "we are following the leader, the leader" played in my head a lot. I felt alive in the morning, with cool crisp air that filled my lungs. Happy.
When I moved to DC I took the train. I felt empowered. I would park my car in a pre-paid spot, happy that I had scored such a deal. I would walk the few blocks to the train station and swipe my smart pass through the gate, grabbing a newspaper along the way. I would stand on the right side of the escalator for those who were incredibly rushed could run by. I knew where to stand on the track so that the door would open exactly in front of me, allowing me to get the choice seat. I sat and read the paper, listened to music, and people watched. I transfered trains smoothly, knew where to throw my paper into the recycle at the end of my ride. I got mad at tourists, even angrier at the transit committee for trains breaking down, and would compare horror stories with my coworkers about the metro. Buy I was part of the daily commute of people who worked for powerful people. The people who made decisions about the country and the world.
When I lived in Uganda, the sounds I heard as I woke up were what made me feel part of the commute. School kids walking by, talking and gossiping. Boda Boda drivers revving their engines. The sounds of my landlady greeting the staff, jumping her car, running to her next destination. The lorries honking their horns as they narrowly missed the neighborhood goat. The beginning of a new day.
This morning, I was up and out of the house. I spent the morning at a tea shop and got a glimpse of the morning commute. Regulars coming in and ordering their drinks, mothers having tea dates to catch up, school kids running in with their mom's money to buy her a cup of tea. The rhythm of morning life. It gives me joy.
Morning commutes are good. It shows life, the economy, culture, and customs. It makes me feel apart of something.
When I was in college and still living in the dorms, I would walk into the bathroom and my friend would be sighing with happy sighs that the day had begun. The walk to the cafeteria was quiet, not everyone was awake, the breakfast bland, but the company enjoyable. I filled up my cup with ice, to chew in class to stay awake, before I would join in the throngs of students sleepily moving towards their classrooms. Professors somehow were always more awake. At least, the ones that taught early classes.
When I lived in Kenya, the feet that traveled the dirt paths alongside the roads of Nairobi, the cars honking, the smell of exhausted filling your nostrils, ultimately making them black, kept me alive. I was so exhausted that I just followed my friend's feet in front of me, one after the other in the cold air. The smell of burning garbage, smoking maize, and dust filled the air. Exhausted, happy, worried, and filled with life that I was part of the morning commute.
When I worked in Minnesota, I would commute with my dad. He would drive in, and I would drive out. Pitch black, with only the headlights to light the way, we would enter the lineup of cars wanting to enter the freeway. By the time we were onto our second highway, I was nodding off, trusting that my dad would get us where we needed to be. But on our way home. Our way home I drove, and we chatted about our days. He would be exhausted, but I would be full of life. Even sitting behind cars of people, I felt content. Part of society.
When I moved to Boston, I walked to "work" aka school. A morning rush and fight over the one single bathroom I shared with my roommates. The making of coffee, splitting the pot with my friend. Feeling like I was a duck, following my friends up the hill to the university. One step, two steps, three steps more. The song, "we are following the leader, the leader" played in my head a lot. I felt alive in the morning, with cool crisp air that filled my lungs. Happy.
When I moved to DC I took the train. I felt empowered. I would park my car in a pre-paid spot, happy that I had scored such a deal. I would walk the few blocks to the train station and swipe my smart pass through the gate, grabbing a newspaper along the way. I would stand on the right side of the escalator for those who were incredibly rushed could run by. I knew where to stand on the track so that the door would open exactly in front of me, allowing me to get the choice seat. I sat and read the paper, listened to music, and people watched. I transfered trains smoothly, knew where to throw my paper into the recycle at the end of my ride. I got mad at tourists, even angrier at the transit committee for trains breaking down, and would compare horror stories with my coworkers about the metro. Buy I was part of the daily commute of people who worked for powerful people. The people who made decisions about the country and the world.
When I lived in Uganda, the sounds I heard as I woke up were what made me feel part of the commute. School kids walking by, talking and gossiping. Boda Boda drivers revving their engines. The sounds of my landlady greeting the staff, jumping her car, running to her next destination. The lorries honking their horns as they narrowly missed the neighborhood goat. The beginning of a new day.
This morning, I was up and out of the house. I spent the morning at a tea shop and got a glimpse of the morning commute. Regulars coming in and ordering their drinks, mothers having tea dates to catch up, school kids running in with their mom's money to buy her a cup of tea. The rhythm of morning life. It gives me joy.
Morning commutes are good. It shows life, the economy, culture, and customs. It makes me feel apart of something.
11 September 2010
The Nile
Today, I spent the afternoon reading for my literature review overlooking the Nile River and Lake Victoria. It was a stunning view and at times, I was distracted from my reading! Thankfully, I made it right before the rains came pouring down! I really have no words to describe how magnificent it was to see the rain, the water, and the green hills. So instead, I have uploaded a picture that, unfortunately, does not do the view justice. As I sat reading, I could not be more overwhelmed with the fact that I am incredibly blessed. Few people from my country have the opportunity to get a masters degree, even fewer have the opportunity to live in an amazing country that is blessed with a powerful river. I am not sure why I was chosen to be in Uganda this year, or why I have been given the privilege of obtaining another degree, but I am incredibly thankful.
In other news, I spent the week meeting with more stakeholders, avoiding muddy roads, and celebrating the third birthday of a little boy with his family and friends. I am starting to get a feel of this town, the rhythm of life and the work that I have before me.
I spent one day this week, working with Robert, and being introduced to many of the women involved in the baking project. The original goal of the day was to talk about their record keeping and to gain more trust. Lets just say, plans never go to plan here and I ended up on a wonderful, adventurous ride through the village- stopping at the homes of key women in the group. These are strong women who hold their households together, raise their children/grandchildren and manage to still be involved in a baking project. I am excited to work with them as I see so much potential!
Well, I should post this before the internet goes out. Cheers!
In other news, I spent the week meeting with more stakeholders, avoiding muddy roads, and celebrating the third birthday of a little boy with his family and friends. I am starting to get a feel of this town, the rhythm of life and the work that I have before me.
I spent one day this week, working with Robert, and being introduced to many of the women involved in the baking project. The original goal of the day was to talk about their record keeping and to gain more trust. Lets just say, plans never go to plan here and I ended up on a wonderful, adventurous ride through the village- stopping at the homes of key women in the group. These are strong women who hold their households together, raise their children/grandchildren and manage to still be involved in a baking project. I am excited to work with them as I see so much potential!
Well, I should post this before the internet goes out. Cheers!
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