Writing

I don't know about you, whoever you are, but I like to write. I guess most people who have blogs do. I like to write down my impressions of life as it goes on, my thoughts... the stuff no one but me really cares about. I think I have like, 6 or 7 various spiral notebooks and the occasional journal that have pieces of me at different points in my life written in them. People have been giving me journals since I could scrawl out the letters of my own name, but for some reason I have always preferred spiral notebooks, random bits of paper and math notebooks- you know, the ones with the little squares printed on the pages. I think it's called graph paper in English (I never did understand that. We HAD to write on paper like that in Castefa, all the time, and graph paper was measured by millimeters and centimeters). And apart from my aversion to conventional journals, I don't write in my notebooks conventionally. The pages jump around. Some of them start at the back and go forward. Some have been rained on, some cried on (they both have similar effects, which I find comforting).
I remember one time on a bus at conference, the speaker for the week saw my writing in my current spiral notebook. He asked me if I were writing a journal, and then proceeded to tell me that his wife had filled dozens of them, saying that she'd go back and read them someday, and enjoy it, and that she never had. I was so saddened by that thought. Half the joy of writing is knowing you're preserving a piece of you that you can come back to later. You can read it, and recognize yourself; the two of you meet like old friends- no fuss, no need to test who you are/were. You know. So now I go back every once in a while, and I read what I wrote. What people wrote to me, in letters, e-mails.
This type of writing has a feel that no other writing does. Do you know what I mean? Most words are crafted together for others' eyes. But the ones that are compounded for your own (or a known friends') eyes only are somehow... friendlier. More comfortable. And the interesting thing is, I find that there are trends. Things that I have been thinking about for years, so much so that puzzling over them has become part of who I am. What's funny about it is, that I'll often start thinking anew about an old theme, and think that it's completely innovative, that I've never explored this idea before. Not quite sure why. It's confusing, to tell the truth.
At any rate, I don't think anyone will ever care to read about my life or my thoughts. They are only the type of things everyone thinks and goes through. Sometimes I wonder if it would be more profitable to write about the things that actually happen to me, rather than what I think about them. Still who knows?
over 'n out.

Gift of Tounges

Lately I've been thinking about languages. How people communicate has always fascinated me. And then I began to think about languages in my life...
1. learning to read/write German before English (my mothertounge)
2. keeping my German, though dormant for 9 years, fairly fluent
3. becoming fluent in Spanish and Catalan between ages 9 and 10
4. despite #1, having very good language skills in English
5. being able to pronounce decently in Chinese- enough to surprise J, the native speaker who was teaching me
6. automatically making Slavic "l" sounds after watching Most, a Polish short film.

Clase de Mates

Estabamos sentados en clase de mates. El profe, un tal Capafons, nos habia sentado por orden de lista, y la lista me habia puesto al lado de un chico. Se llamaba Alex Castro, pero todos le llamaban Castro. Yo casi no lo conocia, por entonces.
Ese dia, estaba de mal humor. El profe nos habia puesto varios problemas algebraicos para resolver, y todos trabajaban (bueno, en teoria) estudiosamente. Con el Capafons no se bromeaba, era de esos profes super estrictos y claro, a nadie le gustaba. Tenia un talento para echar bronca de manera que te dejaba sin palabras. Era el maestro de la ironia y de alguna manera hacia que pareciera que eras tu, el que te habias hecho el tonto.
Bueno, como decia, el Castro estaba de mal humor ese dia en particular. Yo, que por entonces aun estaba en mi fase mas timida, me preocupaba por mi trabajo. Castro, que se habia frustrado con un problema, levanto la mano para que viniera el profe para ayudarle. El profe, que veia que el Castro estaba intentando de buena gana resolver el problema, se lo volvio a explicar, intentando obligarle que pensara y al final lo resolviera el solo. En medio de una explicacion, me pregunto a mi si tenia razon- para llamarme la atencion, mas que nada. Me habria visto mirarlos de reojo, escuchando secretamente lo que estaban hablando. Recuerdo muy claramente que el Castro le interrumpio diciendo enfadado: "Dejala, profe, que esta en su mundo!"
Yo los ignore a los dos. El profe dijo, "No te creas... ella nota mas de lo que tu pienses." o algo por el estilo. Volvieron a hablar de las mates.
Ultimamente me he acordado un par de veces de ese momento. No se exactamente por que. Supongo que sera porque he estado pensando en como conoci a las personas en mi vida que acabaron siendo importantes. En los anyos siguientes, llegue a conocer mejor al Castro. Incluso nos hicimos amigos. Es curioso, no, como son de diferentes la manera en que piensas de una persona cuando aun no la conoces, y la manera en que piensas de el o ella si ya llevas tiempo conociendole? En esta nueva etapa de mi vida, miro a la gente a mi alrededor. Pienso en la manera en que los conozco y me pregunto cuales de ellos seran importantes en mi futuro.
No se si fue muy importante, aquella clase de mates. Pero me alegro de recordarla, aunque sea por el mero hecho de saber que tengo un pasado, una historia.

A, y perdona por la falta de acentos- este punyetero teclado ingles me raya mas de lo que puedo expresar. T.T

Several

I have thought of several things, lately, that I could write about on here. Deep, useful, insightful things. Curious things. Things that would probably interest only me. Funny things.
But at this moment, in this instant of the rushing, sliding, slithering thing that is time, I feel the need to communicate one thought to the void:

I cannot (coherently) write (papers) after 11:30 PM.
Not if I want to get readable, non-stupid results.

With that, I bid the void good night.

(Do voids notice night? Would they care if they did? Why should they? What would a map of the internet look like?)

The Most Beautiful Christmas Carol

Oh Holy Night

Oh holy night,
the stars are brightly shining
it is the night
of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world
in sin and error pining
'til he appeared,
and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope,
the weary world rejoices;
for yonder breaks
a new and glorious morn!

Fall on your knees
oh hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine!
oh night, when Christ was born.
Oh night divine
oh night, oh night divine.

I like this hymn, mostly I think because of the second and third verses. Kind of reminds me of Anne oGG- a thrill of hope. Such wonderful words. A thrill of hope. Can you imagine?

don't let me rest

It has now been 12 weeks- 3 months since college started. Since August 23rd, I have not spent even 24 hours away from this campus. I have gotten some strange looks and many questions about this decision. Let me try to explain the reasons behind and the effects of this decision.
I have a history of moving. My parents and I counted it up one time, I think we've had just over 20 residences since they've had me- including changing countries various times. The upshot of this history is, I know how to move. I know what it feels like. So when I moved to college, I decided that I would treat it like moving anywhere else: I would dive in. Completely. Once here, there was no going back to the things I knew or the things I was accustomed to. That's one reason that I did not leave.
Of course, like all moves, it has been exhausting at times. There have been weeks where I just had no energy, no... desire left in me to try to engage this new world. But with the help of friends both old and new, I managed to move through, and persevere.
Now, as it turns out, though I have made much progress, I am exhausted. Burnt out is too strong a word, but it's close. If I let myself rest though...
Who knows what will happen when I have to come back? That, friends, is my dilemma. As Thanksgiving and Christmas approach I have to wonder if it will be better for me to go back to places and people I am comfortable with, though parting will be sorrowful.
I don't know...
I just want to make it.
Is this what grown-up life is always like?

So today in class we were talking about sustainability and such. I found myself being angry, and not wanting to participate, and I'm not entirely sure why. The thing about it is, I didn't feel like I had anything to say, really. I mean, sure I've been told my whole life that it's important to turn the light off when you leave a room, not leave the water running while you brush your teeth, etc, but when you get really deep into thinking about it, and how one could make sustainability work... it just ends up making my head hurt. How can one possibly get so many people motivated? How can you get the rich people to give up their riches? There just isn't any viable way that I can see. I'm all for saving paper and recycling, and being sparing and such, but... I don't know, I just think that it will be very difficult to make the change in modern society that seems to be required.

The fact of the matter is that it's all about leading people. SOMEone has to have good leadership skills and be able to move things along- and when I say leadership skills, I don't just mean convincing people that there are things that need to be done. I mean basic motivation. It goes back to the basic motivation for doing things. Here I am, using this writing tool that "punishes" me if I don't continue to write. Why is that? Because I can't motivate myself to write on my own. It's the same with people on a larger scale. Unless there are consequences- visible consequences, that is, because there are always consequences- for the things we do, the products we waste and make, there is no way people are going to want to change. Another problem is that the problem is SO widespread. The people who do the consuming are so far from the people doing the producing. And they have no immediate power to change what is being done. The only thing we are consistently told will help is doing things like turning lights off, using as little water as possible, unplugging appliances- a.k.a., doing our best not to use the resources that are already being exploited. The problem with that is, there's no way it will ever change the system. There is no way that simply using less will
ever stop the system because, no matter how little we are actually using, there will always be enough people using the system to keep it in profits. No matter how small those profits may be, they are more than the system would get by trying to re-write itself. The only way the system will be re-written is if a) the vast majority of people decide to change it or b) it becomes so unprofitable that the only way the people running it can keep their way of life is if they pitch in with changing the system. I don't see how that can happen.

Makes Me Wonder

And now for something, completely different. =) A little bit of random fun, 'cause why be philosophical ALL the time? ;)

1. Put your iPod on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!
4. Tag friends who might enjoy doing the meme as well as the person you got the meme from.

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
Bring in the Clowns (lol! of course.)

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Daylight Robbery

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Sometimes love

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE?
Church (LOL!!!)

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Yo Te Respondere

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Goodnight and go (aw! really guys? i thought better of you...)

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Sorry-grateful

WHAT IS 2+2?
You make it easy to fall in love

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
(I've got a gal in) Kalamazoo (I had no idea you lived there!! You tricked me... )

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
April and Me

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Kiwi

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
It's Good to be in Love

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Bang a Drum

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Sooner Surrender (that's right ladies and gentlemen... watch yourselves!)

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Remember?

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Must be Dreaming (aye. that it must.)

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Let go. ( 'cause I ain't tellin'! duh. what sort of a question is that?!)

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Suspended (the jury is out.)

WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Secret (nope, not telling. wild horses couldn't drag it from me! and that's not even my biggest secret! - hah, thought you had me, din'cha?)

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Prone to Wander (haha. i knew that wandering spirit would get me in trouble some day!)

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Not Everlasting

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Hungry like the wolf (yeah, i've always thought ravenous people were kinda funny... O.o)

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Hundred (yes, numbers have always been a tricky subject with me. :P)

WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Por el Suenyo de Dios

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Monday Mornings (yeah. yuck. there's just no excuse for monday mornings.)

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
It Would have been wonderful (hahaha. aww. i'm just that likeable.)

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Now/Later/Soon (obviously time is just a bunch of wibbly, wobbly timey-wimey anyway, so who knows what i could change?)

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
All I want is you (ah, so many people to miss...)

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Makes me wonder

Mysteries of the Universe

H, Li, Na, K, Rb, Cs, Fr, Be, Mg, Ca, Sr, Ba, Ra, B, Al, Ga, In, Tl, C, Si, Ge, Sn, Pb, N, P, As, Sb, Bi, O, S, Se, T, Po, F, Cl, Br, I, At, He, Ne, Ar, Kr, Xe, Rn.
Mn, Fe, Co, Ni, Cu, Zn, Pd, Ag, Cd, Pt, Au, Hg.


Meet the mysteries of the universe. They're everywhere, in different proportions and configurations, with electrons zipping around them at death-defying speeds (hah! electrons aren't alive...). They make things explode, light up, move, exist. They are never seen properly, but they're seen all the time as a collective. They're all we see, and a lot of what we don't. It's true what Charles Wallace says in Madeleine L'Engle's book... if you shrank matter down, took out all the empty space, you'd be smaller than your pinky's fingernail.
Imagine.
Really, don't you ever wonder at the universe, at existence?
I can't think about it for too long...

Dichotomy

There are two common views of humanity: one, that we are all fundamentally the same, with the same needs, desires, and basic make-up; the other, that we are all unique individuals who each have something entirely our own to contribute to society. This is a dichotomy. If we are all the same, how can we all be unique?
Today I was watching a movie, with the typical story: evil, trouble, struggle, redemption. I found myself pondering the fact that these elements always show up in some form or another. It seems that struggle is the greatest common denominator in stories.
Why does struggle resound with us so deeply? I think it indicates some common denominator in people. That each person needs certain things. Now I'm sure several experts could spend hours arguing what those things are, but I don't think they'd contest the fact. I would postulate things like acceptance, love, purpose, community. Whenever you get someone to talk to you on an honest, real level, they will often say things that sound very familiar- very like things that you've heard from other people at similar times, or things that you yourself have thought/felt. So my question is this:
If we are all so similar, what is it that differentiates us? Into classes of people, into individuals?
I mean, just as the above is a fact, it is also true that people are different from one another. They do have very different points of view. I don't need to prove it to you, you know it. Just think of someone who's completely different from you, and their friends. And then think of your community, and all the fascinating or boring people in it. You know they're not all the same. That's why one of the most popular sappy plot lines sounds something like "we're all human" or "we're all part of the same big family" or "we're not really all that different" etc.- every time someone realizes it for themselves, it feels like such a discovery that they have to tell everyone else about it (and if you're anything like me, it can get plenty annoying sometimes).
Still, I find I have to acknowledge the truth of it.
With that in mind,

what makes a person unique?
I wonder....

Out of the Hat

I'll just say this:
It doesn't pay to be an Emu.
The End.


p.s.: and yes, I did mean emu. Look it up.

Divine Mercy

Whenever I'm at the end of my tether, God jumps in to save the day, make it a little brighter outside. It's always when I can't do anything to help myself. And it's been that way since I can remember.
There was the time I was training to be a camp councilor and felt awfully, despondently alone; the time I somehow got the same Choir prof in senior year of HS who had terrified me in MS; the time I really really needed a job; the time I was once again feeling alone and horribly frustrated... and many others.
I guess most people wouldn't call the help that came to me "God," but I'm convinced it was. Because almost always when help came, it was after prayer. I prayed, and was granted a hot shower (as opposed to the icky cold ones I'd had for days) and a few friendly faces. I prayed, and the Choir prof decided I was worth some respect in class (aka, he didn't terrorize me). I prayed, and just happened to meet a woman on her coffee break who e-mailed a colleague in the Library and got me a job. The last time, though I didn't pray, an acquaintance came up to me and actually asked what was going on, and proceeded to try and cheer me up. Those are just some of the instances when I prayed. There are countless others when I really didn't, very much, but God stepped in and blessed me anyway.
So I believe that He'll come through this time too.
Maybe mercy isn't quite the word for it. Maybe it's more like... providing? blessing? guidance? I don't know. But I am immensely thankful to Him for it.
I realize that prayer and a couple circumstances aren't really what you'd call a logical or well-argumented scientific basis in fact to come to the conclusion that I come to every time. I realize that many people pray and don't have such results. I don't understand why that is. But in this one thing, I am determined to believe. Because if I don't- what else is there? If there is no sentient, benevolent being controlling the Universe, then suffering occurs for absolutely no reason, and my only response can be hopelessness, pain, and guilt in my own happy life.
Sigh. There is more to say, but I have a term paper to write instead.
later.

One More Adventure

People didn't use to give me nicknames. My name has always been so weird in Europe that no one bothered to alter it to make it memorable. Here, though, it seems to be a favorite passtime of peoples' to give their friends nicknames. The latest ones are Kitty, Katie, Kiet, Katie-love, and Mims. However, since these show a slight lack of creativity, i have come up with one for myself that I find to be the most accurate: Absentminded Professor.
The accuracy of this nickname was once again proven last Sunday. I was going to take the bus (well, shuttle- I'm told there's a difference)I went to the bus stop and sat down, reading some HW to do what great and elevated people call "using one's time wisely" (psha. another euphemism for keeping busy and not enjoying the day). As I was saying, I sat and started to read. And read... For a long. time. Finally, the bus (sorry, shuttle) came, and I quickly got on. It seemed a little odd to me that someone would carry a carpet to the shopping center, but then, they could be going to the other part of campus. As we rode through the town and I finished my reading, I looked up. Things looked a little strange, not like I remembered from the last time I went to the shopping center. I only came to a full realization of my mistake as the bus (sorry, sorry. Shuttle.) got on the highway. Then it clicked. This was the shuttle to the secondary campus- the one about an hour away from main campus. Oh joy. I spent most of the trip up getting to know a sympathetic, chatty Sophmore and was blessed with an hour of empty travel time on the way back.
So though I had mounds of work to do that day, I found myself forced to relax. It was kind of nice. However, I don't think I'll be making the same mistake twice... then again, I just might. ;)
And that, ladies and genlemen, was my scrape for the week. Here's hoping being a second semester freshie will mean I'm a little more... aware of my surroundings. :P
Goodnight, and good cheer to all.
the Absentminded Student

Intentional Change

Most people recognize that college is a time for change. I mean, you're at that time in your life where you determine the course of the rest of it. In some sense, you are truly free to make the decisions that seem best to you. But humans are creatures of habit. Some more so than others, of course- I have one friend who, if the changes in her life get too big to deal with, color coordinates her lunch (such as, an orange, carrots, orange m&m's, cheddar cheese and cheetos) or carries around bouquets of pencils. Not everyone is this extreme, but in general anyone you meet will have some habits. Things that they are just plain used to doing. Their habits may have lost their function as time passed, but the person will still continue them (I think this accounts for at least 30% of Government practices). The point being, unless you set out with the intention of change, you will generally find that it creeps up on you unannounced- and it might not be the kind of change you wanted. Because, as my Grandmother (purveyor of all pithy wisdom) would say,
"You can expect change from everything- except a vending machine."

So, I have decided to be intentional about change, especially for the next 5 or 6 years. They, I believe, will be crucial. And in that spirit, I decided to do two things:
1. Pierce my nose
2. Volunteer at a sort of shelter in the city, where they don't just give people food- they help them get back on their feet, with showers, haircuts, resume writing, etc.
Step one is already complete, and I am working on setting up step two. There are other volunteer opportunities at the college, of course, but I feel like God has really been pushing me toward working at OSH (random letters, not the real sigla. :P).
There are other changes that need to occur, but these are enough to be getting started with.
Allons-hi!
over 'n out.

the more things change...

You, esteemed reader, have probably never been this person. You know the one I'm talking about. You've seen the situation at least a thousand times. You're in class/at the office. Someone walks over, asking if anyone has a pen they can borrow. You nod happily, and start rummaging in your bag/desk drawer to find said pen. Then, before you've even spotted the blasted thing (which seems to have gone into hiding for some reason) someone else hands said person their pen, and you are left looking and feeling foolish. Best case scenario, no one noticed that you offered your pen, so no one sees your crestfallen face. Worst case scenario, you were the first to speak up, and you are now labeled (perhaps not in these exact words, but basically) a bumbling fool. This can happen with anything, really. Anywhere where a stranger is asked to step in to help, a bumbling fool can arise. Asking for directions is a big one. Then there's pens, and other writing utensils, and keys, and especially when people need messages delivered.
In every situation, the bumbling fool is soft-hearted, eager to help, and happy to give up their time and/or resources to help the person in question. They see a need, and want to fill it, so they rush headlong into the first solution they think of- without waiting for the best or most expedient. And in every situation, someone else somehow manages to be twice as fast as the fool, and twice as efficient. When the fool gets back or looks up, the need is already filled, and they are left. Hanging.
Why am I telling you this, you ask? How does this tie in to the title? Well, I will tell you. I have always been the bumbling fool. Always, in these situations, no matter how much I grow or how many things I learn.
Recently a girl on the hall got locked out of her room after showering. I happened to be in the hall at the time. Her roommate was at the cafeteria and her phone was off. The poor girl, standing there in her bathrobe, had to be somewhere in 40 minutes, and she wanted action. So, I volunteered to walk over to the cafeteria for her, find her roommate, and the keys. She accepted the offer gratefully, and I did as I'd said. As I walk back to the dorm, a nagging feeling of foolishness starts to tickle my thoughts. "There was probably a quicker way..." and, en effet, when I get back to the hall, bathrobe-girl is nowhere in sight, and the RA is standing there, chatting with a few other girls. That had been another option- the RA's have access to master keys. Apparently, she'd gotten there first. Sigh. Once again, I am the foolish one. And now for the awkward text message to the other girl... "I have your keys... and your ID. I am holding them hostage until tonight. Sorry for embarrassing you in front of those people you were having lunch with. It all turned out ok in the end, haha."
blast. I've done it again.
I do believe I will always be the one left rummaging for her pen.... I wonder how many of the people I've given directions to over the years have gotten lost?
over 'n out.

computer issues

I find it hard to get on the computer and be productive. I always want to get on msn, or facebook, or hulu, and chill out. So though the computer has programs for paper writing and correcting, researching, studying, taking notes, and a myriad of other things, I find myself drawn automatically to the pursuit of time-wastery (yes, i just used a made-up word) starting with e-mail.
Only when almost all sources of entertainment (including blogging... should be working NOW) have been exhausted do I turn my mind to other, more pressing matters. Why is this? Argh.
Self-control. That's what I'll be practicing for the next little while.
Tschüss!

Bookplate-Pasting Thoughts

23-9-08
People often think I'm oblivious when I'm not, which can be very useful. On the other hand, people also tend to think that I know things when I don't, which can be anything from inconvenient to disastrous, depending on how much they think I know.
-----
(After stamping a book w/an author named Andrew)
If Andrew ever writes a book, I will laugh my head off- and then congratulate him profusely.

24-9-08
Blessed are the forgetful,
for they shall not be
burdened with their past.
...or with strange, senseless seeming successions of numbers. (i'm pretty sure i meant call numbers here)

25-9-08
Many people think that they are good listeners. They think this because people often tell them their problems and/or life stories. This is such a widespread phenomena that there's a comic about it. However, I have watched and listened to (not to mention overheard. ;) ) a lot of people, and my experience is that, if you define a good listener as someone who cares about the person they are listening to and their problems, most people are actually not very good at it at all. So do these alleged listeners really get dumped on because they are good listeners, or is it because our culture makes us good talkers? I think it is the latter. We dump on everyone. We exchange stories as a way of relating to each other. But if a person doesn't have their own tales to contribute, or if they seem sufficiently sympathetic, then things change. Often a person will end up telling someone their life story, without ascertaining, first, if that someone even cares or wants to hear it. It's more about the talking than the listening.
From a completely different angle, I also think that we are bad listeners. If we were good listeners, even despite the fact that people were dumping on us, we would care, not complain.

Confessions

I think there are a couple things I need to admit to myself... just admit, not pore over. But not ignore either.
- the idea of a permanent and perfect "home" almost brought me to tears last week.
- i depend on certain people, good friends, to be my real social interaction, instead of looking for that where i am
- i have refused to do much/any work this week because i would much rather hide from the fact of my current existence.
and there you have it.
these are the things i have been hiding from, but which lurk in the back of my consciousness. you can laugh at them. they are probably funny to someone with different values from mine, or different experiences.
it's just a fact i have to live with... though i call "home" wherever my bed and stuff happen to be at the moment (even if that's a hotel)
i don't have a home. i probably never will.
over 'n out.

Professors & Students

So my college's website has this restricted-access page that profs can't access, where students can say whatever they want about classes, teachers, teaching styles, etc. I have explored it a couple times now, looking for other peoples' impressions on the classes I'm taking and to see what I can expect from my professors. The funny thing is, if you believed everything on this website, you'd think all the professors here were absolutely TERRIBLE. They grade hard. They are erratic. They don't lecture. They arrive late to class. They don't give you enough time to make up your work. They forget to correct your papers or grade them. Almost everybody has something to vent about. The most common phrase in there is "DO NOT TAKE THIS PROFESSOR"- or similar. My theory is that you have to gage the amount of negativity in the post... and translate from there.
The fact is that after school in Europe, I'm used to bizarre professors. At least, in the countries I and some of my friends have experience with, strange behavior from professors is the norm. They throw chalk at you, pick a student for their own personal vendetta, make fun of you in class, expose and laugh at the mistakes in your assignments for all to hear, tell you to act stupider so you won't get ahead of the class.... you name it, it's probably happened. You learn, in time, to work around these quirks. You learn to avoid them or make use of them, or just let things roll off your back and try to get a good grade. Usually if you use your head, you end up getting along just fine, and having some great stories to tell later. So when I talked to someone yesterday and they started complaining about how the prof only likes guys, and how hard she grades, etc. all I could do was laugh inside. As far as I can tell, this prof is pretty decent, no gender discrimination. She grades hard, yes, but she teaches grammar- so is that really such a surprise?
The way I see it, professors are people (no one will dispute me that, I think) and as people, they have their own peculiarities. What point is there in being so self-absorbed you don't try to understand them and work with them? It will only hurt your grade, and make you miserable.
Please, self-absorbed student. Look up. Look around. There's a world out there around you. With more important things in it than whether everyone else does things exactly the way you want them to. Learn to love a little. Cut people some slack and let them be people.
over 'n out.

Careless

College students are some of the most careless people, as regards stuff, that I have ever met. Well, excepting toddlers. Still, I'm not going there right now. See, I've been walking around campus for about two weeks now, and I keep finding things people have lost: about 10 hair ties, 8 pens, 2 pencils, a necklace, a blackberry (yeah, the phone), lip-balm, and a key, among other things. What's even more interesting though, is that I also tend to find the people these things belong to. Not the pens and pencils, but the necklace turned out to belong to my RA, the blackberry to a guy standing on the sidewalk talking to his mother, and one of the hair ties to my best friend.
How do these things happen? Why does no-one else see? Makes me wonder if anyone but me has noticed the weirdly strong cobwebs that grow all over the holly bushes....
over 'n out!
the slightly-more-observant person

P for Procrastination

Well, that is what I'm doing now and what I've done all weekend. Alternately worked on the easy stuff and procrastinated the hard stuff. Now I'm blogging in the hopes of regaining my focus...
hah. I'm off to amuse myself elsewhere....
tschüβ, mein Lektor. Hoffentlich geht dein Tag besser als meiner...
(p.s.: my German skills have taken a rapid turn for the better lately, though. ;) )

New School, New Reputation

You know how it is... you go somewhere new, you have the chance to start all over again- be whoever you want to be, unbound by the persona people knew in your old environment. It can be a wonderful and liberating experience. The only downside is that reputations are formed very, very quickly, so you have to stay on your toes. Sometimes it takes only a first impression to start your reputation- and no matter how hard you try, it only sticks the harder.
So it seems to be with my class in Jewish Studies. The first day, I was having a little trouble finding the classroom we were supposed to meet in. Eventually, though, I made it to the right room, opened the door, and peeked in. I was expecting an empty classroom, or maybe one or two people- but to my dismay and embarrassment, the conference table was full! And they all looked older than me.... So I guessed it was another class that hadn't finished yet. I stood outside and meandered around the hall, waiting for them to come out (my class didn't start for another 5 minutes or so). After a while, a short, bearded, mediterranean-looking man entered the room and closed the door behind him. Oh shoot! I realized what was going on, and quick stepped in after him."Is this the Freshman Seminar?" "Yes," someone said. "Whew, Yes! I AM in the right place!" And I sat down. Then this week (the next class after the one I forgot to attend- yeah, it was JS), people started giving oral presentations on various disciplines connected with Archaeology- which is all fine and dandy, don't get me wrong. I sat there taking notes and applauding with the best of them. The guy who had done neumismatics (fascinating, stuff. The study of ancient types of currency.) and the professor called the next person up. Yeah, you guessed it. "Miss Davenport will now tell us all about papyrology."
If you've ever seen (or heard the expression) a deer in the headlights, you'll have a fair picture of my face at that moment. I made some lame excuse about not being aware of the assignment... and mercifully he continued on to the next person. Apparently these oral assignments had been posted on the class' online bulletin board... which I was sure I had checked. Hah.
Still, all's well that ends well, I suppose. I get to present next time... and if you're a praying person, you could pray for me as you laugh and imagine what on earth I'll forget next. Hopefully I'll remember to- wait, no. I'm not going to jinx myself with possibilities! :P
over 'n out.

Campanera

Ah, the absentminded professor... maybe that's not the job for me after all. You know how sometimes you can get an idea in your head and it just sticks, for some reason? Happens to me all the time. Like yesterday, I was talking to my aunt (which always puts me in a fluster- especially when she's in a hurry and I'm not answering fast enough) and she wanted to know when my first class was today, 'cause we were going to try and meet up (because of course I forgot my thermos at home- there's that elephant's memory again). So I took a quick look at my calendar and told her: 12:50.
Then today I woke up, the idea clearly in my head that my first class was at 12:50 and planning to get some work done before then. I went to breakfast with a friend from down the hall, and came back to finish the HW (very. frustrating. homework.). I worked diligently until about 12:10, at which point I was (happily) interrupted by another girl who wanted to go to lunch. I declined, saying my first class was soon and I had to finish up. Still, since I had stopped working, I decided to check the calendar and see when and where my second class would be. But lo! Apparently, I had made a mistake... above the 12:50 class was (piffle!!) the word "Wednesday". Which meant that the class I was supposed to attend was in the previous column... and had taken place at 10:00! And just to put some icing on the cake (for cakes are only so-so without that touch of sugar) the other class I was supposed to be in was over too- it had been at 11:40.
So here I sit, a hardworking campanera.
Do absentminded professors skip class? I think not...
over 'n out.

Laundry

Dorm life, I have been warned, can be quite interesting- in all senses of the word. For one thing, kids have to do their own laundry, and not all of them know how to do so. My roommate, for instance, has been asking me questions like "what can I put in the washing machine?" "what is the difference between the 'colors' button and the 'whites' button?" etc. I thought that (thanks to my mother's insistence that I'd have to do laundry on my own someday anyway) I had learned pretty much everything there was to know about clothes-washing. So yesterday I got all my dirty clothes in a basket, and went down to the laundry room to see what was what (then ran back upstairs, having forgotten the soap. Yeah, memory like an elephant). I chose my machine, put my quarters in the rather full-sounding slot, put in the soap, and started the machine. When I came back an hour later, I opened the door, and looked in. Oddly, the clothes didn't look wet. They didn't feel wet either- they felt warm and sticky. And the mud stains on my caving shirt were still there....
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I "washed" my clothes in the dryer (they got sticky from the evaporated soap). And this is the girl who goes to an ivy league school. Sigh. So I took the clothes out, stuck 'em in one of the real washing machines (the ones on the other side of the room that said "washing machine" in nice, clear black letters) and started the load.
Maybe I shouldn't be a translator after all... maybe the profession of absentminded professor is the one for me.
over 'n out.

Spain, China, and America

Here I sit, in my American dorm room, with my Chinese roommate, listening to music by Enrique Iglesias, Chenoa, and Merche, while enrolling in German classes, and looking at my Catalan books.
Life is a strange, strange phenomena.
Oh, and did I mention my facluty advisor is from Brazil??
As Fred would say- Craziness!

Bumps, Bruises, and Bonding

So this morning I got back from my Outdoor at Emory Orientation (OEO) trip. We went caving, aka spelunking (which is a much cooler word, though less ppl know what it means). Well, that is, we spent about 6 hours total caving. The rest of our time was spent in the pool, the van, or making fire and talking. =)
I should explain. Basically what happened is this. I moved into the dorm a couple days ago, and the next day packed my backpack and left campus to get in a van with 8 strangers and go to Tennessee for two days. This van full of strangers and I were to camp for two days and nights near a mountain with a cave system in it, and venture into the caves on the second day.
It was definitely an interesting experience in many ways. First, there was the weirdness of traveling and spending 2 days with ppl - strangers- my own age, which is just surreal on some level. Then there was the fact that despite the campsite's being equipped with an (and I quote) air-conditioned shower house and a pool, we were indeed sleeping intents, on the ground. I might add that it was very rocky ground (that is where some of the bruises come in. :P)
The two most interesting aspects of the trip, though, were the caves and the people. I will start with the caves, because I am still sorting out my impressions of and thoughts about the people (yes, this is a mild form of WABing :P)
The cave that we went into is a wild cave, for the most part. After you get past about the first 150m. Then you turn your headlamps on, get on your (padded, thank goodness) knees, and begin to crawl, climb, clamber, walk and scoot over, under and through literal tons of rocks. The formations are astonishing... some look like cumulus clouds frozen into rock, others are shaped like a watermelon rind that someone scraped out with a spoon- all pocketed. Still others look like waves of rock, and sheets, and columns. There was one formation, our guide told us, that is never the same twice. It looks like it's made of mud, and water drips down it constantly. The swiftness of the drip determines whether the formation grows or shrinks. If you've seen The Lion King, there was a place that reminded me of the gorge. I can't describe it to you in the little time I have, just imagine (unless your imagination's broken, in which case I a) pity you greatly and b) can't really help you anyway). That's just the formations. There were also little black salamanders, and brown Crystal Cavern spiders (4 known exemplars). There was a stream, and pebbles, and gypsum roses forming. The passages were all named: the Superman hole, the Keyhole, the 180 foot belly crawl, the 49 cent crawl, and many more. Every name has a story behind it. The superman hole, you have to stick both arms out in front of you and "fly" (or inch, more like) like Superman; the discoverer of the 49 cent hole lost the change he carried in his pockets while going through- you guessed it, 49 cents. Our guide joked with and teased us. It was a blast, and the caves were so amazing. It's incredible the things we don't see... this summer I've been on all levels of the earth: above its head, on its surface, and in its belly. :)
Anyway, that's all I will write for now, as I have a meeting to head off to.
over 'n out.
K

Moving

Tomorrow's the day.
I have 3 hours to pack up all my (summer) belongings.... in duffel bags, laundry baskets, random boxes, whatever suitcase is being left for me when I travel.
My roommate is traveling today, a 20-ish hour deal. I will meet her tomorrow, in all her jetlagged glory.
Who knows?

In life, you can count on change from everything but a vending machine.

Change, here I come.
...I don't feel like packing.

Goodbyes

Goodbyes. Every summer (and some winters) I wonder if it wouldn't be better to forget about internet and mobiles (cell phones for you americans) and even letters. Internet, although it allows us to stay in contact with anyone who has access to it, seems to elongate and distort relationships between people. Do you know what I mean? I was watching Amazing Grace last night, and what struck me most about that movie was not it's great ideologies or the touching personal story of the main character (see, can't even remember his name now). Instead, what really hit me was the scene where Wilberforce is reuniting with his old colleagues and the one says to him "You haven't changed a bit!"
I wonder, wouldn't it be better sometimes just to make a clean break of it? And not worry about trying to sound all casual and day-to-day-ish on sites like facebook or myspace? Then maybe when you meet again the next time, there won't be all the emotionless, black-and-white words and intervening-time stuff between you. Because you simply can't carry on a normal, working-day relationship with people who are continents away. Invariably you end up discovering (but not saying) that each person's life has grown as far apart from the other's as there are km between you. And until you meet again, on common ground, there is nothing you can do to change or develop that. I suppose it's like my other good friend said (she's overseas, so it's not like she has a vested interest or anything. :P): you have to pick which relationships you want to invest in.
Me, I don't know. Certainly I think it would be easier, in some cases, to simply say "goodbye" or "until we meet again" and then leave it at that. However, we never know if we WILL have the chance to meet again. And too often that would be immensely sad. Friendships- even potential ones- are precious. They should not be wasted by the intervention of a silly little thing like distance.
Plus, it is just so nice to have the option of staying in contact with people through the internet. Why waste such a resource?
I guess my real question here is- do the benefits of internet outweigh it's costs. The logical answer to that is, it depends on circumstances and on how you use it. Apart from that, I don't feel like going through cases and ramifications right now.
here ends my coherent thought tonight.
i wish you all a thoroughly good Sunday.
over 'n out.

forever's a trick

You know how it is. Whatever situation you're in, it seems like it has gone on forever. And ever. And ever. And you've never lived anything else, and you'll never get out of the present circumstances- no matter how short they may, in actuality, have been. It's a bit like C. S. Lewis' Wood between the Worlds.
For me right now it feels like I've been driving for ever and a day... while recent events have showed me that it has really, truly, only been about two months.
It also feels like I've been living away from my parents for ages, like they are no longer a part of my immediate life, when the truth is that they are very much still here. And in the middle of everything.
What is it about life that lulls us into false assumptions?

bwahahaha!

leaving in 4 days.
HURRAY!!! :D
so much to do...

summer travel?

So I might be going to conference... as a leader
If God blesses the endeavor and grants me support.

Please pray for me!!! This would be such an amazing opportunity!

update:
It's happening!! Actually, really, truly happening. God is SO amazing sometimes. =D

Childcare

There is a special sort of way in which childcare makes a person's brain slowly empty. At first, you try to fight it with intelligent thoughts, little philosophies about how kids learn and grow. After a while, you get acclimated to the wonder- oh, my, what a big jump for such a little person! goodness gracious, she sounds just like a grown-up! (and nevermind the fact that you have to praise these accomplishments profusely when the child shows them off)- and you begin to simply focus on loving the kids. Let them have fun, bond with them, analyze what the dynamics are between you and the child. Is the kid manipulating you? Are you responding adequately? Does he/she really need something? Is he/she sad? What is important to the kid (important for dreaming up punishments)? Eventually this phase fades away too, and you focus on keeping them a) from fighting each other b) from being rude c) from injuring themselves or others d) generally happy and content. This is the next-to-last phase of brainwashing. In the last phase, something in your environment (say, another- comparative- grownup that treats you like a grownup and does NOT talk about children) triggers your memory, and you get back one or two of the thoughts you had in the beginning. You then realize how far your mental processes have fallen, and are discouraged. You'd like to just give the little braggarts back and go away... to a coffee shop and some friends... but no, you can't. You still have to take care of said braggarts, and all friends w/o kids are either miles away or not interested in you anymore because (surprisingly enough- not) all your conversation has become dominated by things children said, did, or are. Thence arises something I've decided to call child-induced misery. not the best name, I know. but what can I expect? I've been watching kids.

I saw a woman today, with a two year old. She looked about as old as a good friend of mine, in her 20's. It shocked me. She made me realize that most mothers are young. Why, just the other day in the park, someone asked me if J (3) was my baby. So a lot of women spend most of their time with children. If the sort of child-induced brainwashing described above is universal (and some other things I've heard lead me to believe that it is) then a lot of women never get the chance to be in mentally challenging situations, which in turn means that they have a smaller chance of maturing and growing emotionally and mentally (unless childcare induces some kind of growth- still not sure about that). I know that for many years women were confined to childcare... so no wonder the Victorians and several other ages thought of women as children. What else did they have the chance to be? I wonder... I wonder... there are lots of other ramifications, but my brain is too fried right now to pursue them.
so goodnight.
enjoy your (and other people's) children. they are precious and beautiful and funny.
but don't let them take over your life.
over 'n out.
k

quiet

Everyone needs a place of solitude. Somewhere they can go, quietly, to let their loud, busy thoughts slow down and let themselves be examined, or let the stupefied, sleepful mind wake up from the bombardment of entertainment. Since there doesn't seem to be any such place here, I have imagined one:
A river. There are rocks everywhere, covered in moss and water like glass cloth. On the banks, a few saplings and the odd fern. There is one especially large, broad rock in the center of the river, right where a band of rocks span the water and make a tiny waterfall. This rock is low, close to the water without being covered by the water's sheet. If you lay on it and close your eyes, you are surrounded by the river's rushing, trickling sound, running smoothly past you to its future. On clear nights, when the stars come out, and the moon makes vague shadows on the ground, anyone can go out there lay down on the rock, hands under their heads and look and think.

how can a person be empty of words? of thoughts? of images? of creativity and imagination?
What can so thoroughly suck the life out of a person? And what does it take to get that life back?

news

I held a baby today. her head fit in my hand. That was about 10 hours ago, and my hands still smell like her... =)

I have a new cousin.

NY

So being in PA meant, of course, that I had to go up to NY for a day or two to see grandpa. He's a stubborn old fella, and felt he had to prove that he still has it- whatever "it" is. So we spent two days walking the streets of New York, taking a million pictures, and eating ice cream. We went to the 2nd Street Deli and to Mamá Mexico and to Coldstone. It was pretty cool. In the end though, despite all the romance and the legend surrounding New York, it's just another city. Ergo: if you love the city, you'll love New York. If you don't like cities, you'll be unimpressed. Me, I love cities. It was so great to be in a place with tall buildings, small streets, and lots and LOTS of people. =)
over 'n out.

PA

So I am now living in the woods. Yesterday I saw two groundhogs, I forget how many squirrels, and a doe. Apparently having seen only one doe is unusual. There are two houses next to this one that are literally being taken over by the woods. You can see them through the tangle because they're white and still somewhat standing upright. I am sure that they are wildlife havens. Out here you can really see the battle between woods and civilization (if you want to call a house or two civilization). Other wildlife includes about 50 billion dust mites and lots of mold, mildew, and moss. Thankfully a lot of this was purged out of the house by its former inhabitants, but we're still fighting. It's kinda nice, really, apart from the whole dust thing. The house has lots of sun and there are trees all around, but at the same time, it isn't in the middle of nowhere.
And now for something, completely different.
I got to hang out with one of my good friends yesterday. I hadn't seen her in a year and a half...
we talked for I think two hours. It was good. Good, in part, to actually see and hear her talk, instead of reading words off a screen. =)
that's all for now, folks. Hope your day is a good one.
over 'n out.

food for thought- at last!

Today was a day of much thought for me, a sort of clarity and depth I haven't forced my mind to probe in many a month. Thank God for today. I felt like me again. I read in this book, The Once and Future King, a passage about what it calls the "seventh sense"- the one that people get around the middle age and that allows them to calmly brave the crazy waves of life, where the basic dichotomies that young people experience don't matter so much any more. I guess what it means is that people give up trying to figure life out and just "roll with the punches", to quote K. shucks. I can see the attraction. i mean, then you wouldn't be worrying about stuff all the time. But I think you'd loose something precious, too. You'd lose clarity, and poignancy, and beauty. Do you get tired of those things? Maybe. I don't know yet. Maybe beauty and poignancy and clarity can get boring, just like collecting seashells gets boring, when it seems like you've seen the same smoothed over, beaten-by-the-waves shell several hundred times, with its delicate coloring and smooth edges and evenly curved lines. Doesn't matter. For now I want to still be able to plunge to the depths of some terribly complicated problem that I've no hope of solving and try to discuss it out with some good thinkers.
but not at 2:35 AM.
goodnight, reader.

p.s.: ok, so i know this post isn't particularly lucid. I mean, it doesn't really have to do with any of the specific things I was thinking about that blessed me so much. But this is the... the outsider's version. After all, I'm not about to share my innermost thoughts on the internet. How silly (in all respects of the word) THAT would be.

swimmer's conversations

I was at a swim meet today. Those things can last for a very long time- 6, sometimes 7 hours to get through all the age groups and all the strokes. So naturally, people get to talking. Well, a group of friends and I were having a great time laughing, and joking, and being excited about the meet, when one girl said "We should really quiet down, we sound like we're high." I found this interesting at the time, but didn't think much of it. Later though, it occurred to me that really, we weren't the ones at fault. We weren't acting like people who are high. I think that maybe it's the other way around- maybe (some) people want to get high in order to enjoy the laughter and lightheartedness and camaraderie that we were experiencing. In a way, it's a sobering thought.

And then of course there's the inevitable chaser-thought: why should we be ashamed of our enjoyment because there are those who would look down on us for being like people who abuse their bodies in the hopes of having a similar experience?
ah. the more I type this idea out, the more sides there are to it. I will bullet them, as it's late and I'd like to sleep tonight.

• the not being ashamed of our enjoyment part could be construed as heartless, since it overlooks the pain that individuals that get high are often in
• how ironic is the use of the word "chaser"

goodnight. -evening, -aftenoon, -morning, whenever you are when you read this.
enjoy yourself. be merry every once in a while. :)

giant 'OFF' switch

So my experience with summer vacations is that you let your brain just sort of switch off. Sometimes it gets even to the point where someone asks you the time and you go "Um... I don't know..." even though you have a watch on your wrist, a cell phone in your pocket and a clock on the wall. The fact is that time just doesn't matter any more and stress is a thing of the past- but then, so is brain activity above the level of, you know, sleep.
In an effort to somewhat counteract this colossal mental shut-down, I've been doing absolutely nothing. After last year, and considering the year coming up, I decided my head needed the break from forced activity. Let it wander where it will, and I'll pick it up again from wherever it went before classes start up again. Last year it went to Timbuktu (well, actually I think it might have got lost on the way and ended up in Cambodia, but oh well).
I wish I really COULD go to Cambodia or Australia or Sri Lanka or somewhere...
oh well.
ttfn

a question for the cosmic void

So I won't go into the whole long story, but it comes to the fact that I have a new game of Scrabble. I tried playing with my fam, but we never got the time and now they're off. I tried playing with my "roomie" for the summer, but she'd rather watch golf. I didn't even try playing with the "dorm parents" 'cause they were exhausted from a father's day party and getting work etc organized for tomorrow. So, eager to play Scrabble with real wood tiles for the first time ever, I simply decided to play with myself. As I said to a friend of mine, I played Myself. Myself won, by 41 points, and I wasn't very happy, but was resigned to the fact. :P
Anyway, I know scrabble doesn't sound very fun or cool or anything. But you have to understand the fascination behind it. You see, for me, Scrabble is rooted in the things that I love. One of the first great teachers in my life used a bag of Scrabble tiles to rule the class with. Those things ruled our lives. The suspense was a part of our daily lives. There were no favorites. You never knew who would be called on- the person goofing off, the one who knew the answer, the one snoring in the corner... or you. Who would be given the prestige of blackboard cleaning and writing the date? Who would- well, you get the picture.
Then there's the fact that some of the people whose lifestyle and joie de vivre I admire most play and love this game. Games are a part of my community. We span most of Europe and some of America. We are few, but we are loyal, passionate, and hard-working. When we get together, we play games: Dutch Blitz, Big Boss Little Boss, Egyptian Rat, Uno, Gin Rummy, and, among others, Scrabble. The thing is, I get the idea that cards and board games are often seen as being boring things that old people do. In my experience that is not so. This community I'm talking about has taken games and enjoyed them thoroughly. People used to like card games because they were a way of getting together and enjoying the people you were with, and that is why we enjoy them still.
Now my community is scattered once again, and I can't spend time enjoying them. So I spend time doing the things we do together, and enjoying those things out of love for my friends.
Ah. But I was forgetting my question for the cosmic void.
Has anyone else ever played Scrabble with themselves?
:P
And with that I leave you, and wish you a good Day, whatever stage of the day you may be in.
over 'n out.

meets, failings, and other summer firsts

So this summer has been full of firsts for me. I here list them, in the hopes of discovering that I've actually learned something from 'em.
1. First time driving a car.
2. First time taking a driving test
3. First time failing a driver's test
4. First time being on a swim team
5. First time swimming butterfly
6. First time doing a flip-turn
7. First time participating in a swim meet
8. First time understanding the between-the-lines part of a conversation w/an American peer (this is big. Like, huge. People always talk between-the-lines, and once you start to catch on, you can officially say that you've acculturated)
9. First time filling out a job app.
10. First time meeting triplets
11. First time taking care of 3 kids under 9 all by myself
12. First time passing a drivers test
13. First time driving somewhere all. by. myself.
14. First time watching my sister drive
15. First time driving someone else

So yeah, those are several of this summer's firsts. I've been doing other things I've never done before, but they don't count as firsts, since they're either one-time things, or sound too small to count (like all the different swimming techniques I've been observing/learning/trying to force my body to imitate)
The way life looks right now, there are only more firsts to come. Huzzah! This is the whirligig of change that I love to go through every several years.

idioma pensado

Last post I talked about music, and said I had more to say. I do. Music... the other day I babysat for triplets, seven months old, along with the family's AuPair. Now, I don't know much about babies. I haven't spent a whole lot of time with kids less than two years old- and most of my two-year-olds are precocious, so they can talk to me. These kids, I was nervous about (partly because there were 3 of them and 2 of us, but hey, who cares, right?). They can't talk, and the only way to know what they want is to implement "people skills" aka, the ability to read people and anticipate what they're thinking. ... Ok, so it wasn't THAT bad. Still, I didn't know what to do with the tykes, so when Ve (not her real name, but it'll serve) left the room, I sang to them. The little girl, Em, seemed to like it. She stopped bouncing in her swing and just stared at me with her big sky-blue eyes. So did Dan, though he was shyer about it. If I looked his way he promptly got embarrassed and started biting his toys busily. =) It was fun, singing to those kids. Later I found out that the only thing that will keep them quiet when they're hungry is this show of kids singing songs and dancing. Now, granted, it could be the visual stimulation, and the fact that they're used to those videos, and the routine that follows. However, I still think that the fact that they're music videos is intriguing. What is it about music that strikes a chord (no pun intended), even with 7-month-old babies?
Music isn't just melody and harmony. It's rhythm too, and lyrics. And some types of music even separate these elements from one another. Some more classical pieces, arias for example, are pure melody and harmony. Rap- or some of it- is almost pure rhythm. Poetry is the lyrical part of music. So what is the underlying unifying something that makes music so important to us? Is it like language, the importance of making meaningful sounds? Or is the whole of music greater than the sum of its parts? I have already said that I think music is more than just meaningful sounds. What that more is, I cannot, right now, discover. All I know is that the acoustic guitar is the most comfortable sound in the world; vocal harmony one of the most beautiful; screamo some of the most pained and painful; drums one of the most moving; a band one of the most exciting. But then again, that's all subjective. :P

idioma primero

Well, so like I said, this summer is CRAZY. I have so many babysitting gigs I don't know what to do with myself. Still, life goes on. :P Much more hectically than before.
I have been thinking about music. Right now I am listening to a choral arrangement, which prompts me to tell you a story. A few summers ago I was a councilor at a summer camp in Spain, just north of Barcelona. I worked there for a total of 4 weeks. The camp was full of music. There were songs every evening around the campfire-sub (there was a drought that year, so no campfires allowed by the dept.) and every morning before breakfast to get the kids (and their councilors) woken up. We had a bagpipe, and flutes, and bass, and guitars, and a violin, and many, many voices- loud, soft, happy, reluctant, beautiful, off-key- you name it. Also, I sang to myself as usual, and there was praise music on Sundays, when we had our church service. But though our joie de vivre and worship was honest, there would seem to be some quality lacking in the music. I would not have known this but for one morning (a morning of rest, because it was between camps). By that time I was a kitchen hand, and so shared a cabin with my friend instead of a tent with 8 kids and another councilor. We were packing our belongings in preparation for the move to our next assigned cabin, when the most beautiful sound hit my ears. During camps, usual wakeup song was some atrocious kids' song about a rooster with a banjo, sung terribly off-key. So on non-camp mornings the designated DJ played something different. On that particular morning he chose a simple string and wind arrangement in major key, that just struck me, right in the heart (for lack of a better, less sentimental way of putting it). It filled, all of a sudden, the lack I had felt in all of the music of the past four weeks. I stood still and listened, hand over heart. At that moment it might have been one of the most beautiful sounds I'd ever heard.
So I know, you see. I know that music speaks to the soul. Even if it's not as amazing as that one camp experience of mine. My Dad's music, that I have known forever (or so it seems) still runs through my head, and I use it to express what I'm thinking, or to change its course.
But music can also grow stale. It can grow old and lose meaning. That, I think, is partially why we write so many new songs. And of course, greed in the corporate world. But I'm not discussing that. I have a few other musical observations, but it's late, and I've run out of steam. I'll be philosophical about it next time.

29. 05. 08

So today's the 29th of May. Who knew.
And this auspicious day finds me, once again, far from all the people I know and love except for the three that are always with me.
The supreme irony? We're finally Stateside, and where does my birthday find me? With good friends from school or conference? With extended family? With little munchkins or peers? No. With the family that has traveled the world with me. This insular little speck of a people group.
Don't get me wrong, I love them. A lot. I just wish that some of the other people I have shared time and laughs with were around me- especially as there was the chance. But no, like the previous five years (and more before that), it'll be just me and them.
Ah, but why be morose? What's a birthday anyway? Just a passing from one year of life to another. Goodness knows that in the end when you count them all up there'll be too many to remember properly. What's one day?
Don't pay any attention to me, it's late and I'm sulky.
Goodnight all. I wish you the happiest of happy 29th of Mays.

Sand, Sea & Sky

So today was a... well, let's leave it at "a day". Today I got to sit on the beach and think.

All alone on the sand. There are reeds blowing in the wind, a beige and green sort of color. The sand is cool and soft under your heels. The blanket around your middle warms you from the chill of the sea breeze. The sun is setting- giving yellow-orange light that hasn't got much warmth left. The reeds make shadows on the sands and blow in the breeze, as waves, far off, swish up and down some meters away. The sky is blue, and little cotton-ball clouds in the sky are faintly illuminated by the sun's fading light. Looking down the shore you see short apartment houses, edged by dunes overgrown with tough green beach plants.

There is a calming power to being alone with scenery and nature like that.
But is calming power enough to fill up an entire week?

Lifebond

Long car rides definitely lend themselves to thought. On the way down to the beach, I got to thinking about the movie Love Actually and all the different types of love in it. And it struck me that my parents have been married for 20 years. 20 years of such close proximity that they have only spent more than a month apart once, and that was this year. They were dating before that too, so maybe 22 or 23 years. Whew! That is an awfully long time. What sort of bond would make that length and amount of proximity desirable? (No, I'm not really asking that question... more like wondering about the nature of it) I mean, I've known my sister pretty much our whole life, and we don't have to be in eachother's lives even half as much as my parents seem to want to be. You always hear about love, and how it's so strong... in fact, it's so strong that in several ways it's taken over our culture's imagination. But... well, I don't think that pop culture covers the half of it. When Harry says to Sally that "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible", you (or at least, I) don't really think about the strength of bond (for lack of a better word) that must go with that desire. Watching things like The Swan Princess as kids or The Bachelorette, for some of you reality TV fans, you don't think twice about the commitment that these people/characters are making without really knowing what they're getting into. I know that if I spend too much time with a lot of people, we end up fighting; getting "sick of eachother" as it were. Is that, maybe, why old couples and married couples quarrel? Because they know so much about one another and spend so much time in eachother's company that they learn intricately one another's foibles?
I do know one thing. I can't imagine myself having that sort of bond. I can't even imagine... I will say this: thanks Deece, for getting me started thinking about my parents as an example of love. You posted in some post or other that you were amazed at and thankful for your parent's example- so I looked at mine to see how they got along.

Sharks

So it's summer... many things have been happening lately- just when I was hoping life would finally slow down! There's graduation announcements to send out, scads of tests to finish, forgotten tests to all-of-a-sudden take, driving skills to acquire, a basement to be cleaned out and readied for the next tenant (who shares my first name, oddly enough), and, to top it all off, I've joined the neighborhood swim team. The Sharks.
We started practice a week ago Monday. Let me explain. I have not "exercised" (regularly at least) in all of 9 months. Before that, the only exercise I got was walking around my city/town in Catalunya. I have not been on a sports team since I was 8. For all of these reasons, this week has been a very interesting challenge.
Day 1: learn how to freestyle. Oh, and nevermind that everyone else (mostly ppl 3-4 years younger than me) are already experts and the coach literally says "Everyone knows how to freestyle!" Add to that the fact that I had no goggles and couldn't tell where I was going half the time. Let's just say, I got a little... scraped up. We were also told to be doing flip turns. I had no idea what this was.
Day 2: This time I came armed: I had goggles. Keep swimming for dear life. On day 2 I finally came to understand the panic some people get when they start to drown. You feel like you just CAN'T move your arms any more, no matter what anyone says, and if you swallow any more water well.... Still, it was a good day- I mean, no one really DID drown or anything. Still no hint as to how to perform the mysterious flip turn...
Day 3: More freestyle. I discovered that rhythm is the key to swimming. If you have rhythm, things go smoothly. You can move faster, slower, focus on your stroke. No rhythm equals swallowing lots of water, floundering, stopping, re-starting, and generally not knowing up from down. Finally learned how to execute a flip turn.
Day 4:--
well, but I will not bore you with the day-to-dayness of freezing waters, rainy skies, cramping legs, cute guys, fun girls, and chlorinated water. After all, it's just a normal part of life, right?
Gotta run!
I'll try to post a more thoughtful something later. When things calm down... (if.)

What if I'm Right? by Sandi Thom

"...You'll always keep the magic
the tender love and care,
And when you need to change the lightbulb,
you won't hand me the chair.
And when we're tired of the city
and we find a country home,
you'll sell your vinyl records
and go get us a loan.

You'll be my sympathetic lover
and you won't steal the covers
but I've got my doubts, and what if I'm right?
You won't forsake me,
your mother won't hate me
but I've got my doubts, and what if I'm right?
You'll be strong
and you'll turn me on
but I've got my doubts, and what if I'm right?
You'll be true
and be faithful too,
but I've got my doubts, and what if I'm right?
What if I'm right?"

Sung by: Tabby and myself as the finale to the Chorus concert. :)

Mason Murer, Black and White affair

America has this fascinating little tradition where all of the Junior and Senior students of a high school get all dressed up, go out to dinner, and then attend a dance. This tradition is called prom. I have a hunch that prom has changed a LOT from the time it was instituted to the present day. For one thing, people probably danced much more, er... formally than they do now. :P Still and all, it's an interesting event.
I attended prom last night, with a group of several friends. Some had dates, some did not. Kerry, Keri and I formed the "Old Maids' Committee" as I like to call it- people who's dates got sick, canceled, or never realized that they were supposed to take these three amazingly beautiful and witty girls to prom. Oh well, tough luck for them I suppose. ;)
First Anna and I went over to the house of a good friend of mine. Her best friend is a sort of make-up, stylist person, and the two of them really enjoy making people beautiful and fashion designing. They had offered to do my makeup (thank goodness, because I would have made a royal mess, never having worn makeup before in my life... :P) and hair. So after a session of intense pampering, laughter, good music, and some rather painful plucking of the eyebrows,
we took a few pictures, said goodbye and thank you, and headed off for the place that our prom group had arranged to meet. Where the parents indulged in more pictures. A LOT more pictures, lol.
Then we all piled into the cars and went off to the little mall, home to a nice-ish restaurant that serves delicious Thai food. That bit was the most fun. We ordered our food, feeling all spiffy and proper; we talked, we laughed. The people who didn't know eachother got to know each other. :) It was a lot of fun. Then at 8:15, realizing we were fashionably late, we paid our bills, left the restaurant, and went outside to... take more pictures. :P Once again we all piled into cars and finally drove off to the actual dance. On the drive there, my two seatmates kept talking about America's Next Top Model- all seasons (ahem, cycles) included. They discussed the comparative merits of each contestant, made bets on who would win, who would be voted out this week, etc. I tried to join in as best I could, but couldn't help wondering why they cared. They were gossiping about these girls their own age, saying things they'd never dare to say to anyone's face. Maybe that's what draws people to these shows. They can say just exactly what they think without fear of reprisal. At any rate, we drove into the city until we arrived at this neighborhood that seemed to be made entirely up of warehouses. Turns out our location itself was actually a warehouse that had been turned into a museum.
It had some really fun art. The statues in particular were fascinating. There was one that was the giant head of a man with ram's antlers; another was the sparse outline of a horse made with wire as thick as a person's forearm; another (my favorite) was a giant foot. It had wings set at the ankle and covering the foot, pressed against it, were ridges as of cloth that was being pressed against the foot by wind... but they were almost ridges set into the foot's skin, too. It was amazing. I had to just stand and look at it for a bit. Then there were black-and-white photographs that had been made purposefully blurry. They were mostly of things like chairs and tables. My other favorite piece was a picture of the city with the highway in the foreground. It was done in sepia colors, but the really cool thing about it was that it had been painted onto a huge square of tiles. :) Ok, last piece, I promise! There were these two little ponies, maybe 3/4 of a meter high and a meter long. They were brown, covered in sack-cloth and with bridles and everything. Very cute.
So we got into the dance, and we registered. The rest of our time there consisted mostly of standing around talking or walking around greeting people and looking for others that we'd somehow lost. That and asking eachother if we were having fun yet. Which, despite the lack of actual things happening, I did. It was a very cool atmosphere. There were a lot of people dancing in a huge clump in the middle of the museum and the DJ was throwing glow-sticks. And of course, everyone was absolutely beautiful. There were some of the most amazing and funny and beautiful dresses there that I have ever seen all together in one spot outside of a movie. =) After standing around for about an hour, I came to my senses and realized that the funnest part of being there were going to be the memories of having been there. So what else could I do but go and get my trusty camera and get snapshots of as many glamorous, beautiful and bizarre scenes I could find! :D
About 15 minutes after I had discovered the Purpose of Prom, we had to leave. We drove home and for an after-party watched this bizarre movie called The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. On top of the fact that we were all practically falling asleep (two people actually were asleep), it was a surreal movie about a man who's memories of his girlfriend are being erased while he sleeps. Can you say recipe for confusion? For a while there I had absolutely NO idea what was going on in that movie. Then we found a couple of centipedes, that was interesting. At any rate, after that I got a ride home, did my durndest to get all the makeup off my face (hah. Waterproof mascara is one stubborn bit of makeup!)
So yeah. It was a great experience. Congratulations if you got through all of that. :)
Hope you had a wonderful weekend!
over'n'out.

apples and oranges

I realize I haven't blogged in a while and this is partially to tell you that I won't be for a while. These next two weeks are crazy with exams and finishing-up things a few parties and not to mention absolutely chock full of people. Nothing like a little change to spice life up. Whew!
I had promised myself that by the end of this school year I would be fully versed in American interactions. Having only just managed to get the hang of Spanish social graces and happily begun stretching my wings, coming back to the States has been... interesting. I want to say hard, but that is not exactly the word I am looking for.
My purpose this school year was to scope out how Americans interact with one another, and what I needed to change. In order to do this, and in order not to get hurt next school year when I will have to completely re-adapt for the second year running, I decided not to spend much time or effort making friends. I wanted to watch people instead. I've discovered, belatedly, that in order to really observe social interaction in real time, you have to be in the midst of it. Oops. At any rate, I got so miserable toward the middle of the year that I started to talk to people anyway. I figured I had already seen enough to start off with. And it was after a few months of talking with people and building relationships that I began to question whether the whole culture thing really mattered all that much. I watched a French kid integrate, and he did just fine. Granted, he's very unusual, for a French person, but still. I watched my sister integrate, and she has the same sort of relationship with people in her grade now as I had after 3 years with my Spanish friends- and she was more Spanish in Spain than I ever want to be. Then the receptionist at the dentist's (of all people) said something that I've been turning over in my head: "Everyone understands a smile, no matter what their culture is." Granted, I think that it is a slanted view of things; after all, Europeans don't smile much, and get creeped out if you smile at them at the wrong time, say when you pass them in the street. However. There is a truth inside this statement, I think, which is that people, no matter where you go, are people. And you don't always have to do a lot of translating to get that across.
Still, my personal tips to anyone coming over from Spain would be:
1. Don't make too much eye contact during a conversation. People tend to feel like they are being scrutinized rather than respected (if they're an acquaintance).
2. Always say "hi" and/or wave when you cross paths with someone you know. And smile, of course. Always smile.
3. When someone new comes into a conversation, don't try to establish that you are already "in" with the present crowd by bringing up all the memories you have in that group. It just makes you look silly and rather self-centered. (yes, this is from personal experience. :P)
4. We can always make more rules of interaction, but in general, just be nice to people and build 'em up instead of tearing them down. In America, people aren't always out to get you. Often they're willing to accept you and like you on the spot, no period of trial required.

Well, it's late and I must sleep. I was reading some very interesting stuff today in DEAR (Drop Everything And Read. neat little program) on sleep in a stray psych book... anyway. must stop there.
Happy Wednesday.

p.s.: Tomorrow (wed.) is the day that the Chorus gig I arranged will be going on, so if you guys wanted to pray about that, I'd much appreciate it.

SafeHouse

So today is the 28th of April. Not a famous 29th, unfortunately. I've decided that if special things won't just happen on 29ths, then I will make them happen. But that is beside the point. Which was... to tell you about this Friday. There is no real way I could tell you everything that happened- you would have had to be there. Still, I'll try my durndest. =)
This weekend a small band from our youth group set out on a trip to the heart of Atlanta. We went to visit a place called SafeHouse. Our original plan was to volunteer for en evening, but we ended up just going there and sort of- well, observing for a few hours. We saw the whole facility, and the man who was working there that evening showed us all of the ministries that they have. It's really an amazing place. Their motto and goal is to "give people a hand up, not a handout." Which is very admirable, really. Talking with D you could really tell that he is passionate about this ministry. They help people to get cleaned up (in all senses of the word) if they want it, they facilitate ways for people to write resumés, make phone calls, acquire paperwork; they mentor kids whose parent(s) are in prison; they teach people (volunteers) what it is like to be homeless; they also have a church service and serve a meal every evening, with the help of volunteer organizations from the area. Our little group got to sit in on the service that night and help pass out the dinner and clean up the parking lot. What was amazing to me about this trip was the difference of these people from the people that I usually meet around here. They were scruffy, they were dirty, they were not in a hurry (which I truly enjoyed. ;) ); you could really tell that they had fallen on/gotten into hard times. Most of them were African American guys in their 30s and up, but there were some whites and just a few women. Apparently certain cities have different concentrations of homeless demographics. One city has homeless white teens (Detroit? Chicago?), another has older women, etc. Despite all their differences however, these people were resoundingly people. What I mean by that is that they were a different sort of people from the ones that usually surround me. And that was good. I really wanted to have the chance to get to know these people, to work with them and understand their lifestyle- and how to get them out of it into a better one, if they so chose.
over'n'out

Notes

Well, today I registered for swim team. Yay! I am looking forward to learning how to swim... er, better than I do now. You know, learn how to actually SWIM, as opposed to knowing how to keep myself afloat and generally propel myself in the direction of my choice. ;) And oh, yeah! I didn't mention it last post, b/c it hadn't happened yet, but I learned how to bodysurf over spring break!! It was totally awesome! Catching the wave has such a different feel to it... and there is nothing, I repeat, nothing in this world like being carried toward shore by this watery force, looking to your side and seeing the wave-foam racing you in. Wow!! ok, I'm done. =)
In other news, I am going to get my driving permit this weekend. It will happen, and I am posting it on here as a sort of promise, to keep me from procrastinating any longer. There.
And now I am getting off of this sinkhole that is the internet and doing it!
ta-ta.
Happy Saturday to all!

P.S.: Accomplished! I am now licensed to drive vehicles under 10,000 pounds under the supervision of someone 21 years or older. Hurrah!! And I took a tour around the parking lot with my dad in (hopefully) my future car... so yeah, all in all, good day. =)

Toads/Frogs and a Crab

According to Angela, there are no toads, because all toads are really frogs. Well, I don't know how true that statement is (from a strictly scientific point of view, probably not very) but whatever you call that amphibian that starts out as a tadpole and then grows up to make some raucous (sp?) noise, that is what I found today in abundance. In fact, there's a bunch of them croaking away outside my window right now.
We've been seeing frogs/toads on the road for several days now. It's so wet down here that they just thrive (plus there're plenty of bugs to snap up with sticky tounges. Mosquitoes at least 2.5 cm long.) So this evening, in a pleasant little rainstorm (as opposed to the lightening and thundering we had last night) I decided to go out and catch some. Yes, I went frog-hunting. And great fun it was, too!
I caught four frogs, three of the same species and one little one that could hop further than all the rest put together (several of this variety got away from me, on account of their hopping so fast and far. I'm sure anyone watching me chase the little buggers would have been greatly amused ;) ). I put them all in a bucket together, one that we had around for groceries, and that was, well... maybe not the best of ideas. Interesting, for sure. Let's just say that I witnessed the forming of a few future frog/toad families. (Actually, with frogs and toads, the process is not that interesting. The female secretes the eggs, and all the male does is sort of crawl over her back and release sperm over the eggs. Woohoo for AP Bio... stuff you're not sure you ever wanted to know!) Anyway. So then I was foraging out into the rain again (beautiful, soft almost-warm rain) for my last frog, when what should I discover, but a crab! A gen-u-wine crab, about 4 cm long! Man, that thing was fun. It didn't like me much though. It sort of reminded me of a martial arts combatant, you know? Arms up, and scuttling sideways, and very defensive. Only in this case of course, it was claw up. The claw was almost as big as its entire body! Simply amazing... oh, and do you know what else? (Annalisa, this reminded me of you) It's shell was purple!
Oh, and another thing about the frogs. Three of them could have cared less whether I talked or not. They were just sort of... catatonic. But the last frog I got in there (I think it was the male, because it promptly started crawling over all the other frogs) listened to my voice and followed it. No joke. I stood on all different sides of the bucket (it has a pretty wide bottom, and high sides) and talked, just to make sure. I swear that toad looked at me and followed the vibrations of my voice. Must have been the right frequency or something.
So yeah, that was my day :). That and sorting scads of shells picked up from the beach.
Good night all! and a wonderful Monday to you.

New York, New York

Well, sorry guys, but this is as close as I can get you. Hope you enjoy the view! Oh, and just in case you felt homesick, I put the Castle of the Faithful up there too.

Old man Time plays tricks with the mind

It's so strange, isn't it, when you see in yourself what you've seen sometimes in others? Me, I saw a grown-up today. You know, those people that have two lives: the ones that they live among their peers and the ones they live for their kids (or cousins, in my case). Of all things...! Once, when we were talking about college and careers my grandfather asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Trying to evade the question with grace, I flippantly said, an adult. He answered that that was just silly; no grown-up was an adult!
And it's true, I guess. Just like it's true that you never actually get to that ideal age where you think, when you are younger, that you will be on top of your life, in control of everything. The first time I realized that was one day in the fourth grade, when I remembered a girl that I had looked up to as the sum of all scholastic wisdom. She had been in the fourth grade and I in the first.

Sigh

So today I got to walk the streets of "my" town again. With my two friends. What a day. Coming back here is the strangest thing... I really, strongly disliked living in this country for many reasons. It is... repressive, in some ways. Coming here though, I realize that there are things I miss. I miss walking down narrow streets of shabby buildings, backed by green, rolling hills and clouds. I miss the ability to go where I want, when I want. But what surprised me most of all about today was that walking down the streets with my two good friends was like a sort of mental and emotional sigh. I could relax. Things had not changed. I knew what was what and how to handle the things that came my way because, well, I'd been working on it for years. All of those little cultural tidbits that I worked so hard to master came back to me in an instant, like a ring that you've had forever and a day. Of course, that's not to say that my two friends had stood still in time. Oh no. Their relationship has changed slightly, towards eachother and slightly towards me. But not enough to throw us off kilter. It was nice- instead of fighting for my place in someone's conversations to find that they'd kept it open for me, at least over this little while.
So that is my sigh tonight. May your friends be true and loyal. May they last through your darkest trial. May you always have a place to come back to, if only for a while.

Health: No matter what the problem is, it can cause death

You know, elephants can remember. These past two weeks just go to prove that I am not an elephant. I have been trying to set up a gig for the chorus at this old folks' home/rehab center that I have a connection to through one of my other teachers (Lee, if any of you read the post on my other blog). This teacher gave me a name and a contact at the home, and the place's phone number. So I called the place, got on the phone with her, and we arranged a date. I told my Chorus teacher about it, and left it up to him to do forms, etc (I can't do that anyway). My Chorus teacher , being who he is and having a lot of work to do, did nothing. No forms filled out, no requests filed, nothing set in motion. So the week before he tells me I have to change the day, we won't be ready by the original one. (*sound of my teeth grinding*) But I didn't know the whole of it yet. I called the woman again... only to find out she wasn't at her desk. I called again, a day or so later- same answer. Somehow I managed to call six time when she was away from her desk. Go figure! So I finally figured out her schedule (mwahahaha, I'm smarter than they give me credit for!) and called her when she was at her desk. (In my head: Hurrah!! Success! Contact established!!!!) I talked with her. She was busy. She was preparing for a pageant. She could not find her agenda, her office was messy. Could I call back on Monday? (*grinding teeth again*) Sigh. Fine. *click*- as my heart sinks in desperation.
Monday roles around. I am positively swamped and forget to take 2 minutes to call the - ahem, woman. I don't remember until today, Tuesday- exactly 30 minutes AFTER she got off work.
Can you sense my frustration here? I mean for pity's sake!!
It doesn't help that my teacher wants very specific dates, and that I am making my school look bad with all this irresponsibility (I made myself sound better in the story, what can I say?).
well. a very frustrated and work-beloaded me bids you goodnight. (you haven't yet heard about the APUSH fiasco. That is for another time and another place. Namely with Annalisa's anti-APUSH campaign.)
and a happy Wednesday to you!

Old enough for my wants to hurt me?

I want what I cannot have. So what else is new?
I want... oh, a million things. Impossible things. Things like vacations and gumption and people I love to be close to me and not to be launched into responsibilities galore and to be on a sports team. Like I said, a million things. Ok, so I like hyperbole. Still.
I understand people like Jhonny Nolan out of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. He didn't have the stick-to-itiveness to see things through, so he failed at his aspirations. So help me God, I will not (and I mean that as a prayer, not as profanity). But it will hurt. Oh yes, growing up hurts. Learning that you cannot just do what you want when it feels wholesome, but that you have to do what is needed, whether it feels wholesome or not. gah.
Like a kicking, screaming two-year old, I am being born into the world of adulthood.
Heigh-ho world!

Dona Nobis Pacem

These are the words to a new song we've been learning as an ensemble. Eight girls making beautiful harmony! That is where joy in music lies: in making melodious, harmonious sound blended with worthwhile words. Or without the words.
Spring has come to the neighborhood. The other day I went out and collected pictures of daffodils, cherry blossoms, pear blossoms, dandelions, violets, pansies, yellow bells, and whatever that flower is on the picture of this blog. :) I love spring. Things changing, the air smelling of secret, outside wonders. Change can be so invigorating. Change within rhythm. You see, it occurred to me earlier that people in general do not like change. I have one friend in particular that hates change. She even controls the same-ness in some small parts of her life, just because it pleases her, as a sort of... counteraction to change (like carrying around a lot of pencils sharpened to the same length...) Discovering this about her was like discovering a hidden treasure. You know, kind of like when you were a little kid and went hunting for easter eggs in the backyard and then aha! suddenly found one. Pondering it some more though, I think it's not so much that we dislike change- no, sometimes we wish the time for change would arrive already. It's more like we want change to happen in predictable patterns. We like changes like spring, or vacations, or differences in routine, but all of those "changes" have something in common: they are regular changes that we have experienced before. The seasons are a rhythm. School years are a rhythm. Vacations have a rhythm. Maybe if we experienced infancy, youth, and gradual age more than once, we would grow to enjoy their changes too. Who knows? Maybe that's why God made us go through life only once...
anyway. enough platitudes. time for sleep. I leave you with a question:
Do you want peace or change?