I just had my last first day of undergrad! Granted, I have another three semesters of graduate school before I get my MSW, but I have officially started my last semester at UMBC! It’s actually quite bittersweet. As I was walking to that first class, I couldn’t help but think about how much UMBC has became my home. Really, it is. Walking along Academic Row, I remember everything that has happened over the last four years, and I know I’m definitely going to miss it. Don’t get me wrong – it is SO exciting to be ending one chapter of my life and starting another. But I’m still going to miss it. Especially because most of my sorority sisters are a year or two younger than me, so they’re not all graduating with me. But that does mean I’ll be back to visit them. I’m also only going to be living about a mile off campus for the next year, so I’ll be able to visit old friends and teachers whenever I want. So… advice to anyone else who is graduating (whether it be from high school, undergrad, or grad school) or to anyone who is moving from one point in their life to another – don’t forget, as Semisonic says in “Closing Time” (and is quoted in the wonderful movie “Friends With Benefits”), “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” 
As you are likely aware, Friday happens to be the day when most Moroccan families, at least those that live in the medina, make their special Friday meals. As involved as I am in my research and traveling right now, there is no family in my life where I can go to eat a Friday meal. Somewhat unfortunate, but there’s always more to the story. And, in this case, there’s more to the story of Friday than I realized.
One Friday morning not too long ago, I was walking around the medina and noticed a different sort of flurried activity happening. Friday mornings tend to be subdued affairs in terms of open shops and active running around. The tourist-to-local ratio rises significantly on Friday mornings. It seems to be lost on those wandering around that the closed shops, fewer people, and empty streets actually means something. It takes the tourists until the adhan for dhuhr sounds to realize that maybe they ought to wait it out in a café, restaurant, or hotel. The cycle will come full circle.
But, I digress. What I noticed on this particular walk was a bunch of little things. I saw motorcycles coming out of houses, with the riders going on missions to replace a busted gas canister or such like. Little boys carried liters of oil back home so that this or that could be fried. Young women stood in line at the butcher’s shop, buying this or that cut of meat. Older men transported layers of fillo dough, covered in damp cloths, which would eventually be used to make pastilla, a Moroccan specialty. Shops closed their doors, emptying the streets of customers. And, above it all, muezzins practiced their adhan, clearing their throats into loudspeakers and testing microphones.
During my previous time in Rabat, I did not see all of these little bits. Sure, I knew they existed and logically had to come together to make Friday what it is, but the reality of it all somehow escaped me. Maybe I got so used to my Friday routine that I assumed it all to be normal. Maybe I had already categorized these actions into a different part of my personal observations about my experience. Maybe they did not matter to me. Whatever the case, it has taken a change of venue for me to recognize the little ways in which each individual has to contribute to the greater feeling of Friday.
And so it is. It is the little things that build up to the bigger things. Whether it is the multitude of stitches in a piece of clothing, the experiences that make up our lives, or the Moroccan Friday mood, each and every one is a sum of little bits and pieces. And yet, it is not just these little bits and pieces. The aura of Friday is more than just oil going from the shop to the house: it is a mentality. It is a way of being. It says: hey world, we’re going to slow down right now. We’re going to go home and spend time with our families and relax. And you can wait until we’re good and ready to get back to the business you’d rather we do.
Fridays in Morocco. Long may the little bits be a part of the bigger picture.
Walking in the medina the other day, I found myself behind a delivery truck. It was a small one, one that could be misconstrued as, well, not a delivery truck. However, this delivery truck was on its way to deliver something to some shop somewhere. Just as this was happening, on the driver’s side of the road (road being a loosely applied term here), some workers were doing the usual bit of tearing up perfectly good brick in the name of improving something about it. And, as tends to happen in these circumstances, it was proving to be a bit of an inconvenience.
Now the medina, any medina I’ve run into that is, is a narrow space. It isn’t exactly conducive to many situations, like this one (rain is another), that disrupt the natural order of going places and doing things. So, as a result, with this delivery truck stuck without enough room to pass by the construction workers, it caused a bit of a traffic jam. Within a few seconds of the truck stopping, three scooters, a bicycle, five or so pedestrians, and a stroller had queued up (lined up for those who have no idea what a queue is) behind the truck. There was no room to go around on either side, so we waited.
It took a minute or so for this situation to unravel itself, as the construction workers drew their orange fencing closer so that the truck would have space to pass. Apparently, this minute or two was one or two too many for one of the men on the scooters, who thought that the whole situation was somehow the fault of those tourists that he could see standing by the orange fence and wanting to come towards us once the truck made its way through. There were a few choice words exchanged, and, needless to say, this section of the medina became a little tense a little quickly.
After Mr. Uptightpants calmed down and the truck moved on, life went back to normal. Everyone drove off or walked off or stood there considering life, but the situation diffused itself. Or at least that immediate version did. I have no knowledge of how it may have affected people later on in their day, or whatever else besides. It could have made lunchtime a real sourpuss situation for those around, or it could be used as an introspective opportunity.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about this experience is not the way in which it resolved itself, or even the way that people reacted, even though those are both interesting. Instead, it is the transformation of energy that strikes me the most. There was a bubbling energy in this situation, where the clash between the manifestations of the truck driver’s goals and the construction workers’ goals caused friction. This friction quickly escalated in how it affected those around, one person in particular. And, for some reason, perhaps a combination of the previous day’s or week’s or month’s, or even life’s, experiences, or his own attitudes, or culture, or whatever, it caused him to react in a negative fashion.
So where’s the beauty or the interest? Quite simply, it is in the idea that the energy does not have to be transformed in that way. That depending on how much we allow our mindsets to permeate into our lives in a constant and permanent way, we can react to these moments that may stress or challenge us in more productive and positive way, depending on how important and what our mindset is. It is all up to us.
What a bold concept. Did you know? Change begins from within.
My program took us to Amsterdam in the early part of November. Here are a few thoughts I wrote down then that still apply today.
Being in Amsterdam is a bit of a challenge. For me, it serves as a reality check, and a way for me to figure out how it will be for me to return home. In fact, this, above all else, is my biggest fear: how difficult it will be to reintegrate into what I call home. When thinking about it, I’m surprised that this is something that I actually fear. Don’t I always adapt well? Don’t I always give 100% to everything that I am involved in? What could possibly make me feel like I’m not going to be exactly 100% involved in my own life when I return?
Perhaps this 100% is exactly what is causing me to feel anxious. Since I give it all every time and in every situation, I have observed everything, absorbed everything, tried everything, lived everything, thought everything, and walked every way that I possibly can. In Rabat, this has resulted in my embracing a critical but cautious love for the city and country. I wouldn’t say that it is without flaws, but this understanding has grown over the course of a few months that I have become comfortable with the way it is and, most importantly, with the way I see it.
On the other hand, Amsterdam has not been the same. Perhaps because I don’t have the same amount of time, or have come in with low expectations, or have altogether not decided to be intentional and active about how I will analyze this place, I now find myself in a space where I do not necessarily enjoy this environment. It might be the first real case of culture shock I have experienced on the trip.
Shocking, isn’t it, that I am most disconnected from the environment that is, in many respects, most similar to my home. The liberalism, language, location, and culture are very close to what we have in the US. But, perhaps because I was not prepared for the possibility of culture shock here, I have been taken by surprise. It is a good thing that this has happened and continues to happen, because I am hopeful that it will be a precursor for what I am going to experience at home after returning. I will now, because of this experience, be more prepared to ensure that I am fully engaged, to analyze my society in as critical and loving a way as I have been doing in Morocco thus far, and to achieve the balance that I will undoubtedly need between the ways that I have been and the ways that I will be.
In the end, life is not supposed to be easy. It pushes us, shapes us, and makes us. This trip certainly falls into all those categories for me, and I will be a greater person for it. I simply need to figure out how that will manifest itself upon my return and how I will need to embrace its challenges. Home will have to become another place that I look at uncomfortably for a while, until I can see it for the beauties and uglies that it contains. The trick will be staying as busy as possible for as long as possible. Anything less will give me too much time to think, too much time to reminisce, and too much time to live in the past. I can only hope that I will not, regardless of how much free time there is, be among the memories. Here and now forever.
I hope your holiday went well. Starting today, I will resume the pattern of once-a-week postings. I apologize for the length of this one, but since the post-holiday shopping/returning period is doing it’s thing, I thought this was only appropriate.
Not too long ago (seems like I start a lot of my writing like this, but so it is), I was wandering through the medina in Marrakesh. And, as tends to happen with wanderings, I found an interesting sight that I probably would not have seen without such ambiguous drifting. The medina holds plenty of unique and innovative experiences just waiting to be stumbled upon, and the one I found at this moment was an auction. It was quite small, but goods were being bought and sold, such that one buyer would drive up the price after another did, culminating in this guy over here going home with that thing over there.
Even though there were some carpets available and the auction took place in the local carpet souk, this particular auction was focused on djellabas, the long, somewhat Star-Wars-Jedi-Knight-looking robes that many Moroccans in the medina, both male and female, wear. Characterized by a large hood and a closed front, the djellaba is worn overtop of regular clothes and is made from a multitude of materials in a variety of colors, depending on the weather and the choice of the wearer. Two slits where pockets might be expected allow the wearer to access their pants pockets for cell phones, money, and other insundry items.
This auction saw multiple auctioneers rather than just one with the only set of goods. Each auctioneer had their own djellabas to sell and their own group of regular customers. The customers stood in a circle, with the older and more established ones sitting in front, as the auctioneers came around with a djellaba and announced the starting price. Prospective buyers would call the auctioneer over to investigate the good, checking materials, stitching, craftsmanship, design, color, and size. The auctioneer would travel from customer to customer, heralding increases in cost as buyer after buyer agreed to price after price.
For the one older gentleman in front of me, a longtime and well-respected member of the bidding circle, the process of investigating a djellaba was arduous. Each time an auctioneer came around with a djellaba he fancied, they would stop and hold it for his viewing. He checked everything: the stitching on the hood, the cut and stitching on the hem, the fold of the cloth, the thickness of the material, everything. It was the same process everytime a price increased or a new good arrived. Not once did he increase his bid without investigating every angle of the item. He may not have tried the djellaba like some of his fellow bidders, but high quality and artistry were the name of the game. Further, he knew when enough was enough for the quality of the good, selective in his purchasing while advanced in his thought process and research.
As this unfolded before my eyes, I remained silent. There was plenty to examine and observe, from the conversations around the bidding circle to the reactions of the bidders at a high-priced or low-quality good. The whole event did not meet any of my stereotyped expectations of an auction, as the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Deals happened here while conversation among bidders took place over there. This auctioneer introduced new goods as another haggled over prices. The sounds and dynamics were stimulating and driving, moving along until customers, sensing a downward trend in the quality and number of goods, began to pack up and go home.
Seeing this local economy in action was pretty sweet, not just for the sake of the broader market picture, but rather for the knowledge that I gleaned just from watching. When I go into shops now, looking for a djellaba or other goods, I can position myself as a more informed consumer, working for the mutual benefit of both the shopkeeper and I as we bargain on a price. We can have a fairer relationship based on my knowledge and his/her knowledge, transparent and open as a result of my experience. Is it to say that I won’t be misplaced in my assertions about an item or that the shopkeeper won’t try to make a quick dirham off me? It would be foolish to think so. But I do feel a little bit more secure in the knowledge of how to buy a proper and high-quality good, in a place where the trappings of tourism can lead to many knock-offs and fakes.
I may not know all the tricks to the trade, but learning from the bidders in the djellaba auction makes me a bit more prepared, aware, and ready for the challenges of shopping in Morocco’s medinas. Long may the informed consumer follow a path of investigation and inquiry. They are powerful tools that let us know those around us in a better and more nuanced way, such that we can be better educated and empathetic members of our global community.
It’s that time of year. The trees are empty, the days are shorter, there’s a cold chill in the air, and the students are wondering around like zombies.
I know, I know. I hate the cold too.
Exams aren’t pleasant either. Staying up late, and working hard can take a lot out of a student. I personally have been in the library every single day trying to get all my work done to make this final push of the semester a success. Don’t get me wrong through, I’ve been in the library all semester, but during finals week, the library turns into Club AOK because it’s packed!
Trying to find an outlet for my dying computer is like trying to find a parking spot at Walmart on a Saturday afternoon: you’ll find one, but only after searching for 10 minutes.
UMBC students take their academics seriously here, and it shows up during Finals week. That’s one reason why I like being in the library because it motivates me to work even harder than the person next to me. It’s the perfect combination of a study space and motivation center.
Another thing I like I about the library is the addition of the extended study hours during the last two weeks of the semester. UMBC’s Student Government Association fought hard to earn the extra two hours of business for the library, so there’s no reason why I wouldn’t take advantage of it. Since I work better late at night, the extra study time in the library at night is the key to making the end of the semester really count, especially since I’m busy like ALL DAY.
It’s that time of year when sleep is purely optional. In fact, whenever someone says that they are getting a full night of sleep, it’s kind of surprising to me. Words like all-nighter, energy drink, and coffee are common during finals week. I’ll never recommend all-nighters but sometimes you have to do what you have to do. Just try to stay realistic and remember that you have to sleep at some point. There’s no skipping out on Z’s.
Your body will thank you later.
After one all nighter I pulled during my junior year, I was so tired that I almost missed an exam because I said I would rest my eyes for “five minutes.” Two hours after my “five minute nap” I woke up and rolled over to discover that I had five minutes before the start of my exam. It was embarrassing to walk in five minutes late to my exam [I'm a fast runner!], but at least I didn’t miss it completely while trying to study into the early hours of the morning.
The lesson here is that finals week takes no prisoners but it can be beaten if you prepare for it the right way. Go to the library and go to sleep.
I wish you the best on your path to success. Good luck students!
Everyone’s got them. Regardless of your religious association, national affiliation, or whatever else, or lack thereof for that matter, every single person has some reason, occasion, and way to celebrate. In the States, we tout, especially between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day, the holidays as a way for people to get together, shop, and do seemingly silly things that somehow commemorate the warmth and fuzziness that we feel in our hearts.
In Morocco, at least with the family I have been spending time with, it isn’t so different. The holidays, Eid in this case, are a time for everyone to enjoy the company of family and friends. For the past few days (at the time of writing), there have been all kinds of family showing up, phone calls to people in different cities, and a few rams slaughtered in the process. There has been a lot of smiling, hearty laughter, and the occasional fight that marks any gathering of a lot of people. The kitchen has been hopping, not that it isn’t usually, with too many cooks and too much good food. And, even the surliest members of the family have somehow managed to put aside their angst (or whatever you want to call it) to spend time with the family.
Conceptually, a holiday is a great excuse for all of us to realize how unintelligent we’ve been in the past year (or other length of time) by ignoring our conveniently forgotten cousins, yelling at our kids, or being a general snot to those around us. However, it only works if we have other days, which inevitably happen, when we haven’t been on top form. Whether it is Eid, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukah, Diwali, or whatever else, holidays give us the gentle reminder that perhaps the way we have carried ourselves throughout the year wasn’t actually the way we want to be. Spreading the kindness that we associate with those funky reindeer sweaters, menorahs, or animal slaughtering is exactly the point of celebration, such that we are able to enjoy the company of others.
Beyond this though, the trick is to carry that holiday spirit as far as we can through the remainder of the year. It is very easy to let it fade quickly, especially for those of us who choose to participate in the shopping shenanigans of Black Friday or similar economic booms. But, there are still great reasons to carry the love forward. It may not be easy, it may not be simple, but the prospect of not having to start from square one in terms of our kindness, joy, and altruism next year is quite delightful.
So here’s to a happy holiday season that is inclusive, loving, cheesy, memorable, safe, and fun. Every single one of us has something to celebrate, and the holidays are just one way to remind us about it. As a result, long may we carry on with weird traditions that some of us still don’t understand (growing pine trees to chop them down?) because of what they really represent: we all are part of one common human family.
I’ll be taking winter break for a few weeks. Look for a new post on January 5th. Happy holidays everyone.
BEACH! But really, I do. I close my eyes when I’m uber stressed about school and pretend I’m laying on a nice warm beach on some unknown island in the tropics. The stress seems to melt away. Also, reading books that are non-school related help, too. I’ve been carefully carving out time from schedule to do leisure reading that has absolutely nothing to do with any of my studies this semester. I believe this has allowed me to remain sane during the stress of finals week.
Something I find interesting is that students complain so much about not having enough time to accomplish work or they are really stressed, but so many of them continue to use Facebook or Twitter and waste their time. Thankfully, I have broken this habit and am able to stay off of Facebook and focus on my work. So, I certainly lend this out as a suggestion to all those finding that they are limited on time. Try not getting on the computer at all if possible. It’s like a time warp, it steals time away from you.
As I have become more time efficient, my grades have improved and I feel less stressed, yey!!
But, I have certainly become more involved with more groups this semester and it is a lot of work to balance. Between two jobs, 15 credits, and leading two student organizations, I’m happy to find myself enough time to sleep at the end of the day.
As finals week begins and classes come to an end, reflecting upon this semester I must say that I am satisfied. I think that I have very good grades in all of my classes, but I must be persistent and continue working very diligently through next Tuesday in order to maintain those grades.
I cannot believe that the past 15 weeks have gone by so quickly and the end of the school year is finally here. I’m happy to say that I will be going home next Wednesday to spend the winter hiatus with my family and dogs. It will be a nice, relaxing break. For a week in January I will be going on the UMBC STiVE! Leadership Retreat. I’m really excited to go out to Western MD for a week to learn about leadership! It’s a great way to break up the otherwise plan-free winter break that I face. I hope to self- learn guitar over the break!
I am excited for next semester. It will be great because I am taking fewer classes and I am resigning my presidency from the Community Action Board. Hopefully, this will reduce my work load as well as my stress level!
Well… I’m off to finish a paper & study for my first final exam that takes place tomorrow morning at 8:30am. I’ll be awake, bright and early!
I wish all visitors and readers the best of holidays & winter break Try and stay warm while you can!
I hope everyone enjoyed my cliched lyrics as my title. 
I always have such trouble coming up with a witty title, so I copped out this time and went straight to lyrics. They’re from Semisonic’s “Closing Time” (a song from my high school years). I think the lyrics are very fitting though (as I believe there are lyrics for almost any moment). There are so many new beginnings that I am faced with right now – finding and moving into my first apartment on my own, getting a real job, going to graduate school, etc. But a lot of things are also ending – my time at UMBC, in undergraduate school, and with my sorority.
It’s mind-blowing that my undergraduate experience is almost done. It feels like yesterday that I was in high school, deciding to apply to and attend UMBC, packing up and moving out for the first time, making all my friends at college. I can’t believe I only have one semester left. And even though I have that one semester, most of it is going to be spent planning for what happens after I graduate, so it’s not like I can entirely focus on it. It’s going to be a semester of balancing living in the moment with planning for the future. And that’s a difficult thing to do.
There will always be a part of me that wishes I could just spend my life sitting inside watching TV, but I know that’s not realistic and would eventually get very boring. Just kidding, I love that life has so much to offer me, and I plan on taking advantage of all of it. I am so excited about everything my life has to offer, but I’m also taking time each day to just appreciate my life in the moment. It’s working out quite well. I feel like I’m in a really good place, and I think that means the future is going to be good as well.
To everyone else who is in my boat – either applying to undergraduate or graduate school and looking towards the future – don’t forget to appreciate what you have now. Life is so amazing; make sure to enjoy all of it!
Sometimes, all you need for a serious bit of re-centering is access to a place where your mind can roam free. It doesn’t really matter where this is or how this manifests, so long as it isn’t self- or other-destructive, but it also helps for the environment to be physically free. Whether it is found across a great stretch of water, an undisturbed forest, an open airspace, a vast and wide field, or whatever else, the physical matching the mental is a fantastic harmony of body and spirit.
I was privileged to access this not so long ago, when I stumbled upon the isolated rooftop of my school. It was not forbidden as tends to happen with premier spaces in the United States, but over the course of the semester, my fellow students had perhaps forgotten about it, becoming bogged down with work and such like. In my wanderings, I thus found it unoccupied on a beautiful November day. The rooftop was an untouched space, gathering disappearing light and opening views across the medina. The afternoon sun lazed its way toward the horizon, cooling temperatures and lengthening shadows.
As I sat with a cup of hot chocolate, a jar of Nutella, and a piece of bread, a cool breeze tickled my arms. It floated here and there, settling with its whims and fancies. It was a simple moment of the light and airy, emphasized by the surprising silence of the medina. Much like a balloon, I felt as though I may float away at any moment, unhindered and unencumbered by the weight of this world, a sense enhanced by the toiling of my colleagues. They were unaware of my delicate solace, choosing the internet over the moment. And so, I reveled in what I found, soaking up seclusion and taking in tranquility.
Were it not for rooftop access, this moment would not have been possible. In many parts of the United States, my ability to go above and beyond might have been stifled by a locked door or a raised ladder. I would have to use a park or other semi-outdoorsy medium to find, even though it was unexpected, peace and quiet. The American disconnect from what is above us means that we look down rather than up, generally neglecting the possibilities of a roof. It might behoove us to get back in touch with the tops of houses, schools, and other buildings, for they reconnect us to the outdoors within.
It may seem a simple thing, a moment on a rooftop. But when put together with others, it forms a picture reflecting the type of person we want to be and the type of life we want to lead. And this moment is as magical as the previous, as powerful as the next. Without such, we each become disconnected shells of ourselves, unable to recognize the beauty of right here and the brilliance of right now.
And so, I hope that we each find our rooftops. Nothing is more special.
Josh from UMBC
Kaitlyn {lovesintheeyre}
umbcjen
meronumbc
modestmind
dmason1
monicab
Kelsey K from UMBC
Asif from UMBC
