I've been thinking this since this morning when I checked my email and wanted to send a big shout out to my 207 hommies and my Jonny -- you guys can't possibly know how much I really enjoyed (and needed) to read your sentiments this morning. There's something special in being reminded so plainly that you have a personality, a life outside of your current situation. That even as you grow because of the situation you're surrounded by, it's still possible to carry along yourself -- your real self that you know is there somewhere, even if being shy around new people can bury it a little -- and your friends and your shared experiences to that new situation. After 48 hours with 3 guys oogling women and going on and on and on about boobs and butt and hottness and drooling over anything with two legs that looks like it's older than 10 years old, it's hard to maintain a sense of self worth, let alone a sense of being a woman as more than an object. Granted, they are nice guys and I know some of it was in jest and they were "exposing the real guy" to me (like that hasn't already been done), it still seemed different (more overt and sexist, maybe? comments made with less respect, maybe?) this weekend. Like I told them at dinner last night, it becomes necessary for me to build a wall up inside to make sure that I don't absorb too much of their mindset and lose my own opinions of myself and what's important. I also don't want to walk about from these 6 weeks never being able to trust a guy again since I've known plenty of sex-crazed ones who are still respectful, decent people.

But anyway, the point of this post is just to say thank you for making me remember (it's nice to be reminded often) how much I love my friends, who they are, and who they encourage me to be. You guys inspire me. You guys make me want to be kinder and more thoughtful. There's just nothing like feeling overwhelming, pure caring for someone else that's not shadowed by selfish ulterior motives.

So yea. Thanks. :)

Dear Bloggy,

Alright world, why didn't someone tell me before how difficult travel in Europe is? I was always under the impression, during my previous trists through the continent that I could get anywhere, with many different modes of transportation, at the drop of a hat. But I am quickly learning that either something has changed in the last four years since I was last here, or else I am trying to bludgeon my head against a wall instead of trying to search for plane tickets and train passes. Or, realistically, I suppose it could be because of this little festival called "Oktoberfest" that everyone else in the civilized world appears to have made arrangements to go to at least 3 years ago. Who would have thought it'd be so frustrating trying to plan a trip from little ol' Rijswijk to Munich? Who?

*sigh*

This weekend it looks like I'll be traveling with a group of four guys to this city in Germany known for its forumula one racetrack, that lets you drive your own car on it for a fee. If you know me, then you know that "Jen" and "fast cars" and "Formula One" go hand-in-hand. Clearly. ha.

No, it's actually that I prefer to travel somewhere new, a place that I haven't been before, even if there's not much there that I'm super interested in, than sit by myself in a hotel -- plus, I don't feel comfortable traveling to a new city completely by myself (it just doesn't seem safe) and when you're in a class with 24 men (there are 3 of us women) and only around 7 of us are free to travel on the weekends (there's some crazy beaurocracy of when the company pays for your hotel and meals on the weekends depending on your "home" country -- which could be different from where you're from, where you live, and where you work), I feel like it's bound to happen that I'm going to get suckered into doing very manly things.

Which brings me to the gripe I mentioned yesterday, a gripe that isn't really fair to harp on and one which Tom is being driven crazy with whenever I talk about it (really, I don't talk about it that much. Seriously!): the incredibly slanted, worse-than-Tech male/female ratio. It's insane that I am experiencing a 1:9 ratio. 1:9!! ONE TO NINE!! It's no lie that I really do feel like I've learned to become moderately androgyneous to fit in with the group of MEN that I find myself with ALL DAY. Don't get me wrong - I really like men - they can be great people, good friends, fun....uhh... right, so it's more of this feeling of not being able to really relate with anyone on a different level, one that's emotional and touchy-feely. Men avoid those levels, for the most part, and it seems to take a woman to be able to have a discussion with a relative stranger about ooy-gooey things. I MISS OOY-GOOEY THINGS. It's gotten so bad that this past weekend when I was in Amsterdam with a group of 4 guys plus another 10 or so we met up with in the city for dinner Saturday night, I felt like I was flirting with one of the guy's girlfriends just to have a conversation with her! The situation made Tom and I crack up. We joked about shelling out the cash for me to buy a you-know in the red light district for the conversation for me. ha. ha.

Seriously, my heart swells when I talk to another woman - I'm immediately like --- AAAA I don't know how to relate anymore but I really, really want to because you can understand me and we can talk about shoes and shirts and guys and how much we like puppies and kitties! I also feel like my uber-competitive side is coming out because in order to survive in this man's world you have to constantly, repeatedly prove yourself to the rest of the group. "That's right I'm man enough!" BUT I'M NOT A MAN! Yet I still succumb to various challenges (I admit, they are kind of fun. And it is kind of fun to ignore the softer parts of life, pretend like feelings and etiquette don't matter, you know - think like a man) like who can drink 1.5 liters of water faster, who can drink 7 beers at the Heineken Experience, who can stand in the turn-y part of the tram (where the two cars are connected by accordian-style plastic things) while going around curves and remain standing without holding on to something.... you get the idea. Still, I'm looking forward to (I might even say, craving) being treated like a woman again. Being complimented, having doors held open for me, having someone think I am sweet and gentle. (Ok, they probably think I'm sweet and I guess I've never really been graceful or into male chivalry....I just want more of a middle ground instead of this masculine extreme environment!). I've even had their stereotypical thought processes invade my own in the past few days -- I find myself thinking about sex and sexual things every 3 minutes! Maybe it was the whole being in Amsterdam and watching the free 24 hour porn with the group (how excited do you think THEY were?!) and going to the sex museum there (good thing it was only 2.5euros) and the red light district....

*sigh* plus now I've used waaaaay to many ellipses in this post, something I am ashamed of because I like to be able to finish my thoughts definitely - I should be able to - with a simple period. *double sigh*

I feel much better having gotten THAT rant out of the way, so that poor Tom didn't have to listen to it AGAIN. For posterity's sake and my ability to look back on this and remember the special details of my experience here that will likely fade away in the next few months as I figure my life out again in New Orleans, I'm going to recap what the past almost-two-weeks have been like. First of all, the plane ride was INCREDIBLE. First class on a transatlantic flight with your own fold-out seat pod thing that gives you massages and toasts bread (ok it doesn't really toast bread) and individual tvs with on-demand movies easily made the trip worthwhile. And it was only 7 hours worth of my trip! I watched the movie Crash, which I really, really liked, and was inspired to write down some thoughts on racism and poverty and how to change the world, which I'm going to try to post here when I get some time. (again, for personal posterity's sake.) When the course started, our first task was to get ourselves from Rijswijk to Nadrin, in the Ardennes in Belgium, by 9am the following morning (we started around 2 pm Friday and had a bunch of tasks to do along the way, kind of like a world traveler's scavenger hunt, with only a certain amount of money that they gave us). I rode a random woman's rickety old bike in Den Haag (the Hague) next to the parliament building, painted a face mask on a train to Brussels, and slept on the cold, hard floor of a random carpark (parking lot) in some small (read: TINY. as in, one baker, one church, two hotels, NO TAXIS) town 20 minutes away from Nadrin. I refused to pee on this parking lot like the boys all did (again, I was the only girl in the 7 person group) and luckily one of the hotels in the town let me pee in their lobby. In the restroom of their lobby, that is. It was TONS of fun - I had a blast and there's nothing like an incredible journey to bond a group. In Nadrin, we stayed at the sort of place you would have a corporate or school retreat at -- bunk beds, greenery, middle of no where -- and did some projects related to working well in teams and chellenging yourself. Again, tons of fun. I went bike riding several times through the countryside surrounding Nadrin (essentially, I was biking the Ardennes! aaa!) and talked to the sheep (I have quite a "baaaaa!"), I went abseiling (repelling of a 40m sheer face mountain), did a ropes course (the one where you climb a 10m pole and jump off of it and try to catch a trapeze swing thing), drank a lot (the company buys tons of beer and wine to stock the place up for everyone), and had an all around wonderful time.

Since returning to Rijswijk, class has been bearable (interesting, with mostly sufficient lecturers). They give us lots of breaks throughout the day, the food and coffee is good, and we process alot of the information by doing mini sessions of group work. It's amazing to see how much of a "typical" person the company looks for there is - you can quite easily identify a common trait in all of us what it is that makes us employees and why we were chosen to work here, regardless of where we're from, what country we work in, and what discipline we work in. I mean that in a good way, because there are definitely plenty of things that define us as separate individuals, too.

Time to meet some friends for dinner. More soon!

Love, Jen

I'm alive! I heart Rijswiick, the Netherlands, and Europe in general (but we already knew that, didn't we?).

More to come later; off to class now.

Question: has anyone else had the experience of being around so many men for so many days that you start to feel as though you've become androgynous and have no feminity left? I'll explain later...

GO JACKETS!! STING AUBURN!!

It's only the first quarter right now, but we're winning and it's as exciting as it is bittersweet. For the first time I'm not at a game, it's not because I'm swamped with homework or couldn't afford the trip out of Georgia. For the first time when I care about college football, I'm no longer a collegian. I don't want to be shut out from a Fall of chips, dip, and beer. *tear*

The enormity of Katrina's effects is finally starting to sink in. Before, I convinced myself that the news media was just highlighting the worst, most drastic and made-for-tv parts of town (Biloxi looks like a lumber scrap yard) to dramatize the issue, that it wasn't really that bad and people were overexaggerating the damage. I was horrified when people started to compare this rinky-dink hurricane and people's conscious decisions to ignore the many warnings to leave, seek shelter, stockpile food and water (of course no one deserves something like this to happen to them, but I'll be crass and say that it is harder to have sympathy for the people airlifted out of their flooded houses when you know they were forewarned) to the tsunami. The tsunami. Seriously, comparing an event that was tracked for weeks prior to its arrival in New Orleans to one that materialized in a matter of minutes? Comparing an event that struck a first-world nation in which even the poorest people still had cable and electricity to lose to an agrarian, mud-thatch-hut nation ravaged by more water than Lake Ponchetrain contains when it's full? Comparing an event that is estimated to result in 50,000 deaths across several states to one that took the lives of more than 200,000?? Such ill-suited comparisons seem to rob the tsunami, its victims, and its survivors of ... something.

But now, now I'm starting to see the severity (though I still think it's wrong to be compared to the tsunami). Starting to see why so many friends have called and emailed to make sure I'm out of the swamp. Starting to see why people are flooding the Red Cross with donations. I'm very conflicted and confused and angry and guilty feeling, still, though; maybe it's a combination of guilt for not feeling the call to give and contribute aid (mom says that's because I'm one of the victims, so I shouldn't feel the need to give when I still don't know if or how much I'll have to pay to rebuild) or guilt for feeling like I'm faking being a victim when I'm blessed enough to have the means to rebuild whenever the city lets me start, or because I know I have so many places to go if I need, so many caring friends and my family. So I feel like I should care more, have more compassion for what's going on. But I don't and I can't fake it. It's a natural disaster. It happened. It sucks. But it only ruined material things, and oftentimes I wonder if America is too materialistic to begin with. It sucks people died, are dying, and more will perish before this is "over," but we're in America with American drugs and hospitals and care takers, meaning that the number of dead is much, much, MUCH less than it could be or would have been if this had happened in any other place in the world. Maybe I'm just optimistic to a fault.

If only I were still at Tech (but then I wouldn't be touched by this disaster quite like I am; or maybe then I'd care more), there'd be easy ways to gather people to donate things like school books or shoes or pens and paper for the displaced kids to continue to learn while they're stuck in various domed sports venues. If it even matters...it's hard to put faith in the good of donating when there's no clear plan for where that money is going, how, and on what time frame. It's the same as my struggle with how you help the women being raped in the Sudan - the scope of the problem is just so so so big, how can you ever feel like your $5 or your 2 page letter to the government makes any sort of ding, let alone a dent? I do see the unexplainable hypocrisy in the way my own mind works, though, since I somehow feel like whatever my small efforts are to "save the environment" matter in some grander scheme.

I want to help in a personal way, a way I feel connected to and that will help someone or some way I can identify with. Like the Salvation Army - I wish I still had the name and contact info of the guy my senior design group worked with at the SA when we helped redesign their mobile kitchen canteens (the trucks used to deliver hot meals to disaster relief workers). I would love to donate specifically to that effort, to that effort that I've seen and understand and know the good it really does. Giving to some nebulous Red Cross coffers just won't make me sleep better at night convincing myself I've "done something."

I don't know.

I hate that tomorrow I'm going to spend money to "replace" a bunch of stuff I'll need in Europe that I didn't take with me when I evacuated (when we left Saturday, we all honestly thought we'd be back in NO by Thursday at the latest) but that I'm betting is perfectly dry and good back in my house. I hate wasting money, especially under these circumstances when it could be used for so many better things. I guess my classmates will appreciate it if I buy some toothpaste, though.

Goodnight, soggy and troubled but "turning the bend" world.

+alive - check
+healthy - check
+family - check
+friends - check

To everyone who called, emailed, messaged, prayed, thought, and hoped: thank you. Thank you so very, very much. Hearing your voices, reading your words, and knowing you were thinking of me have been bright spots in this otherwise dismal and frustrating situation.

Anyone reading this most likely knows more than I do about what's been going on in New Orleans since Hurricane Katrina hit Monday - since evacuating Saturday my only source of information has been the rumor mill broadcast on CNN and the slightly more credible phone tree of my fellow displaced employees. My mom managed to zoom in on some satellite photos published by CNN which show my house with its roof still attached and no appreciable amount of standing water. Thankfully, I live on the western side of the 17th street canal and the levee for the canal broke on the eastern side. This means that barring any broken windows, and since I'm on the second floor, my house should be okay. This is also hoping that no one has broken in and looted my home. More importantly, I'm ok and the rest of the people I know in New Orleans are ok, so the material stuff is just secondary.

My heart does go out to the people I've seen on CNN like the rest of you, the people with no means to escape like I did. In the wake of this water catastrophe, though, a spotlight has been shone on a great hypocrisy of America: we only seem to care about the poor when we just can't ignore them anymore, when the circumstances make our normally turned eyes inhumane and when we are forced to make up for our past transgressions with hyperbole. We advertise with great fanfare and relish our deepest commitments to helping those less fortunate, we donate, we give supplies and time and it's needed and wonderful and helps. In these situations, I know the sincerity of the giving doesn't matter because it's simply people in need getting help. But still, I'm skeptical to applaud those helping when I want to know why the people they're helping had to get wet, drenched, and surrounded by lots of wind in order for them to show their care with tangible help. All those people at the Superdome were poor 7 days ago, had nothing 7 days ago, dealt with rape, homicide, theft 7 days ago, but no one cared then. It's only now, when their desperate situations are impossible to ignore because they're floating in the streets and insanely robbing Walmart that we reach out.

Please do reach out, help, that's great. But when the water has receded and you're able to go about your daily lives without being reminded by CNN that there are people starving and homeless, help more - that's when I'll applaud and know the world really does care.

Amid disaster, we still have the right to rant, right? :)

I flew into Ft. Lauderdale from Houston last night, where I'll be staying with my parents until Wednesday. Sept 7 I'm flying to the Netherlands to begin my previously-scheduled 6 week training course that will acquaint me with the ins-and-outs of the business. This means that I won't be able to return to my house in LA until late October, if even then -- hopefully the airport will be open by then. Since there's not much for me to do here, anyway, I'm kind of glad for this brief repreive, for something to do other than worry and wonder.

I'm going to try to keep this updated, and would like to sit down and process everything Katrina-related tonight or tomorrow... it still hasn't sunk in quite what's happened since I've been living a whirlwind of half-priced Astro's games, free Coldstone (it's amazing what you get for being a refugee in Houston), and games and games of shufflecock that make it feel like I just took a week's vacation in the most freeway-laced city in the world....Plus, I just watched The Notebook with my mom (I read the book, too) and it reminded me that everyone has a tragedy in their life, some great, epic moment that defines a transition or entire lifetime. I haven't figured out what mine is, if it's even happened yet. I'm sure that for some people, this past week will be their great defining tragedy. There's always sweetness in the resolution of a tragedy, though, and I just hope that my hurricane-hit brethren will be able to find that sweetness sooner rather than later. And I hope I'll be able to help when I return, in a way that might really matter. ...Ahh, another great confusion in my mind about the value of the different types of help and why it matters - you give money and it doesn't change your life, you don't really have to think about the sadness of the people you're "helping" but if it does help them, does it matter? Or to truly help and feel like you've helped, do you have to feel some measure of sadness or forfeit, too, some type of hands on help? Do you have to do it for some "right" reason .... Plus, thoughts on the way friendships and human relationships are effected by disasters and why.....Not to mention, do you think you can only have one great love in your life? And like tragedy, is there any way other than retrospect to know it?

Well, for now I'm dry and though slightly stressed about the next few months of my life, excited about the challenges they will bring and the landscape for memories they'll provide. Thank you again, friends, for expressing your caring. I'm already looking forward to seeing you Atl-ians at homecoming (provided I can fly out of New Orleans then).