Fear and Sorrow

I got back from Mass this morning and browsed through the Post.  The metro section was open; at the bottom of the page I spotted an article about William and Mary.  As I read, thoughts flashed through my mind.  When I was visiting campus several weeks ago, a good friend had told me about the recent suicide.  Sorrowful happenings like these rock even the strongest community - she told me that people had been struggling, crying, sorrowful about this student's death.

The article highlighted different schools' efforts to detect depression and prevent suicide - high-stress and high-achievement schools like Cornell, MIT, and NYU, or W&M, where "your best isn't good enough since 1693" (to quote a popular phrase at the College).  To say that I'm not surprised sounds cold and unfeeling; I promise that these are not my sentiments.  What I mean to say is, I understand.  I know that place.

Last year (2009) was the most difficult of my life thus far, though it was also a year of joy and beauty.  About two weeks into the year I flew to Guatemala for a much-anticipated study abroad experience.  Yet while I was visiting ancient Maya sites, tutoring children in math, and diving into lessons in Guatemalan Spanish, I sunk into the depression that comes from absence; the absence of loved ones, familiar places, and human intimacy - the touch of a hand, an embrace, a knowing smile.  When I returned home, the difficulties did not disappear, but were replaced with new ones.  The beginning of my senior year at William and Mary, I was struggling with health issues I did not understand, and a recent breakup with a man I love dearly.  September I was hospitalized with an abscess; in October I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease.  Yet through all this, I was striving to maintain my GPA, to apply for jobs and volunteer opportunities after college, fulfill leadership roles in multiple organizations; to be a friend.  But I never felt that my efforts were enough; this was not an excuse to let my grades slip, or to not give all my effort and energy to campus organizations.  I cannot imagine getting through those months without the love and support of my friends and family - from my roommates to my campus ministers to my parents.

In the face difficult times, or even the seemingly small difficulties of everyday life - depression does happen.  To struggle with it doesn't mean you're weak, or that you are worthless, or that you are not loved.  And it certainly doesn't mean you're alone.  I don't want anyone to be deceived; to think that my generally lighthearted entries mark a life without fear or sorrow.  Each person bears heavy struggles through his life, too often silently and alone.

In memory of Whitney Mayer, who I never knew, or met.  For all those who feel alone, who bear their struggles silently.  In thanksgiving for every single person who brought light and joy to my dark times.

Days at the Museum

It's hard to believe - I'm already halfway through my internship at the Smithsonian.  It's been a fun five weeks so far, full of museums and behind-the-scenes collections tours...and, you know, work.

Posing with Kari and Carrie

A couple weeks ago, I was walking with a few of my coworkers over to the Museum Support Center (MSC), and we caught sight of the above vehicle.  I guess it was some kind of advertising ploy (I forget the website the was written on the back) - but this van was pimped out with all kinds of halloween/graveyard-style stuff.  I believe it was called the "Vanadu."

Enjoying preserved organics!

In a previous post, I regaled you with the story of our tour of the NMAI's collections.  That day we primarily went through the ethnographic collections, which contains items acquired from people (not excavated) over the past hundred years or so.  Since then, I've also had the opportunity to look around the archaeological collections, which includes artifacts that are thousands of years old.  We looked through collections from a dry cave in Arkansas, which mean preserved organic material - baskets, bags, bones, seeds, wood - all still intact after thousands of years in the ground.  It's pretty darn awesome.

With old exhibit props

Finally, I had the much-awaited tour of Natural History's Museum Support Center - also known as "where they keep the Ark".  I must say, they have some pretty cool stuff from all over the world.  Chinese opium pipes.  A million-year-old (and proto-human made) hand axe.  One of the Easter Island heads.  Mesoamerican sculpture.  Parkas made from seal gut.  Old exhibit props.  Both of the collections buildings in Suitland (NMAI and NMNH) were built during the 1990s, and are truly state-of-the-art facilities.  I'm glad that the Smithsonian is taking good care of the world's treasures.

I didn't find the Ark.  Maybe I should keep a look out for secretive-looking black cars pulling through the wrought iron gates...

Natural History's Museum Support Center

The Streets of Manhattan

Keep your splendid, silent sun; Keep your woods, O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods; Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards; Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields, where the Ninth-month bees hum; Give me faces and streets! give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs! Give me interminable eyes! give me women! give me comrades and lovers by the thousand! Let me see new ones every day! let me hold new ones by the hand every day Give me such shows! give me the streets of Manhattan! -"Give me the Splendid, Silent Sun," Walt Whitman

This past Friday we took an intern field trip (yes, intern field trips again!) to New York City.  As part of the internship at the National Museum of the American Indian, we visited the original museum - the George Gustav Heye Center - in New York.  Housed in the old marble-columned commerce building, it has a very different atmosphere from the Mall museum.  Yet its exhibits are wonderful - everything from beaded tunics and moccasins to Maya epigraphy and Aztec obsidian "mirrors," to Peruvian gold emblems.  I love how the NMAI unites native heritage throughout the Americas.

I also had some time to explore the American Museum of Natural History before flying back to D.C.  It's a bit of a shock to go from Native American museums to Natural History museums.  I suppose I've been spoiled by the NMAI and its devotion to consultation with native groups in curating exhibits.  The museum-goer is presented with a different perspective when exhibits are imbued with traditional, as well as anthropological, understandings of the objects displayed.

NMAI interns in NYC

It was interesting to be back in New York City again.  So much noise, movement, and diversity.  But I must say, I don't quite agree with Whitman.  I would choose the quiet serenity of the country any day over the bustle of city life.  It is beautiful, in its own way, but not so peaceful.

Autumn Blush

I've had a very exciting month since my arrival back in Virginia, with two weekends in Williamsburg and a trip to New York City with work this past Friday.  I must say that it's left me in a bit of an exhausted state.  As much as I love seeing new (or rather, old and well-loved) places, there is something to be said for being at home.  But for now, I am an itinerant.  Home changes day by day, and I don't think I'll feel quite settled again until I have a place of my own.

I enjoyed spending time in Williamsburg again - compared to my usual haunts in Virginia, D.C., and Maryland, it's very quiet (though there were some pretty crazy parties on campus Halloween weekend!).  There are plenty of places to go walking, and just enjoy not hearing cars or trains whiz by.  And of course, there are many wonderful people to spend time with.  It was so good to catch up after my long sojourn in Colorado.

Last Saturday evening I had a free hour before meeting a friend for pizza.  It was nearly dusk; the sky was painted pink and orange by the setting sun.  Just as the blue sky widens west of the Mississippi, I am sure that light becomes sweeter and softer in autumn.  The rose light of sunrise can render beautiful even the most unromantic of city streets.  I grabbed my camera, hoping to snatch a few photos of the autumn dusk.  While I arrived a little too late to get any good photos, I passed the hour in a peaceful walk through Colonial Williamsburg, enjoying the red and orange leaves against brick buildings.