Gabby's Blog

Normally, at the end of the week we can all say TGIF, in other words, thank God it’s Friday. However, if I had known what was to follow on Saturday, I would never have wished for the week to pass by so quickly. Saturday morning I woke up and went through my usual routine. Afterwards I headed to the gym to see my friends play their senior game of volleyball. There are three seniors on the team this year: Katie Merrill, Emily Takeuchi-Miller, and Mikecia Witherspoon! Shortly after, I received a wonderful phone call from my mentor. I encourage everyone to find themselves a mentor if they don’t have one already. They’re important and it is always nice to have someone to run ideas by for feedback etc.

Following the game and call, I drove on my merry way to Haverford College for my fashion show practice. I was not speeding. I was on the phone with my mother via surround-sound speakers. What distracted me was a tiny flowerpot trinket that I had purchased for my car. As I was turning off of Montgomery Avenue onto Haverford Station Road, my flowerpot slid across the dashboard and was headed straight for my rolled-down window. My natural reaction was to reach for the flowerpot, leaving my steering wheel turned towards the right. However, before I could grab the wheel I slammed into the large wooden telephone pole. Ironically, at the moment the flowerpot was heading towards the window my only thought was of how I’d be littering if it fell out. Sheesh. Instead, my car, whose name is/was Timmy, had his face smashed in. Although many people passed by me simply pausing to take pictures, there were many who did really care. There were two young men from Rosemont College who came and made phone calls to the local authorities. Later, a man who lived in the house across the street came out and offered me some Gatorade. He was on his way out for a run, but consoled me and insisted I see his wife if I were in need of any help. The police officers that came to speak with me were extremely thoughtful and caring. They did not make me feel horrible at all. Matter of fact, we laughed together about the flowerpot. One of them stayed with me the entire time and offered me a ride back to school. It totally changed my perception of police officers. Now that I am 21, I acted as any adult would: responsible. I took down all of the necessary information and made the calls to my insurance company all on my own. My mom and I felt great about that… Also, remember to be grateful for your friends because so many of my friends showed me support today. Allegra, Linnea, Anceline and Whitney all accompanied me to the hospital and stayed with me the entire time. My other friends inquired about my health too. I received so much care! My appreciation grew for life and the people around me.

I learned today that life can change in a matter of seconds. Later as I was in my room surfing Facebook, I discovered that a high school friend of mine had committed suicide. Appreciate the details that life has to offer you. When I take a walk outside of my dorm, I don’t think of all of the many assignments that I have. I take a moment and look up to the sky and appreciate the blueness of it. My eyes focus on the scattered fall leaves turning bright orange and red. This weekend was very eventful, but in the long run it showed me how to pick out the good from the bad. Soak in the good and dispose of the bad. It makes way for a clear heart and mind. In a sense, I do find myself in a peaceful state of reflection and appreciation for life.

I will begin with Posse because prior to Posse, I had never heard of a Bryn Mawr. Posse is a nation-wide scholarship foundation based on merit and leadership capacities. Bryn Mawr has been a proud participant of Posse Boston for nearly 11 years and counting! In the early stages of my application for the Posse scholarship, my mother was not thrilled that Bryn Mawr wasn’t Harvard and she encouraged me to seek other schools in Boston. She works at Mass General Hospital, one of the best in America, and decided that she would do her research there about Bryn Mawr. One of the very well respected doctors she sought inquiry from told her that Bryn Mawr was an exceptional college. He asked her who in her family was attending Bryn Mawr. After she told him that it was her daughter, he raved about how intelligent I must be and congratulated her on doing a wonderful job raising a genius (practically). A genius I am not, but my will power far exceeds my skill power and that will take me long and far.

My guidance counselor told me about an opportunity that sends groups of students to out-of-state liberal arts schools. The students’ goal is to work as a leadership force on campus as well as to serve as a support system. The interview process (DAP) consists of three levels, the first of which includes hundreds of applicants. The number of students that I was up against was unthinkable. Judges walked around the room and observed the ways we interacted with others while completing various team-building tasks. The second interview was one on one in which two Posse personnel would get to know you better on a personal level. Lastly, the final interview was structured like the first, but among thirty women aiming to get into Bryn Mawr. I was in a room full of dreamers and at that point, I was just a face. However, it is in this room that Bryn Mawr personnel come to observe you to see how you interact. There I met Christopher MacDonald-Dennis (former Dean of Multicultural Affairs) and Jenny Rickard (Chief Enrollment and Communications Officer), and many others who I am sure played an essential role in selecting the final ten. In a short time I became more than a face, and was in a sense handpicked. If this didn’t tell me that Bryn Mawr wanted me, then what else would? And what other school would go this far to show themselves in such a positive light? Granted, this may not happen to everyone in early decision, but if selected, imagine people sitting around a table discussing how wonderful you are and discussing why you belong here.

I was excited about Posse, which was/is a dream package, but I was still a little bit wary about Bryn Mawr because I hadn’t seen it or even heard of it prior to Posse. Furthermore the Posse process meant that I had to apply early decision. If I were to accept the Posse offer, I had to withdraw all other applications from all other schools. It was a frightening decision to make, but I had decided to make it. After the choice I was not at ease. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew that Bryn Mawr had a beautiful campus and offered the majors that I was interested in pursuing. What mattered to me at this point were the people. During my last interview, the Bryn Mawr personnel that had come so far to meet the Posse applicants had just been a small glimpse into the atmosphere of the campus. We were flown into Bryn Mawr for a prospective student’s weekend, which consisted of many special performances, social gatherings, dining and tours of the campus and city. It was a special and warm welcome. I had decided to come to Bryn Mawr early decision by way of Posse with only a vague idea of what I was getting myself into. I’ll tell you that it was the smiles that I received while on this campus that made me realize for sure that I would fare well here. Go anywhere else on a college tour, and you may or may not agree with me, but you might just find that Bryn Mawr treats you the most warmly. If you apply early decision, I won’t say that you will or won’t feel regret. I’d recommend that you to come to the campus before making your decision so that you can be sure Bryn Mawr is right for you. However, this school, despite its hardships, is a special place and will have you feeling like a champion, if not the first day of arrival, then the last. My day will be Commencement day: May 12, 2012.

I have 10 hours before I drive back to Boston from Bryn Mawr. I have a six page paper due tomorrow by 4pm, however, I will not be able to complete it by tomorrow because I will be driving. So, I must finish it tonight. I have four pages done, but this means nothing. I must go back and review it and make sure I made all of the right meaningful points. Its in French. Oh my. Here we go! I hope everyone has a wonderful “vacation”. It should be called reading days because you are basically getting time off from school to catch up on the work and reading that you are behind on. A.K.A. Thesis.

There are officially 2 more days to Fall break. I cannot wait. I need this. This break seems to fall in the right place. When “stuff” starts to hit the fan.

We had a roller skating rink built in the parking lot. Yes. I will say it again. We had a roller skating rink built in the parking lot. I signed the papers that ensured that I would not leave with the roller skates and that I could not sue anyone if I broke my assets. I was handed the skates, and I stuck my long skinny feet inside of them and laced them up. I then stood up with my circular shaped blue pillow that I had stuffed in my buttocks pants area in order to protect myself from any hard falls.

There was a really nice girl who was on the floor already. I started to skate around and noticed that she stayed sitting on the floor, and I went over to help her up. I offered her my hands and she grabbed them. I lifted her and then I started to skate backwards in order to teach her how to move forward in a sense. It was really hard to teach something I felt came so naturally to me.

Actually let me rephrase that. Skating was not a natural thing. I used to roller skate often when I was kid. I’d fall a lot then. Skating is like riding a bicycle—I suppose you just never forget how. As I was learning how to skate, my mom told me that if I were to complete skating lessons, then I would be able to get my own pair of skates. I remember that back then, I had the fastest wheels (although I was not the fastest skater). Everyone wanted my wheels. I suppose at the end of the day, no matter which sport it was, my mother would get me lessons to ensure that I was aware of how to perform the sport properly and in the most safe and effective way possible.

Speaking of safety, there were times when large masses of girls would clump together on the floor in one corner, chatting away. The other corner went downwards a slight hill because of the slant in the parking lot. The next corner was the corner where people would fall the most because the chairs were set up in that corner. Perhaps it was the fact that people would head straight forward at full speed and hope the little plastic flimsy chairs would hold their force. I would yell, “Wait!”… “No!”… “Slow down!” then, “Ouch…”. I would sort of squint my eyes so that I wouldn’t see the crash in full effect because then it would look more painful. It was almost like an obstacle course. My favorite part was the downhill slant because it made me go faster. I was afraid of the clumps of bodies standing together having conversations in the far corner. It was like skating through trees. I would have to dodge them. Or crash.

I taught a lot of people how to stop. I enjoyed helping others during this activity. A lot of the time people were helping me out here, and this time I had the chance to return the favor. All of the girls, even the ones on the side who weren’t skating cheered the skaters on. The music was fun. They had disco lights. It seemed to be a wonderful evening all around. Oh and by the way, I took my butt pillow out of my pants after I had realized that Stella had her Groove back!

I have always experienced difficulty with the French language. Honestly, I sometimes ask myself how (and why) on God’s earth have I maintained being a French major. Before coming to Bryn Mawr, I had never taken a French class. In high school, frustrated by the lack of options, I took the only language offered: Spanish. Four years later I only knew “Hola” and “Como Estas”. Those courses were a joke and were in no way preparatory for college language courses. I began at Bryn Mawr with a mandatory two year language sentence pinned on me. This was fine, because I knew that I would finally take the language that I yearned to learn the most: Français. My first year was not great. The other students I was in class with clearly had years and years of prior experience taking French courses. My very first French professor and I did not develop an outstanding relationship. In fact, when I made an error she would approach my desk—something I did not find particularly helpful. Instead, this made me nervous. Still, I thought “ If you are going to take a language two out of four years, why not make it count for you in the future?” After I had completed my requirement, I kept on going. I started to work with teachers who believed in me. I was told I had to score a certain average to study abroad and so I worked hard and requested a tutor. I didn’t know why people supported me when I felt so lost.  It seemed as though I was in a dark hole with this language, and I found it difficult to find a light at the end of tunnel. Then I went to Paris. Understanding came to me, and my ability to speak improved as well. I must say that I have lost a lot of the speaking ability since I returned to the U.S., but now I truly can understand the majority of what the professors say to me. I am also able to write coherent papers. It is incredibly hard to convey to others, as in moments of infancy, that I can understand what is going on despite the fact the words might not come out of my mouth just right. What has gotten me this far in the major has been the professors that clearly did not see my situation as a hopeless one. They saw my potential, and many of them helped me and challenged me in ways that were appropriate to my style of learning as well as my comfort level. I believe that perhaps 30 percent of learning a language is believing in yourself. I now know that another portion can be attributed to having wonderful people believe in you. After that, all that remains is hard work, dedication, and the eradication of nervousness. When I am nervous, I can barely even speak English, let alone French. I reminisce about all of the wonderful experiences I had in Paris. I should probably start a series of Paris happenings and recount all of the hilarious and crazy situations I fell into. A simple example: I was walking next to a French guy named Zohair, and I saw two people kissing on a bench. I say, “Regardez! L’amour!”(Look, the love!), but this in fact sounded like, “Regardez les morts” (Look, the dead people!). Evidently, pronunciation is my weak point. There were riots at our school, Nanterre Paris X, and it would not have been  too far-fetched to say there could have been dead people—we had seen farm animals on campus earlier that day and dumpsters blocked our classroom entry ways. And so, Zohair freaked out and started screaming “où !”, which meant, “where!” I realized had made an error and explained my mistake to him the best I could that there were not any dead people around, but there were people showing their love for each other. He smiled and we went to eat baguettes.

I have discovered that I must appreciate the little things that make me happy, especially while in school. Being 7 hours away from home is not easy (I must credit those students who live further away), and when you live in a dorm, although beautiful, you do miss one thing: a kitchen.

One of the many things that fills my soul with bliss is only available to me during weekdays, and I make do with what I can during the weekends. Stir-Fry. Erdman has a new stir-fry station. The station has 2 skillets; one is for vegetarians and the other for meat lovers.  My special dish, which I refer to as “Gabilicious,” takes a while. This means that I try to make it to dinner promptly at 5pm when the doors open. The first bunch of folks normally head straight to the hotline where food is already prepared, leaving me to be the first and only person at the station. My mission is literally like a mouse race. I rush to the salad bar because several items are there waiting for me: mozzarella cheese, green and red peppers, and lettuce. I love green onions and every evening they are not set out for the students. I tip toe to the back of the kitchen and smile: “Please Mama Gwen can I please have some green onions?” Or it might be Miguel, or Ms. Lily or Ms. Karen. We have a kind and loving staff, and when I first came to this school and suffered from homesickness they became my family away from home. Any kind gesture eases a student’s down moments and brings them to a better place. The gestures that have often been made to me are either a hug or a bowl of green onions.

After gathering my ingredients I go to the hot line to retrieve my bowl of rice, or if the rice steamer near the stir-fry station is full I go there instead. I then rush to the tiny mini-fridge by the microwave to grab two blocks of butter. Ready, set, go. I smear my skillet with a bit of oil to start, and then I add all of my greens. However, if I have chicken strips I add those to the skillet first. I like all of my food well done, and I often feel bad for students waiting behind me. That is why I get there early so that I rarely cause for anyone to wait. I add teriyaki sauce and I let it sizzle. I then push to the side all of the veggies and meats and dump my rice bowl in the middle of the skillet. Afterwards I pat it flat with the spoon. I add more teriyaki sauce, tons of black pepper and I turn the edges of the food inward with the spoon (mixing it). The result is a wonderful medley of veggies and rice from what were once separated foods spread across the dining hall. I then add the butter and mix it all in. The finale is the cheese, sprinkled and then lightly mixed in. I then slip this masterpiece onto a clean plate as well as into tiny bowls to share with my friends who love this Gabilicious dish.

Anassa Kata
(Bryn Mawr College Cheer)

Anassa kata, kalo kale,
Ia ia ia Nike,
Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr!

Translation
Queen, descend,
I invoke you, fair one.
Hail, hail, hail, victory,
Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr, Bryn Mawr!

 

When I first heard this chant at Bryn Mawr I thought to myself, “What if my mommy finds out that I have joined a cult?” Whenever you begin to hear the cheer you join in screaming at the top of your lungs, and if you’re feeling it, pump your fists in the air. I was worried, but it seemed that the chants were for moments of glorification, happiness, and it was just a way to express how proud you were to be a Mawrter, or how proud you were of some one else. If you are not a senior you cannot start the chant, but it is still a beautiful thing. Now that I am a senior, it is an honor to be able to start this chant.

I start it when I see a first-year do something I am proud of, such as managing to complete an assignment that they thought they couldn’t before. The chant could be started at a show where we are happy it finished well. Someone could have accidentally broken a plate in the dining hall, and we could Anass them. I have even gone to events in Boston, six hours from Philadelphia and have heard Mawters who have come together Anass. It means something powerful, a unification like no other, and I am sure that when I leave this school to begin my official adult livelihood, I too will miss the Anass.

There are times/There will be times when I want to scream it out loud, but then will turn around to realize that I am in AJ Wright, TJ Maxx or Target and cannot. Otherwise people would think I’m crazy. Who knows? They might even refer me to a doctor. I cannot scream this out loud when I leave Bryn Mawr, where most  people won’t know the power of this chant, and no one will surround me. It goes deeper than being some cultish form of words. This chant, as you will hopefully see once you take a closer look at Bryn Mawr, is a way of expression that insists that you in someway are connected to the community around you, and that my friend, is what the world is missing. This college is like a little world within itself, and it is on the right path. People who have no connections to each other find themselves coming together and screaming this chant in unison. That is the beauty of it, and it’s too bad the world does not reflect that very aspect of the chant: unity across difference.

 

Allegra: “Gabby would you be interested in coming to Bible Study this semester?”

Me: “Me? Um…I am not the holiest person.”

Allegra: “ Oh, its okay. No one is really…”

Me: “Heck, why not, I’ll give it a try. When and where is it?”

I was raised in a Baptist church. I was expected to go every Sunday. As I became older, I was able to see more clearly the issues that existed in the particular church that I attended. I was too young to wrap my mind around these problems, and therefore I stopped going to church.

For the first time in many years I decided to inch myself back into religion, or faith building, and I figured Bryn Mawr would be the best place to try. Last semester I started to attend Bible study every week. I thought I wouldn’t fit in because my life is far from being flawless and holy. Nevertheless, when I found myself in the meeting for the first time I was greeted with smiles, and no one ever judged my testimonies. In the beginning we started with “check-ins”, which ranged from: “my boyfriend and I broke up to this weekend” to “I experimented with popcorn and hot sauce”. This was my type of Bible Study. I began to look forward to Mondays because I knew that every evening would be one filled with wonderful conversations about triumphs and struggles that I would not experience alone.

The environment felt safe enough for me to express my true thoughts. I often would enter the room, sit and say that I didn’t feel like praying today, or yesterday, or the day before that. I was able to talk with students about why I might have felt apprehensive about praying. I was sure they would tell me how un-Christian it was to feel that way, but in the end I discovered that I wasn’t alone. We were not all Christian and we co-existed in these meetings and talked about God, and how we connected with God, if at all.

The balance between laughter and seriousness made this space what it needed to be in order for us to thrive in our individual paths of faith building. Sometimes if after someone raised a point it led my mind to Taylor Lautner (The sexy Twilight wolf guy. Jesus really took his time in sculpting that man.) —I’d be able to say, “Rebuke these thoughts.” Everyone would burst into laughter.

Change the scenery and the laughter would continue to take place during our service projects in the inner city of Philadelphia. A school catering to low-income families wanted to remodel their building. They couldn’t afford to hire professional demolitionists, and so we volunteered. We cheered each other on as each of us took turns picking up the big sledgehammers. With all of our might we would swing the hammer into the wall plaster. I’d shout to my friend Anceline, “Get mad at the wall!” We had really good times. Our common interests in attending Bible study at Bryn Mawr later translated into our desire to help the communities around us. Unity was key, and it was nice to help a school whose mission was to help families educate their children the best way they could afford to.

Allegra: “Labyrinth walk this week.”

Me: “What is that?”

Allegra: “Think of it as a spiritual journey. The pathway is on the ground, you walk it barefoot and meditate.”

Me: “You want me to walk outside, shoeless too, and meditate?”

Allegra: “Yes.”

Me: “Let’s do it.”

So, Bryn Mawr has a labyrinth. I didn’t know this before, and it might have been the most peaceful thing I have ever done. As all of us walked the pathways on a calm night, the stars lit up the night sky. I thought about all of the things I was thankful for. I was thankful for the wonderful women I was surrounded by, for they cradled me when I couldn’t cradle myself alone. I was thankful for things beyond the walls of Bryn Mawr, like home and family, but I was thankful for many of the people that I experienced here at school. Whether it was for the good or bad, I was shaped by these experiences that in turn caused me to mature and explore many realms that I otherwise would have never explored. It seemed as though the wind whispered to me. I picked up a nearby flower, sat near these other women who have shared experiences with me that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

One by one we completed our labyrinth journeys. We calmly waited until everyone was finished. We hugged, and then decided to roll down the hill.

 

 

My vision is to have an event that provides a space for business people of Corporate America to interact with those who experience homelessness in America. Those who are highly intellectual could widen their eyes even more to the realities that other people face. Similarly, those who are on the less fortunate side who might have once had a functioning life could regain hope to fuel their aspirations. Local businesses, for instance, barbershops, beauty boutiques, CVS, or Wal-Mart could donate their services and supplies to build confidence in those who are less fortunate. Meanwhile, business people of Corporate America would “dress down” and transform their ties and shiny shoes to polo shirts and sneakers. At this social event, real conversations would occur between real people. Topics would include matters that cover what relates us as human beings outside of the American Dollar and the global market stream. For example, a CEO of a major business could connect to a homeless parent, and they could share how they both love their children in similar ways.

 

To give some back ground to my idea and how I formulated this vision, in the beginning of this summer, a friend of mine at Bryn Mawr, Allegra Fletcher participated in a program called “Gate Way” through Intervarsity Christian Fellowship (Christian groups consisting of many different backgrounds and religion interests through Bryn Mawr, Haverford, and Swarthmore). This program called for participants to give up their luxury in exchange for an experience they would never forget. They forfeited their cell phones, money for a token to and from Philadelphia. They had to survive the streets of Philly for one day. From what I can recall, it was the hottest day ever, reaching heights to nearly 105 degrees. Thirsty and hungry, there would be times where she asked for food, or a drink from a local store or people passing her by. One man working at Starbucks paid for her drink, which I thought was really nice. Some acted as if she were completely invisible. It was her idea, after her experience, to continue planting the seed in others.

 

You can learn a great deal from speaking to the homeless. Allegra inspired her Bible study group to do the same. I will not lie. Throughout my life, I have spoken to every one who would like to converse with me, from the Bryn Mawr professors and partners at Goodwin, to the crazies that you find at gas stations during late hours while you fill your car, or in subways. As conversational as I am, as much as a people person I am, my life is full of surprises, some good, some bad, but I never asked for the bad, and this seemed as if I were asking for the bad. Friends and I hopped on the R100 into Philly leaving our luxuries behind at Bryn Mawr. I carried ten dollars with me because I knew that I would be hungry. It was all gone by the time we got there and back. We walked around Love Park, and it seemed as though the people were either asleep, or just simply “out of it”. We found a man who identified himself as “China Man” and sat with him and his friends. He poured out his life stories to us telling us how his life was once up and functioning, how his wife died, and it was painful to bury her, and how he had beautiful children who developed beautiful families of their own.

 

All in all, my summer story is purely one of enlightenment through the shared perspectives of other people. Corporate Social Responsibility is nice for companies to maintain their name brands, not only as a business entity, but, a business entity that cares about people. However, while showing you care is good, I am not referring to merely signing checks to show their altruism. I am talking about interpersonal growth on both sides of America: the corporate side and the “not so much” Corporate Side. I do not believe interpersonal growth necessarily comes from a dollar, but it most certainly comes from the ability to listen and carry on a conversation with those who come from various walks of life different from your own.