The pain of a goodbye

Even after my constant moving to and from and in between various places in the past few years, somehow goodbyes never get any easier for me. I get sad when I leave Hawaii after summers and Christmas, I cried when I left Yosemite after living there for 4 months, and I get very sentimental every time I leave my friends at APU. Though my semester in inner city LA was the most difficult time in my college life, the hardest part was saying goodbye to my little host sister. Now the time is coming and passing when I am having to say goodbye to Oxford and the people I have grown close to here. I know everyone hates goodbyes (to some extent), but they seem to be a lot more difficult for me than is typical. I tend to love people very easily and openly, and even if we are not necessarily "best friends" when it comes time to leave, I cannot help but simply dread the moment that inevitably comes when we part ways. It does not matter if we are best friends or close friends or even just roommates, I see beyond what the friendship is at that moment and see instead the potential for what it could have been. 

In the past few years, after studying abroad for 3 of my 6 semesters in college, I have really begun to understand just how realistic (or unrealistic) it is to maintain a long distance friendship. Friends I thought I was really close to when I left APU (or Hawaii or LA or High Sierra) simply would not make the effort to stay in touch. There were times in LA when, even though I was only a 35 minute car ride away from APU, I felt so disconnected from most friends at APU that I honestly might as well have been halfway around the world. Despite how hurtful it sometimes is and how much it forces me to question a lot of my friendships with people, it really does show you which friends care and are there long-term. It distinguishes those friends who will remember you and are willing to put actual effort into the friendship from those whose attention is dependent upon physical presence and whose biggest effort to stay in touch consists of a FB post once every few months. Excuses of having difficult classes, working extra hours, or doing extra curriculars have all come to sound the same to me. In reality, we're all busy, and I've come to discover that busyness is actually quite irrelevant in determining whether or not a person will stay in touch or put effort into maintaining a long distance friendship. You'll make time for those people you care about and want to make time for. And for the others, distance will likely cause you to simply forget. There are a few friends in my life who, after managing to put up with my study abroad addiction and life in the far off land of Hawai'i, I am actually very confident will be important people in my life for a long, long time. As hard as studying abroad continues to be on my friendships with people, it has made me so much more thankful for those certain friends who have consistently made an effort to stay strongly present in my life through it all. 

I think a lot of the anxiety and sadness I feel when saying goodbyes simply stems from the fact that I know when I say goodbye to many of these people, it really does mean goodbye. I've been forced to learn that not everyone stays in touch as they claim they will, and even with skype, facebook, and other technological inventions, distance really is one of the biggest challenges in a friendship. I don't think the day will ever come when I get better at goodbyes, but thank the Lord for people in my life who make it so difficult to say goodbye to.

A Last Glance

Goodbye…

Tears come streaming

And my lips start trembling;

I guess I always knew it had

To end.

Kimberley Winther
March 2011

Life.

Sometimes I have moments where I suddenly realize I basically have no idea what I'm doing with my life. My dreams and aspirations seem to change with each new day and mood I am in. I dream of everything from journalism to counseling to traveling the world to teaching to creating art, and more. I've switched my major more times than I even remember, and the weird thing is that I've actually enjoyed every one of them. I feel like I've had so many unique experiences, jobs, and opportunities, but they are scattered out over a broad range of subjects. Sometimes I love this fact, and other times I think "Where is this going?" I only have one year left of my undergraduate studies, and that freaks me out a little. But I guess that's all part of life, right?

Homelessness

"What kind of problem might homelessness be, if not a housing problem? One common although profoundly wrong theory can be dismissed at once- the opinion expressed by Ronald Reagan and others that the homeless are homeless by choice. The implication of this viewpoint is that homelessness results from an exercise of personal will, not from mental illness, substance abuse, or an inadequate supply of low-income housing. In this view, homelessness is simply not a problem and the homeless are perceived, perhaps, as romantic vagabonds who have traded the rat race of modern urban civilization for a life uncomplicated by mortgage or rent payments, ringing telephones, surly bosses, nagging spouses, and truculent children.

However widespread such a viewpoint may be, no credible scholar who has studied the problem of homelessness takes it seriously. One does read occasionally about a homeless person with a locker full of cash in the bus station, or about a former Wall Street stockbroker who cashed it all in for the romance of life on the road, but in the overwhelming majority of cases, homeless people live as they do because they lack the means to live in any other way, not because they have positively chosen a life of destitution and degradation over some attainable alternative means of living.


Consider what a homeless person would choose by choosing to be homeless. The rate of AIDS infection among the homeless exceeds that in the general population by a factor of 10; the rate of sexual assault on homeless women exceeds that of women in general by a factor of 20; the rate of tuberculosis among the homeless exceeds that in the population at large by a factor of about 100; and the average age of death for homeless men is somewhere around 53 years old. One does not 'choose' to sleep in the gutters or scavenge food from dumpsters."

-James D. Wright and Beth A. Rubin in Understanding Homelessness: New Policy and Research Perspectives

Anyone who doesn't believe there is inequality in the U.S. should read this article:

CLICK HERE TO READ!

"This is America"

I.


If a democracy puts power in the hands of the people,

America is not a democracy.

It is a place where Congressmen worth

Hundreds and millions of dollars

Vote more tax cuts of money that could have helped

The single mother, sickly child, or hungry worker.

 It is a nation whose leaders throw words like

Capitalism, Patriotism, Equalism

At its people and label the rest as

Socialism or COMMUNISM,

But really it is just greed and individualism.

It is a country where leaders distract the public

With thoughts of gay marriage and abortion

And avoid real issues of poverty, inequality, discrimination,

Shifting the public’s gaze from reality, and succeeding!

Suddenly the focus is on issues affecting some minority,

Instead of the systemic problems changing the lives of the 
      majority.

Everything in the name

Of money, power, fame;

That’s America for you.

II.

There is something wrong in a society where

Budget cuts take social programs from the poor

And leave untouched the excess of the rich.

I pledge allegiance to the Flag

Of the United States of America

Where everything must be made cheaper,

And consumers only get richer.

Fingerprints of India or China on every shirt and gadget;

These workers exploited, abused, used,

But no one cares because

Out of sight out of mind, right?

And to the Republic for which it stands

Accumulating wealth becomes an end in itself

Rather than a means to some societal good.

Overwhelming greed and individualism

In a nation marked by Christiandom.

One nation under God

Capitalism now a justification for inequality;

Racism and anti-migrationism

In this “melting pot” with its

Immigration foundation.

Indivisible

Equal opportunity promised in this nation

Where CEOs get richer, ignoring worker cares,

And half of our Congressmen are millionaires.

Sometimes I think I’m living in

A country of contradictions.

With liberty and justice for all.

III.

This country only one in two hundred,

A microscopic splotch on a map of the world;

One small piece, but we think it’s the whole.

Our vision of all else remains clouded,

And thoughts of others are hurled

Because compassion and understanding are not the goal.

Struggles in Libya or Egypt, no matter how urgent,

Are somehow made irrelevant.

IV.

We are like plastic dolls on a conveyor belt,

Emotion and pain unfelt,

Emerging from the factory that is America,

Cold and lifeless before they imprint data.

Uncle Sam furtively forming our minds

Through words and the media that blinds,

Having us believe we hold unique opinions,

But in reality we have no say in our decisions.

We are only plastic dolls;

Our inability and numbness appalls.

With Made in the USA stamped on our backs,

Uncaring of our actions and their impacts,

Clones of each other

Or, more accurately, of our political leaders.

Through the media, each person manufactured,

Each thought filtered

Of things like injustice and oppression,

Taught to respond but never to question.

Hearts beating, but never alive fully,

A prison of tamed souls in the land of the free.

Passion and wisdom not missed in their absence;

Oblivious to own ignorance and indifference.

None will accuse this country, where their ancestors dwelt.

Still just plastic dolls on a conveyor belt.

V.

Waiting for the scales to drop from your eyes;

Waiting, hoping, pleading, waiting,

But they never drop.

Left dwelling in some inauthentic existence,

Like abandoned matter

From some reckless child’s science experiment,

Threatened by screaming statistics

Of the discrepancies, inequalities, realities,

Only to forget them a moment later:

Forgetting as a method of protection.

Excuses handed to us

Like a lollipop handed to a child

To keep him from crying:

A distraction, deflection, deception.

Maybe tomorrow you will wake up

From this deep, deep slumber;

Maybe tomorrow you will ask questions

And find your own answers;

Then maybe this world will be a little better

And America will have some future.

Standing here

Dreaming and waiting for tomorrow,

But it never comes;

Tomorrow never comes.

By Kimberley Winther

February 2011

"Samson" by Regina Spektor

Probably one of my all-time favorite songs.

Thank you Lord for all of the incredible people, unique experiences, and amazing opportunities you have filled my life with. This really is the good life.

A clip from Graham Swifts's novel Last Orders:

"He says, 'What do you want to be, Vince? What are you going to be?...What I mean is, what do you want to do?' He smiles, like he don't mean no harm really. 'What job do you want to do?'

And I see them all hanging up before me, like clothes on a rack, all the jobs, tinker, tailor, soldier, and you have to pick one and then you have to pretend for the rest of your life that that's what you are."

Best Animal Ever.

He even has a mustache.

A poem inspired by W.H. Auden

“Souls Suffering on the Streets”

Souls suffering on the streets, passionately they weep;

Again we draw the curtains and drift to sleep,

Withholding any attempt to relieve some sorrow,

Always the excuse: tomorrow, tomorrow.

Stop your search for goodness: you won’t find it;

Don’t pray for God’s mercy: mankind is unfit;

Let the hatred, envy, and ignorance go on;

Individuality has become America’s icon.

Tell the homeless woman to stop hungering

And the abused child to stop whimpering;

There is no one to hear your cries;

That man was programmed to love is only a lie.

Heartbeats of humanity are deadened,

And the meaning of love has been cheapened;

God’s tears flood the earth in an anguished downpour;

Not a soul is alive anymore, anymore.