Alive Magazine...Feb/March 2009 by Jen Dotson

MAGAZINE

IMMUNITY

THROUGH COMMUNITY UNCONCERNED WITH AGE: MENTAL ILLNESS IN YOUNG WOMEN

ASHLEY GOODWIN:

FRAMING STORIES IN PHOTOGRAPHY

HELPING

THE HANDS THAT HEAL

february | marCh ’09

A WORD FROM THE EDITOR

Saving My Sanity

In high school, I was dead set on majoring in psychology when I went to college. I thought I would proceed to graduate school, get a degree in counseling and become a marriage and family therapist. I wanted to help people solve their problems and improve their family lives. Then, almost by accident, the second semester of my senior year of high school, I took a journalism class and started writing for the student newspaper. Before the semester was over, I had been promoted to Editorial Editor – and I had fallen in love with journalism.

As you page through this issue of Alive Magazine, you’ll read stories about mental, physical and spiritual health and wellness. But as you browse through and consider some of the articles, keep in mind that they are mere suggestions, examples from which to glean ideas. Make your decision to be healthy and well based on what is best for you, what makes you feel complete and what gives you the healthiest view of yourself. Who knows – maybe you’ll discover something new about yourself in the process.

Now, as the new Managing Editor for Alive Magazine, I can’t imagine doing anything else. I couldn’t write a more ideal job description for myself if I tried. I’m thankful that someone, namely my high school journalism teacher, challenged me to explore my options and consider writing as a career. Before I accepted the job as Managing Editor, I had to seriously contemplate what it would mean for me to more permanently join the Alive staff. Because I’m still in college, there was my class schedule to take into consideration, as well as the two jobs I was balancing to help pay off my student loans. How could I legitimately manage a full class load, two part-time jobs and the responsibility of overseeing the magazine? I was already incredibly busy; I usually didn’t get back to my apartment until after 10 p.m. and I rarely saw my roommates or family. To save my sanity – and to ensure that I would be able to sleep more than two hours a night – I decided to resign from one of my jobs and accept the position as Managing Editor. That choice was one of the best decisions I could have made for my mental, physical and spiritual health. And it was a choice I had to make for myself. Even though it occasionally has been overwhelming to dive into the Managing Editor position, it has also been immensely fulfilling. I feel like I belong at Alive, and because of that, I feel mentally at peace and much happier. In our world today, it’s easy to feel pigeonholed, like you can’t break out of the mold into which someone else thinks you should fit. We spend more time worrying about if we’ll get noticed by other people because of our body shapes, our intelligence or our outfits than we do worrying about what is actually best for us.

MANAGING EDITOR

GROOVE

How could I legitimately manage a full class load, two parttime jobs and the responsibility of overseeing the magazine? I was already incredibly busy… 7

No, she wasn’t deemed America’s next “idol,” but Alison Scott’s song “Saturated” did win first prize at the first annual song-writing contest for Women In Music Minnesota. 10

The answers to my questions became clear as I saw my idea turn into a reality. I can help people, and the lessons I am teaching my clients can be applied to any goal. 12

R S Y W E

But shouldn’t technology make life easier? Utilize the best of what the Internet and computer software have to contribute... 14

Just like the icicles, my connections were fading, severing before my eyes as if I were free falling, unable and unwilling to grab hold of the hands reaching for me. 16

The card is very easy to use. You swipe it, the machine validates the number, approves your account and you sign your name to authorize the total. But the convenience ends there. 19

one-sentence answers to our favorite questions

WONDER

tales of travel and adventure

Picturing Everyday Beauty: A Poject to Add Insight to the Viewfinder by Alive readers

Health is more than just physical appearance. Internal and external health are interdependent and what matters is that… 25

HPV! Me?

by Rachael Constable | illustrations by Tiana Toso and Anna Gizzi

answers to life’s hard-to-ask questions

EXPOLRE

That Two-Faced Card

by Sara Weathers | illustrations by Michele Ebnet

where to spend your money wisely and effectively

GLIMPSE

Immunity Through Community by Ryan Doheny

life from his perspective

SPEND

Time-Saving Technology With Health on the Mind by Rachele Cermak and Lauren Melcher | artwork by Tiana Toso

technology related articles to untangle the web

MISTER

Finding Meaning From Challenges

by Megan Fried | photo design by Jena Mulder

how would you change the world, if given the opportunity?

BUZZ

Singing Her Own Song

by Emily Byers-Ferrian | photographs by Danica Myers

music, dance & other inspiring sounds

IMAGINE

Saving My Sanity

by Nicolle Westlund | photograph by Elena Born

a word from the editor

I guess I’m just used to my doctor telling me what to do… Instead, I suddenly found myself faced with what seemed to... 28

Not All Who Wander are Lost by Melissa Hinkley

In general, Costa Ricans are not tall people. As a six-feet-tall blonde, I simply could not blend in. I would walk down the street and get so many honks and stares…

table of contents

H V I

THINK

contributors

Rachael Constable, contributing writer, loves hot cocoa and napping. She currently lives in Minnesota, but if she could, she’d move to a place with less snow and more beaches. She also loves cuddling with her dog Griffey and gets a thrill thinking she could use her nursing degree to work in the ER. Ryan Doheny, contributing writer, enjoys spending time with his family and having meaningful conversations with friends. His energetic spirit causes him to be constantly on the move. He has a passion for all kinds of sports and hopes to someday compete in the Olympics. He aspires to wake up every morning with a smile on his face and learn something new. Megan Fried, contributing writer, is an energetic and motivated woman. She is a registered nurse pursuing her master’s in nutrition, and founder of Personalized Nutritional Counseling, LLC. She would like to empower others toward proactive, healthy habits. A commitment to being a life-long learner allows her to serve her clientele and make a unique difference. Anna Gizzi, junior contributing artist, is currently working two jobs and applying to clinical psychology graduate programs across the country. She is patiently awaiting the melt of snow and responses from said graduate programs. In the meantime, Anna enjoys trying out new veggie recipes, reading three books at a time and stretching canvas for new art adventures. Ashley Goodwin, contributing artist, is an interior designer and freelance photographer living in Charlotte, N.C. Ashley’s eye for design earned her a bachelor’s degree in interior design but her passion for art encouraged her to start clicking the shutter. Her modern approach to photography is best described as detailed, fresh and real. Ashley’s work can be found online at www.AshleyStuartGoodwin.com. Kimberly Halverson, contributing artist, is an artist who delights in belly laughs and photographs. A junior at the University of Minnesota-Duluth, she is always down for a mean game of dress-up. She also likes German phrases, figure skating and Noodles & Co. Jacquelin Hedeman, contributing writer, ate wild boar ravioli in the south of France seven years ago and the taste has not quite left her mouth. When not being fed exotic homemade dishes by elderly Frenchmen, Jacquelin, a midwesterner by birth, studies hard and spends time with her fantastic roommates in the great state of New Jersey. Melissa Hinkley, contributing writer, lives by her favorite quote, “Not all who wander are lost.” Through her wandering she has discovered some of the greatest things in life: contagious giggles, fresh homemade goodies, sore muscles, pink lemonade chapstick, jumping out of planes and talking with her mouth full. Weronika Janczuk, contributing writer, enjoys writing, reading and finding her spot in forensics activities. She is interested in languages and speaks Polish and French. She’s certain her future plans will include creative writing and eventually teaching high school. Weronika prefers tea with honey, working at 4 a.m. and nonpoliticized music. Lauren Melcher, senior contributing writer, can’t leave a bookstore emptyhanded and is happiest when she is buying tickets to new places. She loves cooking and baking from scratch, especially while watching “The West Wing” and “Gilmore Girls.” Lauren can’t wait for the day she can say she has been to all seven continents (three left to go!).

CONSIDER

you say you’re a princess / who fell in love once upon a time / you were a damsel in distress / and he was your knight in shining armor… 31

news-related stories relevant to you and your world

MISCHIEF

As we transition from childhood to adolescence to adulthood, is it any wonder that we face some of life’s greatest internal... 34

I didn’t know whether his cataloging of the count’s attributes was just a curious mind at work, or if it was a surface symptom of some deeper thing I should be concerned about… 38

I’ve spent most of my life feeling powerless. I never really had an opinion on anything; I didn’t want to upset people if it wasn’t necessary. 40

My camera is my constant companion. It is always in hand, capturing the beauty of overlooked details and uniquely documenting life’s ordinary moments. My view through... 46

Helping the Hands that Heal

story and photography by Tiana Toso

Of course, at my young age, these issues were of no concern to me. In my eyes, Zafi and these kids were my best friends. I had no idea that some of them were struggling just to survive. 48

A New You – Start Today!

by Alennah Westlund | photography by Kimberly Halverson

favorite dorm recipes, snack ideas & cafeteria creations

DISCOVER

Gaze

by Ashley Goodwin

stories of service and volunteering

TASTE

Dessert Always Helps

by Jacci Mikkelson | photography by Danica Myers

art for art’s sake... and your viewing pleasure

GIVE

What We Know

by Jacquelin Hedeman | illustration by Megan Foss

picking up the pieces when life falls apart

GAZE

Unconcerned with Age: Mental Illness in Young Women

by Jessica Schommer | illustration by Jenny Williams

tales of fiction, truth, shenanigans & friendly foolery

MEND

Happily Ever After

by Samantha Yee | illustration by Karissa Wagner

original poetry and fresh lyrics

I’m not talking about starting up a crazy no-carb diet or exercising for eight hours a day. I’m talking about becoming... 50

The Amber Summer

by Weronika Janczuk | illustration and photography by Michele Ebnet

what makes you come alive?

That morning, I wish that I had not brought my calendar with me. Red permanent marker has crossed off dates, one by one...

LISTEN

perspectives on life from someone older and wiser

You are Seen, You are Known, You are Loved by SARK

When we are actively loving ourselves, we literally “spill over” with love and radiance that can truly benefit others.

table of contents

U C M N Z G T D L

MUSE

contributors

Jacci Mikkelson, contributing writer, is from Andover, Minn. She plans to graduate in May from Bethel University with a degree in psychology. She loves being warm, dancing to Michael Jackson in the car, making social commentaries and excessively gulping Diet Coke with Lime. Jena Mulder, contributing artist, enjoys traveling around the world and taking photographs of individual cultures so that the rest of the world may have a glimpse through the lens of her camera. She sees herself traveling for her future job after she graduates in May 2009 with an art major and an English minor. Elisa Poquette, contributing writer, is a native Minnesotan and recent graduate of St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minn. Interests include economic development, social entrepreneurship and generally promoting human dignity. Currently she is attempting to accomplish all three via her Peace Corps service in Nicaragua. Life plans include becoming the next Barack Obama. SARK (Susan Ariel Rainbow Kennedy), contributing writer, has been a transformative teacher and leader for over 25 years. She has written and created 15 best-selling books, and hundreds of products. She is the founder and CEO of Planet SARK, a company that creates products and services to support empowered living. Call her on the Inspiration Line at 415.546.3742 or visit http://www.planetsark.com Jessica Schommer, contributing writer, finds herself frozen from November to midApril, but could never move too far away from her friends and family in Minnesota. She loves all sorts of hot beverages, especially in the company of others. She studied psychology and hopes to one day achieve her dream of becoming a school counselor. Alennah Westlund, contributing writer, is an obsessive-compulsive coffee drinker who enjoys labeling and organizing any and everything in her life. Her favorite color is green and she picks out her school outfits a week in advance. She has her own dessert cookbook and has yet to find a movie that will legitimately scare her. Samantha Yee, contributing writer, is an avid reader, a â&#x20AC;&#x153;shopaholicâ&#x20AC;? and an aspiring doctor or journalist. She is attached to her iPod, enjoys baking cookies, writing poetry and singing in the shower. She displays as much enthusiasm as a student on the first day of kindergarten and strives to make a difference in the world. not pictured: sara weathers & elena born front cover digital collage by jenny williams, photograph by ashley goodwin back cover photograph by elisa poquette

ALIVE MAGAZINE: FEBRUARY/MARCH 2009 Executive Director Jennifer Dotson Managing Editor Nicolle Westlund Artistic Director Megan Foss Creative Director Karissa Wagner Executive Assistant Abby Zimmer Public Relations Director Lisa Teicher Program Director Emily Byers-Ferrian Poetry Editor Kelin Loe

Assistant Editors Rachele Cermak Adrienne Johnsen Courtney Still Graphic Designers Tiana Toso Jenny Williams Michele Ebnet Danica Myers Public Relations Sarah Bodeau Cheyenne Kirkpatrick Kaylee Laudon Development Jamie Joslin

Founder and Board Chair Heather Scheiwe Board of Directors Janelle Schulenberg Heather Mattson Judy Jandro Jim Scheibel Martha Franke Alive Magazine 1720 Madison St. NE, Ste. 300 Minneapolis, MN 55413 612.284.4080 info@alivemagazine.org www.alivemagazine.org

SINGING SINGIN HER OWN

SONGS WRITTEN By EMILy ByERS-FERRIAN PHOTOGRAPHS By DANICA MyERS

I was mid-sentence, talking to my co-worker about the upcoming issue of the magazine, when she interrupted me. “Wow. She’s really good,” she said. I turned my head to listen. Wow. She is good, I thought. My friend, Lisa, was seated next to me at the Dakota Jazz Club in downtown Minneapolis. Our chit-chat conversation had paused when our attention was drawn to the woman who had recently seated herself at the shiny black grand piano on stage. Her long blond hair lay loose on her back and she rocked deeply into and away from the keys as she sang.

Alison Scott, 25, was alone on stage that night – just her and the piano. Often, her surprising crescendos caught hold of listeners, filling the room with her raw emotion. She’s been compared to Norah Jones and Alicia Keys; however, if asked to classify herself, even Alison isn’t sure what genre of music she falls into. She plays a lot of variety: blues, jazz, pop, rock.

the contest, he contacted her about recording an album. Now, three years later with two albums out and a third in the making, Kevin and Alison continue to work together as a mentor/mentee team. Kevin serves as Alison’s manager, producer, guitarist and sometimes co-writer. “In a way, Kevin kind of ‘discovered’ me,” admits Alison.

He has been in the music business “forever,” she says, so “I don’t like to pigeonhole myself,” she says. “I he’s quite connected. Through Kevin, Alison has had the chance to play with some other suclike to play various styles to keep cessful musicians. Peter Anderson from things interesting.” SEATED AT THAT GRAND the Honeydogs is her drummer, and PIANO SHE HAD SEEMED A few years ago, regardless of whether Steve Price from Rex Daisy plays bass SO EXPRESSIVE AND we’re talking pop or jazz, the idea of for her. Every once in a while, like for FORTHCOMING, HER performing her own songs at a downher second album release, Tommy BarMELODIES CARRyING SO town venue was something not even barella, former keyboardist for Prince, MUCH OF HER INNER SELF on Alison’s radar. will also join them. OUT INTO THE ROOM. However, her life took a sweeping At first it was intimidating working with turn when she won a contest. No, she great musicians like these, Alison says. wasn’t deemed America’s next “idol,” but her song Even co-writing with Kevin was sometimes scary. “Saturated” did win first prize at the Women and Music Minnesota’s first “Now I can sit down with him to write a song and we can both spit out stupid ideas and look at each other and be annual songwriting contest. like no,” Alison says. “But two years ago I think I would It was her first lucky, not to men- have been mortified if he would have told me that one of tion unexpected, break. my ideas wasn’t brilliant,” she says, laughing. She had written the song by herself when she was studying at McNally Smith College of Music in St. Paul, Minn. “I recorded it in their auditorium – just me playing the piano and one of the teachers playing drums and one of his friends playing bass. I didn’t really expect anything out of it. I had never really taken myself that seriously as a songwriter before.” It was the first time she had put herself out there, and she was hoping to do well, but she never expected to be at the very top of the list. There were six judges on the Women and Music Minnesota panel. One of them in particular, Kevin Bowe, recognized a special potential in Alison. After

Writing a song can be a very personal experience, especially if the song is autobiographical. But after three years of spending a lot of time together – like driving two hours up to Duluth in northern Minnesota to play a gig, turning around and coming straight home again – the two know each other pretty well. The knowledge, support and connections of a mentor like Kevin have been key in the success of Alison’s career in music thus far. “When I was putting my first album together I had zero experience as far as actually being a working musician,” says Alison. She had been pursuing a degree in vocal performance, and up until her big win, her musical performance experience included mainly the classical operas of her school choirs or the show tunes of its theatrical productions. All the way up through her freshman year of college, she had been planning on majoring in musical theater. She had always envisioned herself performing in Chicago or New York, maybe on Broadway. In their first year and a half of working together, Kevin played a prominent role as teacher, helping Alison learn the ways of contemporary music performance and business. “I’m not naturally a look-at-me kind of person. So I wasn’t necessarily super comfortable being on stage,” Alison confesses. “I performed classical music, which is different. You get up there, you stand still, you pick a point, you stare at it and you sing a song. That, I was used to. And,

I was used to playing a character and singing because of music theater, but getting up there and rockin’ out, really putting yourself out there without having the comfort of pretending to be someone else, was new for me.” Nonetheless, after performing in front of 400 people at events like her first CD release at the Varsity Theater in Minneapolis, Alison has become more comfortable performing her songs. When Lisa and I listened to her that night at the Dakota Jazz Club, I would never have guessed that she was once uncomfortable performing onstage. I had the chance to meet up with Alison for a cup of coffee a few weeks after seeing her at the Dakota. Pulled up to a coffee table, she was friendly but somewhat reserved, which surprised me. Seated at that grand piano she had seemed so expressive and forthcoming, her melodies carrying so much of her inner self out into the room.

She remembers that night of her first CD release, performing in front of so many people: “It was packed… I was scared out of my mind that I was going to completely blow it. It was a total blur. I can’t remember anything from that night except being scared.” Now, she is happy to be able to look back now on that show at the Varsity Theater as a great success. Even though Alison may, like all of us, sometimes confront insecurities, the bottom line is that performing her music in public is what makes her come alive. “Writing a song that really means something to me and performing it for people for the first times I play it in public and getting a huge reaction from it… it means a lot to me, but also means a lot to a lot of other people,” she says. “That makes me feel alive.”

“I’m a shy person,” she says. “I’m not an overly confident person.” Alison admits that during the first year when they were laying down her first CD, it took a lot of practicing at small open-mic nights, for example, with Kevin to get her comfortable performing her music in front of people.

Meaning from Challenges Finding

By MEGAN FRIED PHOTO DESIGN By jENA MULDER

I was always the “chubby girl,”

shy and afraid to speak up. I tried to diet but it never seemed to work. As I grew into a young woman, I became more conscious of my weight, and over time, I let it eat away at me – literally. I remember a girl at school asking me if I was sick. I simply replied “No,” followed by an awkward silence. The truth was that I had become anorexic, and it was not something I could disguise or hide any longer. My struggle with an eating disoder forced me to become more withdrawn. I was able to wear a smaller size, but I was cold and alone. I no longer had the comfort and companionship of food, and had very few friends because I was now even more shy than when I was heavier. Life was boring, and I refused to let others help me. My therapist tried to get me to talk, but I would hold out in a daze and refuse to give in. She didn’t know me. How could she help me? She was overweight and I didn’t want to be like her. Eventually, my cool demeanor cracked, and all of my emotions came spilling out to my mom. I cried inconsolably – sometimes, I couldn’t even go to school. All I knew was that if I was going to get better, I would have to do it in my own way – not the way some overweight therapist was going to do it. The following year of becoming healthy was a challenge: gaining weight, being OK with having fat on my body and taking risks. I opened up to my mom and I made a friend by letting her into my reality. I learned to accept and honor myself, and others began to do the same. Looking back, it seemed as though the stars aligned. I went to college and was forced into new circumstances. I made more friends and eventually I graduated – all at a healthy weight.

After college I went into nursing school because I wanted to help people the way my mom had done for me in her own gentle, present, knowledgeable, caring, encouraging and confident way. Once in the workforce, I felt a need to make a difference. Seeing so many patients with chronic diseases – many from lifestyle choices – made me realize that people everywhere needed the individualized help and attention that I had gotten. They needed a genuine person, someone to give them not only the knowledge and medical attention, but also the human touch required to help them make the necessary changes for a healthier life. I decided to make this my mission.

ourselves that no one needs to be perfect. Rather, it is more important to be invested in the process and stick with it, even through the hard times. Every change happens one step at a time.

Through my work developing Personalized Nutritional Counseling and working with clients, I have come a long way in my understanding of human nature and overcoming struggles. I have come to realize that without some sort of a motivator and personal responsibility, nothing will move a person to act. In life, just as with improving nutrition and creating a healthy lifestyle, we constantly need to ask ourselves why we are doing what we’re doBecause of this simple realization, over the last year I de- ing (or why aren’t we doing what we should be doing), veloped Personalized Nutritional Counseling, a pilot nu- and if what we’re doing will make us happy and bring us trition program that assists people with transformations closer to being the people we want to be. Honest self-reinto health. It is designed with the understanding that flection and reminding ourselves of the reasons for makeveryone is different and needs help in his or her own ing changes in our lives makes it possible for us to learn unique way. The intent of the program from our mistakes and become better is to inspire people to take a proactive versions of ourselves – for without reeveryone deserves to role and become their own advocates flection, we will continue to make the see our gIft blossom for health and nutrition. The transsame mistakes. Into somethIng formation that takes place is nothing Throughout this process I have also unIque – and to short of amazing, and allows everyone had to overcome my own struggles understand that to grow into stronger, healthier verwith self-doubt. At first, I did not know Challenges are the sions of themselves. if it was possible for me to use my exonly way to make My adventure over the past year has perience and knowledge to help peothose gIfts flourIsh. been filled with lessons. One thing ple. Would I be effective? Did I have I realized is that there are no lessons something to share that could make a learned from silence and withdrawal. If I had allowed my- difference? The answers to my questions became clear as self to hold back my tears and continue to suffer in silence I saw my idea turn into a reality. I can help people, and as a teen, I would probably not be helping people today. the lessons I am teaching my clients can be applied to We are meant to open up to others, and through this we any goal. can make the world a better place. I’ve also learned how important it is to build relationships with people, and As with this experience, with all of my clients and with life have seen firsthand how friendships can help create an in general, I have come to realize that we are all marked environment that fosters positive change. Building this with special gifts, many of which we are unaware. Only kind of partnership with my clients restores their hope through living and growing into something new as we and self-confidence as we work together to develop a overcome challenges can we unlock these secret gifts. plan to get them through their challenges, and on to a Everyone deserves to see her own gifts blossom into something unique – and to understand that challenges healthier, happier life. are the only way to make those gifts flourish. When working with my clients, I do not consider myself the expert. Rather, I approach our relationship as a learning and discovery process. Commingling my nutritional knowledge with client reflection, we work together to come to an understanding of both the psychological and biochemical issues that may be affecting the client’s health, and develop a plan to overcome these. By encouraging small, fundamental changes in diet and lifestyle on a consistent basis, we’re able to build a solid foundation for future growth. I explain this to my clients in terms of math: We would not teach a kindergartener calculus and for the same reasons we cannot expect ourselves to automatically know what it means to eat healthy and practice it regularly. As we develop and work though the process together, we remind

TIME - SAVING TECHNOLOGY WITH HEALTH ON THE MIND

In our current days of digital and fastpaced lifestyles, health and wellness may feel like unattainable goals. But shouldn’t technology make life easier? Utilize the best of what the Internet and computer software have to contribute to increasing your health and wellness – check out these sites and software to save time and keep yourself health conscious.

By LAUREN MELCHER AND RACHELE CERMAK ILLUSTRATIONS By TIANA TOSO

1. www.walkjogrun.net If you are a dedicated daily runner looking for a new route, or a new runner just getting to know your neighborhood, this is the place for you! I first stumbled across it when I moved from a small town with lots of running paths to a big city. Lo and behold, it helped me find a great jogging route in my new neighborhood. You can also use it to calculate distance traveled. So, if you like to explore new routes, you can go back home and map how far you ran with just a few clicks.

2. www.everydayhealth.com/toolkit/index.aspx Everyday Health offers useful tools that make keeping tabs on your health a breeze. The site requires registration, but it’s well worth the few minutes. It has a weight tracker, meal planner, grocery lists for the week’s healthy recipes and even offers a recipe box so your favorite dish is never lost. I’m always using the calorie counter so I can spend my time doing things other than math – like playing the site’s online games, which help players reach optimal brain fitness. Now that’s a way to score big!

3. www.publicspace.net/MacBreakZ We’re all guilty of it – we spend a lot of the day at our keyboards. With these programs, you can now stay conscious of your DCI (your “daily computer intake”). The latest release of MacBreakZ for Apple users visually teaches easy-to-learn stretches to prevent repetitive strain injuries, like writer’s cramp and tendonitis that are caused by high levels of computer use. The program acts as your own personal ergonomic assistant. It also tracks how long you’ve been interacting with your computer and reminds you when it’s time to take a break. It starts at about $25, but you can download a free version at www.download.com. A simplified version called StretchZ is also available to download onto your iPhone or iPod touch for about $2.

we’re all guIlty of It – we spend a lot of the day at our keyboards.

4. www.dietcontroller.com/index.php?set=yes

If the Internet isn’t always available, this program allows you to store your information right on your computer. The DietController software is equipped with tools like food and exercise logs, a journal to keep track of your diet, the ability to graph your progress based on a variety of variables, and of course, it has a calendar for you to monitor how well you’re doing. This program is supported on all operating platforms and runs for about $50 out of the box, but it also can be found on www.download.com for free.

5. www.rsiwarrior.com

RSI Warrior 4 for Windows users is also designed with the goal of alleviating the effects of repetitive strain injuries. A wizard at startup reminds you of proper sitting positions. The program calculates when you need to take a break, and during those breaks, 3-D animations teach you up to 20 different stretches, one at a time. Periodically, the program will flash reminders for you to check your posture. My favorite part of the program is its automatic clicking option. If you stop moving the mouse it recognizes that as a click so you can avoid injuries caused by excessive clicking. The program can be downloaded for free at www.download.com.. Search for RSI Warrior.

www.sparkpeople.com Track your daily food intake or how much you’ve exercised based on either cardio or strength workouts and earn points! You can’t redeem them for anything, but they’re great motivation. You can input nutrition facts for foods not already in their system (they already have a ton) and add your own goals, like “read for 30 minutes” or “took my multivitamin.” I’m addicted because it keeps me on track for my fitness goals, and I feel productive every time I check off a box.

www.cosmeticdatabase.com This site is a database developed by the Environmental Working Group and is the first place I look when buying a new kind of shampoo, makeup or hairspray. The searchable database rates cosmetics and personal care products according to their levels of chemical toxicity, so that people with allergies, sensitive skin or an interest in knowing about the safety of their products can find the right information. When I first searched for my favorite shampoo and lotion in the database, I was surprised by how highly toxic they were rated!

IMMUNITY THRO UG H

C O M M U N IT Y

By RyAN DOHENy

A long sigh escapes from my chapped lips. As my hot breath mixes with the chill of Minnesota’s winter air, I slowly walk back to my apartment after my last test of this college semester. I pause to admire the effervescent icicles dangling from the roof, reaching for the elusive ground below. Memories, relief, relaxation… fresh air rushes through my nostrils, like the smell of hot cinnamon apple cider steaming on the stove. My mind, fried from long hours of study and planning, begged for a break and now the realization set in: freedom – or so I thought. Little did I know at that moment that my time there, my icicle, was quickly melting and in danger of succumbing to forces I may never fully understand. A few days into my Christmas break, I was basking in the glory of no tests, homework or rigorous scheduling. I decided to round up some old high school basketball buddies and play a pick-up game after the high school team finished its annual Christmas tournament. As I walked into the old gym to watch the game, the smell of popcorn and the thunder of the crowd unleashed a flood of memories. I spotted one of my former teammates, and it was like a day hadn’t passed. After chest-bumping and going through an intricate five-minute handshake, we got down to business. “You pumped?” I asked him. “Yeah dude, I can’t wait to get out there again. You?” Since I hadn’t played in over a year and was currently encountering some very mysterious illnesses, a look of apprehension crossed my normally relaxed face. “Well, yeah… it should be sweet.” The truth is, I was nervous. Real nervous. Not only did I have something to prove to myself, I wanted to prove to all my buddies that I could still play. To put it simply, I was horrible. My body just wouldn’t work. I was expelling more energy just jogging than I normally would in a full sprint.

After the game, my buddies’ expressions begged the question that was running through my own mind, faster than lightning. “What’s going on? It’s like you have no energy. What’s college doing to you, man?” I tried to shrug it off and blame it on being “out of shape,” but I knew that wasn’t it. My body was shriveling, and my mind galloped over hurdles of fear, landing in puddles of confusion. Embarrassment and shame pushed me into a corner, and I needed to get away. I couldn’t face them, so I retreated into a pattern of avoidance and isolation. A month later, I reluctantly found myself back in school. Still suffering from confusion and malaise, my body and mind were trying to survive a flood without a floatation device. The more I fought the waves, the more the undertow tightened its grip, dragging me into the depths of pain and confusion. I had lost 15 pounds, and for my 5-feet-10-inch, 165-pound frame, that was a significant loss. Like a balloon after a party, I was slowly deflating. You could almost hear the soft hiss as I sank deeper and deeper into nothingness, stagnation and isolation. After countless visits to the doctor, the enigma revealed itself: A rare case of Lyme disease and bacterial infections in my abdomen had slowly been bombarding my immune system for seven long months. The realization that a tick, no bigger than a speck of lint, had caused my agony didn’t offer me any comfort. One may think that this knowledge should at least foster some hope. Instead, it only led to more confusion, bitterness and anger. A week into spring semester, I slowly ambled up to my apartment late at night after an exhausting day. The air seemed colder than ever, cutting into my skin. An immanent threat seemed to lurk behind every shadow as dimly lit street lamps carelessly guided me toward the door. Only the moonlight and my snail-like pace allowed me to move toward the eerie three-story brick building. Sneaking out from the shadows, my apartment complex had transformed in my mind from a place of freedom, love, community and transformation to bondage, confusion and shame. I glanced down and couldn’t help but notice a reflection of sadness in the broken icicles that had fallen from the shelter above. Just like the icicles, my connections were fading, severing before my eyes as if I were free falling, unable and unwilling to grab hold of the hands reaching for me. A few days later, I dropped out of school for the semester, unable to complete the rigorous expectations of college life. Like a recurring nightmare that escapes explanation and memory at daybreak, my decision haunted my life for quite some time. Seven more months went by. I spent many days crying out to God, reading about him and his mercy and grace. I couldn’t see or feel these abstract concepts, and so my feelings of anger, depression, bitterness and guilt only grew. Why did this happen? My friends tried to stay in

touch, but I thought I needed space; or maybe I’d just read that somewhere. My expectations slowly diminished and hope seemed to fade. Medicine didn’t seem to help. I felt isolated, and in my head I was on an island, a place where I could sit in my agony and pity, as waves of pain crashed into me without reproach. Slowly, like the changing of the seasons, I felt something nudging me. My family and friends never lost hope even when I had none. They spoke truth without shame, allowing me to realize my value in life once again. I understood that I didn’t deserve anything, and I was in need of grace. Too prideful to talk and too selfish to act, I still remained stagnant. Even so, my communities still didn’t abandon me, but waited in hopeful anticipation of my return. I couldn’t heal on my own because my hurt went beyond bacteria; it clogged my mind and prevented truth from filtering through to my fleeting heart. Like being awoken by the early morning sunshine peeking through the I Couldn’t heal on my own beCause my hurt went beyond baCterIa; It Clogged my mInd and prevented truth from fIlterIng through to my fleetIng heart. blinds, my nightmare was interrupted, and I began to open my eyes and see life as a gift. Disgusted by my actions, I began to examine the scars I had left on both my relationship with God and those closest to me. The miraculous healing that I expected didn’t happen, but was the process still a miracle? I can’t say for certain, but I believe that the unconditional love that shined forth from my family and friends was miraculous. Without question, they saved my life. Sunshine and warmth hit me, and a bird chirps as it gingerly hops along the grass toward a fallen oak leaf. Looking closer, but careful not to make a disturbance, I see a worm wriggle into the bird’s mouth. One swift movement propels the bird upward toward the oak tree, and I notice a small nest resting on one of the branches. Just as swiftly as the bird’s takeoff, two little heads pop up, eager to have a worm sandwich. I can’t help but smile as I leisurely stroll toward my new apartment on campus, and a sense of renewal propels me forward toward something unknown, yet exciting and purposeful. Maybe it’s the bright sunlight glistening through the trees. Maybe it’s the refreshing, revitalizing air that soothes my soul. The building beckons me, not because of its sturdy brick composition, but because of the people on the inside. Laughter and voices echo through the halls, reassuring me that my friends, my community, will always be there. Sometimes it takes a nudge, sometimes a push, but it always takes love, unconditional love, to truly heal and transform bondage into freedom. After a long, hard, internal struggle, I’ve realized that apart from my family, friends, the love that shines through them and my community through God, I am nothing.

By SARA WEATHERS ILLUSTRATIONS By MICHELE EBNET

Some

people use credit cards for the convenience. Others avoid them for the cost. Some people say credit cards are dangerous. Others say they’re safe. So which is it? Are credit cards good? Or bad? Before you use a credit card, you should be aware that credit cards are two-faced. They are both convenient and expensive. The card is very easy to use. You swipe it, the machine validates the number, approves your account, and you sign your name to authorize the total. But the convenience ends there. Credit cards are costly when you forget to pay off your monthly balance. This usually results in higher interest rates and increased debt. So, are credit cards worth the risks to reap the benefits? Your Credit History and Credit Score Your credit history and credit score are the two most important benefits to having a credit card. When you use a credit card, you are building a credit history that will determine your credit score. You have to consider your credit card as a chance to build credit. How you use your card will affect your history and your score to determine your financial reputation. Businesses and lenders will want to know your credit history and your credit score, and if you want to purchase a cell phone, take out a loan or rent an apartment, you need credit. It will be difficult to convince a lender or business that you are financially responsible without a credit history and credit score.

Maybe you already have a cell phone. Maybe you don’t need a loan or an apartment anytime soon. That doesn’t matter. You should be building credit now because you will need it someday. People often debate about what age is best to start building credit. The longer your credit history, the more it proves your responsibility and gives you a better financial status to claim. This becomes an argument for having a credit card earlier. Even though a longer credit history can be beneficial, there are risks to having a credit card before you are ready. If you don’t use the card wisely, it will have a negative impact on your credit history and credit score. Businesses and employers rely on your credit to determine your value as a client or employee. How do they get this information? They ask for your score. Your credit score, also known as a FICO score, stands for the Fair Isaac Corporation, a firm that created the formula to calculate your three-digit financial identity. Your FICO score determines how much interest you will pay when you use your credit card or take out a loan. Interest is the amount you pay when you borrow money. A high FICO score means a low interest rate. When you use your card, it is reported to three credit bureaus – Equifax, TransUnion and Experian. These bureaus know how much you spend, who you owe and if you are the type of person who will pay bills on time. From this raw data, the credit bureaus calculate your credit score using the FICO formula.

The FICO formula is broken down into 5 categories:

Record of paying bills on time Total balance on your credit cards compared to your credit limit Length of credit history New account and recent applications for credit Mix of cards and loans

After combining all this information, your FICO score can range between 300 and 850. A score between 300 and 500 marks you as a financial risk and will cost you higher interest rates. Your goal should be a score between 760 and 850. This score will give you low interest rates and a commendable financial profile. To get your credit score, you have to pay each credit bureau $15.95, but you don’t need to see all three scores unless you’re taking out a loan for a car or mortgage. You only need to buy one if you’re just interested in checking up on your financial history. Plus, if your credit history is accurate, all three of your scores will be in a similar range. To buy your credit score, check out www.myfico.com. To get it for free online, check out www.annualcreditreport. com. Due to recent credit legislation, this official Web site grants everyone access to one free credit report a year. But beware of online scams, such as www.freecreditreport. com, which claim to offer free access to your credit report – they do not. Remember that the only agency that does give you free access is ww.annualcreditreport.com. Choosing a Credit Card You understand why credit is so important, but what type of credit card is in your wallet, and what card should you consider using? There are many types, which makes it important to read the fine print of your card agreement. A standard credit card is the most common. It has a revolving balance on which you get charged an interest rate. You also receive a finance charge if you don’t pay your balance off. A secured credit card is a good option to begin with if you don’t have a credit card. A secured card requires you to make a deposit that can be used if you miss a payment.

This makes the borrowing less risky. However, secured cards often have high penalty fees. A balance transfer card is useful if you need to combine several credit card balances. These cards allow you to take advantage of a lower interest rate. This is a good option to consider once you have an extensive credit history. but beware of A rewards card will give you free onlIne sCams, “stuff” based on your card usage. suCh as www. It is important to find a rewards freeCredItreport. card that will reward you more Com, whICh ClaIm than it costs. Be cautious when to offer free considering this card – reward aCCess to your cards can be tempting, but the CredIt report... usage details are messy. A student credit card is designed for college consumers who are just starting out with credit. These cards help you build credit and are specifically offered to those who don’t have credit history. After you’ve chosen one of the above options, make sure you get a card with the lowest interest rate. This will require some shopping, and remember there is no such thing as free lunch. The introductory rate may be 0 percent, but it could jump up to 15 or 16 percent when the promotion ends. Watch out for scams. Also, look for a card with no annual fee because it’s not necessary. Some cards require an annual fee because of their rewards services but since you are mainly concerned about building up your credit history, avoid the reward offers – save your money instead.

Understanding the Details So you’ve decided on a credit card. Now it’s time to get familiar with the penalties and fees. Understanding the details associated with the card will help you avoid debt and high interest. Know your annual percentage rate (APR). This is the percentage of your balance that will carry over if you don’t pay off your monthly balance. Your APR can vary depending on balance transfer or cash advances, so make sure to check out both of those in the fine print of your specific card details. Make sure you understand the billing process. Your grace period is the amount of time you have to pay off your balance before a finance charge is added. The grace period is usually 28 days from the billing date of the balance. Finance charges are cardholder specific, so make sure you know how much you will pay if you carry over a balance.

This will help you stay on top of your spending. You are using the card to build credit, not pay for things you can’t afford. Being frugal with your spending will allow you to manage your debt to credit limit ratio – a lower ratio will affect 30 percent of your FICO. Limit the amount of credit cards you own. A regular credit card and a retail card should suffice. Remember, you should have a mix of credit to show you can handle the responsibility (10 percent of your FICO score), but simplify your life by having only two or three. It’s difficult to keep track of more than that, and if you apply for too many cards, lenders may wonder why you need so many. Remember, applications for credit affect 10 percent of your FICO score. If you feel the need to cancel a card, consider the value of the credit history: The longer the history, the better it is to keep it. Instead of canceling the card, think about cutting it up so you don’t use it, but still preserve the history and not affect your score.

understandIng the detaIls assoCIated wIth the Card wIll help you avoId debt and hIgh Interest.

Know your credit limit. This is the end of your purchasing power and a number to which you should never come close. If you are one to fully indulge in purchasing power, set a low limit. Improving Your Credit Score Once you’ve decided on a card and figured out all the details associated with your card agreement, you can use your credit history knowledge to increase your credit score. Establish your payment strategy. Make an effort to pay off your balance when you use the card, avoid interest by paying more than the minimum, and pay on time or earlier. Avoid penalties. Remember that making timely payments is 35 percent of your FICO score.

Avoid using the card for everyday expenses.

This is only a small part of the world of credit, but it’s important to know for your financial health. Your credit card will help build your financial reputation, so be proactive with it. Understand that unless handled responsibly, your credit card can do more damage than good. It is a useful tool, but you need to know how a credit card works and how to use it effectively. Understanding both sides of the card will allow you to make wise decisions and contribute to your future financial well-being.

a project to add insight to the viewfinder Picturing Everyday Beauty: A Project to Add Insight to the Viewfinder is the latest endeavor of Alive Arts Media, and raises the question, â&#x20AC;&#x153;What is beauty?â&#x20AC;? It aims to extend our perceptions of beauty beyond physical appearance and reinforce that beauty already exists in everyday places, emphasizing that personalities, hobbies, dreams and accomplishments are beautiful too.

Liam, 21 Galway, Ireland What do you do to make yourself well? I have an Irish concoction of hot water, honay, whisky and a Vitamin C tablet, for when I am sick.

who are the people In your lIfe who keep you sane?

Martina, 23 Lipperswil, Switzerland Define healthy. The balance between using your mind and exercising your body... not to get skinny, but to feel good.

what does “happy” mean to you?

Shelly, 22 Worthington, Minn. What does “happy” mean to you? Feeling like you are a real person, which means that you could be sad at times, but that sadness is good and it helps you know what happiness is.

Belkis, 43 New York City, N.Y. Who are the people in your life who keep you sane? My 7-year-old keeps me grounded and I have leanred to see life through her eyes. Children are so innocent and fresh. How are you gentle with yourself? I don’t abuse my body! My skin could never tell the age of a 43-yearold professor because it has never felt alcohol, drugs or nicotine near it. I feel there is a price to pay for all in life; I look younger because of my lifestyle. Which of your hobbies keep you healthy (spiritually or physically)? I love snorkeling and diving because you can ONLY hear bubbles; it is sort of meditating with God’s lovely creatures.

what Is your favorIte Comfort food? Christoph, 20 Kelsterbach, Germany Who are the people in your life who keep you sane? My family, my dog ( I talk to him a lot... I know he canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have a conversation with me but he is a good listener... )

Kayla, 23 Australia Which of your hobbies keep you healthy? Praise a day (each day writing down a praise a day), writing. Do you think being healthy is internal, external or both? Why? Both, because a healthy body is useless with an unhealthy mind and vice versa.

Kim, 52 Eau Claire, Wis. What advice do you have for young women? Eat chocolate and consider fresh ďŹ&#x201A;owers a need, not a want, particularly in the dead of winter or when sadness ďŹ lls your life. We need to be reminded that the world is a beautiful place.

defIne happy.

Anna, 14 Alnwick, England What is you favorite healthy habit? Dancing.

Yoonhee Lim, 24 Seoul, South Korea

What is your favorite comfort food? Chocolate.

What is your favorite comfort food? Umm, rice. Haha. Kimchi Korean food.

Megan, 22 Plymouth, Minn. What does “happy” mean to you? I feel like being happy is enjoying yourself and others and being able to smile and laugh a lot. What gives you strength? How do you find strength? What keeps you strong? The people in my life that care about me and take time to listen to what I really have to say.

what gIves you strength?

Hannah, 19 Appleton, Wis. What do you know about staying healthy that you wish you would have known before? It’s not about how much you weigh but it’s about how healthy your body is.

! V P H E? M By RACHAEL CONSTABLE DRAWING By ANNA GIZZI PHOTOGRAPH AND DIGITAL ILLUSTRATIONS By TIANA TOSO

Why would a doctor be asking my opinion? I thought. Aren’t they supposed to tell me what to do? This was my thought process when my doctor asked me if I wanted to be vaccinated against HPV. I guess I’m just used to my doctor telling me what to do: You will be getting this shot, I’m going to prescribe you this medication, you are due for this test. Instead, I suddenly found myself faced with what seemed to be an important health decision. I found myself struggling with the same questions that millions of young women face about the vaccine and HPV itself. After talking it through with my doctor, I realized I did not know very much about HPV. Before I decided whether or not to get vaccinated, I needed answers to all of my questions.

Really, what is HPV?

HPV stands for human papillomavirus. HPV is the most common sexually transmitted infection in the United States. It is a virus that infects the top layers of your skin and genital organs, and is passed on through genital contact, most often through sex. At least one in every two sexually active young women has had a genital HPV infection. If you have had sexual contact (or plan to have sexual contact in the future) you are potentially at risk for contracting HPV.

Why is HPV so dangerous?

The scary thing is that those who have HPV usually don’t know because they have no symptoms – but they can still infect other people. Your body might clear the infection on its own, but if not, HPV can lead to further visible infections like genital warts, which are growths that appear around the vagina and anus. HPV can also cause pre-cancerous changes to occur in your body that put you at risk for developing cancer later in life. This means that coming in contact with HPV now could lead to cancer years down the road. The virus is most commonly known for being strongly linked to cervical cancer, which is the second most common cancer in women worldwide.

So, it's only spread through sex, right?

Wrong! Many people do not know that HPV is actually spread from skin-to-skin contact with any infected part of the body. This means that intercourse is not the only way to get it. HPV can be contracted through oral sex or any other intimate skin-to-skin touch that involves the genital area. And, unlike other sexually transmitted viruses, a condom will not protect you from HPV because the virus can be on skin that is not covered by a condom.

suddenly I found myself faCed wIth what seemed to be an Important health deCIsIon.

q: A:

There is a shot that helps to protect me?

Yes. The HPV vaccine, called Gardasil, is a three-shot series given over six months. It’s been approved by the Food and Drug Administration for young women ages nine to 26. There are many types of HPV that you could be infected with. Gardasil helps to protect you against the four most dangerous types of HPV that often cause disease: types six, 11, 16 and 18. Together, these types of HPV cause 70 percent of cervical cancer cases and 90 percent of genital warts cases. These types of HPV also cause many vulvar and vaginal cancers. As scientists continue studying HPV, some are finding that it may also be responsible for some head, neck and throat cancers. Since Gardasil was approved in 2006, 16 million young women have received it. Most insurance companies pay for the cost, which is $120 per shot. For those without coverage, the national Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has a program called Vaccines for Children, which will pay for the vaccine up until the child’s nineteenth birthday. the sCary thIng Is that those who have hpv usually don’t know It beCause they have no symptoms – but they Can stIll InfeCt other people.

But, what if I'm not sexually active?

Many young women chose not to get the vaccine for this reason. If this is you, listen up! According to the CDC, the ideal time for girls to get the vaccine is actually long before they ever become sexually active. Gardasil is most effective in young women who have not yet come in contact with the virus. It is something you choose to protect yourself with now, knowing that you may become sexually active in the future.

The truth is that many people are (in one way or another) sexually intimate with more than one person in their lifetimes. If this still doesn’t concern you but you plan on getting married, you’ve got your possible husband to think about. Women who are virgins when they marry can get the virus if their husbands have had even one other sexual partner before the marriage. And while many plan to live monogamously, this unfortunately may not be reality down the road for you or your spouse. aCCordIng to the CdC, the Ideal tIme for gIrls to get the vaCCIne Is aCtually long before they ever beCome sexually aCtIve.

What if I've potentially already been exposed to HPV?

You should still get the shot. It will not protect you from infection if you have already contracted the virus, but remember: Gardasil protects you against four types of HPV. So, even if you have contracted one type, you will receive protection from the types you have not yet come in contact with. After discussing the benefits and side effects of Gardasil with my doctor, I decided to get the shot. Since the vaccine is safe and effective in preventing HPV, and has little to no side effects, I’d rather play it safe. I do not know what the future holds for me, so I’m going to do all that I can now to protect myself for what may be my reality later. Within a couple of minutes of my decision, the nurse was in to administer my shot. It did sting a little, but only lasted a couple seconds. To get full protection, I will be sure to get the two remaining shots as recommended. Many young women have complained about the shot being more painful than other vaccines. The first one wasn’t any more painful than other shots I’ve gotten, and I don’t yet know about the others. What I do know, however, is that a few seconds of pain may save me from terrible disease and suffering in the future. Not a bad tradeoff. The vaccine is not recommended if you are pregnant or have certain blood conditions, immune disorders or specific medical conditions. Rare adverse effects are a possibility with any vaccine. Only your doctor or health care professional can decide if Gardasil is right for you. Talk to your doctor or visit the following websites to read, search and find out more: www.cdc.gov/std/hpv/default.htm www.youngwomenshealth.org/hpv_vaccine.html www.nih.gov www.cancer.org

e In

by melissa hinkley

general, Costa Ricans are not tall people. As a six-feet-tall blonde, I simply could not blend in. I would walk down the street and get so many honks and stares because I was pretty much the only tall blonde in the entire country. It was such a change because when I was in the United States, I prided myself on being tall and athletic, having played basketball since I was eight. That was my identity and it was just who I was. Then I moved to another country and sure, I looked different, but being a basketball player didn’t mean anything to Costa Ricans. To them, I was just a lanky blonde who spoke broken Spanish and spent half her time completely lost in the winding streets of San Jose. Because I didn’t fully understand the language, things that came as second nature in the United States transformed into situations where I felt out of place. Once, I tried to order a fruit salad and got a glass of lemonade and a Diet Coke instead. It took those few months of awkwardness to make me slow down and begin to realize what made me tick. I was working for a newspaper in Costa Rica, and I knew on my first day that the job was simply not for me. I cannot sit still for even a few seconds, so I was a fidgeting machine. I’m usually a pretty active person, and a long, eight-to-five day job didn’t mix well with my enthusiasm for exercise. My job entailed sitting at a desk for multiple hours a day, making phone calls, doing some interviews and writing stories. My long legs didn’t enjoy being folded into a pretzel underneath a desk all day long, and my Spanish was not quite to the point where I should have been conducting police interviews.

But it was through that time that I really figured out what I was passionate about. I had plenty of time to think, and my mind always wandered to different ways to stay in shape or different meals that would fuel my body for exercise. I constantly thought about reasons why I needed to get out of the office just so I could be active. Once I had formulated a plan to get out of the office, I took off like an Olympic speed-walker unleashed from the starting line. Even though my day job felt confining, I wasn’t completely inactive. Most mornings I got up at 5 a.m. with my host parents who were training for a marathon. Part of their training schedule involved some shorter races so I even got to run a 10.5K (6.5 miles) along with about 2,000 Costa Ricans. Back in the United States, I usually woke up around 9:30 a.m., so my 4:45 a.m. Costa Rican wake-up call was definitely a change. Sometimes I would wake up, eat breakfast I tried to order a fruit salad and got a glass of lemonade and a Diet Coke instead. and then realize that my host parents had slept through their alarm. Instead of waking them, I would crawl back into my tiny bed, feet hanging over the edge and all. But those morning workouts were just not enough to satisfy my urge to be active. I wanted to be able to go to the gym at midnight and shoot baskets if I wanted to. I wanted to be able to walk out of my house at any time during the day and hop on a bike or lace up my sneak-

ers and see where my feet would take me. Costa Rica’s narrow roads can be dangerous for pedestrians, and it wasn’t an option for me to walk out of our gated house and go for a run at night. Each week, I looked forward to the weekends so I could travel to the coast and explore. I didn’t dread coming back to work, but I did not look forward to sitting inside, behind my desk, while there was so much to experience in Costa Rica. I flourished when I was able to research and write articles on topics that interested me, like sports, medical tourism, anti-aging treatments and food. But when I felt chained down to a topic such as crime, I would become annoyed – and it was evident. My boss and I had a discussion because it was obvious what I was passionate about, and my boss helped me decide I needed to go pursue such passions. I knew that my desire for physical activity and my passion for helping people weren’t going to just fizzle out, so the very next day I booked a flight back home to Lincoln, Neb. I am a spontaneous person and my parents are the ones who usually make me slow down and think about my actions. At this time, they happened to be spending 14 days in Europe so they had a flurry of emails from me daily, one saying I was going to Panama to explore, the next saying I was coming home and others saying I was staying in Costa Rica. They didn’t know what to believe. Everyone seemed to have opinions on my situation. My closest friends told me to stay in Costa Rica, my relatives told me to come home, and my host family begged me to stay. Swayed by my friends and host family, I canceled my flight and decided to think a little bit more. But, a few days of thinking still had me leaning toward returning to the United States, so I booked the same exact flight. A few days later, I was back on U.S. soil. I stayed in Florida overnight, and I remember thinking how weird it was to not be gawked at. I do still stick out a little bit, but it was so weird walking through the airport and only getting a few glances. I remember seeing some people taller than me and just wanting to go give them a

My long legs didn’t enjoy being folded into a pretzel underneath a desk all day long and my Spanish was not quite to the point where I should have been conducting police interviews.

If a song was named after me it would be “Miss Independent,” so it was hard relying on people to take me to and from work, translate for me and cook my meals.

big hug (which would have been incredibly awkward for them). I took a taxi to my hotel and was blown away when I felt the air-conditioned air hitting me like a brick wall. I even walked to a Subway restaurant at midnight, and I remember feeling free because, for the first time, I didn’t have to rely on someone else or some type of transportation to get me there. Being away from everything familiar was tough, but it was incredibly rewarding. I was away from the easy life I had known for so long, and because of that, I was stretched, which revealed things about me. I realized how much I craved sports and working out. And, for once in my life, I had to actually rely on people. If a song was named after me it would be “Miss Independent,” so it was hard relying on people to take me to and from work, translate for me and cook my meals. It was challenging going from being a well-known athlete to being just an awkward blonde lost in the streets of San Jose. I still miss so many things from Costa Rica. I miss the huge glasses of ice-cold, homemade lemonade. I miss reading on the back deck as the sun just began to peek over the mountains. I miss learning goofy Spanish songs from my host sisters. And I actually miss my much simpler life without a cell phone. What I don’t miss is feeling out of place and unsettled. I think the difficult situations that I struggled with made me a stronger person, and it took my trip abroad to realize that fitness and helping people make me come alive. Thanks to my experience in Costa Rica, I am pursuing it with every particle of my being.

happilyever

you say you’re a princess who fell in love once upon a time you were a damsel in distress and he was your knight in shining armor you say you’re a princess who will live happily ever after with kings and queens and shooting stars and a fairy godmother to make everything all right but life isn’t a fairy tale castles crumble things will change and you can’t turn back time with the wave of a magic wand your heart will get broken your back will be stabbed glass slippers will be shattered and you can’t expect prince charming to come and rescue you but don’t give up hope because dreams come true miracles happen and happily ever afters live on in faraway lands you say you’re a princess who fell in love once upon a time you were a damsel in distress and he was your knight in shining armor you say you’re a princess who will live happily ever after with kings and queens and shooting stars and a fairy godmother to make everything all right but life isn’t a fairy tale castles crumble things will change and you can’t turn back time with the wave of a magic wand your heart will get broken your back will be stabbed glass slippers will be shattered and you can’t expect prince charming to come and rescue you but don’t give up hope because dreams come true miracles happen and happily ever afters live on in faraway lands

after

By SAMANTHA yEE ILLUSTRATION By KARISSA WAGNER

I wrote this poem for people who assume that life is a fairy tale. Life will not always turn out the way you planned, good things can disappear under your nose and things will not happen overnight. People will make mistakes and bad things will happen, but you will have to deal with them eventually, learn from them, and become a better person because of them. Yes, failure is a part of life, but that is no reason to give up hope. You must see life in all of its glory, for you have to experience the bad to recognize the good.

Unconcerned with Age Mental Illness in Young Women By jESSICA SCHOMMER ILLUSTRATIONS By jENNy WILLIAMS

I remember the days when my greatest concerns for my friends were if they sat at the right lunch table or were invited to a birthday party. At some point, it seems that these concerns evolved into my friendsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; frightening weight loss, damaging addictions and recurring depression. One friend in particular, with whom I used to play on the playground and bike to the gas station to buy candy, confided in me about her struggle with depression and bulimia. She dropped out of college and is now confused about her future. While she explained it all to me, I suddenly longed for the days of the past when we would giggle in our sleeping bags and eat chips and cheese dip while lounging in comfy couches, oblivious to the concept of calories. At what point did my concerns for my friends transform from sharing crayons to sharing some of the greatest challenges in life? I thought. Fighting on behalf of my friend as she struggles with deceiving lies about her weight and appearance can overwhelm me. Phobias, fears, mood disorders, depression and suicide have crept into the lives of some of my favorite people.

at what poInt dId my ConCerns for my frIends transform from sharIng Crayons to sharIng some of the greatest Challenges In lIfe?

My own experience of seeing friends struggle through mental illness during their young adulthood is not an isolated one. Many of the most common mental illnesses can begin during late adolescence and early adulthood. The median ages for onset of mental illnesses (like obsessive-compulsive disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder, agoraphobia, panic disorder, schizophrenia and bipolar disorders) are all between ages 18 to 25, according to the National Institute on Mental Health.

Fact S i d e B a R NAMI facts state that in 2007, half of all lifetime cases of mental illness begin by age 14 and 75 percent begin by age 24. Schizophrenia affects about one in 100 Americans. In women, the onset is generally in their 20s and early 30s, according to the NIMH. NAMI reports that both children and adolescents have shown cases of bipolar disorder, the youngest case being that of a 6-year-old. NAMI studies indicate that successful recovery from mental illness requires learning about the illness and its treatments, receiving support from peers and family members and taking action in handling oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s illness by helping others. After surveying over 54,000 college students, the National College Health Assessment, sponsored by the American College Health Association, found that the rate of students reporting being diagnosed with depression has increased 56 percent between spring 2000 to spring 2005. A staggering 10 to 14 million people in any given year experience clinical depression, and women 18 to 45 years of age account for the largest portion of this group. Across almost all cultures and socioeconomic classes, women are more likely than men to experience depression, according to NAMI in 2003.

As we transition from childhood to adolescence to adulthood, is it any wonder that we face some of lifeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s greatest internal battles along the way? The young are particularly vulnerable to mental illness, according to the National Alliance on Mental Illnessâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; report in 2006. College brings types of stress and freedom that students have not experienced before, which may trigger some of these illnesses. Being away from parents, feeling academic pressure, worrying about an insecure job market, sleeping less and drinking more are all identified as possible sources for increased stress and depression in college students. Of course, environmental factors only partially contribute to the onset of mental illnesses. Genetic, biological and psychosocial factors can also have a significant affect on mental health. When it comes to mental illness, women are also particularly vulnerable. NAMI reports that one out of every eight women will suffer from clinical depression in her lifetime. In general, women also experience higher rates of seasonal affective disorder and chronic depression than men do. The National Mental Health Information Center, which is a part of the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, indicates a difference between the way that mental illnesses affect women and men. It is only as of recently that researchers have begun to piece together the factors that explain these differences. An interesting observation is that during pre-adolescence and later in life, average depression rates for men and women remain similar. The gender difference is not noticeable until after puberty and does not balance out again until after the average age for menopause. Therefore, it may be possible that female hormones play a role in depression onset. SAMHSA studies also indicate that depression is the number one cause of disability in women and affects twice as many women as men.

Interestingly enough, SAMHSA also notes that overall, married women will experience more depression than single women. Depression is also especially common for stay-at-home moms with young children. When I read these statistics, I sometimes become overwhelmed in what seems to be a hopeless and frightening ordeal. As both a college student and a young woman, it seems I am extremely vulnerable to some of these illnesses. Furthermore, the label “mental illness” carries its own stigmas, stereotypes and fears. Will I be the next individual affected by schizophrenia? Panic! While these illnesses are a reality, there is hope for individuals with mental illness. NAMI states that the best treatments for serious mental illnesses today are highly effective. Between 70 to 90 percent of individuals show a significant reduction in symptoms and improved quality of life when pharmaceutical and psychosocial treatments are implemented.

GloSSaRy Obsessive -compulsive disorders: The Mayo Clinic reports that obsessive-compulsive disorder is a type of anxiety disorder that is characterized by unreasonable thoughts or fears that lead to repetitious behaviors. Most obsessivecompulsive disorders revolve around themes that will continually cause distress and ritualistic behaviors.

While it seems that life was simpler when we didn’t know what OCD stood for, let us consider what we can do in the lives of those struggling with mental illness instead of trying to run back to the days when all Depression we knew was playing dress-up and having sleepovers. Whether it’s This is one of the most common being supportive of a best friend, developing a greater awareness health conditions in the world, to identify symptoms in those we love or pursuing careers according to the Mayo Clinic. to find more effective treatments for mental illness, It involves both the mind and there is much we can do when facing the reality body, and includes a variety of of this issue. When I think of my friend emotional and physical problems who struggles with depression and that vary in individuals. Different people an eating disorder, I realize that display depression in different ways. There are the best thing I can do is a variety of symptoms associated with depression, be there for her and like feeling sad or hopeless, having trouble sleeping, reassure her that she feeling worthless or losing interest in normal daily activities. is not alone. Hope for fighting these Post-Traumatic stress disorders: mental illnesses This mental illness, says the Mayo Clinic, is a type of anxiety disorder is tangible and that has been triggered by a tremendously traumatic event that happens to close, and my you or someone you know. This illness is characterized by intense feelings of job as her fear, helplessness or horror. friend is to remind her Agoraphobia: of this fact. The Mayo Clinic defines agoraphobia as being fearful about having a panic or anxiety attack and not being able to get help or get out of the situation. This type of phobia often limits people from being in public places like elevators, lines, bridges, airplanes or other highly populated areas. Women are diagnosed with agoraphobia more often than men. Panic disorders: A disorder that consists of frequent panic attacks. The Mayo Clinic defines panic attacks as intense physical reactions that are caused by fears that develop without any clear reason. Schizophrenia: Schizophrenia has a reputation for being a mental illness with an average onset during the young adult years. Schizophrenia is a chronic and severe brain disorder often characterized by hearing voices others don’t hear, according to the NIMH. Bipolar disorder: According to the Mayo Clinic, bipolar disorder is a mental illness that includes both manic and depressive phases. The mood swings of bipolar disorder can last as long as weeks or months. Increased research shows bipolar disorder covers a large range of symptoms, and those that are left untreated will worsen. Higher rates of suicide also are associated with those who have bipolar disorder, but the good news is that effective treatment has been shown to enable individuals to live a productive and enjoyable life.

M WHAT we

By jACqUELIN HEDEMAN DIGITAL ILLUSTRATIONS By MEGAN FOSS AND TIANA TOSO

KNOW

A note from the editor:

While we don’t have a column speciﬁcally for ﬁction pieces, we just couldn’t resist this story. We’re presenting it in the Mischief column, as it’s about shenanagins abroad. Enjoy!

-Nicolle Westlund

f you would lie on your back with your head on the tiles in front of the fireplace, it was possible to see the place under the mantelpiece that was chipped when the last owner of the house shot himself in the head. When my mother caught my cousin Frank and me doing just that, she sent us outside with the expectation, as she put it, that we would “do something constructive and stop being so morbid.” The gravel path outside was white and dusty. Every step brought up a cloud of chalky dirt that coated our sandaled feet and came off in the shower in grainy streams. Sometimes my father and Frank’s would get the owner in the evening and they would play pétanque (explained to me as French bocce ball), which was played a lot here in the Alpes-Maritimes, up and down the path until dinner was ready. Mom would yell at them if they got too much gravel in the garden and Dad would raise his eyebrows (his “it’s not my problem” face) and gesture at the owner, who would assure Mother that, since it was his gravel, he would rake it back together. The house belonged to this owner, Monsieur Martel. It was his gîte (explained to me as a French vacation home). Monsieur Martel’s own home was half of a kilometer down the road. It was small and dark and smelled of chickens, mostly because there was a chicken coop behind the house, from which Monsieur Martel got his eggs and, occasionally, his chicken dinners. He also shot wild boar. He was particularly proud of this, and he climbed on a rickety chair to dismount the foot-and-a-half long wild boar skull from his last kill. It had been sitting on top of a shabby wardrobe, surveying the TV room where he had dragged Frank and me to show us an ancient animated Astérix film. Apparently wild boars always come back to the place where they were born, which for Monsieur Martel means an endless supply of meat. Frank and I were more interested in the skull than in Astérix. We were high

school juniors, soon to be seniors, and felt that cartoons were beneath our dignity. Before Mom kicked us out, Frank and I had been lying on our backs and looking at the chipped mantelpiece mostly on account of the heat. It was at least 90 degrees outside and the only cool place in the house was stretched out on the tiles. Monsieur Martel had told us about the chip and the previous owner with the utmost vagueness. We knew that the chip was a result of the previous owner shooting himself in the head. We knew that the previous owner had the house until his death in the early 1990s, when Monsieur Martel’s late wife’s family had bought it. Beyond that, we had to imagine, and we did. What else was there to do? “Go on a hike,” my mother said. “Read a book. Ask your father if he’ll drive you to the beach.” “We’ll be lying on our backs there too,” said Frank. “And soaking up harmful rays. In front of the fireplace there are no harmful rays.” If I had said that, my mother would have done more than grin, roll her eyes and go back into the house, leaving us on the path. Without waiting for me to follow him, Frank started for the olive trees at the edge of the garden, scattering gravel every which way with his first leap into the lettuce

(no flowers were growing in the garden, just lettuce). Once there, he sprawled on his front in the shade and started picking at the long and scratchy grass. I patted the ground and sat down next to him. “This is almost as cool,” I said. “No it’s not,” he said. “What kind of place doesn’t have air conditioning?” I shrugged. “France.” “I don’t know why my dad brought me here.” I didn’t speak. There were things about which I knew it was best to say nothing. When Dad had told me that Frank and Uncle Chris would be joining us for our trip to France, sans Aunt Judy, he had a tone in his voice. It was interesting. There were still things my parents, who claimed to be open about everything with me, decided not to spell out. Perhaps they credited me with a better ability to read between the lines than I actually possessed. Perhaps they just didn’t want to tell me, although whether what they hoped to avoid was the act of telling, or the information itself, was unclear. Whatever the reason, I did not know why Frank’s father had brought Frank here either, but I got the sense that Frank’s statement had been more rhetorical than anything else. Obviously he knew what had happened to bring them here. What made things awkward that summer was that he seemed to assume

I DIDN’T KNOW

WHETHER HIS CATALOGUING

of the Count’s attrIbutes was

just a CurIous mInd at work, or If It was a surfaCe symptom of some deeper thIng I should be ConCerned about, or If It meant nothIng at all. and all of a sudden I Couldn’t ask hIm, though I always mIght have before. that I knew as well. Frank sighed and rolled onto his back. “So what do we know about the count so far?” “The count?” “The guy who shot himself.” “Who said he was a count?” Frank pulled at an especially long piece of grass until it came free in his hand. He started to twirl it in the air above his head. The shadow it cast on his face looked like an insect. I wanted to swat at it. “OK,” he said. “No one. But he should’ve been, don’t you think?” “Fine.” I had the beginnings of a headache and was in no mood to argue the point. It was mid-afternoon and the air was buzzing. Insects flew by making clacking noises and the dry grass in the heat seemed about to burst into flame. “So we know he died in 1905. What happened in 1905?” I leaned against the tree. “I don’t know, Frank. It’s July.” Frank glanced up at me. “You have to know that stuff year round,” he said, “not just while school’s in session. Otherwise why learn anything?” “I was being sarcastic. Sheesh.” The bark was digging into my back, and I tried to find a better position. “I don’t know. I think something happened in Russia.” “Something’s always going on somewhere,” said Frank. “I meant here. Lie down if you’re uncomfortable.” I did, but the sun was in my eyes, so I rolled over and propped myself up on my elbows. In doing so, I brushed against the side of Frank. Lying next to him on the cool tiles in front of the fireplace had been no big deal. We were cousins and we were trying to find some sort of relief from feeling perpetually warm and disgusting and we were looking at the remnants of someone’s demise. Out here something else had been added to the

mix. I could feel the heat his body was giving off through his t-shirt. Now that we were outside he was sweating and the way he smelled reminded me of the boys in my class who would pull off their shirts and pour water over their heads on hot days. I scooted sideways away from him. It had been clear from the moment Dad told me that Frank and Uncle Chris were coming to France with us that I would be responsible for entertaining Frank. Frank and I were born a day apart, as Aunt Judy never failed to remind us. Uncle Chris once slipped in that we must have been conceived on the same day in the same motel during the same family reunion, but I tried to put that image out of my mind. Regardless of what led up to it, Frank and I were always referred to as one unit by aunts and uncles and other cousins. “Frank and Jenny want to order pizza. Ask Frank and Jenny if you can watch TV with them. Can Frank and Jenny drive us to the mall? Jenny and Frank are hogging the ice cream,” and so on. They were right. In groups we tended to stick together; when faced with a wall of younger cousins, we kept to ourselves. Here, though, in France, it was as if those moments of unity had never existed. We were cousins, maybe even friends, but there was no more Frank-and-Jenny. But we had been, and it was impossible not to notice the look Frank gave me when I moved away from him. “A rock was stabbing me,” I said pointing towards the ground between us. Frank nodded and, thank God, said nothing. “So,” I said, pulling out a clump of grass, “we know that he died in 1905, we know that he was a count and we know that he lived here.” I looked at Frank. His eyes were closed. “I’m going to take a nap,” he said. “Just a short one. Will you wake me up in 20 minutes?” I nodded, and then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Sure.” He moved his shoulders back and forth, as if he expected to mould the ground into a softer mattress. He brought his arm under his head. He soon began to breathe more slowly. I squinted out from the shade at the garden. “so,” he saId, after a whIle, “we know that he was a Count. we know that he lIved here. we know that In 1905 he took a gun and shot hImself In the head. Is there anythIng else you thInk we should know?” Frank wouldn’t wake up until almost noon most days. Uncle Chris told him off for it at first, but Dad advised Frank to sleep as much as he wanted while he still had the ability. That was one of those moments that hinted at something strange, like when Mom would let Frank get away with sarcasm that would earn me a reprimand.

I resigned myself to not knowing why Frank was allowed these things, which had to be related to the reason why Frank and Uncle Chris had joined us, because I didn’t want to ask and no one showed any signs of telling me. I wondered if Frank preferred his mother or his father. I wondered if he minded spending two months without his mother, or if he was happy to be spending them with his dad. That was another question I couldn’t ask. It was like asking parents of multiple children if they had a favorite child. I had asked my grandmother once. She had teared up and looked at the living room, where my mother and six aunts and uncles were gathered and had not hesitated before giving me some answer about “loving them all equally for different reasons.” Making my grandmother cry is not difficult. Sometimes it consists of as little as thanking her for a good meal, or doing well in school. Her tears were not what bothered me. It was the fact that she did not have to think before she answered me, as if what she was saying was true. The answer in our family would always be, “Of course not! How could I choose? I love them equally,” whether it was true or not. I knew this because I knew it was what I would say. What makes me different from my grandmother would not be hesitation – I would not hesitate; I had learned the phrase by heart – but the knowledge that I would be lying as I said it. Frank made a sound and scratched his head, but I was pretty sure he was still asleep. I knew how he sounded when he was awake but pretending to sleep, which had happened the last time we saw our cousin Emma and she had wanted to play CandyLand with Frank. He had curled up on the couch and shut his eyes the minute he heard she was looking for him. Then he had been silent and still. Now he was restless, and I knew he was asleep. I realized that I had never started timing from the beginning of his nap, and decided to wake him up after another five minutes passed. He would never know the difference. The thing that made it hard to be with Frank was not that he was good looking and related to me (that had only been a split-second concern), or that he assumed I knew something that I did not, or even that he so clearly disliked this country that I loved, but that it was so hard to tell, even after all these years, what he was thinking. I didn’t know whether his cataloguing of the count’s attributes was just a curious mind at work, or if it was a surface symptom of some deeper thing I should be concerned about, or if it meant nothing at all. And all of a sudden I couldn’t ask him, though I always might have before. Frank had woken up while I was thinking. I became aware of stillness where before there had been the sound of his sleeping. “I know you’re awake,” I said. “Stop staring at me through your eyelashes.”

Frank chuckled and opened his eyes. He sat up. There was grass stuck to his back and in his hair. I started laughing. “What?” he said. “What?”

see it, it couldn’t see me.

I started brushing him off.

“Maybe it’s OK,” I said, not looking forward to creeping through the lettuce, which was not likely to be at all subtle.

Suddenly he twisted and grabbed my forearm, hard, leaning against me and pressing my back into the tree. His mouth was an inch from mine. “What are you—?”

“We should sneak away,” said Frank.

“Monsieur Martel said they slash with their tusks,” said Frank. I had a brief thought of what that might entail, but was interrupted by a shot. Frank froze. “Monsieur Martel to the rescue,” I said. There was another shot and I looked back at the boar, which was now dead and bloody, and Monsieur Martel was standing over it. Mom, Dad and Uncle Chris appeared. I had not heard them arrive but it occurred to me that the sound of a shot would probably get them outside. Mom clutched my shoulder and Dad tried to talk to Monsieur Martel to find out what had happened (I thought it was fairly obvious) but his French was failing him and he had to settle for standing there and looking inquisitive. “I need to go inside,” said Frank. He looked as if he might be sick. None of the adults heard him. Instead, they stood and stared at the boar, in shock. The thought crossed my mind that if anyone had the right to be in shock it was Frank and me, but I abandoned the thought of telling them so in favor of following Frank into the house. He went straight to the tiles in front of the fireplace and lay down. He turned his head and pressed his cheek onto the tiles. “I just need to stay here for a while. I need to cool down.”

“Shh. Don’t move.” Slowly, he nodded at a spot over my left shoulder. “There’s a huge wild boar. Right there.”

“Are you alright, Frank?” I finally asked. “Is there anything I should do?”

Slowly, I turned my head. I couldn’t move it far because of the angle at which Frank had shoved me into the tree, but it was enough to see that he was right. There was a boar, hairy and much, much bigger than the skull had led me to believe, standing two feet away. I looked away. It seemed a good time to apply the logic that if I couldn’t

I sat down next to him.

“No,” he said.

“So,” he said, after a while, “we know that he was a count. We know that he lived here. We know that in 1905 he took a gun and shot himself in the head. Is there anything else you think we should know?”

Dessert Always Helps by jacci mikkelson photograph by danica myers

declining food was extreme, drastic; saying no to food became a statement of life’s futility.

It was raining the day I chose to recover. I’d spent most of the day in “appointments” – therapy and nutrition counseling – and again found myself contemplating the complexities of my eating disorder. I was unhappy. My eating disorder had been with me for five years, with various intensive treatments. For all the promises it made me at the beginning about how I’d be thinner and everything would be so much better, and about how this one thing, reaching that number, would save me, I was still sick. I was still unhappy. I was empty. No food, no emotion. I needed to be done with my eating disorder. The anorexia had ravaged me. I’d had an intense session with my dietician, whom I called Fajah. So many of my interactions with him had been normal, and so many had been surreal. He was perhaps the most serene man I’d ever met, certainly the most genuine and grounded. He shamelessly fought my eating disorder with me, often for me. Even now, it’s difficult to wrap my mind around his acceptance and honesty. Our sessions were always more than instructions on how to eat what I was supposed to; he was professional, but always warm and always connected. I tried to apologize for myself, my thoughts and my tendency to throw the meal plan out the window in exchange for a few numbers on the scale. I desperately wanted to explain to him that it wasn’t personal. My weight loss was not rebellion against him. “Don’t hate me,” I had begged him. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” was his response, smiling. It was as if he knew my battle with myself each day was pointless. He didn’t think

I was manipulative or trying to hurt him. He didn’t think I was an ugly person or rude or a disappointment. I adored him for fighting as hard as he did. He had managed to see the eating disorder as a disease, where I could only see it as a choice, and a hateful one at that. He was certainly one of the last people I wanted to hurt in all of this. I didn’t want him to feel for my pain, not really. He didn’t need to be another casualty in this war. Each appointment, we went over my food records – most clients in eating disorder treatment keep explicit records of everything they eat, including time and portion size, and I was no different. Today, one of my pages was covered in my scrawling handwriting, proclaiming “I HATE LIFE” in black ink. I don’t remember why I wrote that. I’m sure I was generally frustrated with the meal plan, my family, school. This was a statement, from my eating disorder to my treatment team: You see? I’m angry. I’m hurting, and I don’t know how else to articulate it. Fajah knew this. He took my food record from me and studied it. He was quiet for a long time. Then he leaned forward in his chair and looked into my eyes, peering over his glasses. “It’s a shame that someone as wonderful as you could hate life already.” Fajah was always honest with me. He didn’t gloss over things because he was uncomfortable or projected that I might be. He never kept things from me because I was emotionally too “fragile” to know the truth. His words were, in my book, second only to God’s. He was one of the few people in my life who only spoke truth. I’ve spent most of my life feeling powerless. I never really had an opinion on anything; I didn’t want to upset people if it wasn’t necessary. Even if I had an opinion, I wouldn’t have been able to articulate it. I grew up in a world where emotion was suppressed and people were judged instantaneously. I learned, rather quickly, that silence was safe. When you stayed quiet, there was no judgment. I had been muted by the expectations of society and by dysfunction in my family, and I felt ineffectual. My tendency to avoid my problems and feelings turned on me. I soon discovered that pushing emotion away wasn’t enough to make me feel better. Emotions are not tangible, so I tried to find something that was. Food is tangible. I could touch food; I could see it and taste it. I could refuse it. Declining food was extreme, drastic; saying no to food became a statement of life’s futility. However, people cannot exist in a world without emotion (or food). When I realized my eating disorder was making me feel worse about life and not better, I chose to get treatment. Even so, it took me a long time to commit to it. I chose to recover because Fajah was right. It took a year and a half of treatment to discover myself; inevitably, I began to love that girl. I love my honesty, my passion, my wit. Eventually, I found I had more to offer the world than losing weight. I could give of myself without having to

give up myself. The day I chose recovery, I was ready to fully embrace what I had to offer. To be clear, I am still in recovery. I am not recovered, and might not be for a long time. Old habits die hard. Sometimes, I’ll find myself climbing stairs two at a time. I still have a hard time getting “out of the mirror” in the morning. The eating disorder still pushes to be a part of my life, but I am actively working to stop it from affecting me. I have conquered so much as well. I don’t own a scale. I haven’t seen my weight since June of 2007. When I go shopping, I’m no longer drawn to the magazines that scream the newest weight loss secret. It’s not that my eating disorder and I are completely disconnected. The thoughts are still there. I just know that I can no longer engage with them. The eating disorder destroyed my life for so long that I’m (finally) not willing to go back again. I’m not avoiding it, either; I’m not pushing the fear down, hoping it will never resurface. I simply choose to walk away. The temptation is always there, but eventually I realized that it dissipates once you stop trying to reason with it. In the depths of an eating disorder, you feel paralyzed. This separate entity in your head has decided that you are ultimately going to lose weight or die, and you have no power over that. It’s ironic that my effort to reclaim my voice didn’t actually find anything. I had to feel to recover. Action is the only thing that will destroy the eating disorder. Recovery is a choice. You may not choose to have an eating disorder, but you have to choose to recover from one. Sitting in depression, helpless and confused, only gives it further ammunition to keep you incapacitated. If you’re not trying to get better, its job is made easier. Staking a claim on life and fighting back is the only way to conquer it. My therapist and dietician have been lifelines. They’ve helped me with awful days, intruding thoughts and unrealistic expectations for myself. They gave me confidence, a voice, enough to be able to entertain the thought that I was a capable human being. My faith in myself is slowly being restored; I can find joy in every day. I find it when I laugh, when I cry, when I become angry, when I listen to music. Feeling has become joyful. And of course, dessert always helps.

“It’s a shame that someone as wonderful as you could hate life already.” 39

ashley stuart goodwin

My camera is my constant companion. It is always in hand, capturing the beauty of overlooked details and uniquely documenting lifeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ordinary moments. My view through the camera lens is one that is clear and true. My style of photographic storytelling archives mundane details through beautiful, spontaneous and intimate, real life moments.

g story and photography by tiana toso Walking into the warehouse, I smell coffee brewing and head directly to the social room to snatch a doughnut before the workday begins. A colorful array of new volunteers listen intently as the warehouse manager, Scott, begins to discuss the game plan for packing the next sea container headed to India.

stricken country became the first lens through which I saw the world.

My father grew up in Madagascar as a missionary kid. After attending college and medical school in the United States, it didn’t take long for him to find his way back to the country of his youth. He accepted a five-year contract to work as a missionary doctor in Madagascar in 1983. I was only five months old, and my brothers were two and five years old. This poverty-

After the five-year contract expired in Madagascar, our family moved back to the United States. My dad accepted a position as a family-practice doctor in Austin, Minn. As I grew older, my parents began to unfold the heart-breaking stories of the Malagasy people. My father talked of a young girl he took care

I recall watching local fisherman bring their latest catch to the open-air markets and listening to my parents bargain with the street vendors for the best price. While my dad was away at work, a lady by the “Tia,” he says as he looks at me with a grin. “You’re name of Zafi helped my mom take care of us kids tech savvy. I’ll let you scan the bar codes of the and helped prepare meals for our family. I have fond medical equipment being shipped. Be sure every box memories of sifting rocks out of bushels of rice with is accounted for. Customs officials on the other end her on the back steps of our house. She would bundle wouldn’t be happy with us me up on her back and if we didn’t have an honest stroll with me through the report of what has been marketplace as the locals In my eyes, zafI and these kIds shipped, right?” would ooh and aah at the were my best frIends. I had no sight of this light-skinned I smile and nod as I head off to Idea that some of them were toddler. my work station. On my way strugglIng just to survIve. over, I peak around the corner I also loved playing with the into an office of women typing neighbor kids. We would away on Mac computers. After spend hours catching a bit of friendly banter, I find they volunteer their time valalas (grasshoppers) and searching for seashells to provide project support for health care programs on the beach. Little did I know that in countries like overseas. Currently, one of the ladies is tracking Madagascar, women like Zafi would have to travel for donations that came in for one of the top nursing days to reach a hospital in order to deliver a baby. schools in Madagascar. Without these generous Or that young children, like my playmates, were contributions, this school would cease to exist. prized treasures because the infant mortality rate in Madagascar was astronomically high. Of course, at What an incredible place, I think to myself as I take my young age, these issues were of no concern to me. the last bit of my morning pastry and stake out my In my eyes, Zafi and these kids were my best friends. spot at the scanning station. I have been volunteering I had no idea that some of them were struggling just at Global Health Ministries since I was a young girl. to survive. All I could see was the quality of their My father, Dr. John Toso, was one of the co-founders character. They were fun-loving, exuberant, happy of this nonprofit organization. Needless to say, it caretakers and playmates. That’s all that mattered to was inevitable that this warehouse would become me. It’s amazing how the innocence of a child can somewhat of a second home. paint the world into a utopia.

of who suffered from Polio. Due to the weakness in her legs, her family had to craft a wooden wheelbarrow in order to carry her around the village. Though her life was riddled with pain, her spirit was amazingly vibrant and optimistic. She would visit our family and sing songs to us as a sign of gratitude for the medical care my father was able to provide for her. “Her voice was like that of a nightingale,” my dad said with a lump in his throat. Just a few years after moving back to the United States, my dad and a few of his colleagues met up to lay out the framework for a nonprofit organization that would aid missionary doctors in countries like Madagascar. He had seen a great need for this type of support while he was there, and was very passionate about continuing his support of overseas missions while living in Minnesota. This is how Global Health Ministries began to take root. It started up in someone’s garage and eventually grew into a fullfledged warehouse in Fridley, Minn., where medical supplies are received, packed and sent to povertystricken countries across the globe. When I was in middle school, our family traveled back to Madagascar to visit old friends. It was then that the harsh reality of everyday life in Madagascar really sank in. We saw Zafi, whose face had begun to weather from the sun. She was working hard to support the many children and grandchildren she now had. I gave my camera to her daughter as a gift. She said it would help her to sell photographs and postcards to tourists. This extra money would hopefully be enough to help put more meals on the table for her little baby boy.

hospitals in countries like Tanzania, Cameroon, India or Bangladesh. In 2008, there were 26 international shipments of medical supplies scheduled for the year. As a fellow volunteer, what has touched me the most is the value of servant leadership I have seen in these loyal people. I have spent many hours sorting donated medical equipment next to retired nurses, carpenters and war veterans who loyally come to Global Health every week. Their dedication stems from the fact that this warehouse has given them a place to use their knowledge and skills to bless others around the world. It has encouraged me as a young adult to see how people have used their retirement years to enrich the lives of others. I have also worked alongside young families, college students and various adult organizations who have all shared this same spirit of volunteerism with me. Thanks to this spirit, a child in Madagascar will be able to use a set of crutches, a mother in Bangladesh will have a mid-wife kit to deliver her newborn and a surgeon in Papua New Guinea will have the surgical equipment needed to repair a child’s cleft lip. The slogan for Global Health is “Helping the hands that heal.” I have learned the sense of fulfillment that comes from knowing that my hands have helped those hands that heal.

When walking through the streets of the country’s capital, it seemed that at every turn there would be young street kids pulling at my skirt and looking up at me with pleading eyes in hopes that I could spare them some change or a loaf of bread. The utopia of my childhood began to fade as the wool was slowly pulled from my eyes. I was finally able to understand why the volunteers at Global Health Ministries were so passionate about their work. Since the inception of Global Health Ministries in 1986, hospitals, churches and individuals have been sending truckloads of assorted donations to the organization every year. Computer equipment, x-ray machines, medical textbooks, linens, washing machines, ultrasound equipment and surgical instruments are just a small sample of items that come into the warehouse on a regular basis. Each load needs to be evaluated for quality, sorted by item, boxed, weighed, bar coded and housed in specific locations in the warehouse. Eventually, each box will be packed onto a 20- or 40-feet sea container and shipped to

the utopIa of my ChIldhood began to fade as the wool was slowly pulled from my eyes.

T A New You – -START TODAY!

After deciding to begin this journey, the next crucial step is to educate yourself.

article by alennah westlund photography by kimberly halverson recipe by lauren melcher

’m too busy. I never have time. It’s too much work. I just don’t know how to start. These are some common excuses I hear when my friends and I talk about getting healthy. As soon as diet and exercise enter the conversation, we become defensive and throw out excuse after excuse as to why we’re not staying healthy. But I’m not talking about starting up a crazy no-carb diet or exercising for eight hours a day. I’m talking about becoming aware, taking simple steps towards strengthening our health and making a healthy lifestyle a habit. Although it takes a little work, with some simple eating tips and fun and easy workout ideas, you can start becoming that strong, healthy young woman you’ve always wanted to be – today! The first step seems so simple you’ll want to do it this minute: START. I don’t mean literally head to a starting line, but I do mean to decide to make a change. Choose to dedicate a little time every day to thinking about your well-being. Bob Harper, trainer on NBC’s “The Biggest Loser,” encourages us by saying, “Is it easy? No!... It has to be a conscious decision.” But once you decide you’re going to try, you’re already on the road to success. After deciding to begin this journey, the next crucial step is to educate yourself. Find out a little bit about where your health is right now. Honestly evaluate what you’re doing, look at what your habits are and distinguish what needs to change. Now that you’ve established the issues, you can push towards the solutions. It doesn’t have to be difficult. Check out some of these easy eating and exercise tips to get you started.

EATING Start Strong!

Always get a good, healthy breakfast in at the start of your day. A meal of whole grains and fruits right away will give you energy and a positive outlook on the rest of your day. Even before a 6 a.m. basketball practice, my friend, Nicole, manages to slip in a quick bowl of cereal or protein bar to kick start her day.

EXERCISE

Start Small!

Shrink It Up!

Be sure to watch your portions. Overeating can really hurt you. Try eating on a salad plate instead of a dinner plate to trick your mind. Also, always stop eating at the first feeling of fullness.

Even if it’s just walking 30 minutes a day, it’s better than nothing. Fitness magazine suggests beginning with easier workouts, and then, as you continue, increase the length and intensity. You’ll be sprinting before you know it!

Taste the Rainbow!

It Can Be Fast and Easy!

Better Homes and Gardens magazine says to make sure your diet is plentiful in fruits and vegetables. Shoot for two to three servings of each a day and don’t be afraid of the range of colors. The more colorful your meal, the better!

Working out doesn’t have to take up half of your day. Find a way to fit simple exercises into your daily routine. Do a circuit of push-ups, lunges, crunches, bicycles and jumping jacks while watching your favorite TV show.

Just Say “No!”

A lot of foods may look great, but will hurt you in the long run. Stay away from fried foods and baked goods. These foods are full of icky fats that will only slow you down and make you frown.

Even if it’s just 100 crunches, do something. If you only have a little time, do simple exercises over and over, without stopping. This will still help strengthen your endurance. The key is to always do something. Run up and down the stairs for 10 minutes, but just do something!

Learn!

Make it Fun!

Check out helpful Web sites and cookbooks for quick, fun and easy recipes that taste great and are full of benefits for your body.

1/2 C. DRY-ROASTED PEANUTS 1/2 C. ROASTED SUNFLOWER SEED KERNELS 1/2 C. RAISINS OR OTHER DRIED FRUIT 2 C. UNCOOKED OATMEAL, OLD-FASHIONED OR INSTANT 2 C. TOASTED RICE CEREAL, LIKE RICE KRISPIES 1/2 C. PEANUT BUTTER, CRUNCHY OR CREAMY (OR 1/4 C. PEANUT BUTTER AND 1/4 C. ALMOND BUTTER) 1/2 C. PACKED BROWN SUGAR 1/2 C. LIGHT CORN SYRUP 1 TSP. VANILLA 1 TBSP. HONEY 1. MIX PEANUTS, SUNFLOWER SEEDS, RAISINS, OATMEAL AND CEREAL IN A LARGE BOWL. 2. IN A MICROWAVEABLE BOWL, COMBINE PEANUT/ALMOND BUTTER, SUGAR AND SYRUP. MICROWAVE ON HIGH FOR 2 MINUTES. ADD VANILLA AND STIR UNTIL BLENDED. 3. IMMEDIATELY POUR THE PEANUT BUTTER MIXTURE OVER THE DRY INGREDIENTS AND STIR UNTIL COATED. DRIZZLE HONEY AND MIX TO HELP EVERYTHING STICK TOGETHER. 4. SPOON MIXTURE INTO AN 8X8" OR 9X13" PAN COATED WITH COOKING SPRAY, AND PRESS DOWN FIRMLY. 5. LET STAND FOR ABOUT AN HOUR, THEN CUT INTO SQUARES OR BARS.

Find the right type of exercise for you. Look for something that you enjoy so you don’t dread working out. Also, mix it up.

Don’t weigh yourself constantly. Try doing it once before you begin your journey, just to have a starting point. But don’t obsess. Wait till you’re a few months into it, and then check your progress. But, always remember that as a woman, your weight will fluctuate. Don’t get caught up in the scale’s number. After all, it’s only a number. The goal is not to lose pounds, but to gain health. Before beginning anything serious, consult your doctor. Even if you’re just looking to get healthy, you can still check with your doctor for further advice, more fun tips and any concerns they have for your health. For other healthy tips and great low-cal recipes, visit www.bhg.com. The key to getting healthy is celebrating little successes and never letting yourself get discouraged. If you slip up by eating too many cookies or miss a day of exercise, don’t stop. Forgetting one day is not worth throwing everything out the window. Stay positive and never give up. Have fun with your health and don’t be afraid to mix it up. Try a healthy new recipe or a friend’s workout. Always remember that you are beautiful no matter what you do.

OTHER HELPFUL HINTS:

NUTTY ENERGY BARS

Always Something!

By WERONIKA jANCZUK ILLUSTRATIONS AND PHOTOGRAPHy PHOTOGRAPHy By MICHELE EBNET

The outside world’s perception of time determines the lifestyles of the people in Poland – it is no more than a social construction that forces them to abide by a created calendar, a ticking watch that distinguishes one set of 24 hours from another. Many Poles, however, are able to live according to a rhythm set by the sun: They rise at sunrise, eat as the searing sun peaks above them and stay awake past sundown – a cool breeze that intrudes through the open windows to brush against skin means bedtime. Seconds are of secondary importance to the soul. I visit my grandmother in Olsztyn the summer before high school. On a Saturday morning, we delight in that very expansion of time before us. There are hours and hours until either of us will have to return to bona fide responsibilities, regardless of how much we might enjoy them. For her, it is market day, an unbroken ritual that began 70-some years ago. For me, the day is insignificant when weighed against summer’s three months – one of countless Thursdays. That morning, I wish that I had not brought my calendar with me. Red permanent marker has crossed off dates, one by one, and now I have a week left here. My heart drops along with the remorse that spreads through me, knowing that I should have spent more time with the only grandparent I have left. Together we breakfast at the cramped table in the kitchen, the tangy zing of lemons and tea spicing the air in a way that intoxicates far more than coffee. Fresh rogaliki, fancy twists of bread, rest in their plastic cover on the table. One sits in front of me sliced and covered with hazelnut-flavored

Nutella spread, a habit I associate not with American grocery stores but with quiet European mornings. When I help my grandmother stand, my palm grasps the papery feel of hers, something so different it feels of another world, perhaps the world of the old. She unknots her cotton apron, revealing the conventional flower pattern beneath, and then pulls her hair back under a white kerchief that matches her graying pallor. “Jak to wyglada, dziecino? (How does it look, kiddo?)” “Grandma, absolutely wonderful. You look twenty.” I kiss her cheek. With a smile, she locks the door. Top lock, bottom lock, all four locks in between. Waiting for her, I smile wryly. There is nothing to steal here, but at least it offers a sense of security. We climb down three stairwells to reach the exit of the apartment building; outside, it is a left through the garden gate to head downtown. “So you are starting liceum (high school) in September?” she asks, referring to my upcoming transition. “Yes. I’m so excited, Babcio (Grandma)!” I launch into an explanation: “It’s such an intense transition. I’m going to be the youngest in the building again…” I sigh dramatically then blush, embarrassed. “But that doesn’t matter. It’s still liceum.” We trek down the hill, our eyes glimpsing the first parts of the market. A bright red tent peeks out next to the cathedral and a bus stop is situated on the corner. It is a walled city without walls, treasured for its leather sandals, used power tools, cheap Chanel tops and fake furs; visitors can devour Polish sausage, obtain knitted sweaters or browse for vintage lamps. It doesn’t demand a purpose but instead a desire. “I remember when I went from gimnazjum (middle school) to the last four years before the uniwersytet (university),” Grandma says. “I was 15, going on 16. The years of youth, they say.” She smiles. I am surprised that, even at this age, her grin still has attitude: The small curve at the corner of her lips implies a well-hidden dryness. “My generation wasn’t lucky enough for that. We were still fighting the effects of the war. Those darn Germans.” “Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” I say. “Americans in Iraq–” I’m prepared to tell her about all the things I’ve seen on the television: the account of the first woman soldier to be killed, the recent exposé on the real reason we drove our armies into the Middle East. I am caught up in the smugness of President Bush’s so-called attack on terrorism.

you care about what is going on over there with America? These days, politicians are stupid. You can’t expect anything smart anymore.” “We still have to care about what’s going on now!” I reply. Not wanting to offend, I ask the next question carefully. “I know it happened, Grandma, but… isn’t there a point at which it becomes, like, history?” She’s quiet for a long time. “No, darling. It’s not that easy.” I can see her struggling with breaths as we continue plodding downhill. “There were bombs dropping overhead. The sounds–” She sighs and shakes her head. “My mother died in that war, and she didn’t die just because. She was murdered, but she lived her life fully so that I could learn how to, so that your mother could learn how to, so that you may now learn how to.” Filled with sadness and despair, and a longing for a lifetime with a mother that she never had, my grandma points at the cathedral across the lane. I understand. The Church, a sanctuary within itself, is the reason I am who I am. It delivers the ethics my parents structure my life upon; is it through that value complex that I access both spiritual guidance and knowledge. We manage to cross over into the cathedral, which marks the northern part of the market. I smell candles and wax, incense and loneliness, but also a glimpse of home and belonging. As we kneel to murmur our prayers, I draw in a breath as my stress drizzles away. My grandma knows this place, respects it and treasures it. It is where all her requests rise to her God. Regardless of whether he is my God too – a question I have not yet answered – I give her my time and support.

the CIty rIses over the olIve hIlltops and beyond the Castle buIlt from bronze, whICh Is a lIvIng artIfaCt that proves CopernICus’ exIstenCe and fIndIngs.

“No, Nina, you know nothing.” My grandma looks at me, really looks at me, her eyes blazing with a ferocity that I don’t understand. “That war dents Polish history forever, my history, forever. What do

“Take this place with you.” A difficult request to make of me, I think, for this place is not an intrinsic part of me – at least not now. I look at my grandma, who has closed her eyes and rocks back and forth in her thoughts. Her feeble body looks dying. My heart twists in my chest at the thought of her passing away. When she is gone, I will have no one to visit, no connection to make. It’s difficult to recognize that time will run out. It Is so subtle that I do not perCeIve It untIl later, but my heart has deCIded to take olsztyn away and hope that someday It wIll serve as a Cultural remInder of what onCe was and what I Carry on to be.

We walk back onto the market plaza 30 minutes later. I have forgotten our conversation, the American pride that overwhelms, and I exist only in the present. “Popatrz (Look),” my grandma says. “If you remember anything about Poland, my dear, remember this.” She swings her arm around as we both take in the sight before us. The market is nothing special, except to those who understand its history and the relationships it cements. Tents are filled with Baltic amber, silks and paintings, candles and flags. The city rises over the olive hilltops and beyond the castle built from bronze, which is a living artifact that proves Copernicus’ existence and findings. Once my grandma and I make it through the tight-knit bundles of people piled along the road, she asks to sit down on a fountain’s edge, and I oblige. We close our eyes and the laughter of children lifts to the sky around us telling poems of many varieties, some shy, others bordering on obnoxious. Regardless, all of it is happy and a responsive giggle bubbles from my own lips. As I laugh, my grandma presses something into my hand. “This is for you, Nina.” My fingers enclose a felt box. I run my thumb over it, relishing in its softness and the gold trim of the engraved writing. It feels expensive. Catching me in a moment of vulnerability, the amber necklace folded inside takes my breath away. I run my finger over its round fullness – and the blemishes – then tease the colors inside with my fingernail, awed by the toughness the jewel represents. “Grandma…”

In that moment, as I think of home, I’m distracted by a guitar player sitting along the sidewalk and it’s hard for me not to feel sorry for him, his hand tapping against his guitar as he sings a Czerwone Gitary piece a cappella. It is likely that his life is not the curious dichotomy that mine has become, and thus he cannot draw equally sharp comparisons. Perhaps for him, it is simple to ceaselessly drift in this ocean of limited prospects – singing by the wall to coins clicking as they drop into the case. His voice is like the wind rustling through the trees before a storm and, listening to it, something changes within me. It is so subtle that I do not perceive it until later, but my heart has decided to take Olsztyn away and hope that someday it will serve as a cultural reminder of what once was and what I carry on to be. I can drop the amber back into the sea, watch it sink and fragment under the rolling waves, or I can hang it around my neck and wear it like the beauty it’s supposed to be, a defining aspect of me. “Thank you, Grandma. Kocham ciebie (I love you).” Six days later, I am at the airport, weary and filled with adrenaline at the thought of returning home. My grandma is too old to make the six-hour drive to the airport with us, so our goodbyes are in the past. Trembling, my hand instinctively reaches for the amber stone that hangs around my neck. An impulse. The slippery piece slides along my fingers, its touch as cool as morning dew. With my heart already blending the memories and tears into a feeling, I fly home, conscientious that I will soon forget all the little unequivocal details. Perhaps someday I can find my way to heaven and call my grandma’s name, but, until then, the affection she offered will carry me through, her touch an engraving on the inside of my wrist. For the most ordinary of women, she was capable of harnessing more love than anyone I know. She taught me to be with words spoken from a body wrinkled with age and with a presence that still exists out there on the Olsztyn cobblestones.

R.I.P. Lucyna Krystosik Sept. 17, 1926 to June 28, 2008

taff&intern

Jen Dotson, executive director, is fairly certain that life is best viewed through a lens of imagination. As such, she lives in a world where playgrounds are meant for adults and cartwheels are a commonplace occurrence on city streets. She takes her greatest inspiration from her 91-year-old grandmother who taught her that the most effective way to get a new perspective on life is to climb a tree. Nicolle Westlund, managing editor, thinks that “Island Caretaker” sounds like the best job in the world, especially if the island is off the coast of Australia. In her limited free time, she can usually be found watching an episode of “Gilmore Girls” or singing along to the soundtrack from the musical “Wicked.” She wishes she knew how to surf, but thinks her intense fear of sharks may prevent her professional surfing career from becoming a reality. Megan Foss, artistic director, mastered the craft of graphic design post-college and now manages the Alive design department. She loves animals, cupcakes with pink frosting, monster truck races and the previews at the movies. She dreams of one day owning a black Chevy El Camino and traveling around the world meeting lots of fascinating people. Karissa Wagner, creative director, is a graduate of The Art Institutes International Minn. She is a master of all things creative, and spends her time developing new Alive ventures, coordinating the design team and surprising the staff with handmade Alive accoutrements. Her other interests include traveling, rollerblading, reading, lifeguarding, swimming and painting. Abby Zimmer, executive assistant, is a St. Joseph Worker living in community with six other women in Minneapolis. She enjoys taking the time to walk to local coffee shops, to read into all hours of the night and to dance in the rain. Abby looks forward to experiencing more of the city life around her.

Lisa Teicher, director of public relations, has a passion for the arts and an obsession with Irish dancing and music. She has the ability to change any rock song into her own operatic version. Lisa also finds pleasure in the simple things in life such as jumping in rain puddles, taking afternoon drives and smelling fresh laundry. Emily Byers-Ferrian, program director, recently completed her editorial internship at Alive and has begun work with Alive staff to develop new workshops and programs in 2009. She has spent most of the last three years in Spain as she pursued her English major at St. Louis University-Madrid. She loved the journey of learning to speak Spanish fluently and has fun with the complexities and play of language. Danica Myers, graphic designer, loves traveling and becoming a cultural collage of a person. She couldn’t live without nature, music that has soul and being surrounded by genuine people. Her favorite books are children’s stories that are deeply philosophic and poetic. She has a great propensity for inventing words and making simple things in life into elaborate metaphors. Kelin Loe, poetry editor, just graduated from St. Olaf College. She moved from the contented cornfields of Northfield, Minn., to the lakes and questionable urban planning of Minneapolis. Everyday she writes, reads and studies for the GRE! In addition to reading poetry for Alive, she interns and takes classes at the Loft Literary Center. She hopes to attend a Master of Fine Arts program in poetry come next autumn.

V ALI

ALI V

mission&vision

TS ME AR

Alive Arts Media, Inc. is a nonprofit organization that exists to empower young women in their creative, educational and professional pursuits. We accomplish this by offering a high-level internship program, through the publication of Alive Magazine – an online and print publication featuring young writers and artists – and Picturing Everyday Beauty: A project to add insight to the viewfinder.

Today's teenage women are tired of being talked down to, talked about, targeted only as consumers and being left out of the conversations that shape our culture. This generation of women are digitally-savvy, well-read, deep thinking, articulate individuals who are burgeoning with leadership ability. Given affirmation of their talents, feedback to cultivate growth, the education and tools to succeed and a firm understanding of others' experiences to ground them in the reality that their dreams are attainable, these women will become the business and community leaders who will shape the culture for tomorrow's children. It is a story that speaks of hope. Alive Arts Media operates under the belief that everyone has a story to tell. As such, every level of AAM's business model and programming creates opportunities for individuals to tell those stories. Utilizing a framework of mentorship and community, we facilitate dialogue between individuals at different stages of professional development to aid emerging writers and artists in their adolescent and early adult years. As an organization, we are primarily run by high-level internships that function as short-term staff positions (editorial, graphic design and public relations). By keeping the entire production of Alive Magazine in the hands of women 25 and under, we eliminate their competion with professionally established individuals, offering them greater responsibility than would otherwise be available at such a young age.

“DON’T ASK WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS. ASK WHAT MAKES YOU COME ALIVE AND GO DO THAT... BECAUSE WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS IS PEOPLE WHO HAVE COME ALIVE.” -howard thurman

Alive Arts Media responds directly to the following areas of societal need:

- Leadership & professional development/advancement of young women. Women still make 76 cents to every dollar made by men and, although women earn a higher GPA on average than men, their postcollege professional goals decline as college progresses. Alive Arts Media constructively fosters professional acceptance for women in the working world, and equips adolescent women with tools to succeed.

- Need for media reform, specifically the lack of positive media available in the young women's market. Alive Magazine presents a constructive solution that presents intelligent, realistic models for young women. - Personal development for young women, including body image, self-esteem and confidence. - Advancement of underserved women and youth in the local community with education and professional opportunities for college acceptance and postgraduate employment.

taff&intern

Sarah Bodeau, public relations intern, is a recent grad from the University of Minnesota where she majored in English. She is a lifetime devotee of Paul Bunyan Land. She loves that her parents still have, and display, many of those “old time” photos from childhood trips. Her ideal living situation would include many bookshelves, a dog and a garden. Rachele Cermak, editorial intern, spends hours at her computer and loves it. Whether it’s managing Web sites, writing blog entries or just updating photos on her profile, she is constantly posting information to the Internet for the world to see. When she needs human interaction, she enjoys going to shows and supporting the local hip-hop scene. Michele Ebnet, graphic design intern, is in the midst of finishing her Bachelor of Fine Arts from St. Cloud State University. Her passions lie in traveling the world and seeing beauty in any form of design. She can easily find humor in awkward situations. She often daydreams about exploring the Mediterranean while selling her art in the streets of exotic cities. Adrienne Johnsen, editorial intern, is studying English and religion at Hamline University. A seasoned people-watcher, she spends most of her time observing and contemplating the world. Adrienne enjoys playing softball, laughing too hard at jokes, looking at old family photos and yelling at the TV when watching “Lost.” Jamie Joslin, development intern, is a mom to a dog named Jake and a cat named Kitty, who love to play in the snow - and chase each other around the house. Jamie grew up in Dallas and attends the University of Minnesota, where she is finishing up her degree in English. She is an avid video game collector and player and is looking forward to getting married this spring and traveling across Europe this summer. Cheyenne Kirkpatrick, public relations intern, grew up in Minnesota but continues to be utterly shocked by the weather. She is studying media communication and psychology at Crown College. She loves to write and has a habit of smiling and singing to herself. She thinks the world would be better if people were transparent with each other. Kaylee Laudon, public relations intern, is a senior at St. Cloud State University. She looks forward to the changing seasons, would rather eat a salad instead of a dessert and enjoys a rainy day lounging in an old pair of sweatpants. She grew up dancing but secretly wishes she could be a boxer. She thinks the world would not turn without love. Courtney Still, editorial intern, is close to graduation with a degree in English from Bethel University. She loves to spend the afternoon in a bookshop, discovering new authors. She also enjoys old movies, museums and playing guitar. Her passions include poetry, creating inspirational works of art and learning through everyday experiences. Tiana Toso, graphic design intern, graduated from Luther College with a degree in art. After college, she worked as a video editor, freelance wedding photographer, and later pursued an additional degree in digital design at the Art Institute International. She is a lover of nature, swing dancing and learning about different languages and cultures. Jenny Williams, graphic design intern, is addicted to spontaneity and believes that new experiences make life worth living – and good people to share them with is what makes those experiences unforgettable. She dreams of using her creativity to enhance a good cause. That, and to drive around the country in a RV taking unique pictures.

read. share your story. join the movement.

www.ALIVEMAGAZINE.org

We want to hear your voice in the next issue of Alive Magazine! Submit your creative essay, painting, poem, drawing, travelogue, photography or article by Friday, February 15, to be considered for the June/July issue of AM. Read our guidelines and submit your work anytime at www.alivemagazine.org/submissions.php. Submissions received after February 15 will be considered for future issues or published on our Web site.

For now, you can view issues of Alive Magazine and read new content weekly on our Web site for free. To purchase print copies of the magazine, visit www.magcloud.com/alivemagazine. To support the future publication of AM, please consider making a $5 donation (through PayPal on our Web site) for each online issue that you enjoy.

When we went all-online in 2007, we didn’t want to be just another blog or magazine on the Web. We wanted to offer our readers timely content, but also reserve the chance to incorporate artwork and stories in a similar way as we did with our print magazine. So, we have the best of both worlds: new articles twice a week on our homepage, plus a fully designed, viewable issue of the magazine every other month.

We were founded on an audacious vision: That a new generation of women – given the opportunity, access and vehicle to do so – could change the world. This vision found its wings through the establishment of Alive Arts Media, Inc. whose message is simple: her voice in the media, her place in the world. The bi-monthly production cycle of Alive Magazine is fueled by our internship program, where college-aged women design layouts, work with writers and publicize Alive Magazine and Alive Arts Media events. To apply for an internship with Alive Magazine at our headquarters in Minneapolis, Minn., visit www.alivemagazine.org/internships/index.php.

We cannot produce Alive Magazine without our amazing supporters and donors. We want to specifically thank this powerful community that has demonstrated their concern for the next generation of young women. In the past year, our loyal donors have given gifts ranging from $5 to $15,000, providing a tangible opportunity for these young women to create the changes they wish to see in the world. Please consider joining them today at www.alivemagazine.org/donate.php.

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