where in the world are you most likely to be kidnapped?

it seems like its not colombia we should be so worried about...

i f-in love nomadlife

i dont know if ive ever expressed how incredible i think nomadlife.org is. since the summer i have branched out and begun to read the blogs of other nomaders that i dont actually know and its completely opened up the world to me. everyone's perspective is so unique and incredibly different and through nomadlife i am privy to the perspectives of those to which i wouldnt normally be exposed to. you get to read the stories of those in their home country living their daily lives, those trying to make another country their home, and those trying to make the world their home, free of country boundries. honestly its the thing that has kept me afloat upon my return to this cut-throat, out-for-yourself environment that is cornell. its sad but most people here couldnt give two shits about you let alone listen to a word you have to say and maybe learn something they may not have known before. nor do they offer their perspective in a way that could allow another to learn something new. there's no comradery; only competition. im ready for comradery like i experienced in ecuador again. or maybe comradery in a form i have yet to experience.

my only saving grace here are a few incredible friends, aiesecers, and the amazing stories on nomadlife :)

so i guess i wanted to say thank you nomaders for being you and (in the words of madison aiesecers, especially señor williams) living the dream.

and can i just point out that this is just awesome. it was the icing on the cake that inspired me to write this post :)

6 years.

i remember it as vividly as the day. hearing the announcement over the loudspeaker in 4th period social studies with callahan. running to the office to try to get in touch with my mom. getting the busy signal. breaking down so badly that the principal had to take me into his office so i wouldnt freak everyone else out. spending the next 2 and half hours in the guidance office pressing redial trying to get in touch with my mom and dad, who both worked in the city. looking up from the phone and seeing my friend alana and wishing her a happy birthday. going over to the middle school to make sure my brother was ok. finally getting in touch with my mom who proceeded to break down, explaining the surreal sight of the second tower falling. hearing my dad was ok and on his way out of the city. getting sent home early. sitting on the coach with my brother for the next 4 hours watching the images over and over and over again on every news channel until my dad got home. my mom calling to tell us that she had to stay in her work building on bleeker street overnight because she couldn't get out of the city. hearing about the people who we knew who were in the towers, late to work in the towers, supposed to be in the towers, about to walk into the towers when it happened. hearing about the people we knew who hadn't been heard from yet. hearing about the people we knew who were in the towers and never coming out. and then the sun setting and rising like it always does, as if nothing were different.

6 years and the blood still drains from my limbs when i think about it, knowing that if they had chosen indian point as their target (which was a target option) that i would never have met every single person that is reading this post.

they wrote a book.

three years after participating in one of the most amazing programs for young women everywhere, they finally wrote a book...





i <3 female orgasm by dorian solot and marshall miller.