Say, have you seen?

After having traveled around the US for all of February, I am finally home. Now, I have only a couple days to finish up classes. Wish me luck! I just wanted to let you know that I am alive and well, and writing essays furiously. I'll leave you with the dramatic monologue I came in contact with during my English work. What do you think?

Say, have you seen?

Say, have you ever seen

The emerald green of the sea
Or the shimmering white peaks of mountains high?
Looked up in awe, in ancient pose, of a millenary tree
Or watched a thousand birds take flight and flutter towards the sky?

A hundred songs to dance to, a thousand stars to see,
Swish-swash
life begins to chime, and quickly rushes by.
Travel’s golden glaze glitters, beckons to me,
and whispers of wonders that dazzle my eyes.

Off I go, warn the world!
Off I go, taking Adventure by the hand,
and dreaming of wiggling my toes
in the sticky, dry sand.

Life is but a story to tell,
and travels, but a chapter.
But all those sights I love so well,
are memories, sweet memories.

The little things are oft the best,
a captured moment worth its weight in gold.
That sip of coffee that does pass time’s test,
and tickles your tongue still when you’re old.

Lingering faces, wonderful dreams,
pastries and poodles, and beautiful streams,
hidden among the evergreen canopy of leaves,
little stars peek and sparkle and tease.

A hundred songs to dance to, a thousand stars to see,
Swish-swash
life begins to chime, and quickly rushes by.
Travel’s golden glaze glitters, beckons to me,
and whispers of wonders that dazzle my eyes.

Writing my journals on barf-bags

As some of you know, I set out on Tuesday morning from Barcelona, to fly to San Francisco. Somehow, though, everything went wrong. Not bad, really, seeing as I never found the chance to grumble, but, just wrong. Funny thing is, I made lots of friends (as tends to happen when you are in line with the same people for almost 2 hours, and you keep bumping in to each other on random check ins, flights, airports, etc.), and actually enjoyed myself~

My oh-so original note title comes from the source of my inspiration... barf bags. Where else are you supposed to find something to write on in an airplane? And, I remembered that a good friend of mine writes letters to people on the airplane, on barf bags. Smart idea. So, I wanted to write letters of my own. However, I ended up with enough journal-novel material to last me for a few chapters, and I ran out of barf-bags way before I was done.

Have you ever asked the people sitting next to you if you can have their barf bags? pretty amusing reactions. Especially when the realize that you are NOT going to throw up all over yourself and them. They actually become interested in your cutrious little hobbies and odd ideas...

Anyways, here is the extremely short summary of what happened over the last 50 hours (that is how long it took us, instead of a normal 20):

we left the house at 6am Tuesday. checked in to BCN, boarded plane, waited in plane for 4 hours because of a mechanical error. got ushered off plane. waited another hour. were told that the silly bolt they needed to make the p-lane fly had to come from the States. made friends while waiting in line for over an hour and a half. got shipped off to a hotel with everyone else. were told that it would hopefully fly out at the same time the next morning.

got a call in the middle of the night, telling us that, in order to make our conneciton to SFO, we had to get on a different flight with a different airline.
next morning, got to the aiport, tried to check in with Continental, who sent us to the Continental desk thingy, who told us to go aaaalll the way to the American desk, two terminals down.
2 hours later and a lot of badgering incompetent slobs behind the desk, and we tried to check in again at Continental--now 10 mins before boarding, and we still had to check bags and go through security and reach the faroff gate.
when we looked at the tags on our bags, we saw that it only said that they were going to Newark (forget JFK, that was in the past, they told us), not all the way TO SFO. the incompetent, lying sack of Siberian snakes behind the counter told us that there WAS no flight from Newark to SFO. Ever. With anyone. So, she told us to deal with it when we got to Newark.
then, we reached the gate (we RAN, in boots, with carryons, and purses, and coats...), found our friends (we all got shipped onto the Continental flight together), boarded, sayt down, took off, and reached Newark.
Ok, Newark, New Jersey ( I got to see the Statue of Liberty as we circled over NY! She's small...)
we get off, grab our bags, run to the Continental internation transfer desk.
they tell us that we do have seats for the SFO flight (that the lady in Bcn told us didn't even EXIST), but, that they are both in my name. The incompetent lady at Bcn had booked the first flight in Mom's name, and the second in mine. Now, however is THAT going to help, I ask you?
so, we had to run to American, two terminals away, to get that straightened out.
then run baaack to the Continental terminal to check our bags in again.
and then they couldn't figure out HOW to check our bags in...
*sigh*
by this time, we had 20 mins to get up, through security, and reach our gate
but, somehow, we made it
somehow...
well, my sore legs today tell me that it was because we ran as fast as only rate people can


Even so, I am extremely thankful to ahve reached CA safe and sound, and with our BAGS!! I won't even go in to our adventures running around the SFO airport looking for a plug converter and an alarm clock... Not now, not now... And, I have another 2 houra before jetlag kicks in~ Good thing I kept myself awake till 3 or 4 the week before we left.... now I get another couple hours of awake-ness before my brain tries to shut off... we shall see :)

PS-- NEVER. EVER. EVER. NEVER. EVER let someone who drops you off at the airport pray for you to have "a safe and exciting trip" We saw where that got us...

Take... luck!

Have you ever had one of those extremely embarrassing "Take luck!" moments that comedian Brian Regan talks about? Here, let me show you what I am referring to:

Do you ever start to say something and in the middle of what you’re saying you decide to say something else completely? There’s already words out there. These friends were leaving the other day and I started to say “Hey, take care,” and I decided to say “Good luck” instead like half way through, so it came out neither.

“See you later, Brian.”

“Take…luck! Take luck and care. Take care of the luck. Good luck taking care of the luck that you might have…if you have luck, take it, care for it. TAKE LUCK CARE OF IN IT WHEN YOU TAKE LUCK CARE OF IN IT…[continues to yell nonsense words – lots of ‘em].” You’re sure to see them again.

Well, the other day, I contacted a Spanish Egyptologist, alumni of JHU, to ask him all about the Johns Hopkins program, and other random questions about my future. As I type now, I look down to extremely short, finally-growing-back stubs of fingernails, seeing as I ripped them all off in a moment of weakness. Basically, writing that email, trying to sound informed and yet not snobby, dreading his reply, and finally driving myself into a panic attack led to the utter destruction of my pretty, long nails. They have not been this short for years! And, if that was not enough, the next day, he CALLED. On the PHONE. As some of you know, I have inherited part of my father's distaste for phones.

So now, I sit, on the sofa, having had to stop in the middle of an Algebra test, smiling, and bobbing my head up and down like a moron, mumbling "yes!" "great" "oh?" and "ooooh"s over and over. Bumbling idiot! But, the best part was me trying to stutter out "graduate studies." I know, this is not a hard one. I have said it hundred of times before (probably more since I started writing to colleges). But NO. Annalisa could not bring herself, in that moment of dulled wit and strangled reason, to say "graduate studies" decently. It was definitely a "take...luck!" moment. "GraduATel. Gra-du-etl. Gra-dua... *sigh* Stoodies... stu.. stud.." Yes, truly embarrassing, and so incredibly silly. After all, Dr. whats-his-face was nice, kind, and helpful. And here I am, making myself sound like an idiot. Gotta love unexpected phone calls.

Trees and chachquis

Today, for the first time ever, I was almost eager to have my own Christmas tree to decorate. Mostly because, after envisioning a lovely version of a cute little Christmas tree was taken over by the mob-effect decorating that takes place at our house every year.

Strange, eh?

Even stranger is the fact that, most likely, next year, I will be missing the little moments of decorating with the whole family:
-trying to decide whether to use the lemon tree or a little pine-like bush-tree that some random guy gave us
-having Schindler's List playing in the background
-after pausing the movie, having to go out to the TV cabinet and closing the door so as to shut the paused dead guy from sight
-having Joseph play "Christmas" music from his Ipod, which included the Ramones, ACDC, and a wild assortment of other extremely unique characters
-trying to convince Mom that the mantle can only hold so many chachquis at once
-trying to convince Joseph that the itty bitty tree bamboo-stake-propped-up-tree could only hold so many lights/ornaments at once
-going over to close the cabinet door again to close off the dead guy on screen
-unpacking boxes and boxes of THINGS--all which smelled of mildew to some varying degree
-trying to decide why all our little Pesebre figurines were OLD people, and why there couldn't be a young shepherd person that didn't look like a girl disguised as a guy in order to tend to the sheep
-putting plastic Poinsettia flowers in Tessa's collar, thinking how cute she looked, and then watching as she shook them off and began attacking them
-trying to dance along to Joseph's random Russian song that was playing, and ending up flat on my face as a combination of a sofa-hit-me-on-the-way-down and my-slippers-are-slippery

This is what makes the holiday season special:

SAT-be-gone!

Hurrah! I am now officially over with SATs, SAT II subject tests, and the like. Alright, alright, I am still waiting for my last Molecular Biology test results, but, all that that influences is how highly/terribly Johns Hopkins thinks of me from here on out. Tests are done, college applications are done (as soon as I send in the one for JHU this afternoon, at least), and I have been enjoying myself immensely these past few days.

As I browsed through my blog in these precious moments of freedom, I realized that I never recounted my past SAT experiences and adventures. Yes, adventures. For SATs. Not even the test itself, really, but rather what LEADS UP TO said annoyingly-long test.

Last May I took the SAT for the first time--after two PSATs and all too many "Collegeboard Official SAT Question of the Day" redirected to my inbox. Why take it in Barcelona when I could fly up to Germany for cheaper? So, yes, I flew up to Germany, stayed with a wonderful family (what do you call a family, of which ALL of the members are your friends? Hmm . . .) and took the SAT as planned, as well as the AP Spanish exam.

For the first round of SAT II Subject Tests this October, I stayed in Spain, and went down the night before to stay with some friends that lived er . . . "nearby" the language school where I was to take it. This one was fun--in retrospect, of course, seeing as most of it can be considered as the very image of Murphy's Law. Three days before the tests (I was to take Subject tests in French, Spanish, and Molecular Bio), my AP Bio teacher sent me a link to some material to look over. The day before the test, I realized that there were roughly 30 pages (when transfered to a Word document) of material that I had NEVER seen. I take that back . . . 6th grade science class provided some background info, as well as the TV show House, and the last 3 months of my "religion" class in 4th of ESO. Long story that is no where near PG. So, I spent the night before cramming everything from the most intricate details of the digestive (talk about unpleasant) or just how a flower "works."

The morning of, we got up extra early, only to find that the digital watch I was planning on using had... yes, died. This was not even my watch (which had died the week before). The sheen of its blank face mocked me. So, mom hurriedly handed over her watch: extremely small, rectangular face, and it was a REAL watch, with HANDS. I knew then I was done for. But, I had to run up to the mirror to put my eyeballs in and actually SEE the watch anyways. Lo and behold, incident #3. Have you ever tried to punch holes in your notebook paper, and, it sort of makes this floppy half-circle, with one side still intact, so that you have to rip it off to actually "finish" the hole? Well, now, imagine a contact lense, with the center in this annoying half-punched hold state. Is that even possible? Well, sadly enough, it appears so. I have ripped, scraped, and torn contact lenses, but never had them do the hole-punch effect before. Just lovely before a big test. Add in the fact that, my usually-magical-bag could not produce an extra pair of contacts, but only my purple glasses.

So, off we go, out in the cold, trying to weave out way through the nasty one-way-streets labyrinth that is Barcelona. Of course, all streets that you NEED are going the wrong way. At long last--and laughing my head off by the end, seeing how inane the whole situation was--I stumbled into the school, more than half-blind (for my glasses are from YEARS ago, before I was blind as a bat), nervous as heck, and COLD. I have never dropped my pencil during a test before. I did this time. 7 times to be exact. In a row. Needless to say, I did horribly on my Bio M exam--luckily aced Spanish, and did very well on my French one.

This December Bio M test (yes, I took it again :P) was less eventful the day of, but, the night before was, a nightmare, quite honestly. The little 2 year old of the couple that we stayed with was sick. And she screamed. Very loud, very long. Who knew that someone with a lung infection could ring those vocal chords so loud without ever stopping to breathe? Seeing as this post is getting extremely long, I will cut myself short. Suffice it to say that I discovered that there is no need for 1-2 hours of sleep to begin dreaming. And, when your brain cannot easily pass from a conscious to a subconscious state, your dreams are incredibly realistic and vivid. That morning, I had a glass of Gazpacho, accompanied by a glass of Coke. Feed me, fuel me. What else could I ask for? :)

And, now, I must away, back to schoolwork, and finish up these essays for Johns Hopkins. Wish me luck!

Dear Diary

Well, I realize that most people keep a diary to KEEP others from reading their thoughts. But, I want to share this one entry from one of my many, many spurious diaries. Now, please keep in mind that this was back in 2000, so, I decided to show you EXACTLY what I wrote. You'll see :P Enjoy~

25 January-2000 Teusday

Today I had music. I lisetened to a music symphony by *erased, written over* Leopard Mozart. It was of a familly had a party. Their was some people that had to come a long way. They went in the snow. We closed our eyes and imagined it. When we opened our eyes, it was SNOWING!!! A little but snowing!!! W*scribble in an "h"*at a good day. I learned silent night on flute. 8:54. Oh no, time for bed. no, asleep!!

LOL. The attention span of a goldfish, I tell you. And, 8:54?! Goodness, I do not even eat dinner by that time anymore. And, amusingly enough, this entry is one of my worst grammatically. I mean, the others had cute misspellings here and there (just how many variations of "great" can YOU come up with?), but, my grammar was usually somewhat cohesive. This time though, excitement must have slurred my thoughts :P Really though, I read at an incredible rate. I devoured books, and I quote, Jan 14: "Today I finished the Return of the Indian. I loved it!!" and then, Jan 15: "I finished Seacret of the Indian today. It was good but I liked Return of the Indian better" and then go on to discuss possible new books to read. Crazy, I tell you.

And, as I mentioned before, while diaries are usually meant to remain secret--and merely for your own entertainment or nostalgia years later--, I am terrible at sticking with those kinds of unspoken rules. So, what do I do? Spill my guts to my mom. We laughed, we cried, we gasped in shock at how sad and lonely of a child I was back when... But, mostly, we giggled ourselves silly at my "grown-up-like" analysis of what was going on around me. Sad and lonely as I was, I was certainly a bright child :P Also, I can pinpoint the exact date of when I have cleaned my room, seeing as it usually results in one or two successive diary entries after a long time with blank space gaping at you.

But, why oh why, do I write down the beginning and the conclusion of the juicy parts of my life? (The confused Annalisa with her first crush would be sure to send even the most reserved into a fit of giggles/chuckles, :D) *Sigh* Well, perhaps I should try my hand at writing a PERSONAL diary, meant only for myself, and written in on a somewhat regular basis? (As opposed to whenever I clean my room and find my diary, and then narrate the most interesting tidbits to my mother)

I just realized how strange parts of this post might sound to you, the reader. Tell my MOM!?! Juicy tidbits!? Hehehe. Well, I am proud, thankful, and happy to have such an open, honest relationship with my mom, to the point of reading her my old diary entries. That is what moms are for--especially such amazingly cool ones as mine (and many of you can second that, now can't you?) :)

Well, it is late (past midnight), and, my diary-reading session lasted for a little over half an hour, but, my room is STILL not finished. I have cleared off my bed, and made a path to it from the door--so, basically, I am back where I started. Although, it is true that the floor is clean, and you can see patches of golden tile gleaming through whatever is scattered across the floor still. Wish me luck?

Cleaning your room

How to clean your room in under an hour: do not, I repeat, do NOT be me. Simple as that. For, I remembered today why cleaning my room should be left until a natural disaster or another such emergency requires it, or until I have to move. Most people do not realize what a painful, arduous, emotionally taxing experience cleaning my room is(it has been 3 hours already, and still maaaany many things to be sorted through and placed accordingly). And, before you roll your eyes at me (yes, YOU), hear me out at least.

TO most, cleaning your room includes sweeping/vacuuming their floor. Well, I have to find my floor first. Even so, that is never enough, because I HAVE to go through everything I own, and decide what to do with it. Unfortunately, other than clothes, most of my personal items have no place in the world, yet have that annoying "sentimental value" tying me to it. I am very pleased with how it is going so far, but, it has also been 3 hours. And, instead of finding my floor (which, I DID catch a glimpse of about half an hour into this whole adventure), I have erased whatever hint there had once been. I am beginning to doubt its very existence.

The funnest part of going through everything (and yes, I realize that actually paying attention to everything while going through it is what makes this all drag on for so long, but I cannot help it) is reliving my past. The handful of diaries that I have unearthed (with an average of 4 entries per diary--and, no, they are not extensive. There are a loooooot of blank pages, trust me) bring me back to the me from years ago. Photos, note cards, train or plane or bus or boat tickets make me think of everything I have seen. And, I keep most everything. Terrible habit, I know.

Even though it is a long, thankless task, it serves to remind some people of just what a simple suggestion can branch out to. Also, I have been able to see how far I have come, how I have matured, and what parts of me still remain the same. A truly soul-searching adventure, full of books, old creative writing assignments, photo albums and postcards. To all of my friends: I have most likely seen something related to you today, no matter how long it has been since we last saw each other. So, know that I am thinking of you today, and smiling at the silly all-school retreat moments, missions trips to Tijuana, GEM-K, or even from when I lived in Castefa. 17 going on 18 years gives a lot to look over :)

Re: Annalisa Wells has just sent you an email

Have you ever received an email from yourself, that you never sent? Talk about deja vu! It worries you, it confuses you, it can even send your world out of orbit for the time that it takes you to realize just WHERE that email came from. For example, I send myself emails (not as sad as it sounds, really) with copies of essays or projects. My inbox is a great place to save copies until I submit them, and then I can go back and clean out my inbox until the next time I need some secure copies.

But, when all of a sudden, you receive a little notice claiming that you have just received an email from yourself, yet you have no recollection of having send ANYTHING to yourself recently, you begin to worry.

Usually, it is just a notification that I posted in a forum somewhere. Even so, it adds a spark of mystery to your day while you try to figure out just where it came from.

Silly post, I know, but hey. Also, please bear with me as I redo my blog's layout. So, if you see random things floating about, changing places, or just plain old wrong, do not worry, take a deep breath, and remember that the universe veers towards entropy anyways, so I am really just adding my little part. All will be well soon~ Take care!

Dost thou know?

As I have stated in many of my previous apology-posts, "I LIVE!" And, for fear of sounding repetitive and insincere, I will keep it short: I am sorry for having overlooked you all, no matter how busy a week or month I may have had. Because, after all, this blog is just as much for me to express my thoughts as it is for you to rest at ease knowing how I am doing.

Please know that in thees last two months, schoolwork and college applications have taken their toll. For those of you curious as to which colleges I have applied to, please message me and I would be delighted to tell you. Sharing across the web just does not seem... prudent. ;) Also, this way, I get to hear from you personally, which would totally make my day!!

One of the subjects that I am working hard at is a Shakespeare class. So far, we have read, analyzed, dismembered and put back together the bard's "King Lear," and we are now starting with Hamlet. My post's title actually comes from King Lear--"Dost thou know the difference between a bitter fool and a sweet one?"--and the whole concept of "knowing" has occupied my thoughts today.

Recently, I have been keeping in touch with old friends, reconnecting with a few others, starting up new friendships, and keeping tabs on all those I love and hold dear to my heart. And, it struck me: really, what influences "knowing" someone?

What makes the difference? A year or 4 in the same class? A week in the summer or months together? Chatting online or in person? Light-and-fluffy conversations or soul-searching adventures? Happy times? Sad times? Bits of both? Learning each other's favorite color and flower, or discovering the depths of their mind?

Also, is it right to "classify" friendships, in a way? Because, personally, I can tell which relationships want to know the real you and which are just searching for a brief smile and precious memory. Are friends for the moment, for the past, or for the future? A little bit of both, I would suppose. Just because you have not seen a person in years, or have only kept in touch every now and then does not mean that they would not provide a much-needed shoulder to cry of if it comes to that.

So, my friends and readers, I challenge you to feel thankful for those around you, and to always remember that there are no hard-set rules for friendships: learn, grow, and care for those that support you. Cheers to all, and may you enjoy the delightful (for some) or annoying (for others) Christmas carols that are soon to flood the world. ;)

Timeless

My post today is in honor of my watch. For those of you who have known me in the last couple years, you will undoubtedly remember the watch around my wrist, which always caused so much curiosity, debate, and random observations. Alas, that little purple mirror of time has ticked its last. When I woke up after a good night's rest, and wanted to see just how much time I had left before I needed to be well . . . doing things, I realized that my charismatic little companion was faceless. Needless to say, it has been hard looking down at my wrist only to feel the absence of my little purple friend, held in place by two never-been-used-on-hair pony tail holders (also purple), which reflected time on its glossy mirror.

Some tell me it is only the battery that needs to be changed. But, even so, I wonder if I will ever actually get around to changing said battery, instead of just buying a new watch (it is pretty wasted, after more than 5 years of daily use. A couple broken bands here and there, to be sure!). Only time will tell. Ah, the cruel irony!

Ok, I am done, I am good, and the sniffing will stop any time now. But... whoever will beep my sorry self out of bed in the morning, with its obnoxious, high-pitched beeping which seems to penetrate your entire skull, and resonate from within? And then, after those dreaded 20 seconds are spent fumbling at the buttons on the side, trying to get it to STOP, it chirps merrily one last time, and the echo dies down, and you completely forget about its annoyingness until the next morning. *sigh* Good, fond memories. Cheerio~

AP Bio: Evolution and pond scum

Seeing as APBio now fills almost my every waking moment, it is only logical that all of that information should leek in to and infect my blogging content. For one thing, the past few and the next couple chapters that I am doing deal with the theory of evolution. This is the first time I have experienced and realized the depth of some Christian brainwashing (to make it clear, I am still a follower of Christ, don't get me wrong. I just believe that a lot of Christianity and its institutions nowadays have been altered, and almost corrupted in a way. More on this later. Just know that, I am not TRYING to be an anarchist, per se.).

Any good Christian (according to my observations) would leap and howl and ruthlessly condemn at the mere mention of evolution. Don't get me wrong--why do I have the feeling that I am going to be mentioning that phrase a lot this post?--I believe that the basic foundations of the theory of evolution (which, sadly enough, has also been corrupted into the concept of Evolution) are... almost illogical (when in correlation with the Big Bang theory most especially). Nothing comes from nothing. Spontaneous generation has been proven both false and almost ludicrous. But, if we can laugh at how "naive" and "ingenuous" people were until relatively recently, then why are we trying to push the same concepts? For example, my book claims that, in the beginning, all of the mass of the universe was all clumped up, and, suddenly, it exploded. Now, I will play the inquisitive kindergartener: "Why?", "Where did that stuff come from?" "You have to have something there if it going to go 'Boom!'."

So, basically, and fundamentally, I disagree with it. God created the world, and everything in it, and everything around it, and so on. There had to be a "beginning" not just a "boom" of something that was already there. Now, what I do think makes logical sense is a form of evolution and natural selection. If a population moves or lands in a new environment, then there characteristics will gradually change. The ones with certain traits that make them the most able to adapt will leave more offspring than the others that are not suited to the new environment (because they won't be dead so soon, for one thing). This continues until reproductive barriers form. Then, they are a new species. Fascinating stuff, although I don't have time to go into detail.

You have most likely heard the infamous, sarcastic rebuttal "Right, so, we all come from monkeys, who came from pond scum?" If I wasn't a Christian and firmly, undeniably believed that God created man as "man", I could definitely see how they could trace human roots back, and find a common ancestor with other species (such as chimpanzees). Molecular technology nowadays is astounding. All this thinking makes me want to go an research it even more.

But, I must cover the "pond scum" concept first. Have you ever seriously studied cellular slime mold? I had never even realized that it EXISTED before today. Do you even know what it is? If you are just guessing, please, google it. So, I now have yet another path to track down and research, and figure out just what slime mold does. But, from what I have seen and concluded through careful analysis and observation, slime mold is a strange, almost communal "being" with a sort of primitive intelligence, and the ability to change shape, its cell structure, and modify and specify cell function, etc. I will discuss it with you when I have read more. You know me, I would rather offer a lecture when I truly KNOW than pointlessly speculate beforehand. Take care! Must sign off for today! Why? To do more APBio, of course.

College countdown?

Well, since we began contacting colleges last year, I feel like there is a sort of pre-separation weaning going on. My parents are slowly and gradually coming to terms with the fact that I will not be... here. With them. At home. Eating their food and making cookies or cakes. It is a very odd feeling, to be honest. I mean, seriously! Why not turn the "you'll be gone in a year anyways" into a "you'll be gone in a year, so let's enjoy the time we still do have." Perhaps that is merely my own wishful thinking. I believe that, although they all will miss me--yes, J, you too, will miss me, even though you are loathe to admit it--my Dad will most likely have the hardest time after I am gone. Let me rephrase that: my Dad will the the one to openly make a big deal of it. Mom will miss me, and then try to contact me somehow. Dad will miss me, complain about it, and then resume whatever he was doing, only to mumble about it again later. Joseph will... find it eerily quiet, and that there is a lack of commotion and random comments flowing about, I predict.

I will most definitely miss them all, but I do not feel like forcefully separating myself from them emotionally because of that. Instead, I am more of a "enjoy every day to the fullest" kind of girl. And, that is just as well, because, with this strange type of memory that I have, every adventure and conversation remains vivid in my head if I feel like recalling it. So, the more adventures we embark on now, the more memories I will have to console myself with when I need to.

Yes, memories, like perfecting the art of sushi (although, I made that by myself at 1am, and I unknowingly tried to poison my parents with raw shrimp. You mean, you have to COOK frozen shrimp, not just defrost them? Oh, boy.)
Just a random thought and commentary on my life :)

"Hi, my name is..."

At times like introductions, I wish I could be as random and spontaneous as I am afterward. Unfortunately, I am usually not. I sound stiff and formal and utterly boring. For example, in my Shakespeare class, I stumbled into class after an excruciating half hour of technical problems. As every first class, it was introduction time. "What is your name? Where do you live? How many years have you been at (name of school)? What is one interesting thing about yourself?"

Bright child that I am, I mumble on about my name, where I live, and that I've been with the school for 4 years. Let me reproduce my moment of glory for you:

"As for an interesting fact... well, I like to do a little bit of everything. For one thing, err... I like to cook... and bake... and I never seem to follow the recipe... but er... it always turns out great, so hey."

Talk about a lame introduction. About 5 minutes later it dawned on me: interesting fact? I guess being able to read and write in hieroglyphics is not all that common, eh? But, at that moment, it did not even occur to me that it was out of the ordinary, because it is an essential part of me that I think of as, "Duh, of course I can read Middle Egypytian. Can't you? *blushes* Oh right, my bad."

So there you have it, my pitiful introduction, and my brilliant afterthought. No matter where you are introducing yourself, never forget that, even if you feel like an idiot saying something boring or simple, you are a lot more complex, interesting, and amusing than that! That's my little word of advice and encouragement to you today! Take care!

Classes begin

I know, I know! My title is just a LITTLE too thrilling for most of you to handle. Never fear, I will somehow keep it from becoming a post full of massive adrenaline rushes and fluttering heartbeats. Somehow ;)

I had my first class online this Wednesday (Advanced Algebra, *tries to sound convinging* yay! *realizes that she failed* *sigh*). Like last year, my curriculum consists of two different online schools: one with you're-on-your-own classes, and the other with live, synchronous classes (all the students log on to the same virtual classroom, at the same time, and the teacher proceeds to teach us, using our screen as a whiteboard/blackboard, for the next two hours). Although my Algebra syllabus looks disappointingly similar to my math class two years ago, I feel that it will be a good change for me. Just think of it: I will learn the same things, but this time around, with a nice, caring, helpful, fun teacher who actually believes in TEACHING. For some of you, it might come as a shock that *gasp* most all of my teachers were complete jerks that only show up in the classroom because they get paid each month. Even so, they are pretty far from professional, just like the students lack respect: shouting matches between students, between teachers, or between student/s and teacher/s (the whole class against one teacher is a truly blood-chilling experience), and insults abound, just as much as academic material lacks.

But this year, it looks brighter. I have Advanced Algebra in the middle of the week, as well as a Shakespeare class (with one of the teachers I had last year that I really enjoyed studying under, hurrah! Now that was a convinced cheer~) another evening. And, during the second semester I get to take Economics from 12:30 to 2am. I will be sure to tell you ALL about that when the time comes. Until then, I will simply put it from my mind, instead of dreading the after-effects of getting addicted to Pepsi...

And, with a new schoolyear come new experiences. New friends (mostly online, although some I will eventually meet), new places, and other novelties. The one that has occupied most of my time recently is actually that a good friend of mine just got her first boyfriend (who also happens to be a good friend of mine). Strange feelings, yet happy ones all around. It will be most interesting to see how this all plays out. For now, I can only cheer them on and ask them, as only selfish I can, to please not kiss in my presence. I am happy for them, but I think that might just send me into an emotional coma for a while. We shall see... :P Take care! Good luck with new classes!

Fading with the sunflowers

One of my favorite parts of summers here in Spain would have to be the sunflowers. I did not get the chance to take any good shots of the fields and fields full this year, sadly, because I was out seeing the world while sunflowers back home were blooming. Even so, every now and then, we will stumble across a not-quite-faded sunflower patch next to the road. Even this small dabble of color can brighten the darkest of days.

With the sunflowers wilting away, I realize that my summer is also weaning away, soon to become nothing more than a beautiful, precious episode, safely preserved within the memories of my heart.

Of all of the things which I must tell you, dear Reader, about to keep you updated, working at the Expo in Zaragoza was an entirely new type of experience. I volunteered for a week at the Expo, helping out at the Evangelical pavilion every afternoon from 1:30 to 6:30. That is a long time to be on your feet, greeting people at the front door, keeping them happy and entertained while they wait to go in to see the video, explaining what each NGO (non-governmental organization) does and who they help, or getting the video room ready for each new wave of people. My less glory-ribboned tasks included stamping brochures and magazines with the "Agua Viva" logo (Agua Viva was the name of our pavilion), stuffing fliers, organizing boxes, and of course, chatting with the random people helping out. I made some very good friends that week, and finally was made aware of just how much work it takes to keep anything running, and then, just how many different people it takes cooperating to get that work done. My first fumble into the working world.

Another thing that I am particularly proud of, for some odd reason, is that I took my first long-distance train. Alone. 1 hour down to Barcelona, then, switching at a major train station (Sants = chaos), having them X-ray my luggage (I had never checked in through security for a train before. That was exciting, to say the least. I started to wonder if they had the same liquids-restrictions. PANIC. But, all was well), and then not only finding my train, but my car, and then my seat. Oh yeah, and lifting my big old bag (most of you know that I usually pack light. Except when I am traveling for a week across the borders of Catalunya and have to bring a big old light microscope. That adds both bulk and weight) onto the luggage racks up above the seats. Enter achievement here. I did it! I got that bag up on the racks with no help whatsoever, twice (Spaniards are only rarely inclined to help, and never when it looks strenuous or dangerous. Leave that to the petite blond with the flowered bag). Although, I will admit that I ASKED for help to get it down. I did not want to risk major injuries right before I started working at the Expo :P

The morning after I got home from the Expo, my mom whisked my whole family off to the beach for a few days of computer-free relaxing time. A much-needed break, which resulted in a nice tan and a bucketful of stories to tell. Someone remind me later on that seaweed, jellyfish, and boogie boards are all related. :)

I must go now, the real world calls, as does a painful amount of AP Bio work and preparing for my first synchronous class this afternoon! Advanced Algebra, yay, I suppose. Oh yes, and for those of you who do not know what synchronous means, I merely use it in reference to the online classes, where teachers and students alike log on to the same virtual classroom, at the same time, on a set date, and the teacher teaches in real-time, and the students grumble and fumble through equations and graphics and functions in real time. :) Take care everyone!

Left behind

I am having one of those gloomier days, when the sun does not shine as brightly, and the colors around me seem muted by a strange melancholy. This afternoon, I finally was able to identify the cause of my strange mood: I am feeling left behind, in a way. The all-school retreat at Berean (the high school I attended my freshman year, back in CA) starts today. As soon as I heard that, tears started to well up inside me. Why? Because I long to be there. I miss all of my friends there dearly. And now just those at Berean, nor just those at BFA.

As of late, many of my friends have uprooted and left for college, be it a city, a country, or a continent away. And, no matter how many good friends I have around me at the moment, I cannot help but miss others close to my heart.

On this dreary day, my natural ability to be content in any situation has not quite kicked in yet. So, I am going to go eat ice-cream, then go jump in the pool, no matter what I am wearing, and either try and convince myself not to cry at all (having contact lenses is a very good reason not to cry. They get all hazy and sensitive to light if you cry too much) or let my gloom mingle with the chlorinated pool water. Either way, I will come back inside feeling much perkier, and I know that I will pray for and encourage my friends, just like I usually do, instead of wallow in this petty display of loneliness and a degrading self-pity.

Having said this, I am off to eat ice-cream, my true comfort food, and stick that smile back on my face, right where it belongs. Your now-almost-cheerful blonde signing off~ Take care!

Jello

"The answer to any riddle, now matter how simple or complex, is, and always will be, Jello"

If you have ever heard this tidbit of wisdom, you probably have been talking to me recently. Or, you have been to a summer conference or winter camp with me. If you had never heard this, engrave it in your heart and mind, and know that it will come in handy before long.

As with most things, Jello is directly related to friendship. I prove this hypothesis recently when K decided to have me meet one of her friends. Although I am good at striking up friendships in person, over the internet is always harder. Especially seeing as I had no idea who this person was, or how I could connect with them. So, I crawl back to K, and ask her how to make friends. Now, the two of us have had many long, and extremely deep, serious conversations about this. Even so, after all of those beautiful discussions, we had never stopped to think of the internet as a friend-making environment. Boy, were we mistaken.

So, what do I do? Abandon all thoughts of "oh"s and "if"s and plunge mercilessly into this friendship. A day later, we are getting along like we have known each other for years, and are already planning our first meeting. It will include lots of food, some random fighting, and possible swing dancing. What else could a friendship want?

And, after all this, you might be wondering, however does Jello come into play? Well, that was my ice-breaker, and has continued to be the running joke throughout all of our conversations.

To all of you who are reading this today, let me just remind you that there are opportunities EVERYWHERE to make friends. And, if you cannot seem to get the conversation started, just refer to Jello. I promise that a lively discussion will ensue. Cheerio all!

Personal reflections on conference 2008

As usual, conference is more than just a time to hang out with friends. That is a major part of it, I will admit. Even so, for me, it is a sort of spiritual bubble, where I can go and praise the Lord with all my heart, sing my guts out to Him, spend quality quiet time with Him, and share an amazing feeling of fellowship among believers. This had been my pattern every year (I avoided turning it into a pattern, but that is what I naturally came to do).

This year, I was overwhelmed by the difference in spiritual climate. Never before had there been so many people struggling with, "God, where the HECK are you!?!?" And this year, even including myself, we all felt as if God has been distant for the past year/couple years. Even so, I was greatly encouraged by my small group leader, who has been going through the exact same phase as the rest of us. Of everything that she said, what touched me most was the following: "Even though I cannot feel God, I will continue to praise Him. Even though I am not getting any answers, I will continue to trust Him. Even though I feel almost like I'm being ignored, I will choose to love Him and follow His Word."

Thank you, Liz! You know the amount of questions that twirl around in my mind, and so, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart just for having been there, and willing to talk to us and share your thoughts with us.

Apart from the spiritual changes, I must admit that I surprised even myself with my personality. Characteristics that I have never considered that would come naturally to me poured out in torrents. Perhaps it was because it was my last year, perhaps because I am approaching grown-up-hood-ness. Who knows. Apart from playing a caring mother hen (totally naturally, and from my heart), I recognized compassion, helpfulness, cheerfulness, thankfulness, joy, peace, willing sacrifice, kindness, and a general justice-bringer/peacemaker in a strong yet gentle way. It is during moments like these that I stop and wonder if God is not actually so distant, and if it is more like we never stop long enough to recognize His presence. Although I am a caring person, compassion usually does not ring strong in me, nor does sacrifice. For example, a friend of mine needed to go running almost every morning to get herself back into shape before her Track activities started up at school. I hate to run. Really hate it. I can skip, hop, twirl, sprint, but no continuous running. Even so, I clenched my fists, and said yes. Not out of a sense of duty, but, because, she is my friend, and I want to do anything I can to help her. Even if that includes running until your legs cramp and feeling like you got run over by a truck the next day. Days after conference is over, I am still glad I went running with her, and I would not trade those moments we shared together for anything.

As I told K, I might actually be approaching grown-up-hood-ness some time soon. So, my prayer and hope for all of you reading this today is that, even though you might feel confused or frustrated or ignored by God, you will allow Him to reveal His presence to you today. Keep your eyes open, you never know. I had not even seen Him work in me until I finished writing this right now. Even at the beginning of the post I was planning on reflecting His absent-ness, and ended up realizing His present-ness. Amazing.

Sheep = Mission --> CANDY

So, what did I learn from this GEM-K conference? Well, first of all, if you yelled "MISSION" fast enough after they said sheep, you get candy. Oh, and, if you use the universal riddle-solver, "Jello", when asked to describe one of the leaders, they all recognize the practicality of Jello.

This conference was both one of a kind and an experience I wouldn't trade for any other. First of all, many of my dear friends were not present, including two of the most amazing leaders ever, D and A-P, and then many of my friends had other important things to do that week, such as move back to the States and start college. Likely excuse... So, before even arriving in Sopron, I mini-self-pep-rallied myself into a happy frame of mine, eager to enjoy the new and remember the old fondly, instead of wallowing in unnecessary self-pity. And, sure enough, I had a blast. With over 10 "first-timers", the dynamics of conference shifted a lot. Add on the fact that I was one of the "old" people, was good friends with two of the younger leaders, and had befriended many of the other leaders in years past... I ended up being a leader without all the responsibility. Well, that, and the life of the party (although I still do not understand it myself. K could explain it all, I am sure).

We honored previous traditions such as Nutella Parties (many of you reading this were sorely missed!) with an amazing 8-person Dutch Blitz game raging on, while Angie serenaded us on his guitar. VeggieTales songs and Disney movies were sung loudly at every random bus stop where we were present. A bunch of us hiked up to the cliff and watched the sun slowly creep out from the depths of the sleepy horizon. And, of course, K and I made the best of our short time together to sing our hearts out--DUDE! I even participated in the talent show!--

New fun activities popped up, such as nail art parties (kudos to K's amazing goldfish and dominoes, and I must mention my dots...), many aspiring jugglers (thanks to Fred's guidance), and SWING DANCING. That was definitely a highlight of the week. I still have bruises everywhere, but I love what they represent. You see, I volunteered to be the test subject for most of the spins, twirls, dips, catches, and flips that we ended up doing, thereby resulting in many test runs, with little adjustments here and there so as to not drop Annalisa again :) I loved every minute of it. THANK YOU J!! And, I even got Angie to be my dance partner--and what a wonderful partner he was! :)

The all-nighter was amazing always (although, in contrast to winter camps, there was only candy, no apple-roasting). It included many games of Psychiatrist and Maffia, as well as swing dancing, singing, laughing, coloring (they had left boxes of crayons everywhere this conference, with "perfect-tip sharpeners" on them... how could we resist?) and enjoying the deep bonds of friendship that we were either cementing or re-cementing :D

Although it felt odd not having some of my favorite people there (I kept turning around to mention something to one of you, but then suddenly remembered you weren't there... tragic, I tell you), I feel as if this was truly a good conference, full of delightful memories, food, and swing dancing. What more can a girl ask for?

Pase el agoa, ma Julieta dama

I've been running around the house chanting this 15th century villancico, "Pase el agoa, ma Julieta dama" (which, translated, comes across as, "Come across the water, my Lady Juliet). Some how or other, I must have sung it enough times to subconsciously make my mind fulfill it. This afternoon, I went over to A's house ( a guy friend of mine) together with B and G (both good girl friends of mine) for lunch. When I say lunch, I mean, of course, the full Spanish/Catalan meal: a three-plate course plus some aperitifs beforehand, and dessert after (well, some consider dessert to be the 3rd course. Some of us know otherwise). And of course, the full-on meal included A's parents, his brother J and sister E, J's girlfriend, and all of his grandparents, both maternal and paternal. There were a lot of us. There was a lot of food and noise :) Life is good. (Especially when they serve you chicken and escamerlans, oh boy, yeah.)

After lunch, we played an uncountable number of games of ping-pong. I lost every time, and in very embarrassing ways. 14 to 1 never looks good. Now, I could blame the wind (which there was a lot of, and never in my favor), or a lack of practice (although it has only been a few months), or my contact lenses. This last would be the most appropriate, seeing as half-way through our little tournament the air was so dry that my contact litterally dried up, and fell out. It didn't want o come back to llife, so I walked around half-blind all afternoon. Simple charming. Especially since I had a ping-pong tournament to play. Some would gracefully retire. I am not that bright, so I decide to continue playing. Even though my amazing reflexes scored me a point here and there, my depth-perception was totally skewed. That was fun :) It is always much funner to play taget-practice and hit the person across from you than try and hit the table. :D

The later it got, the less pity the sun had for us, and glared down at us with its "angry eyes" on.So, we headed to their little inflatable pool out back. Now, I had forgotten my swimsuit, but that has never stopped me from having fun. *sigh* Unfortunately, A's younger brother wasn't as thoughtful as the rest of my friends, and wasn't satisfied with my doing a grape-stomp around the pool. Splash number one. He drenched my entire right side with this itty bitty bucket. Without even hesitating, I drenched him right back. Bad idea. I ended up very wet, and actually ended up sitting down in the pool, with my clothes on, of my own free will. B and G just smiled, knowing me, while the two brother stared at me in disbelief and, well, amusement. It's not often that girls here drop their pride and decide to have real fun.

Many splashing wars ensued, and I ended up with battle wounds (two very grotesque looking bruises, one one each knee, and lumps here and there). But, I take pride in my achievements: I was finally able to dunk him, head under. Do you have any idea how hard it is to dunk a tall 16-year old in a kiddy pool? A very very very hard task. Now, he didn't find Annalisa hard to dunk at all. I have not been dunked in a while--mostly because, while I am used to playing with Joseph's friends, they are either all bark but no bite, or they are still scared of me, must be all those stories they heard from Joseph, and the nasty glares I give out when they try to dunk me. When strength alone cannot save you, glare. And, if you live in Spain, glaring becomes second nature to you . . . such as having staring/glaring competitions with random people on the metro, or trying to look as grumpy as the people walking past you. It is so sad when everyone around you looks sad or grumpy or bored.

Anyways, here I sit, typing up my day, proving that I ended up "coming across the water" and getting completely soaked, while propping up my wounded legs and singing "Dona Nobis Pacem". Hopefully, tomorrow will put aside any goings-across and head towards "Give us peace" Take care everyone!