I opened the doors
of the refrigerator to
A winter of thin wire.
Metal racks and decaying
And my neck hairs stood up.
(A poem a friend wrote on the first page of my new journal. That’s all I’m telling you.)
This blog thing won’t let me tab, I like doing the tab thing, it spaces things out more. I’m feeling pretty restricted right now.
So (Ah, that should be indented) I gave a presentation on Human Trafficking to my psych class, and it went really well. I read over all my India entries last night, looked over old notes, went to STOPTHETRAFFIK.org (if you never have, go do it right now please.) It stirred me up, raised a familiar block in my throat. I felt really connected during my talk, told personal stories of girls I met in half-way homes and the brothels. My 15 minute presentation turned into almost half an hour, people kept asking me questions. I didn’t want to sit down when it was over, so many things were popping off in my head, stories I wanted to tell, contributing factors I saw that people don’t hear about, NGO’s and volunteering.
Afterwards a bunch of people came up to me to ask questions about organizations, how I got involved, questions about my trip. It was amazing to see people inspired to help and get involved, it reminded me of when I first started learning: “Yeah, but what can I DO?” Right now, I think what I need to do is keep telling my stories.