I have a small, minor confession to make. Let's not sing and dance about it, I'll be frank. I have always been suspicious of rich people. The big houses, the nice fancy cars, the digital this and that, the big wigs. And when I went to Carleton, my freshmen year I lived next door to a millionaire, lived with a girl who's parents could buy the statue of liberty and plant it in their backyard with their yachts and pools, I ate with sons and daughters of UN reps, conversed with ordinary offspring of world renowned doctors, and argued with republicans and democrats (that has no connection whatsoever, btw). I have always viewed myself as poor--if numbers could speak, they would say I grew up in poverty--and from a completely different fabric then those with jaguars and bmw's for birthday gifts. And I laughed in disbelief or something like that, when I heard, at all places a Posse retreat, a rich girl--daughter of two doctors--express her shame of being rich. She actually said to us that she hated to discuss economics because she was so rich. Imagine that, I thought, someone being ashamed of being rich! I was ashamed of being poor, how dare she be ashamed of being rich! And I have always been exasperated at the rich dressing poor. Well, I say, if I had all that money, I'd at least wear decent styles for crying out loud. Why in the world do the rich like to dress sloppy???
And then it struck me. I was sitting at lunch with Belia. Now Belia is a 24 year old, married with a sweet daughter, and she's from Riverside Church. I had never had a real conversation with her, but somehow we found each other having lunch at Perkins together on a Sunday afternoon. I didn't even ask her to, and that's a first--I'm very inquisitive, and usually draw this out--, but she proceeded to tell me her whole life story. And in that two hour conversation, I was humbled to humble crumbs. All my moanings and "depressing" sob stories were diminished to frivolties. My five year silence with my father was nothing compared to her living in abuse by stepfathers that led to mental breakdowns. My time living in a trailer without water and heat at times was nothing compared to the fact that Belia wasn't able to spend money to go see the chronicles of narnia with us this weekend. And college? Belia had attempted to go to community college--she wanted to be a teacher. But that didn't work. And look at me-- the moron, complaining about her major life decision as to whether or not to apply to Harvard for fun, and wasting $60 on an application fee. That's my worry! HA HA HA. And my car? I was ashamed to even walk to it. I have this automatic door opener, and I've never used my key to open the door. I've forgotten how. She was proud that she had bought her car for 200 bucks, and owned it herself. The funny thing? She is 24, and I feel so much older than her. It was like I decided to hang out with someone I knew from highschool back in Willow. They say Carleton shelters us, and its true. But I've gotten such a different perspective than most of my peers who have gone elsewhere--and not been sheltered. Yeah, I'm naive, for sure. I still dont' know why some rich people dress so sloppy, though. When I figure it out, I'll let you know. Alls I know, that if I ever become rich, i'll probably still be suspicious--of myself included. Hmmmm.....But I'll dress like a queen. I'll still eat meat and potatoes--not to have forgotten those "good ol times"--not to worry. Do people like me always say these things? I feel like a cliche.
The real thing is, and sorry for making you walk with me through this melodramatic episode of "amenah's got issues", is that I'm dripping in gold. Seriously, I "worry" about finances at times, but really, I've got so much. And I'm not just talking $, although i sure got enuf, I'm talking my family. Imran is the best thing since sliced bread. (I've always wanted to use that line) I have a brother who's not only brilliant, going to Yale, humble, the best bro I could ask for, but also strong in his faith and loves his family. I have no idea what or where i'd be without him. And my sister, a doctor who's going to move mountains, has taken care of us--protected, guided... loved!--one of my best friends. She's the one who said, "we can do it" against all odds, and broke down walls with her fists. "Though one may be overpowered two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."-Ecclesiastes 4:12. And my mother and my grandmother. what more do i need to say?
But let me tell you, every time I eat with a Christian, I'm literally overjoyed to tears to have someone to pray with. No more sticking up my thumbs (i've taught many your thing, Josh), I don't care if we're in public! if you say you're a Christian----YOU"RE PRAYING WITH ME!!! I miss prayer, and mustard seed. sigh.
As I was telling Jennifer, and these are my exact words (okay, a little off): "Yeah, I'm living in isolation. I think it ought to be good. I'm thinking, yep, God is going to make me a pillar in this experience. But then sometimes I'm like, yo where the party be at?" I think the GRE has had some positive effect on my grammar. And my math. Kent gave me some numbers to add the other day---2.8, 1.2, and 3--and I took five minutes to say, 'of course, 6.' He looked at me, "i'm sorry Amenah, I was puttin you on the spot." heh. 7, you dope. Kent is this amazing guy who was goin to work for the FBI. He's 35, and has two kids, and is married. He's like, so awesome. I'm going snowmobiling (for the first time!) with him and Akochi next weekend. I've been hangin out with guys alot. I think I ought to find me some friends that are female.
Oh, and, about my car (Elmo--everlasting love m=? o=? still pondering those letters). Akochi and I went to subway, and I get this fantastic idea to leave my car running--its freazing out, and i like warm cars. Now, don't freak out, people in Hamilton do this ALL the time. But I'm not as trusty as Hamiltonians, so I lock the car--but before I do this, I take my electronic door opener with me. How many of you have done this? Raise your hand. Don't be ashamed. Anyway, my car wouldn't lock with the electronic door opener, so i HAND lock it. ha ha. you'd think i would have figured out that that's not smart. Then i try to open it. heh. nice try. nope. so these high school boys drive up next to us, and they're chuckling away--it turns out that they had done this recently, and knew what I had done--and Lucas, a junior, ends up driving me home to get my spare. Nice boy, smart and respectful. He thought Akochi was my husband. This is happenin way too frequently. No way of gettin around this....
AND. I went to the post office the other day. I was bundled up like a mummy in antartica--there was no way you could have seen anything but my eyes. And the lady goes, "so, were you born here?" I'm not joking. No, I'm not. I was so startled, that i had her repeat it, "huh?"
"were you born here?" WHAT?!?!?!??!? i had written a note to myself once and it came in handy, "don't go postal in a post office". I calmly looked at her, and said, "no comprendo, no hablo ingles." and then i did an African dance with some salsa, and showed her my war paint. Okay okay. I didn't. i said I was from MN. That's it. No guts, I tell ya. Someday. At the right moment.
What else?
Ah, yes. Recently I led home group, and the dicussion topics centered around God's wrath and predestination. Leave it to me to come up with such easy topics. We ended, as I had predicted on the statement, "God is good". Amen.
WORK rocks as usual. And apparently, Steve, my boss (btw, he's a world renowned doctor, and I didnt' figure this out until recently) has signed me up to speak at the INRO conference in Feb. I have to talk about my postbac experience(s) for the NIH, and help recruit. I'm already nervous. AHHHH!!!!! in front of all those doctors and smart students???!?!??!
I'm amazed to have gotten you through all of that. This is one jumpy post.
