20 Things You Can Only Learn Outside the Classroom

After 3 years of college, I can honestly say the most important things that I learned were not taught to me by a professor and not read in a book. The most important things I have learned have been from my peers and experiences outside a classroom setting and in my eyes are much more valuable than anything that can be taught while sitting at a desk.

1. You learn who your true friends are when you're struggling, not when you're partying.
2. You can love someone more than words can express, but hate them at the same time.
3. There are people who truly have no redeemable qualities. They are not worth having in your life.
4. Some people you can only tolerate when you're drunk.
5. You become the people with whom you surround yourself. Choose friends based on the qualities you want to ascertain. 
6. Even when they move thousands of miles away, your true friends will always be there for you.
7. Everyone has their own set of challenges and struggles, no one is perfect.
8. It is important to stand up for yourself, but pick your battles. 
9. Family is the most important thing in life.
10. Family is not only the people with whom you share blood. You can choose who you want it to be.
11. Life is fragile. You never know who will still be here tomorrow, so never withhold affection for those you love.
12. Sometimes those who care the most are the most overbearing and hard to handle.
13. People with disabilities or other obstacles are often times the people who have the brightest outlook on life.
14. There is so much more good than bad in the world.
15. The world is only as scary a place as you let it be. Confidence will take you far.
16. You are stronger than you know. Hardship brings it out fast.
17. Sometimes, it is okay to breakdown just make sure it's in front of the right people.
18. Hate is an emotion not worth having, replace it with indifference.
19. Resolve differences early and privately, don't let them fester.
20. The world is a small place. Be slow to burn bridges.

It's not often that I support Boston....

      I find that, as you grow up, you slowly find out that the world can be a very cruel place. There are people out there without good intentions whose sole aim is to cause havoc, destruction, and incite fear into peoples' lives. It is a sick reality that slowly becomes increasingly evident as we age. What happened yesterday in Boston was a terrible act of violence upon what was supposed to be a spectacularly celebrated day for so many people. Two bombs exploding in a crowd of innocent spectators on Patriots day in the 26th mile of a race dedicated that was dedicated to the 26 people who lost their lives in Newtown is absolutely sickening. 

      In the last decade and a half, I watched as planes hit two towers in a city that I consider my second home. I watched waters rush over the 9th ward in New Orleans when the levy broke during Katrina. I looked first hand at some of the destruction caused by Sandy. I watched as news of the shootings in the Aurora, Colorado movie theater, Sandy Hook Elementary, and Virginia Tech scrolled across my news feeds. Every night as you watch the news, it seems as though there is some atrocious act of inhumanity or nature wreaking havoc over our country. It is amazing how much damage so few people can do on our society. What is glossed over, often times, is the rallying that occurs afterwards. 

      On September 11th, 2001, the world watched as the people of New York ran through the streets of the financial district away from the Trade Centers. But, as that was happening, thousands of men and women were running towards the towers trying to get people out. People held vigilant for weeks looking for survivors in the rubble. The nation unified in a strong network of support as people from all across it descended upon the New York and Washington with their services.

      In 2005, the flood waters from Hurricane Katrina wrecked the 9th ward, killing some and displacing thousands. People flooded to the site to give aid and volunteer. To this day, people are still returning to volunteer and raising money to rebuild.

      As one disturbed individual went into an Elementary School and proceeded to harm students, teachers and other faculty barricaded the children in hiding places and used themselves as shields to keep them safe. Then in the aftermath, millions of people rallied their support to the small town offering any assistance that they could.

      Yesterday in Boston, a radical minority caused extreme pain in the heart of a strong city. They left three dead and over a hundred people injured. Scenes of terror were blaring through every American television leaving the nation stunned and terrified. But even in this situation, there were people rising to the occasion. Within seconds of the bomb blast, you see first responders and marathon volunteers running towards the chaos. There is footage of people plowing through the rubble to help those in the direct blast zone. People who had just finished a marathon continued running on to hospitals in an attempt to donate blood to the victims. Boston residents offered up their homes to victims and stranded individuals and came into the streets offering them food and water as comfort. Former Patriot Joe Andruzzi spent hours carrying injured people to safety. 

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.” -Fred Rogers

      There is evil in this world. There is a lot of evil in this world: some human, some nature. The only thing is the amount of good is in the majority. Regardless of whether it was one person behind what happened yesterday or a hundred people behind it, no matter what it is one a fraction to what good was displayed yesterday. Acts of inhumanity are often times what prompt the biggest acts of humanity. In the wake of adversity, our American citizens always come together in a strong resolve of unity and kindred spirit which is much stronger than any act of terrorism that can be perpetrated against them.

'Til the Day I Die

      My freshman year of college, I was asked by a friend to join her at an information session for one of the over 600 organizations on the campus of The Ohio State University. I had no idea what I was going to; I just went because she didn't want to go alone. I sat in a room with around 20 other people and sat a little shell shocked as Greek letters were being spoken at me. The members in front of me kept mentioning doing a lot of community service and it seemed a lot like things that I enjoyed in high school. Leaving the meeting, I still had no idea what the organization was called, but I was going to join with my friend. Looking back, that decision was one of the most critical moments of my life. That was the moment I started my journey to become a brother of Alpha Phi Omega.

     It was a huge risk for me. I was that shy kid that kind of sat in the background and didn't say anything. This idea of joining a service orientated brotherhood was terrifying. I came in with no preconceived notions. Back then, I wouldn't even be able to tell you what a brotherhood was. After four years, spending exorbitant amounts of time with these crazy people who kept throwing Greek letters at me, I think I can define it.

What is brotherhood?

      I am guilty of using the mantra, "I came for the service, stayed for the friends." From the moment I joined, I felt like I belonged. Brotherhood is that sense of belonging. Brotherhood is my first pledge meeting when the 'bigs' were introducing themselves and a guy stands up and says, "Choose me, you're going to be jealous if you don't because I'm the best big ever," (I bet you will never guess which big I chose). Brotherhood is when you find out that someone shares your favorite restaurant and proceed to go eat there weekly for over two months. Brotherhood is when someone sits in a car with you for 32 hours in the course of a week and is still willing to speak to you afterwards. Brotherhood is when you were at the hospital the entire night and spent the entire day in bed crying and someone comes to check on you at 5 pm because you hadn't been answering texts and phone calls all day, then when they see that you're in a bad place, invite you out to dinner with them. Brotherhood is when you tell someone that you think you might have to quit the fraternity and they tell you, "No matter what you decide to do, you're always welcome here and you're always my little." Brotherhood  is that someone who goes trekking across campus in the middle of finals to give you a hug and play a game of pickup volleyball because you're having a rough week. Brotherhood is when you are sitting in a hospital bed and someone comes and talks to you for five hours straight just to cheer you up. Brotherhood is when someone picks up their phone at 3 am, opens their front door, and rolls over to let you take up half their bed because you got in a fight with your roommate and can't stay in the dorm that night. Brotherhood is when your dad dies and someone comes to meet you outside chapter because they wanted to be the first one to give you a hug and when you walk in there seems to be a never ending reception line of others ready to do the same. Brotherhood is when someone carries you 400 yards up and down flights of steps because you just shattered your knee and then drives you home in the morning to grab crutches. Brotherhood is when you feel like giving up and someone gives you that push to give it one more try.

      Brotherhood happens in those moments where you form this irrevocable bond with someone. Brotherhood happens when you realize that these people are here for you, no matter what you need, and you want more than anything to be the same to them. Brotherhood is a product of common goals being completed by uncommon people. As a brother of Alpha Phi Omega, I know I am a brother for life and I have built unbreakable bonds with some of the most amazing people that I have ever met. I could speak to my brothers every day or go years without a word and the same spirit of brotherhood would remain. We are forever united in common goals and convictions: socially, academically, spiritually diverse and yet at the concurrently the same. That is brotherhood.

What is my Legacy?

      April 7, 2013 will be the one year anniversary of the day I lost one of the most important men in my life. At 11:30 in the morning on the eve of Easter, I got a phone call from my father's boyfriend informing me that I needed to get to the hospital as quickly as I could because my dad was in bad shape. I had spoken to my father only 12 hours before and had to go abruptly because there was someone on the other line. We quickly made plans for him to drive me back up to school the next day because my car was in Syracuse. I never imagined that 3 minutes would be the last time I ever spoke to him.

      I arrived at the hospital at noon because thankfully I had taken my mother to work that day and had her car. I came in and was informed that he was still in the emergency room and that they were going to be admitting him due to a large pulmonary embolism. Thirty minutes later they let me back to his room and as I walked through the door, he started coding. I got pushed back and out towards a window and watched as they started CPR and used the paddles to shock life into him 3 times. As soon as he was stabilized, they whisked him away to the ICU.

      After coding 17 times that day and enduring 2 different surgeries, I was approached as the next of kin. I was informed that there would be a good amount of brain damage and that he probably was not going to come back. They asked for consent to end extraordinary measures. He lasted until around 11:30 PM, just long enough for his mother to see him one last time.

      The hardest thing I have ever had to witness is the heartbreak that my brothers, his brothers, my family had to go through; telling my family that my father was dead was devastating.

      Going through something like that really puts your life in perspective. I have learned so much in the last year as a result of it. People come first. The people in your life are your legacy when you're gone. When you lose someone, you don't look back and remember with reverence the degree they earned. You remember the way that they touched your life. Losing my father made me completely reconsider my life. What would people remember if I died today?

      Well, I can tell you that I didn't like the answer a year ago. A year ago, I would be remembered as the depressed kid who couldn't pull her life together to save it. I was the kid that people honestly expected to see in the ground before graduation. I was scaring my best friends on a continual basis with my depravity and stupid actions. What kind of a legacy is that to leave? Not one that I would be proud of.

      In these last months, I have done my best to improve my legacy. I want to be the friend that you can depend on to always have their life together. I want people to see me, not as someone who is depressed or helpless, but as someone who has confidence in herself. I want my friends and family to know how much I love and appreciate them. I feel like that is something you can't tell people enough, that you love them.

      Almost two years ago, my best friend told me something that I didn't quite understand at the time. He said, 'The world is your oyster.' I feel like I can finally put that into practice. It isn't acceptable to sit idly by and watch the world pass you. For the first time in a very long time, I am in a fantastic place in my life. I have friends whom I love and who love me in return. I have a purpose in life: be the friend that you'd like to have. Leave a legacy that you're proud of.

      It is tragic that what led me to this realization happened. I wish I had realized sooner that I needed to be a better friend. I needed to put the people I love first. Sometimes, it takes losing something in order to realize that nothing in this world is guaranteed and that you need to take advantage while you have the chance. Life is a series of moments that you can never get back and you never know how many you have left. Love is the answer to true happiness and it isn't just the love that you receive. It's the love you give.

Can I get a Hail Mary? Or not, because that's fine too.

      In the spirit of Easter and this Lenten season, religion has been on the minds of most. I was baptized Catholic  as an infant. From what I'm told, this has saved my soul from damnation and made me a Catholic for life. The thing about that is, I don't think I want that stigma associated with me.

      My experience with the church has never been too positive: in my youth or today. I'm not sure if I've only been blessed enough to only meet the bigots and uncultured sector of the Catholic Church or if the majority of the constituency actually believes the hate that has been spewed at me and about me.

      I was forced to dress up and sit through a Catholic mass every Sunday from my infancy until I was around ten years old. I had to go hang out in Sunday School whilst the adults drank coffee and conversed afterwards. I took communion and believed the majority of what all these adults were telling me that is, until my parents' divorce. For some reason, my father was no longer welcome in the congregation and people weren't being too kind about him. A priest went as far as to tell me that I was a bastard child because of my parents' sins. That was the end of my involvement in the Church. I never went back and refused to become confirmed.

      Since then, I have managed to read the Bible and have formed my own interpretation of it. Something that I encourage everyone to do instead of blindly following a certain religion. I learned that the Bible is not the word of God, but the word of the disciples. The disciples were not God; they were not Jesus. They were common men like the rest of us. The Bible is no primary source. Much of it was written hundreds of years after the death of Christ, so the authors didn't even have a first hand account of his life. When you critically analyze the Bible, you quickly realize that you need to read between the lines and discredit parts that obviously go against Christ's essential teachings because it is riddled with the opinions of the common man. You also need to observe the fact that it is an ancient text; it is over two thousand years old. There is so much of it that does not hold a place in a modern society.

       My takeaways from the Bible were that Jesus died on the cross for me to absolve me of all my sins. He lived a life of kindness to his fellow man. His good works were not governed by hate, but by love. Jesus loved all man. He loved them no matter their flaws. 

      These takeaways are why I so ardently question and challenge the Catholic Church. I question it's refusal to allow women to be ordained. I question the church's reaction in the midst of a sexual abuse scandal. I question it's constituency in their treatment of homosexuals and unwed mothers. 

      I don't want to be associated with an organization that discriminates against others in the name of someone who preached nothing but love and understanding. I don't want to be associated with a group in which it's highest powered members ignored and denied the claims of children that they were being abused by the people from whom they were supposed to be learning of Jesus's love. When I look at these people who claim to be devout in the teachings of Christ, all I see is hypocrisy because that is all that I've ever encountered. 

      I wish that people would take the time to critically analyze their lives if they are going to preach that they are holier than thou. They should educate themselves on what message they are sending. They claim to be following the Bible, but they should critically look at the way they live their life and realize that it is nearly impossible to be following the Bible in any modern society. Instead, they are picking and choosing which parts of the Bible are convenient for them or that credit the hate that fills their hearts at the moment. 

      I believe that you do not need religion to live a morally sound life. Live your life in the ethic of reciprocity and you will generally do well in life. If you really need to drag religion into it, it's right there in the Bible, "And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise." Luke 6:31. 

      Hands down, playing by the Golden Rule will get you far. Denying other people the same things that you expect for yourself, is morally reprehensible. Govern by love, make decisions in empathy, and always question without evidence.

Growing Up Gay

   

      With all this crazy DoMA and Prop. 8 stuff going on in the Supreme Court recently, there has been a lot of debate about gay marriage. It's being discussed on the news, in social media, in my classes; it's everywhere. I, honestly, find it astounding that people are still of the opinion that marriage should only be between a man and a woman. They obviously grew up on some other planet than I did. In class today, a kid tried to argue that a marriage was only for the intent of making children. He said there was no point in two men or two women marrying because they cannot procreate. He went on to say that children raised by gay and lesbian couples were at a disadvantage to those raised by straight ones. I am not even to get into the flaws in his argument that marriages now are only for making babies. Instead, I'd like to address his claim that children raised by gay and lesbian couples are somehow disadvantaged in approximately the same way I addressed it in class.

      I have lived both sides of the spectrum. I have one heterosexual parent and had one that was homosexual. I have grown up in the same house as a transgender individual. I have been raised by a couple united in marriage. I have been raised by two people who were later divorced. I have been taken care of by two men and by a man and a woman. I can honestly say, no matter which side of the coin you analyze: I have and had two excellent parents. They brought me up to respect others and to respect myself. They taught me to take pride in myself and help any other person in need. I learned from them that no matter what you always stand up for what you believe and support the people you love. They instilled the humility to know my weaknesses and to ask for help. They molded me into the person that I am today. Someone who graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA. Someone who is actively involved at her university and performs around 100 hours of community service a semester. Someone who is happy, healthy, and makes the effort to succeed in anything that they put there mind to.

      It doesn't matter if the person that raised you is gay, straight, or transgender. It doesn't matter if you are raised by a single parent or a happily married couple. What matters are the morals they teach you and the strengths that they instill in you. A parent's job is to mold their offspring into a productive member of society and if they can accomplish that, they have succeeded. Anyone can be a parent if they are willing to put in the time and energy required to care for another human being.

Blood Clots: only beneficial outside the body

     Yesterday, something happened that I did not consider ever having to deal with until decades down the road. I got a phone call that my father was in the hospital and that he was in really bad shape. Getting a call like that is a real punch in the gut. There is a moment of disbelief right before the onset of panic happens. You rack your brain for signs that something was wrong or ways in which something like this could happen. Thirty minutes in the car becomes what seems like an interminable amount of time. I had spoken to him less than 24 hours before and we had discussed when we were going to see each other next: less than 24 hours after the time I got the call. It's horrifying to think how my last words to him were, "I'll see you tomorrow, I have someone on the other line, I have to go." There was no 'I love you' said and I was in such a hurry to get on with my day that I had given him little if any consideration during our 2 minute and 37 second conversation.

      I pulled into the parking garage and walked into the ER with no information on his condition. The person I had received the phone call from was his boyfriend and they wouldn't give him any information on his condition because he wasn't family. I was told that doctors were working on my father in the back and that the resident on the case would come out to talk to me in the waiting room once they got him stabilized. Twenty minutes later, it was explained to me that he was experiencing a pulmonary embolism that was caused by a blood clot in his leg dislodging and traveling to his lungs. In other words, he was unable to breathe on his own and this was causing distress to multiple organs.

       When you hear multiple organ distress, that's when you know that there is a serious issue. Staying calm while calling my grandmother and uncles was probably one of the more difficult things I had to do that day. They were all flying in as soon as possible which added to my anxiety. When his brothers decide to make a trip to Ohio, you know that something is very wrong.

      I got to go back into the ER to see him shortly after I had finished the phone calls that I needed to make. He was hooked to dozens of machines, was not conscious, and had a breathing tube inserted. He began convulsing just as the doctor left us. I had no idea what was happening until I heard the telltale monotone from all the hospital dramas I watch. At this point, I was asked to exit the room as they brought in a set of paddles to attempt to revive him. When the current hit him, I expected some sort of movement, but there was nothing. It took three tries for his heart beat to come back.

      My mom and brothers were the first to arrive at the hospital. They got there just as they were beginning to transport him to the Intensive Care Unit. By then, I had been further updated. The clot traversed the entirety of his femoral artery. Little pieces were continuing to break off into his blood stream because the blockage in his heart and now lungs had caused his blood pressure to skyrocket. They were going to perform an emergency surgery to attempt to remove the clot as soon as he was stable enough to transport to an operating room.

      He was taken to the operating room half an hour after his mother arrived at the hospital. We sat in waiting rooms two floors down for hours waiting on any news. The news we didn't want came blaring over the loudspeaker while he was still in the operating room. A code Blue was called and doctors from all over the hospital came flooding towards the doors through which he had been taken just a couple hours before. After thirty minutes, a gurney came out with three people on each side and one person on top of him pumping on his chest. They were headed back to the ICU to get him stable enough to be put on life support.

     I was approached an hour later asking if I wished to stop extraordinary measures. I was not and don't think I was ever going to be ready for this question. I was not prepared to be the legal next of kin as his adult child. I expected this decision to be made by his mother or his brothers, but not by me. I had to make what in a way was both the hardest and easiest decision of my life: the decision to end all extraordinary measures. On my 18th birthday, he and I had had a conversation. He was in the hospital because his kidneys were failing and he was unable to stand without being dizzy. He told me where his will was and to never let him live on life support or in a capacity in which he didn't have all his cognitive functions. By this point, my choice was whether to let him die naturally or to put him on life support knowing that he would likely never wake up again and that parts of the clot had traveled to his brain likely causing severe damage.

      He died minutes short of Easter Sunday. Seeing him after death, he almost looked disfigured from the bloat caused by all the IV fluids they pumped into him. His lifeless 6 foot 5 inch frame hung off the bed because they didn't have one long enough for him. 

      I was the only one who couldn't seem to muster up the energy to cry. Instead, I waited for his brother to arrive from the airport. He'd died when he was in the air, so I figured I should probably break the news seeing as I was the only one maintaining any composure. Besides, I wanted to take a break before having to meet with the organ donation people. 

      So now, I'm running on exactly 25 minutes of sleep trying to figure out the rest of my life sans a father. We'll see how this goes. 

Happy Easter everyone.