GVI Rules

Is there anything better than a hearty dose of inspiration?

OK, maybe, but I'm not going to go there.

I just got back from interviewing Global Vision International (GVI) - quite possibly the coolest organization ever. By promoting sustainable development through volunteer travel, GVI is making waves and more. Want to learn how to be a safari guide and save the elephants at the same time? GVI has about 10 different programs for you. Or, maybe you'd rather learn how to become a dive master in the Seychelles while saving endangered sea turtles? If that's not quite right, then there is always teaching English to novice monks in Laos... Just pick how you want to save the world, fork over a reasonable amount of cash for living expenses and conservation efforts (70% goes to the project you're working on), buy some carbon-offsets for your plane trip, and before you know it, you'll be on the fast track to an adventure of a lifetime, all in the name of sustainable development.

Forgive me, I'm still lost in an Ecuadorian jungle.


Maybe I'll end up going on safari after all.

I miss you, ConMom

This week, the world lost an amazing woman. What started out as a beautiful afternoon bike ride led to Connie Nagle's untimely, tragic passing in a very fluke accident. Accidents. There are no warning signs for accidents. There is no rhyme or reason for them. Things just happen. No matter how full you live your life, no matter how many times you've been reminded to live each moment to the utmost and to appreciate those you love, no matter what sadness you've been through before, nothing can prepare you for the loss of a loved one. The notion that someone we hold dear is gone forever is an incredibly difficult, almost impossible, concept to grasp. To be honest, I'm not sure that we're meant to.

I first met Connie when I was 13. She was the mother of my best friend. I called her my second mother, or 'ConMom.' I practically lived at her house throughout of my teenage years and quickly became a regular at all extended family functions. Connie was the person I called when I needed a mother's advice, but didn't want to ask my own mother. She had a wonderful warmth and openness about her. I could talk to her about anything. She also happened to be one of the smartest people I've ever met. An expert on women's health, Connie worked in the medical field her whole life, always there to reassure and support me any moment I (a self-proclaimed hypochondriac) diagnosed myself with cancer, or when I actually went through a very real medical scare in Seattle. She was there across the country with me, holding my hand. Connie also managed to be a wise, loving mentor while never losing her childlike, often cheeky, playfulness. Filled with life and laughter, she could make anyone smile. I admired her very much. So did many. And, now, after one leisurely afternoon bike ride, she's gone.

Life's just not fair sometimes. Even though I've heard the phrase a million times, it still just doesn't seem like a good enough explanation. Then again, nothing will.

Connie, you'll be sorely missed.

Thoughts on Boston

May I just say, much to my surprise, I am loving Boston. During evening strolls around the Charles, amongst trees ablaze in shades of red, gold, and green in the evening fall sun, I find myself saying, "California, what?" I didn't realize how much I missed being here, and how happy I am to have the chance to rediscover that again. A year ago, I was nearly married, living in an apartment in downtown San Francisco, ready to sign off the rest of my life to the Bay Area and one man. A fast, somewhat brutal, twist of events brought me back to the East Coast alone and lost. In Boston and back at BU, I have been given a second chance. Until recently, I didn't realize how much I wanted one...or needed one. I certainly didn't hide my disappointment at being back East. But, being amongst old friends and the family I've long missed, I'd forgotten how tied I am to this place, and how good it feels to have such strong roots. With Boston family history going back to the Mayflower, and grandparents that love to talk about family lineage and the good 'ole days, Boston has proven to be the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with my past. I didn't realize how healing it would be to come back here. Nor did I think I would feel such a strong sense of place, and in many ways, self. Being able to do the same things my father, my grandparents, and great grandparents did here before me makes me feel incredibly alive and connected to my past, present, and future, all at the same time. I really didn't see this coming. Life sure hands out amazing twists sometimes.

A New Path

I had an epiphany this weekend. I figured out how I want to combine my two degrees in communication and international relations after graduation. I knew when I entered the program that I wanted to pursue a career in public relations in a way that I could help address pressing world problems. I just didn’t quite know how…until now. Although this is only a rough idea, which is still idealistic and unfinished, I am excited to explore the possibilities.

I want to start my own communications consultancy that will use public relations to initiate public advocacy, corporate responsibility, and government accountability.

Of course, this is not a new idea, nor is it revolutionary. However, there remains a overwhelming need for such efforts, as can quickly be seen in any issue concerning third world development, a topic I continue to learn more about while simultaneously growing more and more frustrated. Despite the fact that the U.S. remains one of the largest (if not the largest) aid giver in the world, it gives shockingly little, especially compared to other countries with much smaller GDPs. Europe, for example, gives almost three times what we do, with GDPs factored in. Despite the fact that the Bush Administration promised to give 0.7 percent of GDP to development initiatives annually, the U.S. continues to give a measly 1.5 percent. While the Bush Administration gave only a few billion to third world development this decade, it managed to spend over $900 billion on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Such a statistic is unacceptable. Hopefully, the Obama Administration will address development issues and U.N. promises more than Bush did, although they with so much else the administration is focusing on, issues of poverty in far-off places can be easily pushed aside. Public awareness is the key ingredient needed to push this issue, encourage corporate philanthropy, and remind the government what they promised. Statistics show that most Americans remain in the dark when it comes to developing issues and state promises, and I am determined to help change this. We must raise awareness and bring an end to poverty. The developing world has already suffered enough. After all, the only reason there are still developing countries is because we underdeveloped them in the first place.

Striking a Balance

Between assignments as varied as writing about industrial strength vacuums to acting on behalf of Brazil in a negotiation simulation on the international environmental impacts of organochlorines, I find myself wishing my assignments better related to each other. As wonderful as this joint M.A. International Relations and International Communication program seems, I am becoming concerned the two are not going to coincide all that well together. I wish that BU combined them better, but perhaps I am asking too much. It seems the summer semester in London may be my only answer, so I am determined to make that a reality.

In addition, due to the rigorous demands of the international relations department, I am slightly afraid that IR courses will overpower my communications courses throughout this program. That would be absolutely unacceptable. I am here, first and foremost, to further my career in communication; I just want to do it in a way I can give back and help solve today's most pressing world issues. Considering my two objectives, the program is a perfect fit. Yet, in practice, they aren't fitting all that well together. I wish that I felt like I was a part of the COM program and that COM and GRS collaborated more, but as everything is run through the IR department, I don't. COM doesn't even allow IR/COM students to be a part of their graduate activities, which doesn't seem right, considering half of our courses are taken from the school. I hope to address this issue soon with the administration, as I want this degree to be truly balanced. For the money I'm paying, or rather that loans I'm taking out to do this, I don't understand why it hasn't been the case.

Recipe to be a Successful Graduate Student

After watching the new release Julie & Julia, a delightful communication assignment that forced me away from writing about the thrill of sovereignty, I felt inspired by Julia Child’s can-do attitude to create a recipe for how to chop, beat, mix, and whip my way to graduate success. Below is my first attempt. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Recipe to be a Successful Graduate Student
Serves 1.

1. Begin with two days. Put in blender and puree into one manageable 48 hour day.

2. Drain the bank account.

3. Add in a personal assistant, a cooperative computer, and a comfortable chair. Beat briskly until April.

4. Separate the can-do from the self-doubt. Discard the negative attitude. Add the can-do together with Step 2.

5. Next, throw in a dash of brilliance and pour into an academic mold. Allow to chill overnight.

6. Unmold, then divide into four courses. Place on a platter for an appealing presentation.

The Question of 2009: Will it be BU or the Bush?

I think I can say with some confidence that I am the only person who has debated between enrolling in graduate school and becoming a safari guide in South Africa. Given the copious amounts of work I now face for the rest of the semester, I am seriously questioning my decision to spend endless nights in front of a computer screen over nights around bush fires under the starry African sky.

Some people dream of cute little kittens, bunnies, and ducklings. I dream of lions, zebras, and wildebeests. (And, as you’ve seen, of ski slopes, beaches, and ranches.) I dream a lot. It’s who I am. Given this year’s dilemma, some may have started to think of me as ‘lost’ and although that wouldn’t have been entirely unfair, I prefer to think of myself as wildly creative. After all, we only get one life, why not live it to the utmost.

Unfortunately, I have this annoying condition called “ambition,” which hasn’t exactly been showing up on my resume lately. Although I long for a life of adventure, I also dream of having money and bringing about positive change to our hurting world. Being 25 in my economically challenged generation, I decided that as much fun as learning to avoid being eaten would be, going back to school would give me the real leverage I needed to fuel my other dreams. Through much reflection, I’ve realized that following the status quo doesn’t mean I need to stop adventuring, it just means I need to be very creative about how I make decisions. Who knows, maybe after school I can take my newfound international relations and communications knowledge, funnel it into ecotourism efforts in beautiful places, and get paid to lead my own adventures. Wow, I really need to hit the books.

Bring on the Cold... Again

After spending childhood in Maine and college at BU, I vowed to never put myself through another New England winter. California called, and I took off for the ‘best’ coast ready for the land of perpetual sunshine and sandals.

Naturally, I ended up in Seattle. That didn’t last. I made it to California eventually, but not before living in Sun Valley, Idaho where the sun shines 364 days a year and lack of humidity keeps the bone-chilling, Boston-like bitterness at bay. There, through copious amounts of sun, skiing, and hot toddies, I learned the joys of winter. When I finally moved to California, I had the best of both worlds: winter weekends in Tahoe and summer days in San Francisco.

I have come to realize that weather dictates most of my life, even graduate school. After three years of PR exploits, western adventures, and economic challenges, the time to return to academia had come. Wouldn’t you know the most appealing program was back at BU. A California school was out of the question - I wouldn’t accomplish a thing. Knowing the essentialness of time-management and self-motivation to academic achievement, my inability to study while the sun shines and the warm breeze blows posed too great a threat. Even here, the Charles, twinkling with the last rays of summer sun, begs for my attention. Luckily, soon, all will be well. The sun will stop shining, the birds will stop chirping, and frost will descend, releasing its mighty grip only as spring exams near.

I feel brilliant for re-choosing BU. Exemplary academics mixed with long, depressing winters create my perfect prescription for success. Sometimes to move forward in life, you have to go back to where you started – in my case, to a cold, New England winter.