*Note: Judging from this graphic, you may be led to believe that I fully embrace this season. You would be sorely mistaken.
1.13.2009
In so many words...
*Note: Judging from this graphic, you may be led to believe that I fully embrace this season. You would be sorely mistaken.
1.08.2009
Hot topic: Fair trade
"As consumers, our power is in our dollar. People need to understand that, when they buy a product, they're unconsciously endorsing a way of doing business."
-Nina Smith, executive director, RUGMARK
*****
A few months ago, I found myself here for a Halloween extravaganza. In the midst of the evening's festivities, the impossible happened--I WON something! This rare feat had not happened since I was a frizzy-haired fourth grader who walked away from the spelling bee a braces-wearing, style-lacking winner of a gift certificate that resulted in my first cassette tape.
After erupting into a completely unnecessary squeal of delight, I walked away with another gift card--this time, to a place called Ten Thousand Villages. As my excitement subsided, my curiosity peaked. I began asking around and discovered this store is actually one of the world's oldest and largest fair trade organizations.
What exactly does fair trade mean? I wasn't too familiar with the term myself, but I did know that in a nutshell, fair trade "enables artisans to earn a fair wage and provides the opportunity for a better quality of life" (taken directly from here).
Last weekend, I set off for Ten Thousand Villages to learn more...after all, I had a gift card to spend.
I perused the store and was pleasantly surprised. Funky jewelry, trendy scarves, global home decor items...like a mini, local Pier One. Except there was one important difference--Ten Thousand Villages is fair trade certified.
After milling about the store, I picked up a pair of earrings that were calling my name and headed to the check out line.
While distracted by a table full of beautiful journals, my eyes fell on a booklet titled "The Conscious Consumer: Promoting Economic Justice Through Fair Trade," which I decided to add to my collection (because in case you forgot, I WON a GIFT CARD!).
Okay, confession--while I was certainly not well versed in the details of fair trade, I had enough background to know that this topic was one that could easily bring about feelings of discomfort, guilt and even frustration.
I mean, I knew along with just about everyone that many American stores sell products made in sweat shops. In fact, several large corporations have found themselves in the middle of public relations nightmares due to their support of such inhumane production practices (think Wal-Mart, Nike, Disney, and Kathie Lee Gifford). And the thought of me perpetuating such a cycle of injustice in the name of saving a few bucks was a bit disconcerting to say the least.
My vague awareness was enough to keep me from buying my stand-by Nike running shoes last year but beyond that, it did very little. Sure, I felt bad. And when I saw videos or news reports, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse.
But quickly following such feelings came such defensive thoughts as "Okay, fine. This is a horrible thing. Call me just another materialistic American consumer. But how am I supposed to know a better alternative? How do I know that New Balance is any better than Nike, or if J. Crew is more ethical than the Gap? Until I'm presented with a convenient alternative, I can hardly be expected to make any changes...right?"
And you know what? I still don't have all the answers. But I'm learning more and more.
And I do know that people--living, breathing, laughing, crying, dreaming, loving, feeling, failing, flesh-and-blood people--are being broken in every possible way in order to produce these material things that I will likely throw away within the year.
And that this may be an overwhelming reality, but it is, in fact, a reality.
And that someday, when I have a frizzy-haired fourth grader, I do not want to have to explain to her that the shirt she wants at Wal-Mart was made by a penniless child her age living in squalor across the sea.
And that unless I start to care, and start to make changes--however small--nothing will change.
I share this with you knowing that those same feelings of discomfort, guilt and frustration will follow. And I think, to some degree, that is okay.
But don't let it stop at a feeling. Don't compartmentalize this idea into a social injustice that we are powerless to control. Or worse, trick yourself into thinking that "these people" are any less human than you or me and let such a message fall by the wayside.
So, okay, what can we do then?
First, we can learn. Want to compare stores for the most socially responsible brand of clothing/food/athletic wear/coffee/etc? Check out this site. Read about some of the "Most Wanted" corporate human rights violators here. Or hey, maybe just Google fair trade and see what you can dig up.
Second, spend wisely. It is no secret that the economy is less than ideal right now and that saving money is at the forefront of everyone's mind. However, while we may struggle to find the money for that plane ticket or that snazzy hi-tech gadget or that little black dress we've been eyeing, we will continue buying things like grocieries. And shampoo. And coffee (Lord knows, I will buy coffee!).
So why not spend a few more bucks on the "necessities" of life on something fair trade certified? You will buy it anyway--might as well make it something you can use with a clear conscience. Choose a store ranked high by the above sites...or better yet, pick one openly fair trade certified, such as here, here or of course, here.
Finally, start talking. Share what you're learning. Ask questions. Disagree. Just keep the conversation going. Let me know what you're thinking by posting any comments here.
-Nina Smith, executive director, RUGMARK
*****
A few months ago, I found myself here for a Halloween extravaganza. In the midst of the evening's festivities, the impossible happened--I WON something! This rare feat had not happened since I was a frizzy-haired fourth grader who walked away from the spelling bee a braces-wearing, style-lacking winner of a gift certificate that resulted in my first cassette tape.
After erupting into a completely unnecessary squeal of delight, I walked away with another gift card--this time, to a place called Ten Thousand Villages. As my excitement subsided, my curiosity peaked. I began asking around and discovered this store is actually one of the world's oldest and largest fair trade organizations.
What exactly does fair trade mean? I wasn't too familiar with the term myself, but I did know that in a nutshell, fair trade "enables artisans to earn a fair wage and provides the opportunity for a better quality of life" (taken directly from here).
Last weekend, I set off for Ten Thousand Villages to learn more...after all, I had a gift card to spend.
I perused the store and was pleasantly surprised. Funky jewelry, trendy scarves, global home decor items...like a mini, local Pier One. Except there was one important difference--Ten Thousand Villages is fair trade certified.
After milling about the store, I picked up a pair of earrings that were calling my name and headed to the check out line.
While distracted by a table full of beautiful journals, my eyes fell on a booklet titled "The Conscious Consumer: Promoting Economic Justice Through Fair Trade," which I decided to add to my collection (because in case you forgot, I WON a GIFT CARD!).
Okay, confession--while I was certainly not well versed in the details of fair trade, I had enough background to know that this topic was one that could easily bring about feelings of discomfort, guilt and even frustration.
I mean, I knew along with just about everyone that many American stores sell products made in sweat shops. In fact, several large corporations have found themselves in the middle of public relations nightmares due to their support of such inhumane production practices (think Wal-Mart, Nike, Disney, and Kathie Lee Gifford). And the thought of me perpetuating such a cycle of injustice in the name of saving a few bucks was a bit disconcerting to say the least.
My vague awareness was enough to keep me from buying my stand-by Nike running shoes last year but beyond that, it did very little. Sure, I felt bad. And when I saw videos or news reports, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse.
But quickly following such feelings came such defensive thoughts as "Okay, fine. This is a horrible thing. Call me just another materialistic American consumer. But how am I supposed to know a better alternative? How do I know that New Balance is any better than Nike, or if J. Crew is more ethical than the Gap? Until I'm presented with a convenient alternative, I can hardly be expected to make any changes...right?"
And you know what? I still don't have all the answers. But I'm learning more and more.
And I do know that people--living, breathing, laughing, crying, dreaming, loving, feeling, failing, flesh-and-blood people--are being broken in every possible way in order to produce these material things that I will likely throw away within the year.
And that this may be an overwhelming reality, but it is, in fact, a reality.
And that someday, when I have a frizzy-haired fourth grader, I do not want to have to explain to her that the shirt she wants at Wal-Mart was made by a penniless child her age living in squalor across the sea.
And that unless I start to care, and start to make changes--however small--nothing will change.
I share this with you knowing that those same feelings of discomfort, guilt and frustration will follow. And I think, to some degree, that is okay.
But don't let it stop at a feeling. Don't compartmentalize this idea into a social injustice that we are powerless to control. Or worse, trick yourself into thinking that "these people" are any less human than you or me and let such a message fall by the wayside.
So, okay, what can we do then?
First, we can learn. Want to compare stores for the most socially responsible brand of clothing/food/athletic wear/coffee/etc? Check out this site. Read about some of the "Most Wanted" corporate human rights violators here. Or hey, maybe just Google fair trade and see what you can dig up.
Second, spend wisely. It is no secret that the economy is less than ideal right now and that saving money is at the forefront of everyone's mind. However, while we may struggle to find the money for that plane ticket or that snazzy hi-tech gadget or that little black dress we've been eyeing, we will continue buying things like grocieries. And shampoo. And coffee (Lord knows, I will buy coffee!).
So why not spend a few more bucks on the "necessities" of life on something fair trade certified? You will buy it anyway--might as well make it something you can use with a clear conscience. Choose a store ranked high by the above sites...or better yet, pick one openly fair trade certified, such as here, here or of course, here.
Finally, start talking. Share what you're learning. Ask questions. Disagree. Just keep the conversation going. Let me know what you're thinking by posting any comments here.
Happy new year, friends. Here's to spending wisely...
1.07.2009
Hodgepodge
Maybe it's my lack of sleep,
Maybe it's the winter weather,
But sometimes the world just seems dipped in pain.
***
Maybe it's this movie I watched,
Maybe it's this book I'm reading,
But I am trying to make sense of my own journey.
***
Maybe it's this class I'm taking,
Maybe it's my forlorn, dusty journal,
But lately I really miss writing.
***
Maybe it's this coffee talk,
Maybe it's since others are soon packing their bags,
But I've been bitten (again) with the traveling bug.
***
Maybe it's because they too love the little things,
Maybe it's knowing they are along for the messy ride,
But I'm especially thankful for my friends.
Maybe it's the winter weather,
But sometimes the world just seems dipped in pain.
***
Maybe it's this movie I watched,
Maybe it's this book I'm reading,
But I am trying to make sense of my own journey.
***
Maybe it's this class I'm taking,
Maybe it's my forlorn, dusty journal,
But lately I really miss writing.
***
Maybe it's this coffee talk,
Maybe it's since others are soon packing their bags,
But I've been bitten (again) with the traveling bug.
***
Maybe it's because they too love the little things,
Maybe it's knowing they are along for the messy ride,
But I'm especially thankful for my friends.
12.18.2008
And now, a Christmas Story...
It's that time of year again.
The stockings are hung. Carols abound. And the smell of all things delicious is continually wafting through the air.
It is said to be a time of peace. Of joy. Of forgiveness. Of hope. Of tradition.
While Christmas (excuse me, holiday) traditions vary from home to home, most include the belief in a gift-giver of sorts. Of unabashed over-indulgence. And of quality time spent with those you love.
In my family, such quality time begins with Grandma telling an often-inappropriate story around the Christmas tree (last year's topic: necking) and inevitably ends with my father reminding everyone about The Year Sara Was Duped...which goes a little something like this:
It was the most wonderful time of the year and I had just reached that age when the magic of Santa was beginning to wear off. While part of me desperately wanted to ignore any inklings that shed doubt on that jolly old soul, I couldn't help but feel a bit wary of it all.
So when my four-year-old brother Brian suggested we mail our lists off to the North Pole, I played it cool. Sure, I agreed to record his requests for Legos and a bicycle and any super-powered, turbo-engine item he could find, but I had no interest in including a wish list of my own. No matter how bad I wanted that American Girl doll.
I dutifully wrote down each item, sealed the envelope and gave it to my father to mail--expecting absolutely nothing in return. Time went on and within a few weeks I had all but forgotten my letter.
One Saturday afternoon, I found myself tapping my foot impatiently outside of Santa's Workshop as I waited in line to see the big guy (or the big guy's helper, I suppose). Surrounded by tufts of fake snow and smiling elves, I tried to mirror my brother's enthusiasm, but instead found myself squirming uncomfortably in my scratchy Christmas sweater as the runny-nosed toddler in front of me let out a piercing wail.
Three sticky candy canes later, we were finally--mercifully--at the front of the line.
As Brian tugged on my father's coat sleeve in eager anticipation, it was all I could do to paste a wan smile on my face and hope that the visit was over quickly. Brian bounded up the stairs as I trudged sulkily behind him until--
"Well come on up, Sara and Brian!" The Claus bellowed heartily. "So great to see you!"
I stopped in my tracks. Wait. Hold on a second. Did he just say...
"Dad!" I hissed. "He knows our names!"
My father smiled from underneath the (enormously cumbersome) videocamera. "Go on and say hello," he urged.
I continued up the stairs and as I approached, I heard Brian peppering Santa with questions.
"Don't you get hot in that suit? Did Jacob the Horrible make the Good List this year? Are you sure you know how to get to our house this year? We moved you know..." he said breathlessly.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! You sure are a spirited fellow," Santa chuckled. "So nice of you to join us, Sara!"
"Um, hey Santa," I mumbled.
"Santa! Santa!" Brian interrupted. "Don't you want to know what I want for Christmas?"
"Of course!" Santa said with a twinkle in his eye. "But Brian, I already know what you want for Christmas."
And to my complete and utter amazement, he proceeded to remove an envelope from the inside of his breast pocket.
MY envelope. With MY handwriting. It was the very list I had written!
Impulsively, I snatched the envelope from Santa's hand.
"But...but..." I spluttered. "But I wrote this! How did you--? I mean, I thought you weren't...I mean, Christina said that you were..." I trailed off, the color rising in my cheeks.
Delighted and oblivious, Brian rattled on with his latest additions to his list as I sat dumbfounded.
"...and Hot Wheels...and a parachute...and a Ninja Turtle!" he finished triumphantly.
"You sure will keep those elves busy this year! Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said, a bit of spittle gathering around his yellowing beard.
"And you?" Santa asked, turning towards me. "What do you want for Christmas?"
I slowly and dazedly began recounting the items on my wish list, still unable to take my eyes off the envelope.
"...and a Barbie Dream Home." I finished. "Please." I added in a small voice.
"Well ho! Ho! Ho! Looks like we've got a believer after all!" He smiled revealing coffee-stained teeth.
"Yeah..." I said decidedly, gaining more resolve with each passing moment. "You're right!"
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he chortled again. "Merry Christmas to you both! You kids be good now!"
And with that we scurried off to join our parents.
As I recounted the tale, my voice full of wonder and increasing volume-- "You don't underSTAND! He knew our NAMES! That was MY HANDWRITING! MINE! Did you SEE THAT?! DID you?!"--my dad gave a knowing wink to the jolly, happy soul and whispered, "Thanks man--see ya at work tomorrow."
In that moment, I decided to push aside my doubts, ignore my questions and blindly embrace my belief in the magical. The fantastical. The imaginative side of life that some so quickly dismiss as improbable.
...that is, until I found the packaging from all the Easter candy sitting on top of the trashcan a few months later.
As Michael Scott would say, "Fool me once, strike one. Fool me twice, strike three."
Touche.
The stockings are hung. Carols abound. And the smell of all things delicious is continually wafting through the air.
It is said to be a time of peace. Of joy. Of forgiveness. Of hope. Of tradition.
While Christmas (excuse me, holiday) traditions vary from home to home, most include the belief in a gift-giver of sorts. Of unabashed over-indulgence. And of quality time spent with those you love.
In my family, such quality time begins with Grandma telling an often-inappropriate story around the Christmas tree (last year's topic: necking) and inevitably ends with my father reminding everyone about The Year Sara Was Duped...which goes a little something like this:
It was the most wonderful time of the year and I had just reached that age when the magic of Santa was beginning to wear off. While part of me desperately wanted to ignore any inklings that shed doubt on that jolly old soul, I couldn't help but feel a bit wary of it all.
So when my four-year-old brother Brian suggested we mail our lists off to the North Pole, I played it cool. Sure, I agreed to record his requests for Legos and a bicycle and any super-powered, turbo-engine item he could find, but I had no interest in including a wish list of my own. No matter how bad I wanted that American Girl doll.
I dutifully wrote down each item, sealed the envelope and gave it to my father to mail--expecting absolutely nothing in return. Time went on and within a few weeks I had all but forgotten my letter.
One Saturday afternoon, I found myself tapping my foot impatiently outside of Santa's Workshop as I waited in line to see the big guy (or the big guy's helper, I suppose). Surrounded by tufts of fake snow and smiling elves, I tried to mirror my brother's enthusiasm, but instead found myself squirming uncomfortably in my scratchy Christmas sweater as the runny-nosed toddler in front of me let out a piercing wail.
Three sticky candy canes later, we were finally--mercifully--at the front of the line.
As Brian tugged on my father's coat sleeve in eager anticipation, it was all I could do to paste a wan smile on my face and hope that the visit was over quickly. Brian bounded up the stairs as I trudged sulkily behind him until--
"Well come on up, Sara and Brian!" The Claus bellowed heartily. "So great to see you!"
I stopped in my tracks. Wait. Hold on a second. Did he just say...
"Dad!" I hissed. "He knows our names!"
My father smiled from underneath the (enormously cumbersome) videocamera. "Go on and say hello," he urged.
I continued up the stairs and as I approached, I heard Brian peppering Santa with questions.
"Don't you get hot in that suit? Did Jacob the Horrible make the Good List this year? Are you sure you know how to get to our house this year? We moved you know..." he said breathlessly.
"Ho! Ho! Ho! You sure are a spirited fellow," Santa chuckled. "So nice of you to join us, Sara!"
"Um, hey Santa," I mumbled.
"Santa! Santa!" Brian interrupted. "Don't you want to know what I want for Christmas?"
"Of course!" Santa said with a twinkle in his eye. "But Brian, I already know what you want for Christmas."
And to my complete and utter amazement, he proceeded to remove an envelope from the inside of his breast pocket.
MY envelope. With MY handwriting. It was the very list I had written!
Impulsively, I snatched the envelope from Santa's hand.
"But...but..." I spluttered. "But I wrote this! How did you--? I mean, I thought you weren't...I mean, Christina said that you were..." I trailed off, the color rising in my cheeks.
Delighted and oblivious, Brian rattled on with his latest additions to his list as I sat dumbfounded.
"...and Hot Wheels...and a parachute...and a Ninja Turtle!" he finished triumphantly.
"You sure will keep those elves busy this year! Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa said, a bit of spittle gathering around his yellowing beard.
"And you?" Santa asked, turning towards me. "What do you want for Christmas?"
I slowly and dazedly began recounting the items on my wish list, still unable to take my eyes off the envelope.
"...and a Barbie Dream Home." I finished. "Please." I added in a small voice.
"Well ho! Ho! Ho! Looks like we've got a believer after all!" He smiled revealing coffee-stained teeth.
"Yeah..." I said decidedly, gaining more resolve with each passing moment. "You're right!"
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he chortled again. "Merry Christmas to you both! You kids be good now!"
And with that we scurried off to join our parents.
As I recounted the tale, my voice full of wonder and increasing volume-- "You don't underSTAND! He knew our NAMES! That was MY HANDWRITING! MINE! Did you SEE THAT?! DID you?!"--my dad gave a knowing wink to the jolly, happy soul and whispered, "Thanks man--see ya at work tomorrow."
In that moment, I decided to push aside my doubts, ignore my questions and blindly embrace my belief in the magical. The fantastical. The imaginative side of life that some so quickly dismiss as improbable.
...that is, until I found the packaging from all the Easter candy sitting on top of the trashcan a few months later.
As Michael Scott would say, "Fool me once, strike one. Fool me twice, strike three."
Touche.
12.08.2008
How to Talk to Girls: Chapter One
Snippets from the 9-year-old love doctor*:
(courtesy of my B-F-F)
Chapter one: The facts of life
Sometimes, you get a girl to like you, then she ditches you.
You also have to be aware that girls win most of the arguments and have most of the power.
If you know that now, things might be easier.
Winning victory is a dream for most boys, but it is very rare.
Many boys who have crushes don’t know how to act around a girl. Some boys tease girls they like and are mean to them. Some boys say silly things to girls and act goofy. Some boys think they are acting cool by showing off.
The right thing to do when you have a crush is:
-Never show off too much
-Don't be silly and goofy
-Control your hyperness (cut down on sugar if you need to)
-Make sure you have good friends who won't try to take the girl you like. 
(courtesy of my B-F-F)
Chapter one: The facts of life
Sometimes, you get a girl to like you, then she ditches you.
Life is hard, move on!
Tip: About 73 percent of regular girls ditch boys; 98 percent of pretty girls ditch boys.
*****
You also have to be aware that girls win most of the arguments and have most of the power.
If you know that now, things might be easier.
Finally, if you try for too many girls, you will have jealousy
issues and might end up with nobody.
It is really best to go for just one.
*****
Winning victory is a dream for most boys, but it is very rare.
What does it take to win victory?
Read on and find out!
*****
Many boys who have crushes don’t know how to act around a girl. Some boys tease girls they like and are mean to them. Some boys say silly things to girls and act goofy. Some boys think they are acting cool by showing off.
This is not a good approach.
*****
The right thing to do when you have a crush is:
Finally, you have to be able to get over a crush if it doesn't work out. A crush is like a love disease. It can drive you mad.
Try not to let it get you down.
*****
12.05.2008
For those that think Christians can't be trendy:
Think again.
Angelina Jolie or green highlights?
Tough call.
I would love to hear your thoughts on this whole idea.
But I'm not really interested in your thoughts about Angelina.
Just so you know.
Angelina Jolie or green highlights?
Tough call.
I would love to hear your thoughts on this whole idea.
But I'm not really interested in your thoughts about Angelina.
Just so you know.
12.04.2008
For the haunted:
Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleeve/to peer into my eyes/
while I within deny their threats/and answer them with lies./
Mushlike memories perform/a ritual on my lips/
I lie in stolid hopelessness/and they lay my soul in strips.
-"Remembering" by Maya Angelou
When Heartache splinters you into a million messy pieces,
Know that you are loved.
When Tragedy leaves you reeling in its devastating wake,
Know your prayers are heard.
When Loneliness becomes your faithful, sole companion,
Know you are not forgotten.
When Anxiety steals your confidence and ransacks your dreams,
Know that you have worth.
When Hopelessness stings your cheeks with an unexpected slap,
Know that tomorrow will come.
while I within deny their threats/and answer them with lies./
Mushlike memories perform/a ritual on my lips/
I lie in stolid hopelessness/and they lay my soul in strips.
-"Remembering" by Maya Angelou
*****
When Heartache splinters you into a million messy pieces,
Know that you are loved.
When Tragedy leaves you reeling in its devastating wake,
Know your prayers are heard.
When Loneliness becomes your faithful, sole companion,
Know you are not forgotten.
When Anxiety steals your confidence and ransacks your dreams,
Know that you have worth.
When Hopelessness stings your cheeks with an unexpected slap,
Know that tomorrow will come.
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