One week ago, I was flying back to Omaha from Chattanooga, TN where I attended my little brothers wedding. Now, he's well over 6 feet tall, so he's not quite little, but he's 2 1/2 years younger than me. It was a weekend to remember. My parents rented a huge house (7 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, 3 living rooms) and we stayed there with most of the out of town family and a few of my brother's friends who were in the wedding. It was like a big Michigan reunion and it was awesome. I got to spend a LOT of time with my family, which I enjoyed and I no longer take for granted now that I live far away. We slept in rooms near each other, shared bathrooms, ate our meals together, and shared rides everywhere we went. When we weren't busy with wedding stuff, we had time to relax and enjoy each other's company. When I visit Michigan, I don't always get to do that to this extent.
The wedding stuff sure kept us busy, though. The events were all formal or semi-formal, and they were all just a little bit different than how we do it in the north. I wore a lot of makeup and did my hair in fancy ways every day. For the wedding, I got my first pedicure and got my hair and makeup professionally done. At first, it was fun to dress up, but I got sick of it by the end of the trip. I am not one of those women that enjoys a ton of pampering. I believe they call that low maintenance.
There was the rehearsal dinner, which was attended by about 80 people. I don't know if our experience was normal, but we spent about an hour or so sharing memories and saying how much we love and appreciate the bride and groom. It was so much fun because both Peter's side and Connor's side got to share memories of their loved one. There was much laughter, many tears, and boatloads of love in that room.
It was strange and wonderful to see Peter so happy. He was actually serious, which is rare for him. He was serious about how much he loved Connor, and serious about his appreciation to his friends and family. He was genuine and heart-felt. I don't even remember the last time I saw my brother like that. There were a lot of moments when I felt proud to see how much he has grown up. I was proud to see him in a healthy, loving relationship with his woman. I am thrilled to welcome a new family member into the Overbeek clan. I look forward to Connor being my sister for a very long time. It's strange to see her with my last name, but again, strange and wonderful.
And then Kara announced that she is pregnant! There's going to be a baby in the family! The first grand-child! I will be an aunt! I will hold a baby in my arms that shares my blood! I'm pretty excited for that.
This weekend overflowed with joy and happiness. Those times are rare and precious.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Sunday, July 10, 2011
lucky
I've had this thought come into my head several times the past few days, and I would like to write it down.
I am a very lucky person. Some people prefer the word "blessed". To me, they mean about the same things. I was born in America to upper middle class parents. I attended private schools and got an excellent education. I got my bachelors degree and my masters degree. I have a lot of work experience. I have lived in a different country and traveled to a bunch of other countries around the world. I have good, good friends. My parents are still married and my family is strong. I am healthy, both mentally and physically. Very few of my friends and family have passed away. I live in a comfortable apartment with cable and internet. I have delicious strawberries in my fridge and cold water from my tap. A wonderful man loves me. I have more joyful memories than painful memories.
These days, work has been very difficult, for a variety of reasons. And I sometimes narrowly make it with my bills. Nevertheless, I am awed, amazed, humbled, and thankful for my luck, and I hope that I make the very best of the great things I have been given.
I am a very lucky person. Some people prefer the word "blessed". To me, they mean about the same things. I was born in America to upper middle class parents. I attended private schools and got an excellent education. I got my bachelors degree and my masters degree. I have a lot of work experience. I have lived in a different country and traveled to a bunch of other countries around the world. I have good, good friends. My parents are still married and my family is strong. I am healthy, both mentally and physically. Very few of my friends and family have passed away. I live in a comfortable apartment with cable and internet. I have delicious strawberries in my fridge and cold water from my tap. A wonderful man loves me. I have more joyful memories than painful memories.
These days, work has been very difficult, for a variety of reasons. And I sometimes narrowly make it with my bills. Nevertheless, I am awed, amazed, humbled, and thankful for my luck, and I hope that I make the very best of the great things I have been given.
Monday, June 13, 2011
music
Considering how voraciously I consumed music for the past, like, 8 years, I am surprised at how little I listen to these days. It makes me kind of sad to know that I'm missing a lot of great music that would probably turn into lifetime favorites, but I don't make the time for it like I used to. Sometimes I feel disappointed in myself, and sometimes I just feel lazy. I'm turning into one of those people that says, "Yeah, I used to be really into listening to music, but I just don't do that anymore."
I need to find a way to listen to music that keeps me updated on the good stuff. I recently cancelled my Rhapsody account, which I've had for years. I'm primarily doing it to save a few extra bucks per month, but I definitely don't use it like I used to. I hope to start listening to Pandora and WYCE more. I have completely stopped listening to WYCE, which makes me sad, too, because it's so easy to listen to. I still have the icon on my favorites bar, so I will hopefully be clicking on that more often. That is where I discovered all my good music before. Not having Rhapsody will limit my ability to listen to a particular album to death, but I think I will find a way if I find an artist I really like. I am definitely in a new phase of my life, which is clear in just my musical habits.
On an unrelated topic, I've had ants crawling out of my computer the past few days. I can't figure out why. I don't see ants anywhere around my apartment, just in my computer. It's very strange...
I need to find a way to listen to music that keeps me updated on the good stuff. I recently cancelled my Rhapsody account, which I've had for years. I'm primarily doing it to save a few extra bucks per month, but I definitely don't use it like I used to. I hope to start listening to Pandora and WYCE more. I have completely stopped listening to WYCE, which makes me sad, too, because it's so easy to listen to. I still have the icon on my favorites bar, so I will hopefully be clicking on that more often. That is where I discovered all my good music before. Not having Rhapsody will limit my ability to listen to a particular album to death, but I think I will find a way if I find an artist I really like. I am definitely in a new phase of my life, which is clear in just my musical habits.
On an unrelated topic, I've had ants crawling out of my computer the past few days. I can't figure out why. I don't see ants anywhere around my apartment, just in my computer. It's very strange...
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
thoughts on my 10k
So I ran my first 10k on Saturday. I had been working out during March and April at the gym pretty regularly for a weight loss competition thing, and so I was in decent shape to start training for a 10k in early May. I used an 8 week training plan, and started on the 3rd week. I followed the training plan almost perfectly, only missing 2 days of workouts, one of them on my trip to Michigan. I was still pretty nervous the night before the race, though. My goal was to run 11-12 minute miles, and under no circumstance, to finish after the 1 hour and 15 minute mark.
The race went far better than I expected. It was really nice to run it with a friend, and we seemed to keep pace with each other easily. When the race started, everyone was passing us, but I was adamant that I didn’t want to start off too fast. The first big hill was long, but I just slowed my pace down and steadily ran up it. I felt great up that first hill, which was a shock to me. It was at this point that we started passing people. The subsequent 3 hills went well, too. Once we got into Mahoney Park, though (the end of mile 4 and into mile 5), I started to feel tired. There was a gentle upward slope that I struggled over, but we kept the pace steady and continued to pass people.
The last half mile was a straight shot down a residential street to the finish line. Tyne and I really picked up the pace at this point. There was this girl in a pink shirt that we caught up to and Tyne said, “We’ve got to beat her.” And so we raced her for the last .3 miles or so. We sprinted to the finish line, which was very difficult, but I wanted to burn out any energy I had left. The time said 1 hour, 12 minutes. I was breathing hard at the end of the race, but not once did I wheeze, not even during the race, which is a victory for this asthmatic. I vaguely remember someone handed me a slap bracelet, and this one big guy who seemed very concerned for my well being.
Immediately afterward, I was NOT hungry at all, but I forced myself to eat a little. We stood around and chatted for a while, congratulating ourselves and discussing the run. I felt the what they call "the runners high" and I was also excited because it went so much better than I expected! I realized my training went well, and that if I train, I can run any race.
I’ve been thinking about it since then, and I really want to do a half-marathon now. Training isn’t always a ton of fun, but I enjoyed working toward a goal. I enjoyed the energy of all the people in the race. I enjoyed the feeling of crossing the finish line and feeling successful and realizing I had met my goal. I enjoy running because it’s something I can do by myself, or with others. If it's something I continue to do, I can challenge myself to beat more people, and challenge myself to improve my own race times.
I really did enjoy the race a lot and might be on my way to a certified running addiction. :0)
Friday, May 13, 2011
tough day
Today was a tough day. At work we were audited by the national agencies of which we are affiliates, as I mentioned in the previous entry. It was very frustrating because their final feedback was not too positive, though we have worked reallyreally hard the past few months to make a lot of improvements. I know I came in at a turning point in the organization, and I've seen a lot of important and positive change in my short 9 months. The review was discouraging, and a bit unfair from our perspective. There was one particular part of my job I worked to improve a lot in the past few months (it was something that was completely ignored until I took charge of it), and it was lambasted in the final review today. It was insulting and frustrating to hear that all that work and care and improvement and vigilance was not appreciated, and was, in fact, worthy of criticizing. Like I said, we felt it was unfair. I hope we can improve our program after this, but help each other realize our strengths and growth, which we felt were ignored.
Anyway, the week has been tough. I'm glad its over and I believe a bottle of wine and some Sigur Ros is appropriate.
Anyway, the week has been tough. I'm glad its over and I believe a bottle of wine and some Sigur Ros is appropriate.
the travel bug?
Written yesterday, but Blogger wasn't working when I tried to post it...
This week at work we are being audited by our volags. It’s 3 days of them inspecting our operations and making sure we are doing a good job. They are reviewing files, interviewing clients, talking to our CEO and CFO, talking to a board member, doing site visits to refugee employers, interviewing us, and more. One of the women from one of the volags reviewing us had spent 7 years living and working in Nairobi, helping to process refugees (I learned about this during an "employee appreciation lunch" catered from Qdoba that day). She started out as a caseworker, which is typical. Caseworkers interview refugee families to understand their story and start them on the process of being resettled into a third country. The caseworkers often travel for weeks outside of Nairobi, Kenya, where they're based, to other countries to meet with refugees. She said it is extremely hard and emotionally difficult work, because you have to remain distant and cannot help them. You cannot ask personal questions to your interpreters. You have to keep everything at arms length. But sometimes the refugee family is starving to death right before you, and they ask for food or help, but you cannot give it to them. You have to listen to their stories of horror and trauma. She said it’s also extremely rewarding and the people who do it are extremely compassionate. She worked her way up to a pretty high position in the agency in Nairobi, but last December decided to come back to the USA.
I was very impressed and intrigued by her story and by her work. Part of me wanted to apply for a job as a caseworker immediately. Then, as we continued to talk, part of me didn’t. When she talked about her new job in the USA, she talked about how wonderful it was to be able to connect with the people she had processed back in Africa and connect with interpreters now. She really liked to be able to see the refugees' progress, instead of one snapshot during an extremely painful and difficult time in their life. I like that about my job a lot. I like having a friendly relationship with my coworkers, both American and foreign-born. Part of me is afraid of case work overseas and never wants to do it, though at the same time I'm drawn to the stories and, of course, the adventure that living overseas is. Would I be able to handle the burden of the stories? Would I be able to handle the pain they brought to me and not help them? Even though I know it’s a vital part of the process? What emotionally draining work. It’s so much easier and fun on the USA end. Everyone’s excited, and culture shock, though painful and difficult for its own reasons, passes, and you adjust to the new place. I like the fun part. I don’t know. I do want to make long trips overseas somewhere, preferably as a job and not just vacationing or volunteering. But I don’t want to go for a year or longer, unless I have the support of my family. I don’t know what type of job that would be and if it exists around here. I guess there’s just still so much to learn…
This week at work we are being audited by our volags. It’s 3 days of them inspecting our operations and making sure we are doing a good job. They are reviewing files, interviewing clients, talking to our CEO and CFO, talking to a board member, doing site visits to refugee employers, interviewing us, and more. One of the women from one of the volags reviewing us had spent 7 years living and working in Nairobi, helping to process refugees (I learned about this during an "employee appreciation lunch" catered from Qdoba that day). She started out as a caseworker, which is typical. Caseworkers interview refugee families to understand their story and start them on the process of being resettled into a third country. The caseworkers often travel for weeks outside of Nairobi, Kenya, where they're based, to other countries to meet with refugees. She said it is extremely hard and emotionally difficult work, because you have to remain distant and cannot help them. You cannot ask personal questions to your interpreters. You have to keep everything at arms length. But sometimes the refugee family is starving to death right before you, and they ask for food or help, but you cannot give it to them. You have to listen to their stories of horror and trauma. She said it’s also extremely rewarding and the people who do it are extremely compassionate. She worked her way up to a pretty high position in the agency in Nairobi, but last December decided to come back to the USA.
I was very impressed and intrigued by her story and by her work. Part of me wanted to apply for a job as a caseworker immediately. Then, as we continued to talk, part of me didn’t. When she talked about her new job in the USA, she talked about how wonderful it was to be able to connect with the people she had processed back in Africa and connect with interpreters now. She really liked to be able to see the refugees' progress, instead of one snapshot during an extremely painful and difficult time in their life. I like that about my job a lot. I like having a friendly relationship with my coworkers, both American and foreign-born. Part of me is afraid of case work overseas and never wants to do it, though at the same time I'm drawn to the stories and, of course, the adventure that living overseas is. Would I be able to handle the burden of the stories? Would I be able to handle the pain they brought to me and not help them? Even though I know it’s a vital part of the process? What emotionally draining work. It’s so much easier and fun on the USA end. Everyone’s excited, and culture shock, though painful and difficult for its own reasons, passes, and you adjust to the new place. I like the fun part. I don’t know. I do want to make long trips overseas somewhere, preferably as a job and not just vacationing or volunteering. But I don’t want to go for a year or longer, unless I have the support of my family. I don’t know what type of job that would be and if it exists around here. I guess there’s just still so much to learn…
Thursday, April 28, 2011
categories
So tonight I went to a small, rural Nebraska town to speak to a group of Anglo, Lutheran women. I ate lots of delicious Anglo, Lutheran women salads, main ingredients for the salads being mayo and pasta. The women at my table discussed how Obama released his birth certificate today, and it was clear that they were skeptical and didn't like him one bit. I did my best to point out the facts and may have been mildly successful, but I know there wouldn't be any significant changing the minds.
One woman had the most hideous hair, straight out of the 80s; bad perm, big bangs and all. She kept talking about her teenage son, Jose. Apparently, he just had a birthday that he invited half the town to, and he really likes deviled eggs. She made 2 dozen for his party.
They were very friendly and maybe a little awkward, because almost no one asked me any questions about myself or my job. I felt like a foreigner. While sitting there, I thought to myself, "I'd probably be more at home in a refugee camp than I am here." Though I used the same tactics there as I use in cross-cultural settings, mainly keeping a close eye on how every one else behaves so I know I should also behave; patiently waiting until someone does what I would like to do, so I can do it like they do, as not to stick out or offend. They were VERY attentive during my presentation, though, and their initial feedback indicated they found it very interesting and learned a lot, which I always like to hear.
Either way, I got to thinking about stereotypes. I wonder if they were looking at me and thinking, "Oh, it's one of those city types. I bet she goes to the gym and listens to NPR and indie bands with funny names and buys those funny light bulbs for her house." And they would be pretty much spot on in their assessment, except I don't always buy those funny lightbulbs because they have mercury in them and I don't know how to properly dispose of them.
It's easy for us to think we're special and unique and get stuck in our little rut with our narrow perspective that what we think is correct. It's easy for us to think we can answer the questions of the world, because we can probably best answer the big questions of our own little narrow world. I felt that when I stepped into their little world and stepped out of mine. I forgot how easy it can be to stereotyped myself. I forgot how easily I can fall into a category. Yes, to some extent I am special and unique, and to some extent, I'm not. To some extent, I fall into a particular category where the TV stations and Facebook know how to target advertising to me and I buy what they expect me to (Arcade Fire tickets, pants from New York & Company, Taco Bell's $5 meals, membership to Snap Fitness) (except I typically watch shows out of my demographic...Law & Order is totally targeted to people who need Lipitor, Viagra, and Depends, Family Guy is targeted to people who play violent video games, use Old Spice, and eat fast food). Anyway, I think it's good to remember sometimes that we do fall into a category and that it's okay. It's also important to remember that we are more than the category we fall into.
One woman had the most hideous hair, straight out of the 80s; bad perm, big bangs and all. She kept talking about her teenage son, Jose. Apparently, he just had a birthday that he invited half the town to, and he really likes deviled eggs. She made 2 dozen for his party.
They were very friendly and maybe a little awkward, because almost no one asked me any questions about myself or my job. I felt like a foreigner. While sitting there, I thought to myself, "I'd probably be more at home in a refugee camp than I am here." Though I used the same tactics there as I use in cross-cultural settings, mainly keeping a close eye on how every one else behaves so I know I should also behave; patiently waiting until someone does what I would like to do, so I can do it like they do, as not to stick out or offend. They were VERY attentive during my presentation, though, and their initial feedback indicated they found it very interesting and learned a lot, which I always like to hear.
Either way, I got to thinking about stereotypes. I wonder if they were looking at me and thinking, "Oh, it's one of those city types. I bet she goes to the gym and listens to NPR and indie bands with funny names and buys those funny light bulbs for her house." And they would be pretty much spot on in their assessment, except I don't always buy those funny lightbulbs because they have mercury in them and I don't know how to properly dispose of them.
It's easy for us to think we're special and unique and get stuck in our little rut with our narrow perspective that what we think is correct. It's easy for us to think we can answer the questions of the world, because we can probably best answer the big questions of our own little narrow world. I felt that when I stepped into their little world and stepped out of mine. I forgot how easy it can be to stereotyped myself. I forgot how easily I can fall into a category. Yes, to some extent I am special and unique, and to some extent, I'm not. To some extent, I fall into a particular category where the TV stations and Facebook know how to target advertising to me and I buy what they expect me to (Arcade Fire tickets, pants from New York & Company, Taco Bell's $5 meals, membership to Snap Fitness) (except I typically watch shows out of my demographic...Law & Order is totally targeted to people who need Lipitor, Viagra, and Depends, Family Guy is targeted to people who play violent video games, use Old Spice, and eat fast food). Anyway, I think it's good to remember sometimes that we do fall into a category and that it's okay. It's also important to remember that we are more than the category we fall into.
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