small victories

tonight, i did my roommates' dishes. and i'm not talking a cereal bowl here, a dinner plate there, i'm talking a mountain of dishes. you see, my roommates like to entertain, which i appreciate because they invite me to join them and they luxuriously grocery shop sans food stamps , but they usually wait to the crusty, dried on, stale-smelling state before soaping up a sponge. and as a sub-leaser, i have trouble finding my place to say, "um, maybe you could clean up that gigantic mess you created four days ago?" but my room is also right off the kitchen, and each time i open my bedroom door, i'm smacked in the face with something that looks a little bit like this:

unfortunately, no actual picture of my poor little kitchen was taken, but this is a relatively accurate (if not forgiving) portrayal

and though i'd die a little bit inside each time i'd fail to find the kitchen sink, i resisted the urge to do my roommates' dishes for them. that was of course until tonight. because after a challenging day like today and a long, tiring week of working with people, what clears my mind and soothes my soul best is a simple domestic task. some people go running, some people eat carbs, but me? i iron. and vacuum. and scrub things.

i think its the instant gratification of something being dirty and it taking mere seconds for it to be clean that brings me joy -- the simplicity of it all. i can have an instant positive effect with simple, tangible actions. i love that. i LOVE that.

because working with people isn't quite so simple. it takes a while to see results. successes can be few and far between. progress can be slow. a lot of the time, you don't really feel like you've made a difference at all. and like dishes, the problems keep coming.

so when people are the medium with which you work, you learn to celebrate small victories. and you learn to laugh. a lot.

i work with some incredible women. this summer, the interns in my office are 99% female*, and 100% unbelievable. several of our interns commute 2 hours each way to get to our office to engage in unpaid, personalized, one-on-one client service provision. their dedication and genuine compassion for client service is powerful and the energy in our office has a palpable, positive vibe that i know our clients must feel upon walking through the door.

*we have one male, bless his heart, who is also fabulous.

there is so much laughter and joy among us that i have no doubt i will continue to find happiness in my job with each new day. i have the pleasure of working with socially aware, down to earth, service-minded college students - something i absolutely love about the structure of LIFT. because since college student volunteers can still easily dwell in the possibility of change - the real world has yet to callous them - clients who have been shuffled around the system in efforts to get help benefit tremendously from our volunteers' unjaded approach to client service.

it's beautiful.

so though poverty will continue to stack problems higher and higher in our proverbial sink, and though society will likely pass them by, busy with other things (for far more than four days), we'll keep doing our part, poised and at the ready, to tackle each round of dishes as they come.

bottom dwellers

"being an activist, being a leftist, being a person who is concerned about more than just yourself: you have to be in it for more than just the glory. so if you aren't getting any glory right now, hang in there, and hopefully you'll see it in your lifetime. but if you don't, then still do it. because its the right thing to do. that's how i wake up every morning. just do it. because you have to." staceyann chin

staceyann chin is a strong, verbally combative, powerfully passionate, bad ass female. she is a spoken word performance artist, political activist, and advocate for change -- a woman i so greatly admire.

today was a good day because the above quote was the last thing i read before walking out the door. what a timely reminder!

in the work that i do, i sincerely try to dwell in the possibility of change. it is far too easy in the human service field to start to believe that change isn't possible for someone. that they might never really get there. but staceyann chin -- oh, she keeps me believing.

she is an artisan of speech, crafting concepts out of words and verbally chronicling her memoir as a Jamaican/Chinese/American lesbian. her speech is so fluid that as her proverbial soapboxes stack higher and higher with each powerful verse, you can hardly help but to climb up there too, raising your fist in indignation right along with her.

"equality has to be more than a word. the future must become a door we all can walk through. we have to be willing to fight for more than what makes us comfortable."

though i would hardly put myself on the same plane as staceyann chin as far as advocacy and activism go, i have chosen to commit my life to working towards positive change -- towards widening the door. as a woman, as a leftist, as a social worker and community activist, i too wake up every morning and try to do my part each and every day to expand equality. i work one on one with clients to help them navigate their path out of poverty. to help steer them straight for that doorway.

poverty is complex, multi-faceted, and institutionalized in our society. capitalism is structured so there are winners and there are losers. there is a top and there is a bottom. and unfortunately, in our society, the losers are the underdogs that have little chance of pulling ahead, catching a break, coming from behind for that applause-evoking victory.

but in true determined optimist fashion: there is hope.

each and every person has inherent strengths: an inner toolbox to access when the pieces start to fall out of place. and there are agencies like the one i work for, and people like me (and staceyann chin), who want nothing more than to build on those strengths and to create a society that is sturdy from its foundation.

so though poverty is complex and far too complicated to reflect in one blog post, getting help doesn't have to be. and though i may never have the linguistic confidence to give the artistry of spoken word a try, to lay it down on you in a way that is both heavy and uplifting, i like to think i do my part. and so do each of us. as long as you never give up on believing that change is possible. no matter how frustrating it is. we are all capable of change.

dwell in it. sit in it for a little while. and eventually, you'll start to believe it too.

half full

today was a good day. to say this feels to me more like a mantra than a simple statement. i keep whispering it aloud, almost in effort to convince myself of its truth.

today was a good day.
today was a good day.
today was a good day.

because as the title of my blog reflects: i am indeed a determined optimist.

optimism hardly comes easily to me. seeing the best of situations, the silver lining, the glass half full, the sunny side, etc. etc., it just doesn't appear before me or tumble off my tongue as easily as i would like. so in efforts to change this about myself, i vow to use this blog as a way to scan the contents of my day to pick out what was indeed good.

because the gosh darn truth is that good things happen to us every single day. the truly good things tend to be masked as life's little challenges meant to teach us lessons, to make us stronger, and all that bullshit. but herein lies my problem.

because, you see, even as i type the words "today was a good day", i have to remind myself that this is in fact true. i have to swat away the many factors of my day that scroll across my mind in big red neon letters that would contribute to it being not so good. Just to name a few:

1. our cable is spotty, leaving me to watch gilmore girls on soapnet with pixelated ribbons dancing across the screen.
2. my clean laundry that cost $2.50 to wash and dry was unceremoniously dumped on the basement floor by an impatient fellow tenant.
3. i was hit with my first crippling bout of homesickness today. so much so that i sat in front of my computer, staring at the home screen of the richmond times dispatch online, desperate for news from home, tears streaming down my face, asking myself, "what in God's name am i doing here?"

and though the first two are, i admit, trivial, the third was the reason everything seemed to hit me square in the stomach today. though i've had tinges of homesickness here and there over the last 2 weeks of living in this strange new city, today was the first day that it literally brought me to my knees.

i was left questioning my core motivations for having moved here, for having left all things familiar, to live in a room that costs 1/2 of my monthly income and dares me to stretch out my arms and simultaneously touch each wall with my fingertips.

but who doesn't have moments of self-doubt? i've told myself 100 times today that this must come with the territory. people like to say that cities are impersonal, that there's nothing like a big city to make a person feel small. and today was just my introduction to what this must mean. i walk down the street in pursuit of a newspaper, an iced coffee, overpriced groceries, and i see not a single face i recognize.

but this is what i asked for. i spent months applying to americorps positions in foreign cities, hundreds of miles away from home. i dreamed of setting off, my little car packed full of boxes of necessities and nothing more, waving to my weeping parents in the rearview mirror, nothing but hope in my heart and the excitement of adventure seeping out of my every pore.

and though in reality it all panned out a little differently, a little less dramatic and straight out of a dawson's creek episode, here i am. 900 miles away from home. actually living that which i so desperately wanted. but isn't that just like me? to want and want and want only to get it and not want it so much anymore?

this paralyzing self-doubt and sob-evoking homesickness -- i have a feeling this won't be an isolated event. that this lonely moment was the first of many lonely moments i may have here. so many that if you were to string them all together, they'd make up not a lonely life (i'm not feeling that gloomy), but at least a lonely epoch in an otherwise unlonely life.

you chose this, i must remind myself. this is where you live now.

so today was a good day after all. because i have learned that though i can feel sorry for myself all i want, in truth: i asked for this. so i better get to liking it. i better find the beauty that exists in my situation and learn to convey through words what i see and feel. i better learn to appreciate the strength and bravery i have shown to leave what was easy - the people, places, and things i had grown accustomed to - to truly set out on my own.

and all in all, this proves that the need for this blog is real. i need to reflect at the end of the day to see the bigger lesson that God intended. i need to wake up and say to my mind, "you will be positive today," so that i have a whole different perspective from the time i hit the snooze button, to the time i flip my pillow to its cool side at night. i can have a direct, determined impact on my filters of perspective, to fill my cognitive glass to it's "half full," line, so to speak.

easier said than done. but at least this is a start.

first thoughts, final decisions

today was a good day because i woke up naturally, at 11:00 am, from neither alarm nor text message, but with the strangest of first thoughts:

i want to blog.

now, this first thought after waking from a very peaceful, uninterrupted slumber was strange for many reasons. for one, my first thoughts monday through friday are usually an inner battle between the responsible professional in me that understands the importance of punctuality and hygiene in the working world, and the cranky, petulant side of me that would rather call in sick or craft a family emergency than touch my feet to the floor before 7:00 am.

never have my first thoughts been so bold, so brazen. as though i had made up my mind in my sleep, weighed the pros and cons as i do with all decisions, and there it was, nothing more to discuss: you, alli, want to blog.

i have never even considered blogging before. in fact, i used to gag at the mere mention of the word blog. though, i suppose, we all have at one time or another resisted social media, only to cave and embrace it with open arms, anxious to be on the crux of the next revolution in displaying our innermost thoughts and feelings for the whole world to see.

though i have never been one to keep my feelings to myself, i rarely volunteer them without provocation. perhaps this is why i never before considered delving into the blogosphere (yep, this word still makes me gag).

however, i have recently moved 900 miles away from home and everyone i love, from richmond, virginia to chicago, illinois. this distance presents a challenge to stay as involved as i once was with my friends and family. the discourse of my life and the day to day can no longer be exchanged across a dinner table, with a glass of wine, or in my mother's arms.

being on my own requires me to volunteer information on how my day/week/weekend was with my family and friends through emails, texts, and long phone conversations, rather than in passing or as i throw down my keys, ask what's for dinner and sink into my favorite red chair in the living room. and the truth is, i want to share.

though i love my new found independence i have in this big, foreign city, i experience many things alone. i often think to myself,

"wow, i wish someone else could see what i'm seeing right now - feel what i'm feeling."

the blue water of lake michigan that my camera simply can't capture; the feeling as i leave my apartment that never just feels like going out, but like setting out; the strange successful feeling i have after navigating the El and ending up in the right place.

i want to share these things.

perhaps this thought has been brewing around in my subconscious for so long that my inner mind got fed up and made the decision for me:

just start blogging already.